Polly Ch 03 1

[Author's note: this story is in four parts. Yes, there's something unusual in the way Polly is able to process the world around her (check the tags). Does it excuse her behaviour?]

---

FORTUNE FAVOURS THE PREPARED

I take my time in the bathroom, opening the little parcels I ordered. I know Mark's in the bedroom rifling through his wardrobe. It's easy for men, they just need to put on a good shirt and remember to wear pants. They don't have to go through all this.

I pull the soft material out of its wrapping and unfurl it. I can't help but rub my thumbs over the lacework. I glance up at my reflection in the mirror, studying my carefully made-up face, scrutinising my expression. I'm nude, freshly showered and shaved. I look down.

Yes, fully shaved, for the first time since before kids. It makes me feel odd, being bare down there, looking at myself and not recognising my own body. I run my fingers down between my legs, feeling the softness of the bare, pink area, the frictionless, carefully moisturised skin. Smiling to myself, I step into the little black lace panties, tugging them up my thighs. They're gauzy at the front with a little peekaboo panel that shows my pussy, leaving everything and nothing to the imagination. I pat them lovingly. I'm already turned on.

The basque is ornate, fastening via a set of hooks at the back, strapless. I'm not big up top, not like Val, but as I wrap the lace around my torso, the basque lifts and plumps my breasts into a tantalising display. The last items are the sheer black stockings, sliding up my freshly-groomed legs, accentuating my trim thighs with the dark elasticated bands that will hold them up all night. There are no straps, nothing to get in the way of my panties. I run my hands over my body and feel an electric thrill.

"You ready?"

Mark's getting agitated, I can tell. We have to be at the quiz night in half an hour.

"Nearly," I call back through the door. "Do you want to get the kids ready for the car? Do they have their sleepover bags?"

"Yeah, they're sitting downstairs waiting."

I tease a few stray strands of my hair out of my elaborate French bun, letting them frame my face. With my smoky eyeshadow and the rich, dark, burgundy lipstick, I'm finally satisfied with my appearance.

"One thing," I call out, "Who's driving tonight?"

"Up to you," he calls back through the door.

I turn away from the mirror, padding across the tiled floor in my stockinged feet. There is an awful lot riding on tonight. I have a plan, but I'll need some luck too. If things go my way, it's all going to have been worth it. I open the door and step out into the bedroom in just my lingerie. Mark turns as I enter and then stops, staring at me.

"I was hoping you'd volunteer," I purr.

I don't wait for an answer, wandering over to the wardrobe and pulling out my favourite black stiletto heels. It means I'm going to be in agony all night, they're so tall, but as I step into them, I can imagine how they lift and shape my calves into sleek, supple curves beneath the sheer hose. I pull a black wraparound dress off its hanger and tie it around me. I can feel my husband's eyes on my back. Once I think he's seen enough, I turn back around. He's just standing there, with his tie in his hand.

I slink over, rolling my hips in my high heels, taking the tie from his fingers and slipping it around his neck. I tie a knot, setting it carefully in place, then I smooth my hands down the front of my husband's shirt.

"Well?" I ask.

"Uh, well what?" he stammers.

"Are you going to volunteer? Not drinking tonight, being the responsible parent. It would have its advantages."

"Okay."

I go up on tiptoes and reward him with a little kiss, then I pat him on the bottom.

"Get your shoes on. You're going to make us late."

I turn for the door, not looking back, knowing that he's watching my hips swaying as I leave the bedroom, probably stiffening in his pants. It was a good kiss. I head down the stairs to marshal the children into the car. They're sleeping over at Erica and Harrison's so that we can share a babysitter, since the quiz night has pretty much decimated the pool of babysitters in the area. We don't need to get dressed up, but we all do anyway. Many of us love the opportunity, like we're in that pre-kids phase again for one night, going out to balls or corporate cocktail evenings. The options are few and far between these days.

