The Lamp

The Lamp Ch. 05 -- The Story Concludes

Jenny stars in the Gallery Show in front of 50 people, mostly men

**

I wish to acknowledge my wonderful editor Ken, who did another great job on this chapter. Thank you, Ken. I also wish to thank my readers and especially those who left such nice and constructive comments on the first four chapters.

**

It was morning on a rainy Saturday. Marc and Jenny had just finished breakfast. In an unusual move, Jenny had made pancakes and bacon, Marc's favorite breakfast. Obviously she included maple syrup from upstate New York. Or maybe it was from Vermont? Or even Canada? No, it was from the farmers' market at Union Square, so it had to be from New York, right? Well, maybe New York and New Jersey? Did New Jersey even have sugar maple trees? Maybe. The market had rules like that, limiting the provenance of goods, didn't it? Of course, she could just look at the label. That would settle it. Yep -- the maple syrup was New York State syrup.

This had been happening recently to Jenny. Her shrink had told her it was displaced nervousness: she'd focus and get all bent out of shape about ridiculous things. It was to distract her from facing her real problems.

"Why are you nervous?" Dr. Smithfield, her shrink, had asked.

"I don't know."

"Has something special happened? Is something special going to happen?"

"Yes."

"Well, what is it?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

"It might help to talk about it, you know. That's the whole idea of these sessions."

"It's personal."

"I see. So it's sex."

"What makes you think that?"

"Jenny, we've been doing this for close to a year now. Whenever you clam up about something and say it's personal, it seems always to be about sex."

"Oh."

"Do you want to tell me about it?"

"No."

"Is your husband Marc impotent, still?"

"Do you know where maple syrup comes from?" Jenny asked.

"From the sap of the sugar maple tree, I believe."

"I mean the location -- where the trees are."

"Jenny, this is a distraction. Tell me what is really bothering you."

"Have I told you about the gallery show this coming weekend?"

"Is this another distraction, Jenny?"

"I don't think so. I'm starring in it. I'll be naked. There will be like 50 people there, most of them men, rich men, and they'll be staring at me, checking me out, comparing me to a statue. You can come if you like. It's at the J. Byron Goode Gallery on East 10th Street."

"Please be serious, Jenny."

"Upstate. Our maple syrup is from the farmers' market so it is from upstate New York. Not Vermont or Canada."

"Do you need your prescription for Xanax refilled, Jenny?"

"That might be a good idea, yes."

**

It was a Saturday morning, the day before the gallery show. Jenny had been unable to sleep so she had risen early and shaved her most private area. Later in the day she'd have her legs and underarms waxed -- again. She slathered body lotion all over herself.

This time Jenny carefully checked the origin of the maple syrup. Yep, it was from upstate New York. She poured some into the little tempered glass pitcher and placed it into the microwave. The batter was ready and she went to the stove, placing her griddle pan on it. She dropped batter on the sizzling pan and shaped a few pancakes like a drawing of a woman's boobs. Putting the boobcakes (as she called them) on the Limoges china plate she added a single raspberry for the nipple on each pancake.

She herself would have been happy with plain yogurt covered in granola, or some instant oatmeal, but Marc was her husband and she loved him. Jenny had placed a small blue Viagra pill in a little Japanese dish next to Marc's breakfast plate, which also had several strips of gourmet bacon on it. Jenny had long thought the word gourmet was simply a euphemism for overpriced. Even after three years of marriage, she was still getting used to being the wife of a rich man.

Jenny had also made a couple of pancakes in the shape of penises. Those were for her. She had paid special attention to the testicles, which she striated using a special tool she had bought at Williams Sonoma, the one at Columbus Circle. She probably could have just used a fork, but she was now a rich wife making gourmet pancakes. Okay, truth be told, she was using Aunt Jemima mix, but the kind where you have to add fresh milk and eggs. The result was great pancakes. The tool from Williams Sonoma created wrinkles on the balls of her cockcakes, as she called her penis-shaped pancakes. Perfect.

Earlier that morning Jenny had waked Marc with a blowjob. Marc was drinking a bit much these days, plus he was on meds for hypertension, resulting in difficulty getting an erection. In fact it had been a few months since they had enjoyed a really good time in the sack. Mornings were the best time for Marc in terms of sex. Sure enough, the blowjob had worked. Marc had become nice and hard.

