Catering for a Stag Do.

Once Trish left, Dave set about seeing what cocktails he could make. First, sorting through the liquor Bob had supplied, he set aside the Vodka, Peach Schnapps and Bacardi bottles, as he had brought all the condiments to make Sex on the Beach and Pina Colada cocktails. Then set aside the bottles of Tequila and Cointreau so he could make Margaritas.

He set the glasses and ingredients out on the sideboard, ready for when they walked in the door. He was trying to keep busy, so he wouldn't worry about how Trish was getting on sorting out a stripper. The group of guys didn't arrive until 9:15. Eight of them. They had all consumed a bit of alcohol during the day but seemed steady on their feet and definitely in a happy mood.

Most of them had name badges stuck on their chests. The first guy through the door had George on his tag. Dave quickly assessed that he was the number one alfa in the group as he was organising the other guys into seats and sorting out what they were to drink. He was a big rugby-playing dude, probably six-four, good-looking and well-built.

Dave knew from what Bob had told him they were all about twenty-two, as they had all been in the same class at one of Auckland's top private schools. The other guys ranged from one that could have only been five-four to a strikingly handsome guy called James, who being eye to eye with Dave, was probably around six-one.

George introduced Dave to Bob's son, Peter, and then to the other six guys. Dave again tried to remember their names, matching them off mentally with the room cards. They wanted to know when their stripper was arriving. Dave explained she would be coming soon and proceeded to offer them drinks. They all grabbed a beer out of the ice bin. Then George insisted they all had a cocktail as well. So for the next little while, Dave was busy making Margaritas and Sex on the Beach cocktails.

Whilst making the drinks, he listened to them bragging about the golf, which of them was shit at ten-pin bowling, etc. In the meantime, George managed to get a blue movie on the big screen TV. After that, they all settled down and made comments about the assets of the ladies and men on screen.

At 9:40, the phone on the sideboard rang; he snatched it up. "What's happening?" He snapped into the mouthpiece.

"It's all sorted; tell them their lady will be there in about 15 minutes. Also, tell them to be easy on her, that she is a friend's wife and has never done this before." Trish quietly replied.

"Who have you got? did Silvia jack this up?" Dave yelled back, but Trish had already hung up.

George watched Dave on the phone and could see the worry and hear the tone in Dave's voice. He walked over to Dave and asked if something was wrong.

Dave explained what had happened and that they had managed to rope in a friend's very inexperienced wife.

"Christ!" said George. "I hope she's not some old scrubber. Bob told me you had some young bird lined up, And that she would probably give Pete a blow job if I offered her enough money."

Dave acknowledged George with a shrug of his shoulders and said that his wife had organised it through the stripper we usually used. "So I'm just as much in the dark as you."

George had to raise his voice over all the rude comments the guys were throwing at the TV screen and informed them they had some older married woman coming to strip. His statement was met with derisive, crude remarks about what they would do to the old scrubber.

Dave sat down and contemplated what this meant for their business if this all went pear-shaped. He remembered the video camera up on the shelf and wondered if it was worth his turning it on. After ten minutes, he took the remote from his pocket and aimed it at the small hole he had cut over the infrared sensor. What the hell, he thought and pressed record.

The 15 minutes had gone like an eternity; George moved alongside Dave, "Don't worry mate, as long as she has tits and we get to fondle them, the boys are all a bit too drunk to really care."

Five minutes later, there was a knock at the door. Dave jumped up and pulled the door open to find Trish standing outside. She looked elegant and alluring, dressed in an evening gown he had never seen before and black, very high-heeled shoes. The gown was a long Turquoise number with black lace on it, and had a split so high at the side that he wondered if she was wearing panties. Also, it was very low-cut in the front showing her ample cleavage. She had her hair pinned up and looked hot and very available.

Dave half whispered, half yelled. "What the fuck are you doing here? We agreed you can't be here."

She reached forward with a 'keep calm' gesture and spoke quietly so the guys could not hear. "I can't get anyone, and I can handle this. We can't afford this night to go wrong. So please don't get mad. I'm OK and can handle it."

