Degraded By The Power Couple

"Who are THEY?" I asked Angela.

That was rude of me. Today was Angela's day. Gorgeous in her white dress, train and lace rippling in the light evening breeze, she was kind to stop and chat with me. And here I was, gawking at some other woman, and the man on her arm.

"That's Mave, my cousin. And Hector, her husband. They're quite rich, can't you tell?" She said it like it was a bad thing. I wasn't so. The couple stuck out, but not in a gaudy way. They were elegant. Like maybe they belonged at a slightly fancier wedding--no offense to Angela.

Mave was wearing a black dress with a thigh-high slit. I'd had a dress tailored once when I'd been a bridesmaid. The lady had bustled me too and fro with an efficiency that bordered on rudeness. Fair, I'd supposed, since she had to work six of us before lunch. But I imagined the woman who'd altered Mave's dress would have approached it differently, taken her time. Maybe she'd even reveled in the process, snapping a picture at the end to rub it in the face of my tailor. "Another bridal party? How horrible. Look at my girl here. Isn't she refined? We keep a standing appointment every other Tuesday, you know."

"They're swingers, too," Angela whispered, salaciously. "Mike, he's one of the groomsmen, almost went home with them after my sister's wedding. Dummy thought he was pulling

that

." She drew emphatic curves in the air. "Until he realized they were a package deal. Poor guy, I think he almost went for it anyway."

I tried not to stare across the pavilion at the couple. In doing so, I realized I wasn't the only one ogling them. The bride was sitting over here with me, but her guests milled about in deference to the couple. The men stepped wide around Hector, jostling other tables to avoid bumping him. At the same time, women eyed him while floating by, their heads tracking, begging to be noticed, until they couldn't reasonably contort any further. I could feel Angela's annoyance bubbling beside me.

"So you think they're like, on the prowl?" I asked, trying to sound scandalized.

"Ugh,

always

. Him, I get it, whatever. But her, I think she's even come on to me a few times." When I didn't seem aghast enough, Angela prodded me. "She's my cousin, Lilly!"

I did my best to affect the appropriate level of disgust. But I was distracted by visions of Angela, in her wedding dress, sandwiched between them. Mentally, I shook myself. I replaced Angela, in her white lace, with myself, wearing significantly less. Better. No less distracting. But much better.

"Um, look. I've gotta make the rounds. Thanks so much for coming." Angela brightened. I think she'd suddenly remembered it was her wedding.

Before she twirled away, we shared a brief hug. Her dress was backless. Her muscles flexed under my fingers. I could see why Hector might have sent his wife on that hunt.

Damn, I was worked up. I wasn't even that into girls, usually. The bar, and at least one drink, seemed like a good idea.

On my way, I was briefly waylaid by a casual acquaintance. This turned out to be quite fateful. Because thanks to the delay I found myself settling into the drink line directly behind Mave.

Of course, she paid me zero attention. But I'm no shrinking wallflower, and this wasn't going to be my

first

drink of the night. "Hi, I'm Lilly," I said.

"Mave Jensin," she said. "But you knew that. I see my cousin introduced us in absentia."

"Guilty. But don't worry. I know she can be a little jealous."

That got me a sidelong glance. It wasn't Mave's full attention, but other women had been falling over themselves for less tonight. "She can be, yes. It's not a good look on anyone," she said.

When I didn't jump in with any of the obvious and sycophantic pile-ons, I was rewarded with a smidge more attention. "It looks like you didn't bring a date?"

It sure felt like a catty jab. Even if it wasn't, Mave didn't do anything to make it sound like anything else. Still, I chose to see it as a test. One that I kinda thought I was acing, so far.

"Thought I'd leave the door open to meet someone here," I said.

That was the right answer, apparently. At last, Mave appraised me fully. Cool blue eyes looked me up and down. I demurred, and met them only at the very end, after I'd been thoroughly scanned, and even then, only for a moment before looking away.

"Well, Lilly, I'm sure you'll find someone," she said.

Then we were at the bar. Some exotic cocktail for her--she rattled off the recipe for the bartender, who eagerly fumbled through it. For me, red wine. "Yes, that Pino Noir, the one right there."

Back at my seat, I felt like I had to catch my breath. I could have downed the wine right then and hopped back in line for another. But I had to believe that Mave was watching me now. It was a relief when the dancing started.

