Tuesday At Seven Ch 2

Marci's hand trembled as she handed me the sealed envelope. I held it up to the light, but I couldn't see through the paper. I ripped open the top. Inside was a blank piece of copier paper wrapped around a dollar bill. The terror left her face when I held up the money. "Dinner will be early tonight," she said with a weak smile.

Dinner was spaghetti and meatballs. We managed to eat nearly a normal amount. Her smile had become a mischievous grin by the time we had put away the leftovers and had started the dishwasher. We finished everything exactly at seven.

In the dark bedroom, I took up my station at the drapery cords. Marci entered the room, turned on the lights, removed her suit jacket and put it in the closet just as she had done the previous week. She opened the buttons on her shirt as before. Her eyes scanned the window as though trying to make eye contact with someone. The light reflected off the glass preventing her from seeing outside. This did not keep her from playing a stripper working her audience. When her blouse was lying on the bed, she turned her back to the glass and reached back to unhook her bra. Instead of turning around while she pulled her arms out of the shoulder straps, she kept her back to the window and looked back over her shoulder. With her arms free, she faced the bed, held the bra cups in both hands, leaned forward, and dropped the bra on the bed. As she bent over, her short skirt rode up a bit putting her legs fully in view. Until that moment, I hadn't noticed she was wearing skirt or how short it was. The hem stopped a half inch below the curve of her bottom keeping her panties hidden. The sight of her long, firm gams made me swallow hard as I realized she was showing them to someone else. Slowly she turned around with her hands covering her breasts. Again she pinched and pulled on her nipples and caressed her full boobs before coming to close the drapes.

The moment the drapes closed, I grabbed her and tossed her on the bed. "He can see our shadows," Marci giggled.

"Who cares?" I said as I rolled her onto her back and ran my hand up her leg. My hand didn't stop until it found her thong under her skirt. I grabbed the wet crotch and yanked it down off her hips and legs.

"You sure are randy tonight."

"I can't believe you bent over like that. Your ass was almost exposed."

"Only almost," she said with mock disappointment. "I have to get a shorter skirt."

"You're getting off stripping for this guy."

"You are getting turned on by my doing it."

I didn't want to admit it, but she was right. Her stripping for another man got me excited. She enjoyed it too. We had found something new that we had in common. Most people would say I should be jealous, that I was nuts for letting her do it, that our marriage was over. It was an enhancement to our relationship. Many men openly stared at her when we went out in public. That reinforced my feeling that I was extremely lucky to have won her heart. I was in the room with her when she stripped. Others may have seen her and lusted after her, but she was only mine. That evening, I had a semi-hard-on during dinner from the anticipation. When she bent over, my dick became painfully hard in my pants. I wanted to fuck her with the drapes open,

I didn't have to look, although I did. I didn't have to touch. The musky aroma from her pussy told me she was dripping wet. Without any pretense of foreplay, I dropped my pants and shorts and shoved my rigid dick into her. She crushed her boobs to my chest as I hammered into her. Both of us breathed deeply and rapidly. My aching balls begged for relief. Her pussy muscles contracted. The harder I pushed into her, the tighter she became. Within seconds, we climaxed together.

After a few moments rest, I got up long enough to finish undressing and to turn off the lights. Marci was completely naked when I rejoined her in bed. We had just begun a lingering kiss when the phone rang. She picked it up. "Hello?" she said. A few seconds later, she rang off without speaking. "Another thank you."

The next Tuesday, I couldn't wait to get home. When I came in the door, I noticed an open envelope on the dining table. Marci was in the kitchen cooking dinner. "Check it out," she called to me. Inside the envelope was a five-dollar bill.

"I guess he liked what he saw last week," I said.

She came out of the kitchen carrying a couple of table settings. I had never seen the clothes she was wearing before. The blouse showed more cleavage than the others she normally wore to work, and the tight skirt just covered her bottom when she leaned over to set the table. She looked back over her should at me when she heard me suck in my breath. "Think he'll like it?" she asked coyly.

"You bought that outfit just for him?"

"For both of you." She eyed the growing bulge in my pants. "I see you like it." I stepped up behind her and pressed my dick against her ass crack while putting my arms around her and squeezing her tits. "Easy does it. I have a show to do tonight."

For a second, I hated him, that unknown voyeur. He was interfering with our normal pattern of sex before dinner. As I mentioned earlier, we were newlyweds. I wanted her right away. The prospect of an hour's wait was appalling. I was certain that I'd have a case of blue balls before she closed the drapes in the bedroom after her little show.

Somehow, I survived the next hour. I had difficulty eating. We had salads, instant mashed potatoes, and pork chops. It wasn't a gourmet meal, but we were on a budget because we wanted to buy a house. She had spent more on the one new outfit than she had received in "tips." I considered asking her to have him ask others for tips, but I dropped the idea without mentioning it. The potential audience was too limited. We could accidentally get the police tipped off. If that happened, she could be arrested for indecent exposure. A jealous wife would call the cops; a man certainly wouldn't.