Jenny knew Marc had a special little book with his favorite pictures of her. At least half the pictures in the book Jenny had sent him from Paris: pictures of her outdoors and topless or even naked. He seemed especially to like the pictures of Jenny naked where she was exposed and could be discovered. Marc's all-time favorite picture was of Jenny standing on the bank of the Seine in the evening while a tourist boat lit up the buildings and

en passant

his lovely Jenny, as she opened her coat revealing her naked body to the boat's passengers. Marc had enlarged that picture and framed it. It was hanging on the wall in his study.

"Remember when we met in Paris and we told each other all about ourselves?" Jenny began.

"Of course," Marc said, smiling at the memory as he poured what Jenny considered to be a massive amount of freshly warmed syrup on his boobcakes. Jenny had been then -- and she still was -- a sexy little devil. What wife, after all, makes her husband boobcakes for breakfast? Marc still marveled at his cute, sexy wife and her delightfully dirty mind.

"Remember I told you my freshman and sophomore years I modeled nude for Professor Connors' studio art class?"

"Yes. I wish I had been in college then and taken the class!"

"Why? I modeled nude for you, and quite a bit more if you recall, in your room at the Hotel Bristol."

"I find it arousing that a whole group of your peers was ogling your naked body. Why are you bringing this up? Are you thinking of modeling nude again? That would be a real trip."

A quick glance revealed to Jenny that Marc was in fact aroused. Even though she had blown him an hour earlier, he was hard again. This was rare these days and Jenny was thrilled. Jenny had no way of knowing it, but Marc too was thrilled.

"Well it's quite a different setting, and for a different purpose, but tomorrow I'll be modeling nude again."

"Please explain." Marc tried to look pensive, but he couldn't suppress a smile.

Jenny couldn't hide how nervous she was. She took a deep breath, summoned her courage, and continued. "It's about the lamp I bought," and Jenny pointed to the lamp on her nightstand.

"I love that lamp, even if you had to give Johnny a blowjob as partial payment for it," Marc said.

Jenny felt faint. She didn't know it but her face turned a lovely shade of ash-white as the blood left it. How did Marc know about her blowjob?

"Johnny and I go way back. We're both alumni of Skull and Bones, at Yale. He's a bit older than I am, so we didn't overlap there. Nevertheless we keep in touch. Jenny was reeling at this point. She was holding onto her chair.

"Johnny told me you agreed to fuck him, too, on a monthly basis for a year," Marc continued, seemingly showing no mercy to the rapidly disintegrating Jenny. His tone of voice was calm and not hostile. "I objected, since you're my wife don't forget, so instead he arranged for your modeling gig tomorrow. I'm looking forward to seeing you kiss your old college boyfriend -- what's his name? Martin Savoy? -- for twenty minutes tomorrow with both of you naked. That should be something else! Do think this Savoy chap will try to relive old times?"

Jenny was speechless. She was in shock. All she could manage to say was, "His name is Savage. Martin Savage."

"Right. How could I have forgotten such a poetic name? Life is full of mysteries, I suppose. You'll both be naked, kissing, and you'll be sitting in his lap. Will he behave? Will you?"

"You helped to arrange it? I'll be naked in front of a gallery full of lusty men!"

"Not just any collection of lusty men, my dear. The men will include quite a few alums from Skull and Bones. I tried to get your old lovers Jean-Pierre and Dylan to attend, but Dylan refused to come to the event. He's still jealous of me, can you believe it? Jean-Pierre however is flying in from Paris for the occasion. I believe he still carries a torch for you. You tend to have that effect on men, my dear."

"You don't seem to be angry, Marc. Mean, yes. Even perhaps cruel. But not angry."

"Jenny my love, I'm enjoying this. Just thinking about it has been getting me hard again. I also loved my morning blowjob and the adorable pancakes. Great maple syrup, too. Where is it from? Johnny showed me the pictures Lois took of you naked and blowing him. You look so very pretty naked and you give such great blowjobs. And all for a lamp! Amazing," Marc said, enjoying teasing his pretty, little, confused sexpot of a wife.

The couple sat in silence for a while. Marc had an enigmatic smile on his face.

"The syrup is from upstate. Your pancakes are getting cold," Jenny said.

"They can wait. I want to reward you for finally having the courage to tell me about the gallery show tomorrow. I'm looking forward to it."

"I thought you might like to come to it. You can go to church in the morning," she replied.

