At 21 she thought she knew all there was to know about men and how their minds worked. Especially, the small mind, the one tucked into the little head between their legs.
She had the flaming beauty of the true Celt, red hair flowing down her shoulders, the kind of hair that made his hands itch to dig deep into the torrent of curls. Green eyes peering intently at him and a body made somewhere in some perfect cauldron and poured out to drive men wild with hunger and want.
And she knew all about it, all about that catch of breath, crotch tightening instant response she caused.
"And so then, John, what are you looking at so closely," she asked, knowing full well what it was he was really seeing in his mind as his eyes took her in.
"Why you of course Eileen," he answered, "all of you is what I'm looking at so closely."
There was a brief hesitation, and she chose to play the game.
"And, so why would you be looking at all of me?" she teased.
He sighed softly and leaned down to whisper in her ear, ready to be slapped or to claim the prize he really wanted.
"Because, my Irish goddess, I look at you and see you tumbled in my bed, all soft and aglow, still catching your breath from having been loved hard and long and well, just coming down from an explosion of fire and lust and still wondering at the beauty of it all. That's why I'm looking at all of you."
Her breath caught for a minute and she stared at this man she had just met. There was a moment when she might have bolted away, a brief frozen instant of indecision. She had had no warning about how far he would drive her mind in just those few seconds of quiet talk. But her own imagination had taken flight to his bed, her lips bruised and swollen, her nipples still hard and her gasping breaths slowing, slowing, as the ball of fire that had flared deep in her belly flickered to an ever softer glow; her legs still spread so her sex was open and wet, her belly still filled with what he had driven deeply, relentlessly into her.
She was past teasing. She knew it was no longer a game. He hadn't touched her, yet she was trembling softly. Her tongue flickered to wet her suddenly dry lips. "All right," she whispered, "all right."
"No, not yet. Look at me Eileen and listen. Listen hard," he said. "There are no limits to where I will take you. The word no does not exist between us. We will go where you have never been before and you will grow as you learn the true meaning of who you are. And all of that will come from deep inside you, from yourself, for all I can do is guide you and teach you. The rest is up to you."
She stared, caught in the moment forever. "All right," she whispered, "all right."
Across the room Joan stood with her husband, both of them watching John talking with the redhead. It was like a silent play as the young woman first grinned at their friend and used her outrageous body to flirt with him. They talked for a second, and then John had leaned over to say something in her ear.
The woman froze, motionless in the midst of a room full of people, obviously somehow alone with their closest friend. She looked confused and then flushed as John leaned forward to whisper to her and then leaned back, staring intently at her. And Joan realized that in that brief moment, the redhead had given herself to John.
Her own reactions startled her. Her breasts had suddenly swollen slightly, her stomach tightened as she raised her head to look more intently at the couple who were now leaning closer into each other. She knew all of John's friends and playmates, and this enticing woman was not one of them. Or rather, had not been one of them until this very moment. What she had seen, she instinctively knew, was a seduction. Without touching her, John had taken the redhead right there in public, in the middle of their living room, in the middle of their anniversary party, in the midst of all their friends.
Beside her Sam gave a short laugh. Her husband of two years had seen John with the red haired stranger too, and had watched the brief play of words and body language. And Joan realized that Sam had understood the intensity of what they watched just as well as she herself had.
"That's just too bad," Sam said.
"What do you mean? It looked to me as though both of them fell into each other just now. And John's been without anyone for too long now anyway. She looks good with him."
"Yes, she does. In fact they look good together. But it's still too bad."
There was wistfulness in his voice that startled her. "I don't understand what makes you say that Sam."
"Well, it's a bit complicated," her husband answered. He paused for a moment, searching for the right words, even wondering if he wanted to say what he was getting ready to tell her.
"What's complicated, Sam? Explain."
He shook his head slightly and decided to go ahead. "You know how you're dressed tonight?"
Joan was confused by this unexpected question. They had planned their anniversary party for weeks. And Sam had insisted they plan what she was wearing for just as long. Her husband had uncharacteristically gone shopping with her looking for the dress she was wearing now. In fact, she realized, he had been with her, guiding her choices, item by item, for everything she had on tonight. Everything.
She looked, she knew, fantastic. In fact she had never looked better, having achieved that perfect ladylike outward image that covered up the most wanton lingerie she had ever worn.
She hadn't answered when Sam continued with another question, "And you know how I asked you to get yourself ready for tonight?"
He had insisted she spend the day on herself, while the caterers took care of all the party details. She had spend the day at one of the city's most elegant spas, and every inch of her had been pampered and cared for, readying her not just for the party, she knew, but for the private anniversary celebration that would follow after, after all the guests had gone, after the caterers had left, when they would have the house to themselves.
She had drifted in an out of an erotic reverie for much of the day as her hair, her face and her body were readied for the party, but much, much more for her husband. Her body had hummed with anticipation as she had put on the garter belt that now pulled gently at the long, very long shimmering stockings she had smoothed onto her impossibly smooth legs. She had stared frankly at herself in the full length mirror in their room before reaching for the silk, smoke grey wisps of bra and panties she had picked for with his approval. She stepped into her heels and stared again at herself in the mirror, every man's wet dream come true.
Almost reluctantly she'd finally put that one perfect dress on, shrugging it over her shoulders and buttoning it up from the hem, button by button to the swooping neckline that just barely covered her breasts. And as she dealt with each button she had visualized Sam reversing the process, his stripping the dress off, exposing her to his view, drinking in the sight of her, and heating her almost instantly to a boiling point of lust.
She came back from her reverie, her voice huskier with the thoughts that had flashed back through her mind, "Yes, but what does that have to do with John?"
He hesitated again, and then plunged forward. "John was going to be your anniversary gift."
She stood, stunned, staring mutely at her husband of two years. There was a growing roar of heat inside her as she heard Sam go on. "You've been fantasizing about him for months now. I've asked him to stay after everyone leaves. I wanted him sitting, there, in that chair. I was going to dance one last slow dance with you, with the lights down and the music soft. And then I was going to turn you in my arms so you were facing John, your back pressed tightly up against me.
"This dress was for that moment. I've had it all in my mind for weeks now. I want your ass tight against me while I unbutton you, one slow button at a time until there are no buttons left to open. I've imagined stepping back, and pulling the dress open, pulling it back and off of you so John can see you as only I have seen you, ready and wanting to be fucked.
