Doctor Richard Clueless

Doctor Richard Duped

, was originally a standalone story but prompted a second part,

Doctor Richard, Enlightened.

I started a third part, but wanted to explore more about the good doctor so part three became part four and this became the part three. As such, this can be treated as a stand-alone story. As for the final part, I'm nearly there, it's been a tricky one to conclude, but I'm trying to get it wrapped up and out the door. This was put together a while back and thanks to TIM1135 for giving this an edit, if he can remember doing this that far back!

Doctor Richard,Clueless

Summer, 1998

Richie Percival watched as his wife pulled the nude, Cuban heeled stocking up her long, shapely leg. Every time he looked at her legs, his heart skipped a beat. They could only be described as... perfection, just like the rest of her body. With one stocking on, she bunched the other before moving her ankle so her foot was tipped in line with her leg as she sexily rolled it up over her honey-gold coloured skin. Standing upright, she asked Richie to gently rearrange them so the seams ran dead centre up the back of her leg. He knelt on the floor behind her, gently moving the silk stockings to align the seam, which along with the suspender belt made her look like she had stepped from a Bettie Page movie. The suspender belt had that classic vintage look with five straps per leg and she looked incredibly hot wearing it. She had never worn stockings before, and all of this clothing was new which came as a surprise to him, a treat for herself she'd told him.

After fastening the front three she asked Richie to fasten the rear ones, his cock twitched in his pants as his fingers brushed her warm skin as he began clipping each one to the stocking top, adjusting the chrome adjuster to ensure each stocking remained stretched oh so right over each leg. He swallowed, hands shaking slightly as his cock continued to strained uncomfortably against his underwear as he fulfilled his wife's wishes to assist her get ready for her big day. Once they were on, he helped slip the red high heels on, accentuating her calves and pushing her ample derriere out even further until it was mere millimetres from his face. He puckered his lips and started to plant a kiss on a backside cheek, which made her moan sexily before stepping slowly away and out of his reach.

Looking at herself in the full-length mirror, she bent forward keeping her legs straight as her hands reached down, wrapping her delicate fingers around her ankles, turning her head to look back at her husband, the look of lust burning bright in her almond eyes, the red glossy lips begging to be kissed. Each hand started to run delicately up her stocking-clad legs, until she stood back upright. Still kneeling behind her, Richie wiped away the beads of sweat forming on his brow. By God, he would ravish her later tonight after the party.

Picking up the dress, she wrapped it around herself before pulling up the zip at the front that held it together as it moulded and stretched itself to highlight her womanly curves. She would have control tonight, at least in the beginning. She could raise or lower the zip to tease the men she wanted to see devour her with their eyes and pull the zip up for those she didn't want to fantasise about her. Not that it mattered... she knew she was one serious smoking hot woman. They would all drool over her regardless.

Joanne Silva was Portuguese, the only daughter of a wealthy couple, she had opted to study business at a university in the UK. During her second year, she enjoyed running for leisure and often found herself running alongside Richie Percival. The chit chat turned into coffee meets, the coffee meets into meals together, which turned into romantic nights out on the town. Finally, marriage, all in the space of four months. Despite being an only daughter, she wanted a quiet and inconspicuous wedding. The only people present were the two of them and the witnesses. There was no professional photographer... one of the witnesses snapped a few shots on a cheap camera. She explained that the family would not approve and would prevent the wedding from occurring. When they finished university, they would tell them the truth and hope that they would accept that they were in love and made for each other.

Richie didn't quite understand why they had such a low-key wedding, why all of the cloak and dagger stuff but, he didn't really care. He was married to the woman that people considered the most beautiful on campus. Being only just twenty-one years old himself, she was his first and now it appeared, going to be his one true love. She would be twenty-one next week when she would return on her own to visit her parents back in Portugal. However, tonight, they were having a party to celebrate her upcoming birthday since she wouldn't be in the UK when it occurred.

Standing up and moving behind her, he leant in, taking in the intoxicating smell of her perfume, as his hands snaked around her waist to cup her boobs and press his prominent hardness against her. Reaching up, she removed his hands and stepped away from him. Turning around, those luscious red lips beckoned him to kiss her and as he moved forward with pursed lips, her head turned so he kissed her cheek. She half-heartedly scolded him as she giggled.