Then she stepped past Dave into the room and swayed her hips at the guys, saying. "Right, who's the lucky groom then?"

The room erupted. There were 'WooHoo's,' 'get your gear off', etc.

The guys were all pointing at Pete as he took Trish by the arm and marched her into the second bedroom, shutting the door behind them.

"You can't do this. They are expecting the stripper to give the groom a blow job and will probably be thinking they can get a lot more. You can't handle this at all. You have no idea about stripping. I won't let you do it." He tried to speak quietly, so they would not hear him out in the lounge.

"Frankly, we have no choice. My wages alone will not cover our mortgage for the next month, so we really do need the money from tonight. And how hard can it be to strip? I can easily handle those young guys."

The door opened, and George stepped into the room. "What's going on?" He asked.

Trish stepped forward. "My husband is a friend of Dave's and doesn't know I'm here. So Dave is packing a sad and saying he won't let me do it."

Dave interjected, "She's never done anything like this before. If my mate finds out, he'll kill me."

George walked over, put his arm around Trish and told her he would sort out the guys and make sure they treated her with respect. Then turning to Dave and said, "Shit man, she has to be a thousand times better looking than the young floozy you had jacked up. She'll be fine. Get her a drink. I'll go sort out the guys." And he walked back out the door.

Dave saw he was beaten and asked. "Where did you get the dress?"

Trish quickly explained; She had gone down to the bar and taken the call from Silvia, saying she couldn't find her flatmate. Silvia said she had also called the club, but they had two other girls call in sick that night, so that must have been where Ann got the bug. So she had ducked into the hotel Boutique just before it closed. She had a stroke of luck; in that, they had a stock clearance sale. The lady managing the shop shut the door and fitted her up with the ball gown, shoes, and underwear, all for under $1000. "It was a great deal, I got this gown at 50% off, and the shoes were discounted by 70%.

But Dave didn't appreciate what she considered a bargain. For him, it just meant that more than half their profit for the evening had disappeared and let his disappointment show. "Shit Trish, I'm not happy about this."

"Look, you said Bob will pass on a lot of business to us if we pull this off. So trust me and support me. I'll be OK." And she handed him a little cardboard envelope containing a room key card.

"What's this?" Dave exclaimed.

"Well, I needed somewhere to change and put makeup on. So I asked at the desk if they could let me use a room, the lady got the duty manager, knowing we were working here, but the best they could offer was a room at staff rates. So we are staying the night." And she turned, opened the door and walked out into the lounge.

George was up beside her in a flash and took control. He asked her if she had any music with her.

She replied to him. "I've never done this before, so all you see is what you got."

To which George replied. "Well, what you got is pretty dam hot. You just relax. You've certainly impressed the guys, so go and get a drink, and I'll find an MTV channel on the TV. By the way, what's your name?"

"Maria," Trish responded.

"The most beautiful word I ever heard." He sang; it was followed by everyone in the room singing, "Maria, Maria, Maria."

One clown carried on singing, "Maria, Maria, get your gear off."

Trish responded, "Boys, slow down. I need a couple of drinks, as I'm very nervous. So go back to your movie or come and talk with me, and make me feel at home." And then she moved to the bar.

Dave was a bit worried that her mature motherly attitude with them may put a damper on things, but the guys didn't seem to mind, and all started talking at once. He could hear all sorts of complimentary comments and thought to himself, this may just work. She does look bloody sexy.

"What do you want to drink? There is some very nice bubbly in the fridge."

"I think I need something a bit stronger. Could you make me a Margareta, please, and don't look angry at me? I'm only doing this to save us. And I know I can handle it, OK?"

"I'm not angry. I'm concerned for you. I don't think you know what you have gotten yourself into." He replied as he mixed her a strong Margareta.

Trish stood quietly waiting for her Margareta, then said. "Just go along with the story, please and try not to get angry. It's only a little nudity, something you see on the telly every day." And she picked up her drink and went over to sit between George and the groom.

