High Life: Alice Maes a Change

[Author's note: Alice is married to James, a professional football player who has found himself at a loose end after retiring from the sport. After attending a charity auction in which she was outbid for her own husband, Alice and James have been blackmailed into service by Jodie and her upper-echelon friends. They have no choice but to do her bidding, otherwise she will release the videos she took.]

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THE FIRST TIME

I remembered little bits of it all: pulling on my jeans and my top, giving Jodie the car keys, getting into the back of my car. I remember James getting into the passenger seat, and Jodie's hand on his leg while she drove us home.

I remember Jodie telling me to strip off and get into bed, snatches of conversation, James lying next to me. I remember movement, and a sound of satisfaction, bodies moving in time as I lay on my back to one side, with my eyes fixed on the wall, because I'd been told to. In some part of my brain, I knew that Jodie was fucking my husband while I laid next to him, using him to bring herself to climax in our bed.

I knew all of this, but none of it seemed to matter, because Jodie told me it didn't. She said we'd had fun, and I believed her. When she told me to go to sleep and not worry about it, I was relieved to be finally able to close my eyes and drift away.

Next morning, I woke with the sun in my eyes and a terrible hangover.

Next to me, James was still fast asleep, snoring. That was what had wakened me, and I rolled onto my side watching him. James was stretched out flat on his back, mouth open, covered only by a sheet. In the back of my head, there was something important I needed to ask him, but I couldn't remember what. My eyes drifted down his covered body, coming at last to the tented folds between his legs, and I reached out without really intending to, placing my palm softly on top of his erection, feeling his firmness.

For some reason, it made me horny, just touching him without him being aware of me. I traced a finger down, feeling his rigid shaft through the sheet, stroking him gently. James stirred, snorting, but didn't wake up, mumbling something. I continued to caress him softly, marvelling at his solidity, feeling my husband responding unconsciously to my touch.

Very gently, I slipped under the sheets. I moved with glacial slowness, trying not to disturb James, sliding down to the bottom of the bed, approaching his hard-on. I stretched forward, over him, and brought my lips into contact with his shaft, just a delicate little kiss. James grunted, shifting in the bed, rolling towards me, pressing his erection into my face, unexpectedly. I hesitated for a moment, then found myself parting my lips, drawing him carefully into my mouth.

I was absolutely silent, taking in just his head, letting my tongue do the work. For some reason, the idea turned me on powerfully, of such intimate contact with my husband while he remained oblivious to me. I imagined him weaving the sensations into a dream, reconciling the feeling of my lips wrapped around his manhood with whatever fantasy was playing through his head. I took him in further, with excruciating slowness, amazed at how firm he was. My lips slipped down his shaft until my nose brushed up against the tight curls of his hair.

I detected the musk of sex there, lingering. It began to stir memories from the previous night, bringing back visions of James sprawled on the couch and me watching as a woman straddled him. I tried to concentrate on it, feeling the recollection slipping from my memory as if I was trying to hold on to a dream. I swallowed reflexively as I felt James make contact with the back of my throat.

I remembered that James had rolled the woman over and then slid into her while I watched, pounding away until she came. It felt much more real than a dream, accompanied with an unquenchable desire on my part to see him perform, to watch him fuck her without mercy, like a rutting, mindless beast. I felt the moistness between my legs, a tingle of heat building up in my core.

The scent lingered in my nostrils, connecting with the recollections, triggering a flashback. I gagged, needing to pull away as the memories came back. I began to withdraw, but a hand pressed against the back of my head, keeping me in place. Suddenly, James began to move, thrusting his hips in little motions, sliding in and out of my open mouth. In bewilderment, I froze, struggling as the memories resurfaced from last night. He pumped his manhood between my lips a half dozen times and then I felt him twitch and tasted his cum on my tongue, pumping into my mouth as he emptied his balls before finally removing the hand from my head and letting me withdraw.

I pushed my way up the bed, emerging from the covers to see my husband looking at me, grinning.

"Well, good morning to you too," he said.

I swallowed hard, clearing my mouth, feeling suddenly disgusted with myself. The heat between my legs began to fade as quickly as it had appeared.

"Yeah," I muttered, "Morning."

