How sure can we be about our eyes and what they actually see? You say you saw something 'with your own eyes.' But do you own your eyes? And will they show you tomorrow what they've shown you today?
As Juliana entered the dining hall, something was different. Not so much the set up. It looked like just another dinner party held at the villa: half-nude women flirting with half-drunk men. It was supposed to be a high-class party: tuxedoed and bejeweled guests sipping bubbles while standing around a damask-clad sparkling table.
Juliana felt slightly tired, having spent the afternoon fucking the man on whose arm she was now making her entrance. He was a real stud in his thirties, tall and dark. The stretched muscles of her vagina and anus reminded her he was generously hung too. She could have done worse. He'd told her not to clean up her pussy while she went off to change for dinner; his spent semen squished in her thong while she walked.
Giggling she pushed her ear into his nose as he nibbled on its lobe. Then she saw Alec Austin, her husband.
He stood at the center of a group of male guests and their female entertainment, wearing a tuxedo. A black kind of bathing cap covered his skull and ears, emphasizing the paleness of his narrow face. His shirt's collar seemed too wide for his neck, while the sleeves of the jacket were too long. He looked like a teenager in the tux of his father. He also looked completely ill at ease. The men talked to him, slapping his back or punching his arm while they burst out laughing. Juliana saw he held a big cigar and a glass of champagne. A blond girl hung on to his arm, flirting with him. He blushed and didn't know where to look. Then he saw her.
Juliana's ankle-long gown looked quite classy, she thought, but the sea green fabric was thin and there wasn't very much of it on top. A rather eye catching feature was the split that opened right from her hip down to her heeled sandals as she walked. It drew extra attention because the man she was with had slid his hand inside it, kneading an ass cheek. She stepped free from his embrace, raising a hand and mumbling "my husband." Then she walked over to where Alec stood, automatically adopting her catwalk gait. The group opened up at her arrival.
"Alec," she whispered. "You're up."
His eyes wandered nervously left and right.
"Juliana! What is going on here?" he asked. "What are you doing here anyway?" He looked her up and down. "Dressed like this and letting that man..."
The girls giggled around them. Juliana saw Melinda move in, her breasts barely held in check by her dress.
"He's a cute swimmer!" she exclaimed, bringing her hand to his cap. "You seem to know him, Julee. Introduce us, please."
Alec shied away from her touch. Juliana wondered why the girl's actions irritated her.
"He's mine, Mel," she said, amazed by her own words. "He's my husband."
Melinda produced a squeal, clapping her hands. It made her tanned tits wobble in their silk cups.
"Goodie!" she cried. "Even better. Can I borrow him, pleasie-please?"
Alec was totally confused now. He leant back to escape the big-boobed porn star, only to bump into another scarcely clad woman. The result was a flurry of giggles and a half-dozen long-nailed hands pushing him around.
"Enough!" Juliana cried. She grabbed Alec by a sleeve and pulled him out of the pink melee.
"Enough indeed!" a male voice echoed.
Dr. Charrier stood by the table his arms folded in front of his barrel chest. He wore a purple smoking jacket; his pink jowls shone.
His voice silenced the girls. Juliana saw the male guests look on with amusement.
"I am ashamed of the way you behave, girls," he said. "Mr. Austin is our guest of honor here. He recovered from serious surgery and this is his night to celebrate that recovery before he goes home with his faithful wife." He unfolded his arms and started a slow applause, slamming his ham-like palms together. The other guests picked up on it and the girls added their woops and squeals.
Alec looked confused, not knowing whether to frown or smile, whether to duck the pats on his back or thank for them. Juliana kept pulling at his arm and he followed her reluctantly.
"What
is
this place, Jules?" he breathed. "This is not a hospital." She led him to a corner where a wide pillar gave them some privacy.
"So you're better," she said, trying to catch his eyes; they were still focused on the group by the table. The cigar hung broken in the grip of his fingers; the glass was empty. He nodded.
"Yes," he said. "This afternoon Dr. Charrier told me I could leave tomorrow. Why aren't you home? Ah, I guess he invited you too for this... celebration?"
Juliana hardly heard what he said. She wondered what it all meant. 'Before he goes home with his faithful wife,' Charrier had said. 'Home,' 'faithful.' Why hadn't he told her things were over?
