Deirdre's Downfall

The innocent Deirdre continues her slow journey, deeper into infidelity. For an introduction, read Chapter 1. Just click on my name and go to the link. Don't forget to vote!

I didn't utter a word to my work mate, Mandy, about my brief tryst with Jack Taylor on Wednesday when I'd been working alone in the dental office. The fact that I'd followed her advice and had a "little fling" with him had filled me with guilt at being an adulteress. Betraying my vows to Frank after nearly ten years of marriage was too much to freely admit. Though oral sex was as far as Jack and I had gone, because I'd been ovulating, my sheltered upbringing had conditioned me to fear the harsh judgments accorded a wanton woman who'd strayed from her husband.

On the other hand, I felt more alive – more vital – than I could remember having felt in my 32 years. Just picturing in my mind the virile image of the 40-year-old home designer Jack Taylor, whose mellifluous telephone voice had captivated me before ever setting eyes on him, excited me to the point of distraction. My naughty dreams of the past two nights had left me with little sleep, though I glowed with anticipation on Friday morning, anxiously awaiting one o'clock when he'd arrive for his dental appointment. Mandy had known the week before that I'd been very attracted to him, and this morning had asked me, "Jack Taylor's on for today, right?" I looked at her and nodded, smiling. "Well, Dee, when are you going to have lunch with him?" she questioned further, playing Cupid in her salacious way.

"Oh, Mandy, if you must know, Frank and I are meeting with him tomorrow about remodeling our house. Why does everything have to be sexual with you?" I asked, good-naturedly but guardedly.

"Because, Deirdre," she said – very soberly for Mandy – "I've been around the block more than once and know what's good for my cute little

bambina

." She was trumping my hand again by acting like my all-knowing, 50-year-old guardian. Then, not really off the subject, she said, "By the way, do we have all his records?"

"Whose?" I asked, daydreaming.

"Jack Taylor's, silly," she retorted.

"Oh, yeah," I replied absently. "On Wednesday I took the liberty of requisitioning his medical records from his doctor."

"That's my job, Dee. Well...saves me a phone call. Could you get them?" she asked.

I said, "Uhhh...sure," and – momentarily rattled – got up to open a file cabinet. I then remembered that I still had them in my purse.

Mandy looked at me quizzically and said, "Dee, they should be in the cabinet in the coffee room. They're just reference files. You know that!"

"Oh, of course!" I said, blushing. Be right back," I giggled, grabbing my purse and trotting back to the coffee room. I spent 30 seconds or so there, slammed a drawer for effect, and stopped in the restroom on the way back to collect myself, hoping that Mandy wouldn't discover my subterfuge. Also while in the loo, I replaced the soiled absorbent pad in my panties with a fresh one.

Pulling Jack's records from my purse, I smoothed out the folds in the papers. Yesterday I'd read them and was encouraged to see that he was in perfect health: no indication of a sexual disease. I handed them to Mandy through her door when I returned to my desk. She took them, mumbling thanks, and gave me a questioning look. "Wanta' go to lunch today?" she asked.

"Oh, no...I don't think so, Mandy. I'm behind and have to catch up. Sorry," I said. I didn't want to miss Jack in case he arrived early, since it was already 12:30.

"Okay, sweetie. And, uh, Dee? Keep me posted, will you?" Mandy said with a smile, returning to her work.

Fifteen minutes later Jack opened the door and walked to the counter as I was talking with Ana, one of our assistants. "Good afternoon, ladies!" he grinned, causing me to blush. Ana said hi to him, saw my flushed face, and – having suspected my attraction to Jack earlier, and possessing a typical Latin sensibility to matters flirtatious – said, "Ohhh, Dee!" and turned, giggling, to return to the examination wing. Mandy saw Jack through her glass door and beamed, giving a quick wave.

I was paralyzed, not knowing what to say. My heart beat like a trip hammer. My face was hot, my lips dry. The sweet pain deep in the pit of my stomach caused me to gasp as its tendrils shot through my breasts. I started to shake my head slowly – searching for a word, any word – and my mouth opened to utter...just a breathy groan.

Jack leaned over the counter and muttered, in airy, modulated, tones so Mandy couldn't hear, "You look good enough to eat today!"