I am not a good dancer. But I'm pretty, and I smile readily, which counts for enough. Soon I was making my way through the single guys. They were even starting to vie for my attention. It gave me the confidence to put on a show. I stopped worrying that the Jensins might be watching me. Instead, I started to get off on it.

In the strange courtship dance of the guys, one of them won. I don't know what the signal was. I've never been able to tell. But he started to follow me around, and the others retreated to a respectful distance. He was a nice boy. Tall and charming, if a little puffy in the cheeks, the best dancer there by far. On another night I'd have been quite pleased to be attended by him. But tonight, it felt smothering. I didn't want to rebuff him, at least not fully, because I wasn't quite sure what had passed between Mave and me. If I could have, I would have put him aside in a corner, as a backup, until I figured that out.

Mave found me when my boy went for another beer. She materialized behind me, emerging casually from a circular conversation. But the timing was too perfect. A thrill of excitement rushed through me as my hopes were confirmed. I dared to believe I had her. And by extension, Hector, who I suddenly couldn't locate. Which was strange, since he was quite tall.

"Hi, Mave!" I said brightly. Before immediately deflating under her withering look. It seemed that even if I was a worthy quarry, the social hierarchy need still be maintained. "Sorry. Didn't mean to shout. A little too much wine, I think."

She smiled graciously at my obeisance, "Hi Lilly. Meet anyone yet?"

I looked over at the bar where my backup plan was ordering drinks for the both of us. Mave followed my gaze. "Still looking," I said.

"Really? It looked like you two were hitting it off."

"Just dancing, I'm not so sure he's into me."

It was a poor lie, and Mave's feline smile told me she bought none of it. "I thought you might want to meet my husband." She said it casually, like it flowed naturally in the conversation and wasn't either a complete non sequitur, or a frank admission that she was angling to put a bow on me and serve me up to him. That was some more imagery that I couldn't dwell on if I was going to respond instead of standing there like a drooling idiot.

"Like, now?" I said. A step above

drooling idiot

. But not much of one.

Vacant fool

, maybe.

"Yes. Now." Mave's eyebrows, thin and dark and severe, wrinkled as she scanned the crowd for him. I'd taken my heels off to dance, so she had an advantage on me. She found him first, and smiled. The self-satisfied smile of a cat who's just rounded the corner after one mouse, and found two. "Ah, there he is. If you hurry, I bet you can catch him."

Hector was walking away from the party, alone, down the unlit path people sneaking off to all night. Mostly, it had been boys, unwilling to wait for the bathroom. But I'd noticed a few giggly couples disappear down it too.

I stood there, dumbly, feeling Mave smirk at me. "Oh look, that nice boy's coming back. Looks like he bought you a drink. Maybe he is interested," she said.

Before I started down the dark path, I looked back, a little guiltily. My dance partner was talking animatedly with Mave. She'd maneuvered him so that his back was to me. I gave him a heartbeat, and when he didn't turn to look after me, I padded into the darkness. Bare feet on soft grass. Guilt assuaged. But nerves still akimbo.

-----

I spotted Hector a little ways off the edge of the trail. He was hard to make out in the moonlight, and somewhat obscured by the trees. But I could tell it was him by the silhouette of his suit, how it tapered around his waist and flared boldly at the hips. He was facing away from me, in that legs wide stance men use when something needs watering.

The absurdity of the situation caught up with me then.

What the hell was I doing?

It was one thing to introduce myself to the haughty temptress in line for the bar. But stalking a man I didn't know into the woods--that was absurd. What was I even supposed to say to him? "Hi," seemed woefully inadequate. But, "I think your wife sent me to suck your cock," felt a smidge bold, even after a few drinks.

I was about to turn back, and begin shamefully dodging Mave for the rest of the night, when Hector spoke. "Looking for someone?" he said, without turning. He had a rumbly voice that carried clearly, even though he was facing away from me.

I forced myself not to squeak and run. "Actually, you," I said. Then I said it again, louder, because my voice didn't have the same qualities, and got lost in the night. "Your wife sent me to find you."

He still didn't turn around. It was like talking to a cardboard cutout. "Really, what for?"

It was like jumping into a stream. Hard to take the leap, but once you were in it, it felt natural to swim. "She thought we should meet," I said.