I feel the tightness of the lingerie on my skin, shielded from prying eyes by my dress. I don't need to wear lingerie either, but I do. There is an element of luck involved tonight, and I need to have all my options available. I get the kids into the car and Mark comes out of the house. I give him a smile.

Fortune favours the prepared.

---

It's a zoo, but that's made Val very happy; I can tell that she's in her element. There are twenty tables and the parents are standing around in groups, chatting and drinking. Mark's over the other side of the room with Harrison and some of the other fathers. I watch them talking, trying to read the body language. Is Harrison holding back? I need to be careful.

Val has a plan for the seating arrangements, or at least, she has adopted my offhand suggestion that we break the couples up. It's better for the new parents, otherwise we all just fall into our little cliques. I give Val a look.

"You set?" I ask.

"Yep. What do you think? Ready to kick off?"

"Yeah. You got the mic?"

Val hunts around on the table behind her, the one with the prizes. She locates the microphone.

"Okay, I'll go sit," I tell her and wander across the floor to where Mark's standing.

He notices me and nods. The little group opens up to admit me.

"We're about to kick off. You arranged who's in which team?" I ask my husband.

"Yeah, we're on this table and...."

"Ah, okay."

Mark frowns.

"Val's pretty keen that we don't all clump together. How about this. Why don't you go on Annalise's table, and I'll go on this one."

I turn to Harrison, who is nursing a beer. Quiz nights are very definitely not his thing.

"Harrison, where do you want to sit? With Mark or with me?"

"Uh, look, I don't mind," he replies.

I do, I very much have an opinion on where Harrison's going to be all night. Erica walks up, carrying paper and pens, distributing them to the tables.

"Babe, how about you sit with Polly? I'll sit with Mark," she announces.

Harrison looks uncomfortable, but then he acquiesces, taking a seat. I draw close to my husband.

"You okay with the split, darling? I think, to be honest, it evens things up a little," I murmur.

"You versus me? Really?"

"Oh, babe, you up for it?"

"May the best man win," he grins back.

"I'll get the drinks."

I leave them all to get settled and go over to the bar. I know what everyone wants. I order a couple of beers for Mark and Harrison, it'll be my husband's last since he's driving. I order a mojito for Erica and an iced tea mocktail for myself. Then I order a tequila shot. Mark's completely right: may the best man win. After seeing what I'm wearing underneath my dress, watching the way I wiggle my hips, he thinks it's him, but it's not. I tip the tequila shot into Erica's mojito as Val calls the room to order.

---

We're third on the leaderboard after two rounds. We should be higher, but I got a few questions wrong. It's astounding how easily some people will back down and second guess themselves if you give an answer forcefully enough. Harrison's been doing it all night, getting quieter, watching his wife and my husband laughing together on the next table, winning as we struggle. I've kept the drinks coming, because that was the deal tonight. Erica's paying the babysitter, and in response I'm covering the alcohol.

I've kept the mojitos flowing, drinking some godawful sugary zero-alcohol concoction of lemonade and fruit juice myself, pretending to be as tipsy as she's getting. Harrison's not holding back either, amassing a little collection of beer bottles in front of him. Val calls out and everyone at the table groans. Another one of my dead cert answers is wrong. I sip my mocktail, shrugging apologetically. Harrison leans in.

"You okay, Pol?"

"Yeah, why?"

"You're a bit quiet."

"I suck at trivia."

Val reads out another answer. I hear whooping from the next table. Erica and Mark high-five each other.

"Fuck," I hiss.

Harrison's watching them too.

"Really, Pol, what's up?"

I fix him with a look, then say, "Look, just leave it. Let's get through this fucking quiz. We need some wins."

"Polly, how you doing?" Erica calls out, leaning towards our table.

"Not as well as you," I shoot back.

"Next round, Pol. It's sports."

She winks at Harrison and then turns back to her team, exclaiming loudly. Harrison might be good at the sports questions, she's implied.

Val starts the next round, and it turns out that Harrison's very good at the sports questions. We put our heads together, working through the options, taking the group opinion. I defer to him, helping him choose, and when the round's over and Val's calling out the answers, we've had a perfect score. Harrison's smiling for the first time all night and I hunker close to him.