And I did. For Jack, I'd dressed in an Asian style that morning – setting off my Italian complexion – in a shiny, green satin, mandarin jacket festooned with red and gold oriental markings. It hugged my breasts nicely, had a deep slit that progressed down my cleavage from a nehru-type collar to a frog closure for modesty. Its three quarter length sleeves showed off my smooth, olive wrists. My pants were dark green satin and pencil-legged. A stretch type that zipped in the back, they showed off my bottom to nice effect. My hair was drawn up and held in the back by two decorated chopsticks, and around my neck was a beaded, chandelier tassel necklace – bought at a neighborhood garage sale – that dropped to my cleavage. I'd done my eyes in a bit of green shadow. "Thank you, Jack," I whispered, and realized that he was now looking at Mandy, who apparently had witnessed our greeting. "Do we have an audience?" I asked softly, watching his eyes.

"Mm-hmm," he rumbled breathily. "Buy you coffee after?"

"We'll see," I said. "Can't ever plan ahead here. Your appointment's a long one."

"Mmm-kay," he said, as Ana came to the counter, saying the doctor was ready for him. "See ya' later," he winked, following Ana into the back with my eyes riveted on him.

Today Jack wore a light gray wool, mini-herringbone suit with a light blue shirt and navy tie with a red and gray pattern. He looked like an investment banker, except for the lack of a paunch. His clear blue eyes had pierced me when he entered the waiting room and – once again – the absorbent pad in my crotch was soaked. I stepped to Mandy's open glass door and asked her to watch the phones since I needed to go to the bathroom. "Again?" she asked, with a devilish half-smile on her lips.

After refreshing myself, I spent the next two hours losing myself in work. The time crept by so slowly! I was just about to launch into a sensual daydream when, at about 3:10, Jack emerged from his cubicle in the exam area, putting on his coat. "All finished for the day?" I asked, brightly, hoping for some reason that Mandy would hear.

"Mmm-hmm," he uttered, still feeling the effects of the xylocaine.

At that moment, Mandy walked out of her little office and asked me, "Dee, would you mind making some bank deposits for me? I'm so busy I'll be here 'til six and – though they can wait 'til tomorrow – you might as well do it. Just go on home early, since you missed lunch. I'll clear it with the docs."

I said, "Oh, okay!" looking at Jack, and knowing that Mandy was doing this for me. "I'll walk down with you, Mr. Taylor!" grabbing my coat and taking the bank envelope from Mandy. "See you Monday, Mandy!" I said, giggling at the alliteration, as we swept though the door to the elevator. Once inside, Jack and I fell into one another, gasping, as our mouths met, heatedly tasting one another after two days that had seemed like an eternity. "Where do you want to go? I've got almost three hours!" I gasped, as the elevator door opened to the parking level.

"My place," Jack asserted. Surprised at this, I stiffened and started to object as I started for my car. Sensing my reluctance, Jack rumbled, "C'mon, Dee Dee. It's only six blocks away!" leading me to the car by my arm.

"Uhh, okay," I mumbled, now frightened at the prospect of being on

his

turf...in

his

home.

As I followed his little Mercedes coupe, I felt tremendous guilt. At the same time I wanted to kick myself for leaving my diaphragm and jelly at home, securely hidden from Frank. I'd taken birth control pills for two days, which afforded no protection, and...who could have predicted this? I'll just be very cool and intelligent, I thought.

Right!

Jack pulled into the driveway of a nice, small, suburban ranch house on a street with similar homes. All the yards were well manicured. An attractive, curvy blond woman was working in her garden across the street in a sports bra and tight shorts. She waved and said, melodically, "Hi, Jack!" as he casually waved back while helping me out of my SUV at the curb.

Inside, as the door closed, we again clinched, breathing heavily and kissing deeply. He pulled off my coat and threw it on a rocking chair, where his was tossed a few seconds later, and pulled the chopsticks from my hair, letting it tumble down. "By the way," I said, pulling away and trying to slow things down, "You look good enough to eat, too! Why so formal today?" referring to his suit.

"Oh!" he chuckled. "Had to meet some clients. This is the only suit that fits me now," he said, trying to embrace me again.

"Why is that?" I asked nervously and retreated a fraction, since I needed to talk a little.

He shrugged, looking a bit downcast, and said, "Going through my divorce, I didn't eat much. Didn't want to. Lost 30 pounds. I'm having my suits re-tailored – one at a time – to fit my new, sylph-like figure," he quipped, striking a body builder's pose for humorous effect. Then, suddenly serious, he said, "Wow! You sure know how to kill a mood! I suppose you want that coffee now." Grinning again, he said, "C'mon to the kitchen so we can talk."