"You didn't have to traipse out here to do that."

"Yeah. But, I did." These people--the Jensins--were gorgeous, and suave to boot. But I wasn't going to pretend wide-eyed virgin innocence just so Hector could tease me.

He laughed. It was rich and flowery. Something in my upper chest buzzed along, like a tuning fork. "Alright then, firecracker, let's meet," he said.

It was stupid to leave the grassy path barefoot. But, I did it anyway, picking my ginger way through the underbrush. The forest was old, and the trees didn't branch out until far above my head, so I mostly just had to avoid logs and spots of ferns.

Hector moved a shade deeper into the woods, so by the time I made it to him we were somewhat secluded. He still didn't face me, even when I was close enough to take his hand. Not that I did. Instead, feeling a little thrill of boldness, I reached around and grabbed his tie. I tugged him into a turn.

"Hi," I said.

I'd read somewhere that kissing was a red line for many swingers--something about the distinction between intimacy and sex. Well, it was good that Mave's husband was a full foot taller than me. Because there, looking up at him, sharp features framed by perfectly windswept hair that glowed moonlight at the edges, I would have crossed that line if it was six inches lower.

He looked down at me, dark and towering. But he said nothing.

In lieu of a kiss, I leaned forward against him, holding his silky tie like it was leading me in a dance. "Now what?" I whispered.

"I think you know," he said.

Of course I knew.

The leaves beneath us were damp, so I crouched instead of knelt. That was alright though, it was easier to drag my cheek and palms along his contours that way. His jacket was open, and underneath, he was wonderfully warm through the fine material of his dress shirt.

And below that, his pants were still unzipped. My hands, scouting ahead, found the subtle tension in his briefs and knew, even before my lips traced their way over thin trimmed fuzz, that his cock was still out.

It was flaccid, but weighty. Hot against my lips as I kissed down the length of it. I had to crouch even lower to take the tip in my mouth.

It contoured to me nicely, soft and pliable. I found that if I sucked, it filled me and suctioned interestingly toward the back of my throat. This started a familiar watering at the sides of my tongue and behind my eyes, so that when I looked up at Hector he was blurry and unreadable.

He didn't grow hard immediately. Even as I started to work on him, he stayed soft. Satisfyingly large, but soft. It made me wonder, was this so common to him that I'd need to pull some wild trick to arouse him? I wasn't sure I had a trick like that.

His fingers tangled themselves in my hair. Starting behind my ears, they splayed out until he was, for all purposes, grasping my head. "Are you ready?" he asked.

"Mmmh," I intoned around his cock, happy and obliging, even though I wasn't completely sure

what

I was ready for. Since he wasn't fully hard, I doubted he was ready to cum. So, I figured I was about to get my mouth fucked. I was ready for that, I decided. It sounded pretty hot.

But instead of a cock trying to stuff itself down my throat, I felt only warmth. It started in the back, and quickly filled my whole mouth. Then it kept expanding, with pressure behind it, growing more insistent until it burst past my lips! Something hot and wet splashed my cleavage. In the cool air, it quickly chilled on my skin, soaking into the padding of my strapless. But there was no time to worry about my clothes, because my mouth was still filling with pee!

Mave's husband held me on his cock with casual ease while he emptied himself. My choices were clear. It was either escaping out my lips or going down my throat. An image of myself, stumbling out of the woods, soaked down the front with piss, flashed through my mind. It was all the incentive I needed to swallow.

Even after deciding to do it, drinking Hector's pee was difficult. With my mouth already full to bursting, it took me back to my college days and the drinking games we used to play. I'd never been much good at them. They always looked easy, like tipping a pint glass with just your teeth, but all that liquid flooding in made swallowing hard. More than once, I'd spilled all over my front. But, it seemed I'd learned something from my past humiliations, because I managed it now, holding back the spasms in my throat until Hector's streaming cock finally ran dry. If only my friends could see me now.

As soon as my head was released I stumbled back, barely catching myself on my hands and knees. I coughed. It was a deep, clearing, cough. Like when you have the flu. I pictured the remnant pee trickling down into my lungs, and retched harder.

"What. The. Fuck?" I choked out, eventually.

Hector laughed. "Oh come on. What did you think I was doing out here?" As I struggled upright, his cock bumped against my cheek. He was finally hard.