Were
they over? Had she paid her debt? Did he tell Alec what she'd done? Obviously not. She'd been fucking her brains out even while he told Alec about his discharge, this afternoon. And then he sent him to this dinner party where she was on the menu. Guest of honor? She let out a long sigh.
"Yes," she said, forcing a smile on her face. "This is our surprise party. Congratulations, sweet husband." And she stepped forward to embrace him. But before reaching him, a heavy, padded body ran into her back, two arms closing around her, hands pressing her chest.
"Stop the lovey-dovey stuff, guys: dinner is served!" Melinda cried out. "Guest of honor and flat-chested wife are expected to take their places."
***
A sexy-clad waitress seated Alec at the foot of the table, opposite from the doctor's place at the head. When Juliana wanted to sit down next to her husband, she was whisked away and placed next to Charrier. Melinda took over her chair. A petite redhead she'd met (and licked) at the latex orgy sat down at his other side. Both girls hurried to claim the guest of honor, touching him and flirting relentlessly. He looked like a lost nerd at a high school prom.
Had he always seemed this silly, Juliana wondered, or was it the cap and the oversized suit? Could it be that it was just the way she saw him now? So much had happened; so much had changed. She recalled the time she found her old clothes on the bed – and the embarrassing way they'd looked on her. She tried not to recall the ridiculous sex she and Alec had before she came here. Had she changed so much that even her very eyes had changed?
"Doesn't he look just great?"
It was Dr. Charrier's voice; his big hand rested on hers.
"He looks awful," she whispered. He chuckled.
"Well, considering his surgery..." he responded. She looked up at him.
"Was the rubber cap really necessary?" she asked. "And do his clothes
have
to be too big?" The doctor laughed.
"Too big? Are they really? Ah well, Mrs. Austin," he said out loud. "Why don't we ask him? Mr. Austin!" Alec looked up as the table got quiet.
"Mr. Austin," the doctor repeated. "Sorry to bother you, but your sweet wife worries about your suit. She thinks it doesn't fit. Would you please stand and show us, so we may check her opinion?"
Alec's eyes went to his outfit; then they flew to Juliana, wide with panic.
"It... no... it is quite all right," he stuttered. "No problem."
"No-no-no-no!" Dr. Charrier boomed, rising from his chair. "This won't do. Nothing but the very best is good enough for my guest of honor and his beautiful wife. We can't have you look ridiculous at your own party, just because we failed to provide a good suit. Please rise and show us."
Juliana tugged at the doctor's jacket.
"Please," she whispered. "Let it be; it's all right."
Charrier looked down at her, frowning.
"I'd expect better from you, Mrs. Austin," he said. "I thought you cared for your husband." Some of the girls giggled at that. Juliana felt a deep rage forming – the same frustrated rage she thought she'd lost. At its bottom was an urge that surprised her; an urge to rise, take her husband and leave this place forever.
But all she did say was "please,' before sagging back into her chair. Nagging at her deepest consciousness was the feeling that she took a wrong and irrefutable turn.
Alec Austin rose, pushing his chair back. It screeched on the stone floor. He stood and closed his jacket.
"Doctor Charrier," he said, "ladies and gentlemen, thank you for saving my life, but I think I'll take my leave. Have a nice meal." Then he turned Juliana's way, searching for her face – waiting.
"Tell him not to leave," Charrier hissed at Juliana. "Now!"
Juliana's head reeled from a cocktail of feelings. She felt shamed and she felt proud at the same time, and in an odd mixture. Alec had shown a backbone. They'd tried to make him look ridiculous, and it had made her pity him, but not now – not now. She'd almost joined the way they ridiculed him, but now it was she who felt silly.
Juliana saw him raise his arm, palm up and open. He waited for her to join him. Juliana pushed back her chair to run to him, but Charrier's hand pressed down on her bare shoulder.
"You do whatever you like, Mr. Austin," he said, stretching his words, "but Mrs. Austin here has her obligations tonight. At least half of these fine gentlemen have been promised a sample of her well-appreciated talents, if you know what I mean." A chuckle ran like a rivulet around the table.
Alec's eyebrows rose. Didn't he know what the doctor meant; or was he just getting a clue?