"See, you got this," I murmur, "You're just a machine."

"I guess. Thanks for your help."

"What help? You already knew, you just needed someone to back you up."

"Thanks Pol."

I grin at him and he smiles back. I reach out and pat his hand; he doesn't pull away. On the next table, Erica has gone quiet. She's quite drunk, staring blankly at the question sheet. Mark's watching her closely, though he's deep in conversation with Annalise. Neither of them is watching us. I give Harrison's arm a squeeze and it feels delicious.

He's perking up at last, buoyed by the beer and the win, smiling at me. We're going to win the quiz, though he doesn't know it yet. I do, because I've already sneaked all the answers. I'm going to direct Harrison to a come-from-behind victory for the ages while his wife disintegrates into her mojitos.

It gets to the end of the fourth round and I come back with another round of drinks. I put a beer down in front of Harrison and a lime and lemonade in front of my husband. Erica's on wine now, but I bought her a large glass. I've got some pink and peach coloured thing. I set it down at my place.

"How're you going with that stuff Pol?" Harrison asks, "You've been hitting the cocktails all night."

"Not as bad as your wife," I answer him. "Though, I'm probably going to need to just sit."

I stumble a little, and Harrison is so fast. He's got my elbow in one hand, his arm around my waist, lowering me into my seat.

"I feel a bit sick," I confess.

I'm not lying. If I have to take one more sip of cranberry juice, I'm probably going to hurl.

"Yeah, maybe you've had enough."

I look up at him blearily, seeing the concern there. Behind him, Mark is talking to Erica. She's a long way gone. I'm surprised she's still upright after everything I gave her tonight. Their team has slipped down the rankings and somewhere in Erica's head, she's taking it badly. My husband is doing his best, but she's too far gone now. I need to make my move. Slurring my words a little, I turn to Harrison.

"Look, I just need to talk to Mark for a minute."

I get up and make my way over to where Mark's sitting, turning my back on Harrison. I bend over carefully from the waist, keeping my legs straight. I know what it does to my figure; I want Harrison's eyes to stay on the curve of my bottom in my wraparound dress. I lean on my husband's shoulder.

"Hey, I don't know about you, but I think Erica's had enough," I murmur into his ear.

"Yeah. She's been smashing it back," he agrees.

"I was thinking, we should maybe make a call here."

"Such as?"

"You're driving. Maybe offer to run her home."

"The quiz isn't done, though."

I laugh quietly. "I think your quiz is done babe. Might be a good time for some chivalry, take one for the team."

"While you win?"

"Don't you want the twelve-pack of mixed wines? Your wife is so close to coming home with the bacon."

Mark hesitates and I shift position slightly, letting the front of my dress gape a little. He takes a peek; he can't help it. He knows what his wife is wearing underneath.

"A win for the wife is a win for the husband. You know what I mean? Help me here and I'll help you when I get home."

"And what are you going to help with, Pol?"

I come closer to his ear, until my deep red lips are brushing against his earlobe, and whisper, "Those blue balls of yours, baby."

I stand up, withdrawing from him. I know how I look in my tight, black dress, standing over him. I don't break eye contact. Mark nods and I flash him my best smile before returning to my table and settling down next to Harrison. A few moments later, Mark's standing behind us with an unsteady Erica.

"Baby, I'm gonna go," she mewls, sighing theatrically, "Mark's gonna drop me home."

"Is she okay?"

It's Annalise, coming up behind them. This wasn't part of the plan. Fortunately, Mark's already taking charge.

"She needs a lie down. I'm going to run her back. I'm driving."

Harrison nods once. "Okay," he grunts, his expression veiled, then, "I'll get my coat."

My pulse jumps. No, this is not the plan. I get to my feet hurriedly and shoot my husband a pointed look.

"Me too," I interject, "Let's all go."