"That was a wonderful way to wake up."

"Glad you enjoyed it."

James slid across to cuddle me, but I rolled over onto my back, folding my arms across my breasts. Yes, my naked breasts; James was nude too, which was unusual. Even after a night of serious passion, I'd usually slip into a nightie afterwards, unless it was the height of summer. A cold, empty feeling began to take hold.

"How's the head this morning?" James asked.

"Terrible."

"Me too. Shit, I don't know what I drank."

I hadn't had anything to drink last night. Then, I remembered: a sip of cognac. I searched through the haze of my memories of last night. Yes, only that, nothing else.

"You okay? Want a cuddle?"

James wrapped his arms around me, pulling himself close, but I pulled away, sliding out of the bed.

"I need to pee."

I padded into the bathroom, closing the door behind me and flopping down onto the toilet. Between my legs, there was still a little evidence. I'd had sex, and the memory came back to me vividly, making me roll suddenly up into a little ball on the toilet, as if I had just been gut punched.

James had pulled himself out of her, out of Delilah, tearing my fingers away from inside my own pussy as I frantically stroked myself, plunging into me, his cock slick with his own seed and Delilah's juices. I remembered the orgasm, feeling him twitching inside me, as he still came down from his own climax, after erupting inside the elegant older woman in her lingerie, pressed up against me.

Oh fuck, oh really, what had he done? Panic seized me, and I froze. Doubled over, naked, I sat on the toilet for what felt like an age, gradually piecing together the memories of the night before.

We'd made love on Delilah's couch, stripping naked, oblivious to the fact that we were being watched. I remember talking, or at least Jodie and Delilah talking, then Delilah in lingerie, James fucking her before then fucking me. I remembered everything. Seized by the need to confront my husband, I found myself suddenly in motion, flushing the toilet, standing up. It seemed inconceivable. We'd never even talked about a threesome; I would never have agreed. I would never have wanted to share my husband with anyone.

There it was, in the pit of my stomach, a tingling feeling. Standing in the middle of the bathroom, it came back to me again, and instead of returning to the bedroom I lurched towards the shower, turning it on as hot as it would go, standing underneath the spray and letting it cleanse my body of the remnants of the previous night.

There it was. I remembered the glow, the strange, twisted pride, watching my husband slamming into the elegant blonde woman, burying himself in her willowy body, demonstrating how good it felt to be fucked by James, what he could do. I hadn't paid attention to her because my eyes had been fixed on my husband, the way his body moved, watching his muscles clench and ripple as he took his pleasure from her body. It had been infidelity, it had been betrayal, but at the same time it had been so pure and so very, very hot.

I found myself gasping at the recollection, my head pressed against the shower glass, the scalding water pouring over my body, and a different kind of heat between my legs. My head was throbbing, my mouth dry, my emotions in turmoil. I needed to talk to James.

Killing the water, I stepped out of the shower and wrapped a towel around me. The bedroom was empty, so I went in search of my husband, finding him standing in the open air in the back garden with a coffee in his hands, clad in a pair of sweatpants. He heard me and turned.

"Coffee's on the side, babe. I made you one."

He looked tired, his eyes sunken, but his tone seemed genuine.

"I, uh," I stammered.

"Still warm. God, I feel like shit this morning," he continued, turning away towards the garden.

I stared at the back of his head, fuming silently. The words were out before I had time to think.

"Do you remember last night?" I asked.

James didn't turn around. "No," he replied, shaking his head, "Not after, I guess, after you turned up and we started drinking again."

James let out a long sigh.

"Fuck," he gasped, "I feel like dogshit."

"You don't remember a thing?"

"Nah, uh, I guess. It got kinda hazy."

Without meaning to, I found myself wandering back into the kitchen, on autopilot. The coffee he'd made me was steaming gently on the table and I drifted over to it. It tasted good, and I cradled it in my hands for a moment, trying to piece everything together. I needed my phone.

I hunted through the house, finally discovering my phone in the rumpled pile of clothing discarded in the corner of the bedroom. I switched it on, and a message flashed up from Jodie. I tapped on it and read two words: call me.

I called, before I could really think it through, and Jodie answered almost immediately.