"Very funny," Marc said. Marc was a lapsed Catholic. He rose from his chair. Jenny was wearing her sexy nightgown, covered with a robe since it was a little cold in the breakfast room. Marc walked to her chair. "You know, it's a rare man who gets to show off his naked wife to a room full of men," Marc added, speaking thoughtfully in a soft voice to no one in particular.

"What's my reward?" Jenny nervously asked.

"As many orgasms as I can get out of you, my little sexpot," Marc replied, as he pulled Jenny up, discarded her robe, pushed up her nightgown, and bent her over the breakfast nook loveseat. Jenny finished removing her nightgown. Ever since her high school boyfriend insisted she must be naked for sex, Jenny always made sure she was. Marc knew Jenny loved rear entry. His cock had a slight curve and it was perfectly designed to touch her G-spot as they fucked.

"People can see us from the building to our south," Jenny said. Marc was poking at her vagina. He noticed it was already wet.

"Too bad. I need to fuck you now while I have the erection." He pushed himself inside Jenny and she gave a loud moan of delight as he entered her.

"Oh yeah. I love you so much," she said, as Marc began to pump.

As Marc fucked her, Jenny flashed back to her high school days and the time Alex Goodfellow fucked her silly on the rooftop of his parents' Central Park West building. She had misgivings about fucking in such an exposed place, but Alex had pressured her into it. Now she had to ask herself: Was history repeating? She remembered the old saying,

those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it

.

Jenny however remembered the past perfectly. She should be spared, right? What strange thoughts to have while being royally fucked by the man she loved. Jenny heard some sexy groaning and it slowly dawned on her the moans were hers. She remembered how aroused she got at the thought of being watched, and now they could be being watched once again as she was fucked senseless over her kitchen table. She wasn't sure what had gotten into Marc -- besides the Viagra, of course -- but she was thrilled. Instead of being angry as she had feared, he seemed to be in total lust at the thought of what the exhibition at the J. Byron Goode Gallery would bring.

**

Jenny was flummoxed. Marc knew about the infidelity she committed in order to get her precious lamp. A blowjob wasn't fucking, but it was an infidelity nevertheless. He had saved her from twelve fucking sessions with J. Byron Goode, thank goodness, but at what price? Jenny was terrified, not just by Marc's seemingly total knowledge of her activities (a girl needs a little privacy after all) but also of having to perform

The Kiss

-- naked and with Martin Savage naked too -- the very next day. How could she kiss Martin for twenty minutes and not become hopelessly aroused? And for the cherry on top: the gallery would be filled with lecherous men lusting over her naked body. Jesus.

She heard her phone ding. The text was from Mr. Goode. It explained the schedule for Sunday; she was shocked he expected her to mingle with the people there, while naked, for twenty minutes after her solo stint next to the statue and before her stint imitating another of Rodin's sculptures. Could she really do that? Socialize--like at a cocktail party--while naked? Did Marc know about this? Jenny forwarded the text to Marc, who was at his computer in another room.

Marc's reaction surprised Jenny. When Marc read Goode's instructions to Jenny his reaction was twofold: First, he smiled. Second, a tent grew in his pants. Before she knew it Jenny was tossed unceremoniously onto their bed. Marc ripped off his pajamas and pounced on top of her, stripping her of her own clothes. He kissed her passionately. His mouth dropped to her boobs. After Marc had slobbered on them, with special attention of course to her nipples, his mouth once again moved south, pausing at the belly button, and then continuing down to her landing strip and freshly shaved pussy slightly beyond.

"I need to get dressed, Marc. My appointment for my leg waxing is rapidly approaching," Jenny said, in her breathy voice that Marc knew meant she was turned on. Marc's mouth began to have a field day in her crotch, and Jenny moaned in response to Marc's talented tongue. She could see Marc was hard for the third time that day. Remarkable! Recently he had had trouble getting it up at all, and only once in recent memory had he gotten aroused twice in one day. Now suddenly it was three times, the day before the gallery show? Jenny had to admit, amidst her erotic delirium (Lord almighty, her husband was good with his tongue!), that it had to be the anticipation of the gallery show and her naked modeling at it. His friends from Skull and Bones would see his "pretty little wife" (as he liked to call her) modeling nude. They'd be up close and personal. She shivered at the thought. It was almost funny: She shivered, and he got hard.