I watched him as he ground the beans and prepared the brew, sensing the wheels turning in his head as he relived past memories. Then, regretting that I'd rekindled unpleasant thoughts, I walked up to him and wrapped an arm around his waist, nuzzling his chest with my face. "I'm so sorry about your divorce, Jack," I muttered. "I know it must have hurt. Are you okay now? All over it?"

"Oh, yeah. Your oriental outfit just reminded me of my distant past. But, I'm better than okay!" he brightened. "Business is great, Dee Dee!" he pronounced, seemingly over-enthusiastic. "The neighborhood's full of divorced people, all taking their second or third chance, and I'm gonna' remodel this place. C'mon, I'll show you around!" I didn't know how to interpret "second or third chance" as it regarded Jack, and didn't ask for an explanation.

Most of his furniture was fairly new, Stickley and Mission style, which matched the Arts and Crafts motif of the house. From the kitchen I could see a backyard that was a work-in-progress, as he explained what his landscaping objectives were. There were several sculpted objets d'art and a number of watercolors and oils on the walls, as well as land and seascape photos that I noticed had been taken by "JT." Over the mantle was a nicely framed Picasso print of Don Quixote, lit by a hidden pin spotlight. His library was impressive, both in volume as well as variety, with many books on the visual and performing arts.

I liked what I saw and began to feel that dull, warm feeling again, though I still had many questions. His home office and entertainment room were very neat and organized, as were two bedrooms, the master containing a huge, king-sized bed. I quickly steered out of there, battling the conflicting feelings in my tummy, and we settled down on a plush sectional in the den after refreshing our coffee.

"You're really into art," I observed. "Did you study it?" I asked.

"Only informally," he grinned. "In Europe and elsewhere. My degrees are in Political Science and...I got a doctorate in management to avoid law school. A bit overeducated, I'm afraid."

"But, you're a designer," I said, confused.

"I'm a businessman, Dee Dee. My father was a design engineer and taught me a lot, and I've always had something to do with building. After grad school I did some...some government projects – overseas – and later was a bank exec heading a computer systems and branch design division. Then I started my own design biz. I hire the real architectural pros. But that's enough about me, what about you?" he asked.

"Oh, forget about me. I'm married...and I work," I said, hoping not to sound too mournful. "Business Administration degree with a Music minor. Met Frank in college – late in senior year – and married after graduation. No kids. Frank, uh...can't. Very...very carefully planned life. Conservative," I sighed, as his eyes showed an understanding of my internal ambivalent tension. I suddenly tired of the small talk and boldly scooted next to him, set down my cup and wrapped an arm around his middle. "And," I purred as seductively as I could – lifting my face and brushing his cheek with my eyelashes – "I've met someone, a man...a guy who I want to be my...my lover."

"Mmm, Dee Dee," Jack moaned, his voice straining. "You're so sweet. So desirable...so goddamn feminine..." he said, lifting my chin so that my lips met his. We kissed so leisurely, and for so long, that I was mesmerized by the gentle, pulsing feeling of our faces as their skins seemed to melt into one another. Our tongues lapped slowly at one another, welcoming the coffee-flavored saliva that flowed freely between us. As Jack unfastened the closure on my top and slid a searching hand inside its opening to brush one of my erect nipples, my hand had already begun softly stroking the prominent bulge in his trousers...up and down, up...and...down.

Gasping for breath, I pulled back to whimper, "Oh, Jack...Jack...I have to tell you, I bought...a diaphragm yesterday...but it's at home!"

"S'okay, baby, I've got something," rising quickly to leave my grasping hands. "Don't go anywhere!" he said, in a joking, mock threatening fashion. He was gone for a minute – as I kicked off my shoes – and returned, clutching a box of condoms. "These'll do the trick, Missy," he rumbled humorously, punctuating his statement with a lecherous laugh.

I reached for the waistband of his pants and unbuckled his belt as he stood there, looking up at him. My dark eyes must have flashed lustily at him as I did so, since his demeanor changed, looking, but not sounding, almost boyish. "Honestly, what do you want from me, Dee Dee?" he asked softly in his bass voice. "No games...what do you

really

want?"

My mouth was slightly open, and my lips were dry – almost parched – as my breath rasped between them. I licked them quickly, unzipping him and reaching inside his fly, and said, "Oohh, Jack. I want

you!

"

"Mm-mmm," he said softly. "Tell me exactly,

precisely

, what you want. What you want to do to me...and what you want me to do to you."