Dave was left thinking about the costs. He knew he shouldn't be thinking about money when his wife was about to get undressed in front of eight horny young men. But adding the makeup and cost of the room, it looked like the only profit from tonight would be what booze was left over, and that was not to pay the mortgage.

He looked up to see that George had engaged Trish in conversation, and it was apparent he was flirting outrageously with her. He felt a pang of jealousy and a little sorry for Peter, the groom, as it was meant to be his night, and he wasn't getting much attention. But then he saw George whispering in Trish's ear, and she turned to Peter, put her arm around him and gave him a big kiss on his cheek. Pete suddenly looked a lot happier with his lot.

The other guys were all leaning in and telling Trish how sexy she looked, each trying to get one up on their neighbour and get some of her attention. They all wanted a kiss, so she got to her feet and moved around, giving them all a very motherly kiss on their cheeks or foreheads. Dave was surprised at how easily she fitted into the role. But it was bloody uncomfortable watching her flirting so openly with all the guys.

George stood, made Trish finish her drink in one gulp and then headed over to Dave. "Fuck! She's a winner. You've pulled a real winner out of the hat there, mate. Another drink for Maria, please and make it strong. It's going to be a great night."

Dave mixed Trish another Margarita; he did it remotely, as his mind was processing a thousand thoughts. One part of him was saying don't make it too strong, or she might get drunk and go too far. Another part of his mind wanted to see how far she would go. The last thought was the more compelling, and he found himself pouring three good shots of Tequila into the glass.

George took the glass from his hand and walked back to Trish. Leaving Dave to evaluate if he had done the right thing in making the drink that strong. He watched her down the Margarita in three big gulps. Then, feeling quite perplexed, he stood at the bar and took in the spectacle before him. He was finding it hard to come to grips with the fact that this sexy apparition was his wife. And what was even more disturbing for him was that she looked totally at ease, standing amongst eight guys for whom, soon, she would be shedding her clothes.

He noticed how the high heel shoes made her arse jut out, accenting her fantastic legs. He could see through the split in the dress that her legs were encased in sheer black stockings. The dress was split high enough to show the bare flesh above her stockings, and another realisation snapped into his mind, she was wearing a suspender belt. Fuck, everything that turned him on, and he was getting turned on, his cock was getting uncomfortable in his pants.

Taking his eyes off Trish for a moment, he noticed he was not the only one getting turned on. He saw a couple of the guys adjusting the front of their trousers. Then, looking back to Trish, he watched her turn to George and tell him to put the music on. As George turned up the volume, she moved to the centre of the room, swaying her hips.

The telly sprang into life with savage Garden singing "To the Moon and Back". And Trish started dancing seductively, rubbing her hands over her hips and cupping her breasts, then holding her hands high above her head, pushing her breasts out towards the guys. There was instant applause. They were impressed and let her know how they felt with plenty of risqué comments. But considering what they had just drunk in the last half hour and what he guessed they had consumed during the day, they were actually quite respectful of her.

Trish seemed to have forgotten where she was. She was swaying to the music with her eyes shut and had thousands of thoughts racing inside her brain. The rational, intelligent, common-sense actions that had ruled her whole life up to that point were being dulled by the Margaritas she had consumed. Another trait that had always kept her on the strait and narrow and away from rebellious activities was her propensity to be overcome by extreme embarrassment. The drink had managed to negate this as well.

Tonight though, she found that her embarrassment had been overridden by the sexual excitement she was feeling. There were pulses of it racing all over her body. These thrilling little charges were most potent in her cunt. That taboo rule of never thinking swear words, let alone speaking them, had slipped out the window in the previous months. But tonight, in her excited state, she wanted to shout out every filthy word she'd ever heard, cunt, fuck, anus, each word magnifying the thrilling pulses rippling through her body.

She tried to reason what had brought about this sudden departure from the comfortable, sensible life she led. Even to knock on the door that night, she'd struggled against all her basic instincts. But once she stepped into the room, everything changed. The look of awed surprise on these young men's faces gave her a sense of power she'd never felt before. All the lies, tricks and deceit men had used on her over the years were absent from their faces. Instead, she saw adoration, raw, honest lust that made her feel wanted. No much more potent than that, NEEDED!