Marc ignored Jenny's protest that she had no time. After she climaxed from his tongue he entered her to Purcell's trumpet fanfare playing on the radio. Jenny decided she could skip the waxing and just shave as she gave herself into Marc's amazing fuck. She always loved getting fucked after she had already climaxed. Martin Savage knew that well and he had often exploited it. Jean-Pierre exploited that weakness, if it even was a weakness, too. Maybe all men did? No: Dylan never really cared if she climaxed or not. He was using Jenny, but at the time she did not mind because Dylan fucked her so nicely that she almost always had a vaginal climax. She preferred vaginal climaxes to clitoral climaxes, although noting the difference sometimes felt like splitting hairs. Yes, she really should get her legs waxed. Maybe the salon would still take her even if she would be late and full of Marc's cum? She would have to apply a lot of perfume all around her vagina to mask the telltale smells of sex.

Speaking of splitting hairs, maybe she should also go to the hairdresser and attend to her split ends? So much to do, so little time, and speaking of time, Marc was still plumbing her depths. Just when she was in a hurry, Marc was taking his sweet time and seemingly lasting forever with what had to be the fuck of her life. To date: The fuck of her life to date. She was still young! Jenny had happened to glance at the clock when Marc had begun this whole sex episode, and it was now 35 minutes later! She was about to have her third climax during this marathon fuck. Wow.

She thought about the movie

Dr. Strangelove

and its memorable tagline, "How I learned to stop worrying and love the bomb." In her case, she'd have to substitute something like "Marc's cock" for "the bomb." As she had that thought, Marc suddenly pushed deep inside her, went still, and began to squirt; and damn it if she didn't scream out bloody murder and have one hell of a climax, one of her best ever.

Jenny knew she had to rush to have a chance at a leg waxing, but she also knew after her climax from Jupiter her legs would be like rubber. Still, if there was one thing Jenny could always mobilize for it was her beauty appointments. Somehow Jenny made it to the salon only ten minutes late. She knew Marc's cum was leaking out of her a little, and of course the aesthetician noticed. "Had a busy afternoon, Jenny?" she giggled. Then she got more serious. "Next time maybe a douche before you come here might be nice." Not knowing what to say, Jenny said nothing.

**

Marc and Jenny arrived at the J. Byron Goode Gallery Sunday morning at 10:45 AM, as the schedule asked them to. The gallery was planning to open its doors at 11 AM sharp. Jenny wore a tight -- but not too tight -- black leather skirt and a light sweater. The skirt hugged her ass suggestively. She wore a massive Maltese cross, gold plated and encrusted with semiprecious stones, as a necklace. Marc of course had given it to her. It was a family heirloom and had been handed down from Marc's great-grandmother to his grandmother to his mother and now to Jenny. Jenny loved it, and it really picked up the subtle blue threads of her otherwise gray sweater. Marc was wearing slacks, a white shirt Jenny had ironed for him, and a corduroy sports coat with leather patches on the elbows. His jewelry included diamond-encrusted white gold cufflinks, a gift Jenny had given him, using of course the American Express card that got billed to Marc. Jenny thought he looked spiffy. She called him Mr. Spiff.

Marc smiled when he met Johnny Goode again, and they shook hands. The look Goode gave Jenny made her uneasy. She felt like a nervously twitching baby rabbit being eyed by a hungry fox. Jenny was able to relax a bit as guests poured into the gallery. To Jenny's surprise, even shock, Marc knew around 80% of the people (almost all of them men) who were arriving, and he introduced her to them, one-by-one. They were all gracious and had that ease about them that the rich and the very rich often have. Jenny gave her thousand-watt smile to each and every rich man, handsome or not, and they all responded with smiles of their own. Jenny no longer felt like a scared baby rabbit. She had no clue what she felt like at that point.

Jenny was surprised to see her shrink Dr. Smithfield show up too. He didn't have an invitation like the others but Jenny vouched for him. Was her shrink really going to see her naked, standing next to the statue of Francine de Chamonix? Yes, she guessed he was. Jenny blushed a gorgeous shade of scarlet. Would he charge her for his time, too?

Jenny had met so many men that their names were all running together in her mind. After around twenty clearly rich men, in walked her former French lover Jean-Pierre. Marc hadn't been kidding when he said he had invited him. Jean-Pierre smiled at Jenny just as he used to do back in Paris. It was such a relief to Jenny to see a friendly, loving face and to greet someone she already knew -- other than Dr. Smithfield -- that she melted. They spoke French to each other, exchanging banalities about how they had each been. Jean-Pierre took her left hand and rubbed -- almost caressed -- her engagement and wedding rings.