"Richie, I've only just applied my make-up. I'd like it to remain looking this hot for at least an hour. Anyway, we need to get going soon, I don't want to be late."

Thirty minutes later, the car pulled up on the substantial driveway of a luxurious home in the most affluent part of town. Richie sucked in air though his teeth.

"How the hell does he afford this on his pay, this is serious moneyville!"

Joanne tutted as they got out of the ten-year-old Volkswagen Golf.

"Just shows you never listen to me! His wife is some big wig lawyer in the city, it's mainly her money."

As they walked towards the front door, Richie continued.

"Oh... it's funny, don't ever remember that coming up in a conversation. Sure I'd remember something solid like that being discussed. Not that it matters, it's really nice they offered to host your twenty-first birthday party here."

The conversation ended as Rubén Tailor answered the door and Joanne stepped into his arms as he embraced her tightly, kissing him on alternate cheeks in a typical way a close friend would, although Richie felt they embraced for longer than most would consider necessary. As they parted, Rubén tipped her chin towards him, so she was looking directly into his face.

"Holy shit Jo, you are simply stunning! That dress, my God you are a most beautiful woman!"

Rubén realised he hadn't exactly been tactful in his greeting, he stepped back from her and reached his hand out to Richie for a solid handshake.

"Richie, I've got to hand it to you. You're one lucky guy, marrying the hottest woman on campus!"

With that, they stepped into the palatial home.

An hour later, Richie was surprised at the lack of guests. If anything, it all seemed so low key, bearing in mind the significance of the event. Talking to some fellow students, he looked across at Joanne, who was standing almost glued to the hip of Rubén and his arm was around her waist. As he walked over to the small group, he watched Rubén's arm casually slide away from her waist as he moved very slightly to put a small amount of space between them both. Richie couldn't help but ask.

"Hey Rubén, I can't see anyone that I would guess is your wife and you haven't introduced us yet. I recognise all these women from uni... "

He let the last part of the sentence hang in the air, the small group standing, chatting, went silent. Rubén smiled, in his mid-forties, he was Spanish but, had lived in the UK since he came to study in his late teens. He met his wife in uni. Because she came from a monied family, they insisted the couple take her surname, Tailor, when they married. She was a few years older than him and he had that 'certain' look that made women feel butterflies in their nether regions along with dampness permeating their underwear. Was it the dark brooding eyes that made a woman's defence crumble? Was it the jet-black hair and permanent five o clock shadow on his face? Was it maybe, the raw masculine features of his face and persona that screamed he was filled with an unbridled passion, like untamed stallions on some far off distant plain? Probably a combination of all those aspects to create his impressive aura. Simply, women wanted him and his wife had him as her husband all those years back. As time had moved along, Rubén wanted more, so he picked and worked on the ones he wanted. Tonight, there was one and only one woman he wanted.

Rubén casually answered Richie.

"It's a shame, she's in New York on a business trip. She really hoped to have been here tonight."

With that Rubén walked away to talk to some of the other guests.

As the evening wore on, Richie would find a fresh drink being thrust into his hand at every opportunity. That made him feel that people might think he could be an alcoholic. As he finished a rum and coke, the next one was almost immediately thrust into his hand by the boyfriend of one of Joanne's friends. Slurring slightly, and unsteady on his feet, he spoke.

"What's this, do you fancy me or sum'in? Are you tryin' a get me drunk?"

He asked, with a hint of drunken humour in his voice. The guy looked a little bewildered as he replied.

"Rubén said he could see you were just about finished, he's just being a good host, keeping you topped up."

Richie looked across the room and Rubén smiled, raising his glass in a salute. Rubén knocked his own drink back and Richie subconsciously copied him. Two minutes later, someone passed him another drink.

Richie opened his eyes. Even as drunk as he was, he was well aware of the lack of bodies in the room. There was only one sound, soft music playing quietly, the sort you have a slow dance to. The lights had been turned down really low, he thought that made it kind of romantic. It was time to find Joanne and have that birthday dance with her before the taxi came. As his head lolled to the side, he saw her, dancing slowly in the low light with Rubén. Her arms were wrapped around his neck and they were practically moulded together as they slowly rotated on the spot. Drunkenly, he called out as his head was spinning and his speech was slurred.