I looked at him pleadingly, and said, "I want us to make love," drawing out the word so that it sounded like "luuuuuuv." Maddeningly, he shook his head, negating my wish. Trying again, I whispered, "I want to...to suck you – like I did the other day – I want to suck your...your cock...so you feel good...so you get really hard." I sounded like a tramp. "Then I want you inside me, Jack. Oh, please...I've got to have you inside me!" I whimpered, wantonly. Again he shook his head, and I whined, "God, Jack! I want you to fu...to fuck me!" There, I'd said it. I'd begged a man for the first time in my life to use me for pleasure, his and my own. I wanted to feel the rapture that 48 hours earlier had successfully tempted me, driving me over the edge with its addictive power. And with that I dropped his pants and underwear to place my whimpering mouth around his magnificent cock.

Jack stiffened and gasped, "Oh, yeah, Dee Dee. Mmm, yeah!" as he leaned down to peel my top up from my hips. As it reached my armpits, I broke from him and his cock swung about, flipping a drop of my saliva onto the sofa. I lifted my arms and was free of the top, which he dutifully laid on a nearby table. "Mmmm, beautiful necklace. Leave it on," he murmured. "I want to watch you take off your bra," he whispered. I unfastened the front clasp and shrugged out of the black, lacy garment and lifted my arms to fold my hands momentarily behind my neck, which I always do to feel that brief moment of unclothed liberation. I also thought it might please Jack, since for years Frank has asked me to do it, just to see my breasts bounce girlishly upward.

Jack groaned at the sight of me, and by this time his shirt, tie, shoes and socks were off. It's amazing how quickly one can undress when anticipating the act of love! I marveled. I reached again for his cock, now that he was naked, and was amazed at its fullness. On Wednesday the room had been dark. Today we had the late afternoon sun coming in through a window. And, again, I compared him with my husband...his greater size and tumescence. I stroked him lovingly, astounded at the soft skin and contrasting underlying rigidity. Its length curved gradually upward to end at its big, shiny, purple glans, and his balls shifted excitedly in his large, hairy, light brown scrotum. I regarded, amazed, the thick, pulsing veins that embraced the shaft – visibly pumping his hot blood – tributaries of two larger blue-green ones that traced from his pelvis to its head. I scarcely noticed his deep, gentle murmur: "Your pants, Dee Dee...let's take off your pants," yet it spurred a new pulse of juice from my crotch. I leaned back on the sofa and reached around to unzip the pants at my waist, raising my bottom to allow Jack to pull them from me, leaving only my black, french-cut panties. "Please stand up," he whispered, pulling me to my feet and turning me around to mold my back against his strong body.

I gasped as I lay my head against his chest, feeling stabs of lightning course through me as his experienced hands coaxed moans from deep in my throat and his hardness pressed into the small of my back. So this is what foreplay can be like! I mused, as Jack began slipping my sexy panties down over my hips. The soaked absorbent pad between my legs started to slip to the floor but Jack grabbed it and – as I watched him lean his head forward over my right shoulder – stuck out his tongue and licked it! I moaned at the sheer filthiness of this act as he noisily sucked from it the effusions leaked from me over the past couple of hours. My God! I thought momentarily, what an incredibly sensuous man! Sparks shot through me as his fingers softly brushed my sopping labia. I was, literally, dripping juices out of my vagina as Jack turned me toward him, which pressed my hot, naked breasts and loins against him. My hands reached around his neck and into his hair as my moans became breathy grunts.

My excitement progressed much more slowly than it had on Wednesday, though it seemed to come from deeper within me. It wasn't quite as frenetic, I supposed, because there was little chance of our being interrupted. Consequently, I let myself go, allowing the natural crescendo to build from...from

adagio

...to

allegro!

I felt outside myself as Jack left my breasts and dropped to his knees to lick my slit very slowly up and down, driving me to keen his name loudly as he audibly swallowed what seemed like cups of juices now pouring from inside me. My knees began to tremble as a first hint of orgasm coursed through me, and Jack slowly rose to lie back on the sofa and pull me atop him.

"Jack. Please! I want to taste you some more!" I begged. He gave me a slightly reproachful look and I corrected myself: "I want to suck your cock!"

"Mm-kay," he whispered. "Let's do it this way," as he slowly eased me down onto his body so that our heads were reversed. We were in a "69" position! Mandy had told me about how good this was! Oooh, look at Jack's beautiful cock, I said inwardly, wanting my mouth so much! I love this! We can lick and suck each other at the same time and..."Oh!" I gasped aloud, as his wondrous tongue began laving my throbbing clit, sending shards of pleasure up my body. "Yes, Jack! Yes! Yealghk!" I yelped, as I quickly thrust my hot mouth down over him.