The only thing still keeping her slightly grounded and stopping her from succumbing to these desires was Dave standing over by the kitchen.

He had never been jealous of her. On the contrary, he was just the opposite, always encouraging her to wear sexier clothes, hinting that she should shave down below. He had put pressure on her to go without any underwear plenty of times. But she had never put him in a situation like this before. Yet every time she glanced his way, she saw that he looked worried but also seemed to be getting turned on and had much the same look on his face as these young men. That he looked aroused rather than angry gave her the encouragement she needed.

She realised she was daydreaming and had a job to do. She opened her eyes, looked at the groom and lifted the dress hem right up to her panty line, showing the bare flesh above her stockings. The guys all went nuts again and shouted encouragement.

In the brief flash, Dave had of her knickers. He saw they were expensive-looking sheer red material with black lace embroidering. It was the type of lingerie he had bought for her in the early days of their relationship. But something that sixteen years of marriage had changed. He also had a brief glimpse of a red suspender belt and wondered if suspenders would be as big a turn-on for these young guys as they always were for him.

Trish moved forward to Pete and presented her left leg to him through the slit in the dress. She took his hand and placed it above her knee. His hand immediately shot up between her legs, but she waggled her finger at him and moved away.

She moved along the line, swaying her hips in front of the other guys and tried this manoeuvre with them, the third guy she came to was ready, and when she went to move away, he reached forward, arm behind her bum, he slid the other hand up her leg and grabbed a good handful of crotch. Dave braced, expecting her to be affronted, but she didn't seem fazed at all. Instead, she spun out of his grasp, waggling her finger at him and told him he was a very naughty boy.

She moved back to Pete, bent down in front of him, leaned forward and rubbed her exposed cleavage in his face. George hopped up and got a chair from the dining table, which he placed in the centre of the room. Trish had moved on. She stood before the others and bent over just out of their reach, waggling her boobs at them. George went to Pete, lifted him to his feet, and directed him to sit in the chair.

When Trish turned and saw Pete sitting in the chair, she moved in on him, bumping and grinding her hips to the music. Dave saw that most of the guys were now adjusting themselves, some going further and jerking their cocks through their pants. She backed into Pete, bent over and lifted her dress, so he got a good look at her panties. Again he grabbed for her, but she knew it was coming and moved out of his reach.

She stood, slipping the top of her dress from her shoulders, showing the room one bra-clad breast, then the other. The bra was a sheer red translucent number with black lace that matched the panties, and like the panties, it didn't hide much. You could see her nipples, and they were standing out hard like a couple of sidewinder missiles. Dave realised she was aroused, as her nipples never got that hard without his working on them with a lot of foreplay.

She motioned George to come and undo the zip on her dress, then closed her eyes and started swaying to the music. She looked tiny beside George, the top of her head only coming up to his chest. George played the part well. He swayed with her, sliding the zip down bit by bit, looking over to the guys and asking if that was far enough. They got very vocal, yelling more, more, more. He then helped her slide the dress down over her beautiful curves and supported her as she lifted one leg, then the other and flicked the dress towards the bar with her foot.

George had not attempted to grope or fondle Trish like the rest of the gang. Instead, he left her in front of Pete and returned to sit on the sofa.

Trish stood in the middle of the room. Her body looked like an invisible corset was constraining it; it was so perfect. Black high heels accented the shape of her butt. Shear black stockings that stopped inches from the tops of her legs, held up by a lacy red suspender belt. Over this were her brief, sheer red panties, the black lace was appropriately placed so that it afforded a slight hint of modesty. His eyes kept moving over her slender waist, up over the firm, lightly tanned skin of her flat stomach, to the full breasts encased in a matching sheer red bra. The black lace on the bra was not so strategically placed, though, as her rock-hard nipples were standing out, trying to push their way through the light translucent film constraining them.

Trish again thought of Dave and glanced to see how he was handling her routine. She was a little surprised to see how intently he was studying her. She saw, by the look on his face, he was just as turned on as everyone else in the room.