"Hey! Hey! I'm over here! I'm next, soon as song's done, you got that? I'm next...my dance...you're dancing with me next!"

There was no response, it was as if he never existed as they slowly moved, wrapped around each other swaying erotically to the music. He tried to focus on them but, struggled. It wasn't quite right, he'd talk to them when it was his dance. As he sat stupefied watching them, the periods of blackness between the visions of them moving started to get longer. It wasn't long before his eyelids closed and stayed closed.

۞۞۞۞

He opened his eyes, momentarily unaware of where he was. His brain felt like it was stewing in alcohol as he tried to piece cognitive thoughts together. His shirt was wet with drool where he had sat flopped on the sofa. He remembered they were dancing over... no, they aren't there now.

Then he realised what had woken him, Jo was whimpering somewhere, shit! She must be hurt. Probably fallen over. It sounded like she was upstairs. She must be as wrecked as he was and must be suffering too. Staggering from the sofa, he made his way across the floor. Just then, his foot tangled in something and he fell to the floor. As he struggled to free himself, he realised the garment was Joanne's dress! It was becoming clearer, Rubén must have ripped the dress from her and was assaulting her somewhere upstairs. Thinking he may have to attack Rubén, he decided to creep up the stairs, hoping the element of surprise would favour him.

Staggering up, step by step, he made it up onto the landing. It was large, with several doors leading off of it. All were shut, bar one, where vague light flickered from the room onto the landing. The whimpering was clearer now, with a regular pattern to it.

"ahh, ahh, ahh, ooh, ahh."

Reaching the doorway, Richie turned, swaying in his drunken stupor, ready to rush in and save his wife. Immediately, he realised she didn't need saving and it was extremely unlikely, his marriage could be saved either.

Candles illuminated the room. On the bed, Rubén lay on his back, his arms out at forty-five degrees from his torso. He was holding Joanne's hands as she squatted on top of him, wearing her suspender belt and stockings. She wasn't just squatting though but moving in a fluid regular movement, up and down, with Rubén's hard cock disappearing into the place that Richie thought was destined to be his, and his alone, forever. Trying to focus, he could see that Rubén's cock glistened in the low light from the fluids the coupling had created. He felt sick, compounded by the sight of the frothy white mess that coated the base of Rubén's cock and his balls, telling him this hadn't just started and that they had already peaked together at least once.

"Joanne, stop!"

He meant to shout but it came out as a drunken slur. To his horror this seemed to fuel her passion as she sped up, trying to drop down onto Rubén with a greater force and lifting herself up even further on the upstroke before dropping down again. Stumbling towards the bed he planned to drag her away. It didn't go that way. Just as he reached her all he could do was vomit over her back and Rubén's legs as his brain finally pieced together what was actually going on here.

It happened at the point that Joanne peaked again, despite the putrid smell, for the next few seconds she ground down hard onto Rubén as he bucked up to meet her, unloading himself into her with a series of grunts, lost in their own world of lust for each other. Before the rapture had fully subsided Joanne moved away from Ruben, panting as Richie fell onto his knees beside the bed and puked yet again. She shouted at him.

"For fuck sake Richie, what the hell's wrong with you!"

Richie lifted his head and looked at her, totally confused by her outburst. Still slurring he spoke.

"Meeh...you think I'm fucked up? When did you become a whor..."

He never finished as Rubén grabbed him by his hair and dragged him through to the shower in the en-suite, slamming him down into the shower tray before turning the taps on so cold water cascaded over his prone body. As he lay on the floor, the water almost hurt through the coldness as it rained down like needles on him. The shock of it acted like a reset for his brain and he finally saw the truth that was his relationship. He had not seen all of the signals and signs, or subconsciously, tried to dismiss them from his mind. His marriage was simply a sham. It was now painfully obvious... its sole purpose was to mask an illicit relationship that was going on in plain sight, right in front of him.