Seven o'clock finally came. I took up my station in the dark corner before Marci came into the bedroom for her weekly breast flashing. She put the jacket away as usual. Before opening her blouse, she leaned toward the glass and pressed her breasts together with her arms. Her cleavage showed clearly from the low buttoned opening. She did the bra removal the same as the previous week. This time she wiggled her bottom while she dropped the bra onto the bed. Turning around to face the window again, she began caressing her breasts like she had before, then lifted one, then the other, and licked her nipples, all while staring out at her unseen audience. I figured since he had left extra money, she was giving him a little extra playfulness. Then, to my total amazement, she unhooked the waist of her skirt, opened the back zipper, and let it drop to the floor. "Don't touch that cord," she said sternly while keeping a smile on her face. Slowly she turned around giving him, and anyone else watching, a good long look at her black thong and her bare ass cheeks before casually coming to my corner. I was in too much shock to move, so she closed the drapes herself. Opening the closed drapes a crack, I saw lights come on in the other buildings. Someone on the third floor in the opposite building had bought a telescope.

She molded herself against the painful lump in my pants. Her hot mouth sought mine passionately. I put my arms around her ribs and crushed her rigid nipples to my chest. "Why did you take your skirt off?" I asked between pants.

"He raised the stakes," she said. "I thought I should too. Don't tell me you disapprove."

"It... it's fine," I stammered. "You took me by surprise."

I was a nervous wreck the rest of the week and throughout the weekend. Marci's dropping her skirt replayed over and over in my mind. I made extra trips to the men's room, not to pee, but to jerk off. I wondered if he would raise the stakes again. If he did, how would she respond?

Tuesday evening, I raced home from work. I ran red lights -- something I never did -- in my haste. I made the trip in eighteen minutes flat.

The open envelope was on the table. "In the kitchen," Marci called to me. I picked up the envelope and looked inside. A ten-dollar bill was in there. He had made the challenge.

I went into the kitchen. She was wearing her pants suit, the same one she had worn when she got the first envelope. Was she chickening out? Or was she going to change to a skirt before seven?

I don't remember what we had for dinner. The only thing I recall is wondering what Marci would do in front of the open curtains. She was being very casual. I couldn't work up the nerve to ask her. She probably wouldn't have told me. Everything she had done had been a surprise. My cock ached with anticipation.

At seven, I stood by the drapery cords and awaited her entrance. She came in and turned on the lights. As usual, she took off her jacket and put it in the closet. Her blouse came off in the usual manner with the slow unbuttoning. Her bra was different. It hooked in front and showed more boob than the others. Her nipples were barely hidden. My cock began to swell at the sight of her delightfully encased mammaries. Facing the window and dispensing with the tease, she opened the bra and tossed it on the bed. Only when she was braless did she begin to play up to her invisible admirer. She caressed her big breasts, as usual, and played with her firm nipples.

After a brief glance in my direction, she hooked her thumbs in the waistband of her slacks and pushed them down. She casually kicked them aside. She was still wearing her high heeled shoes. It took a second for me to realize she had never removed them. Turning her back to the glass and stepping away from the bed, she bent down so her head was down at her ankles. With the index finger of her right hand, she pointed up at her bottom. She was not wearing her black thong, just an ordinary pair of white cotton panties. Straightening up, she hooked her thumbs in the waistband of her panties and slowly pushed them down. I expected to see the top of her thong, or the waist string of a G-string. As I saw more of her round globes, I realized she was going to completely expose herself.

After kicking the panties aside, she looked over her shoulder and patted her fanny with her hands. She bent down again with her legs wide apart and looked at her audience between her legs. Her pussy, which I could smell from fifteen feet away, glistened with moisture. After returning back upright, she turned around closing her legs to face the glass, then bowed as though she had finished a dance recital. "You can close the drapes now," she said. When I didn't move, she said, "Go ahead. He knows you're there." I stood dumbstruck staring at my naked wife. "Eric!" she shouted. I shook my head and pulled the cords.

As soon as she turned off the lights, I peeked through the middle of the drapes. Lights came on in the other apartments. "It looks like the entire complex was watching," I said.

She clapped her hands together in delight. "That's wonderful!" she squealed bouncing on the balls of her feet. "This is so exciting. I can't wait until next week to see how much he leaves."

"It really doesn't matter. The only thing you haven't taken off is your shoes."

She giggled. "You're right. I have to think of something in case he raises the stakes again."

I took off my pants while we talked. She grabbed my arm and propelled me onto the bed. My shorts tore as she yanked on them. I raised my hips so she could get them off me. My cock snapped upright. Her mouth engulfed the head. She applied enough suction to draw my spunk directly out of my balls. Within a minute, I shot my load down her throat. The phone rang as my orgasm ended. "Hello?" she said into the mouthpiece. A few seconds later she replaced it in the cradle.

"Another 'Thank you.'" I asked.

She nodded her head and smiled. "He had trouble speaking."