"Alice, good morning."

Her tone was light and friendly, engendering the opposite reaction in myself.

"What the hell happened?" I snapped.

"When?"

"Don't play games," I fired back, "Last night."

"You'll have to be more specific. Or do you want the entire thing?"

"Jodie, don't mess with me. What fucking happened?"

There was a pause, and then I actually heard her laugh.

"Yes, you're right."

"What?"

"Fucking happened. Fucking certainly happened."

I gasped, stunned by the blatant admission. I felt part of my brain shutting down, going blank.

"What?" I repeated.

"Well, let's see," Jodie continued, breezily, "You remember in your bed, after I brought you both home?"

I didn't respond. I couldn't. Jodie continued relentlessly, and I could hear the amusement in her voice.

"James and I? I think you went to sleep. He certainly didn't."

Slience. I could sense Jodie was waiting for a response, but I was unable to form the words, rendered mute by a sickening feeling.

"What do you remember Alice? Do you remember that?"

"Uh, yes."

"Do you remember just going to sleep?"

"Yeah."

"You heard us fucking next to you and you just went to sleep. What did you think about it?"

My guts were churning, struggling to make sense of the conversation.

"I," I stammered, "I guess I didn't."

"How about earlier in the night? What do you remember from then?"

"Delilah," I blurted.

"Yes, but what about Delilah?"

"James."

I could only express myself in monosyllables. I couldn't get my words out.

"James and Delilah," Jodie prompted, "Doing what?"

"On the couch, right next to me."

"Yes, and how did that make you feel?"

I managed to stop myself in time, clamping my jaws shut, avoiding the admission even as the memory of my husband's perfect body replayed in my head, thrusting into Delilah.

"You remember it, then?" she prompted.

"Yes."

"How about James? Does he remember?"

"No," I hissed.

There was a pause on the line, and when Jodie spoke again, her tone had changed, becoming more businesslike.

"I suspected as much. I did give him a larger dose."

I gasped, and my world seemed to stop. An awful, dreadful feeling gripped me.

"What?" I growled, "What the hell did you do?"

"Ah, Alice, it's what you did that matters. Here, let me help you remember. We should talk later."

The call ended.

I stared at the little screen, my hands shaking. Her tone had been so nonchalant. What had she done to us? The phone vibrated as three new messages came in. I tapped on the first one, seeing the video that Jodie had sent.

I don't know how long I'd been standing there in the bedroom, but eventually I began to move again, shuffling through the house like a broken thing, looking for James. I knew now what had happened, the things we'd done. The first video was of myself and James on the couch naked, fucking with abandon. The second video showed me very clearly, my eyes on my husband as he fucked the woman pressed up against me on the couch with a lace mask over her face, then my husband swapping her for me once she'd orgasmed, thrusting into me too, bringing me to a shattering climax, the lust plain on my face.

The third message was short and to the point and the reason I now had to confront my husband, the one who had been so far gone that last night was nothing more than a gap for him. I needed to show him what we'd done. He needed to read what Jodie had proposed. We needed to understand just how utterly, inescapably screwed we were.

---

Jodie met me for coffee later. I went alone, having arranged it without James knowing for the simple reason that he had made it very clear that his preferred option was to wrap his hands around her throat and squeeze until the life left her body. It had been the tail end of a fiery discussion that had left my voice raw, trailing down into soft voices as the things we talked about became ever more monstrous. In the end, I had dispatched James to pick up the kids from my parents and then slipped out to go up the street when the coast was clear.

This is the thing you need to understand about my husband: he doesn't do losing. On the field, he's played on with dislocated fingers, getting numbed up so that he could finish the game. He's gotten himself punched in the face, niggling his opposing number to the point that the guy snapped and went for him, getting himself taken out of the game. James will take a hit in order to win. Being blackmailed, to him, was a matter of going on the attack, to finding them and making them pay.

I talked him down. Jodie's message had been short and to the point, listing our options. Play ball, or watch as the videos went public, which meant public on the socials, forever. Jodie and Delilah had been clever: the first video looked like our sex tape, which would be awful. Our friends, our families would have access to it. But the people we knew from school, the parents we mixed with, would see it as well. As our children grew up, their friends would find it. That had been the point where I won James over to my side, when he realised the issues this would cause for our boys.