He sat on the shower floor for a long while, until he noticed he was shaking and his skin had a very blue tinge to it. He crawled out and found a towel before walking back into the bedroom which was now empty. He heard Joanne's voice again in another bedroom, moaning loudly to be fucked harder. As he walked past the room, the door was open. This time, they weren't visible, the sound of water running in a shower and an echo to their voices told him where they were and what they were doing. Making his way downstairs, he puked a couple more times as he went, before finding the car keys and driving home, despite the fact he was way over the legal limit.

"Fuck it!" he muttered to himself. "I'd rather spend the night in the cells than listen to that pair of snakes."

Surprisingly, he made it back to their home, crawled inside and collapsed on the bed, before burying his head into the pillow wailing, not only at what he'd lost but, also his own stupidity. Never again...he would never allow this to happen again.

۞۞۞۞

"Richie, are you in there?"

The voice was soft, contrite even, as the bedroom light was turned on, supplementing the light that crept into the room through the partially opened door. The bright light breaking the darkness that he had enjoyed for the last few hours, he barked from under the bedclothes.

"Turn that damn thing off and shut that bloody door!"

Her voice was calm and soothing.

"Sorry, you can't just stay there and hide. Please, get up. We need to talk to you. We thought you knew and understood."

"Whore" was the only word that Richie uttered and he made sure it was loud enough for her to hear as she closed the door. He lay there for ten or so minutes then, decided to go and face the music. He wasn't aware that he was still wearing the clothes from the previous night, slightly damp in places. He changed into some fresh clothes. Ignoring the two people sitting, holding hands on the sofa, he walked into the bathroom. He did his morning business, had a wash and brushed his teeth. His head was banging so he took a couple of aspirins from the medicine cabinet in the hope it could start to numb the headache. What they couldn't do was numb the pain from what was coming once he stepped into the living room.

Taking a deep breath and pulling his shoulders up, he walked into the living room and stood there. They sat together on the two-seater sofa, Joanne looked up at him, trying her hardest to appear as if it was a normal everyday conversation. He could see she was masking anguish along with an element of fear. He stood, said nothing and glared at her, until she finally spoke.

"I made you a coffee, why don't you sit over there so we can have an adult conversation, clear a few things up."

Richie looked at them. They were both trying to act normal and it wasn't particularly convincing. Richie bent and picked up the coffee then, stood in the centre of the room facing them. When they realised, he was going to stay there, Rubén spoke first.

"I'm shocked Richie, I really thought you had it, you know. How did you

not

know what your role was in all of this? You're top of the class in psychology. To be frank, I'm... we're disappointed in you."

Richie shook his head before responding.

"I'd rather be naive than a coward and that's what you both are, cowards. You've played a game of smoke and mirrors so, come on tell me...how long have you been lovers?"

Joanne looked at Rubén, who gave a slight nod,then she answered Richie's question.

'About eighteen months...before you came on the scene. Gillian, Rubén's wife, came close to discovering us a while back, that's why I started dating you. She kept prodding away though, she wouldn't back down with her insinuations that there was something going on, or close to going on between me and Rubén, so I married you to shut her down. You were a safe bet and we thought you could see what was going on between me and Rubén and accepted that to have a piece of me, you'd need to share. In fact, Rubén's allowing himself to share

me

with

you

, although it does hurt him to do so."

She squeezed 's his hand as she spoke. Richie laughed and shook his head.

"Well that's just rich isn't it. My wife's lover is hurting because he has to share her."

Rubén went to jump up but Joanne's hand pressed down on his arm. It was really important to them that they walk away with the plan, altered to factor in the change in circumstances but, still fairly intact. Rubén spoke, barely containing his anger and frustration.

"Richie, c'mon look at this. Why did you think your wedding was so low key, why Jo's parents weren't involved and still don't know she's married? Look at the times the two of us have been together, where I have been

helping

her with her assignments or she has

volunteered

to assist me? When we all sit together sometimes in the canteen and she spends as much time sitting next to me as you? When there have been functions that we have attended, why does she spend most of the time standing close to me, her fingers sometimes brushing my arm. Why we sometimes disappear for several minutes? We thought you knew what was going on, done the sensible thing, remained quiet and accepted it. Why else do you think the most stunning woman in the uni is with a geek like you. It's certainly not because of your looks or the size of your c..."