"You psycho," I started. Faltered. "You

goddamn

psycho,"--that felt better--"You're in so much trouble. I'm gonna--" I stopped again.

"Gonna what?" he asked. The moon lit his wide, self-satisfied, smile. "Finish what you started?" He rolled his hips into me, prodding thick and hard against my belly. I stepped back. My toes squelched into something I really hoped was mud. When I opened my mouth to cuss him again, only a squeak came out. And then there was more unwanted wetness, this time from my eyes.

I ran. Directly away from him at first, and then, finding I was still sane enough not to charge barefoot into the woods, I arced a wide loop back to the path. Mave's husband laughed at me the whole time, the direction of the sound changing as I circled around until, at last, I felt shorter mowed grass under my feet.

-----

I caught my breath, and my thoughts, at the outskirts of the party.

There was pee down the front of my dress. The peach fabric was darkened to almost brown in a long splash that could only be explained by something spilling from my mouth. Plus, I could smell it. It wasn't like Hector had been chowing down on asparagus, or anything, but a faint acrid tinge followed me.

My car was in the parking lot just on the other side of the tent. I gave my lips a nervous lick, bowed my head, and walked briskly through the crowd. A quick detour to grab my jacket, and I would be driving home, where I could process what the fuck had just happened. After a scalding hot shower, of course.

When I reached for my jacket, I almost knocked over the wine glass I'd left next to it. The alcohol was tempting. A little bit of dulling would do my mind some good. But after what had just happened, there was no way in hell I was going to drink from an unattended glass.

A laugh cut through both the din of the wedding and my thoughts. It was Mave, from across the tent, yet somehow clear as bells. I glanced her way and immediately wished I hadn't.

She was standing with Hector. They were leaning on a small-top riser table, laughing, and looking right at me.

I flushed and turned away. My cheeks felt about the same color as my wine. But shame and rage are close cousins, and before I knew it I'd picked up my wine glass, intending to stalk across the tent and dump it all over Hector, or maybe Mave--both of them if I could get the spray right.

Mave stopped me with a look. I was halfway across the tent before I thought to look at my targets. But when I did, there was something like disappointment on her face. She shook her head, ever so slightly. I didn't know what would happen if I dumped my drink all over her, but suddenly, I was sure I didn't want to find out.

Another, better, idea caught up with me. I paused in the middle of the tent. As soon as I stopped, stale pee-smelling air coalesced around me. A woman I didn't know opened her mouth, about to tell me I had a big stain descending from my cleavage. I raised my wine to my lips. And spilled it all down my front.

The woman closed her mouth, confused. Then she offered me her napkin. I took it and dabbed at my wine stained dress. It was probably just my imagination, but already the air around me felt fresher, smelling of crushed grapes, instead of digested ones.

"Thanks," I said to the woman. But I wasn't really paying her any attention. My focus was on Mave, who smiled slightly and raised her own glass in a toast.

I sat down then, and just sort of let time pass. The boy I'd been dancing with earlier had found a new partner. She was a better follower than me, I had to admit. But I consoled myself, perhaps unfairly, that she seemed a little bland. An idle fantasy played in the back of my mind. In it, I swept in to steel her partner, not with a sudden burst of dancing ability, but a simple proposition.

You. Me. My place. Let's get out of here.

It was a nice fantasy, and I let it occupy me while the time slipped by. Except, in my vague visions of tangled sheets and even more tangled thighs, I kept startling to find the boy had changed. When he pinned my hands above my head, and I looked up into his eyes, they were brown, not hazel, and it was Hector grinning down at me with that same

now I've got you

look he'd worn right before--

And then it was Angela's face. Which didn't make much sense, until I remembered that the real world existed, and she was standing right next to me. "Oh Lilly, that

sucks

!" she whined, plucking at my stained dress.

I shrugged, distracted by Hector, and his exploring fingers, fading away.

"What happened with Marco? It looked like you two were gonna," Angela made a lewd hand gesture.

"Marco?"

"The boy you were dancing with? For like

two hours

."

"Oh, he's--" I jutted my chin at him and his partner. The two of them had been at it a while now, sweat darkened their bangs. They kept trying some move where she spun around behind him. It failed every time, often to the annoyance of the surrounding dancers, but they seemed to be having fun.

"Ugh. Slut," Angela said.

"Who even is she?"