I didn't need to mention the second video, the one that was even worse. Not because it showed my husband fucking another woman, but because you could see the look on my face as I watched. A leaked sex tape of the two of us was one thing, a video of James fucking someone else and my look of enraptured joy while he did it, that made us look like deviants. We could perhaps survive a sex tape; a video of us engaging in twisted sex games would be the end of us.

Jodie was waiting for me at the coffee shop, sitting on an outside table at the end of the row. She actually stood up and waved when she spotted me, for all the world as if we were just catching up for coffee.

"Alice, how nice to see you again."

I didn't reply, coming to a halt at the table, staring at her with contempt.

"Now, come on. We don't need to do that here. Let's just sit and talk."

Jodie indicated the chair next to her and I sat, while she waved someone over to take my order.

"Coffee, black, double shot," I mumbled to the girl who appeared.

"Under the weather?" Jodie asked, smiling at the girl as she departed.

"Drop the act," I spat.

Jodie regarded me coolly, her eyes hardening a little.

"It's always hard, the first time, Alice," she replied, "You're still trying to work out the approach, what leverage you have, what angles you can play."

I said nothing, staring at her with hatred.

"The second time, the shock of it, the newness, it's not there anymore. You've had time to process it all and work through your feelings."

She picked up her cup and took a sip of coffee, taking her time.

"You understand what I've done to you and what I want, the second time. Generally, then you're ready to listen. The first time's all about venting and getting it out of the way."

She had the gall to give me a smile, and I felt a pure, dark fury surging up from within me. Maybe James had been right. He would have throttled the supercilious bitch by now. Instead, I leaned closer to her, my voice barely above a whisper.

"Don't you fucking dare threatening my family," I rasped.

Jodie's eyebrows rose, and she responded haughtily, "Oh, no, of course not. I think we all want what's best for your family, Alice. We all want you and James to carry on as normal."

"Then what the fuck do you want? Money?"

"Money?"

"Yeah, how much do we need to pay? How do we make sure the copies are destroyed."

"You want to get to a price?"

I smiled grimly, replying in an icy tone, "That's why I'm here. James just wanted to end you."

Jodie looked startled for a moment, pulling back. I took it as a sign that I had the upper hand, so I pressed the point.

"Your friend, Delilah, she set it up. You drugged us. What do you need between the two of you to make this go away?"

I'd been very clear to James. We needed to resolve the blackmail financially. Bringing in the cops, or letting Jodie go public, neither of these were an option. James had a career ahead of him, commentating on the big games, making the transition from player to show host. We had schools lined up for the boys. It was too much to put on the line by doing something dumb like going to the police.

"Show me your phone."

I blinked, caught off-guard by Jodie's request.

"Why?" I hissed.

"I want to see if you've been tempted to get clever. Show me it, now."

She reached out a hand. I glared at her, but she seemed resolved to wait for me to comply.

"What do you want the phone for?" I asked.

"I either see your phone, right now, or I believe I have another appointment I need to get to. Your choice, Alice. You asked for this meeting."

I hesitated, but then I got my phone out of my pocket and put it in her hand. She glanced at the screen for a moment and then gave it back to me.

"Good."

"Why?"

"Just checking. It's awful these days, having a device to hand that can record conversations, stream them anywhere. Everything becomes more complicated."

"You think I'm recording you?"

"Of course. I certainly would have, if our roles were reversed," Jodie replied, then grinned at me, "Oops. It didn't even occur to you, did it?"

"Maybe I'm wired."

Jodie actually laughed, replying, "Oh, Alice, that's just priceless. You simply didn't have time, and where would you go? Is there a spy shop somewhere nearby? You're really not good at this sort of thing, so how about we leave the thinking to me, and the doing to you? It'd be just a lot more efficient."

"What do you want?" I snapped, "Name the price and let's get it done."

Jodie glanced over my shoulder and paused. I turned to see the waitress returning with my coffee. She put it down at the table and Jodie smiled at her again, waiting until we couldn't be overheard before continuing.

"You're obsessed with the money," she observed.