Mark shakes his head, telling me, "There's no need. You guys are front runners, you shouldn't just walk away. Stay, and if you need me to, give me a call. I guess I'm the taxi service."

I flash him a grateful little smile. He's been promised a win tonight. He's on his best behaviour to make sure he collects.

"Yeah, win this thing," Erica mutters to Harrison, her voice slurred, "Babe, bring me back a prize."

She turns to my husband and gives him a loose high-five, saying, "Let's go. Take me home, country road."

Harrison's objections die in his throat and we watch as they leave. Mark's at Erica's side, helping the elegant, inebriated woman down the stairs and out of sight. I slump down heavily into my seat.

"Fuck," I mutter under my breath.

It's loud enough for Harrison to catch, and he sits down next to me.

"We should go," I tell him, "We shouldn't just let them leave together."

I wrinkle my nose and the corners of my mouth turn down.

"You really think something's gonna happen?" Harrison murmurs.

"What do you think? You saw them, all night. You were right here too. You saw how they were carrying on."

I grimace, blinking as if trying to keep myself from crying.

"Fucking right in front of everyone, Harrison. In front of us."

"Pol, you don't know that."

"I do."

Val is reading out the next question, but I'm paying her no attention. All my concentration is fixed on the man next to me. He has kind eyes, and I can see the worry there. He isn't particularly good at subtlety, but I've laid it all out for him. Now I need to do one last thing.

"How do you know, Pol?" he asks.

I reach into my purse, curling my fingers around the object in there. I bring my closed fist up to his face.

"This," I whisper, "I found it on the carpet. The carpet in our bedroom."

I open my hand to reveal Erica's earring, the one I took from her vanity desk. Harrison's eyes go wide. The room is loud, but now it's just Harrison and I in our little bubble, staring down at a tiny piece of jewellery that changes everything.

"What do we do, Pol?" he asks.

I close my eyes and squeeze out a tear to track its way down my cheek.

---

He's on autopilot, taking his cue from me. I haven't reacted, joining in the celebrations of our win but then pulling him to one side and whispering that I need to escape. Harrison takes me by the elbow and escorts me down the stairs, through the main doors and out into the night. We're walking along the main street in silence. His head is down.

"I'm sorry," I say.

"What for? You're not the cheating, lying bitch," Harrison rasps.

I can hear the emotion in his voice, and I want to shout and scream. Across the road is a small park. Everything is falling into place.

We cross the street and up against the park railings, I stumble to a halt.

"I can't," I gasp.

"What is it."

"I can't fucking just walk in there. I... shit... I need to get my head together. Did you see them? They were so fucking blatant, they might as well have walked out holding hands."

"Polly, calm down. It's okay."

"It's not," I snap, "It's so fucking not. I need... fuck, can I just... please just get me off this fucking street."

I turn into the darkness of the park, leaving the streetlights behind. Harrison scrambles to follow me. My pulse is hammering in my neck, riding a savage adrenaline rush. Sheltered from the view of the road by a stand of little trees, I come to a halt.

"Pol, wait, where are you...?"

I head deeper into the shadows and Harrison comes after me. I round on him, working myself up into anger.

"You don't know," I hiss. "You haven't been carrying that earring around for a week. You haven't had to live with what it fucking means. This is all brand new to you."

"Yeah, I know, but I...."

"I wanted to fucking rip his cheating head off," I interject, "But it doesn't work like that. I had to think everything through. Have you? Have you thought about what this means? Have you?"

Harrison is aghast. Even in the gloom, I can read his expression. My entire body tingles.

"I had a plan tonight. I was going to show him. I was going to tell him to choose."

"What... what plan?"

"This plan. This is what I promised him."

I tug at the bow on my hip and my wraparound dress gapes open. I shrug it off, letting it drop to the grass. I'm standing in the park in the night in front of my best friend's husband in my most eye-catching lingerie. The hairs on my neck stand up.

"I was going to give him this. Look what I did for him, and he still went home with her. Your wife is in my bed right now fucking my husband."

"You don't know that, you're just assuming."

"I'm not assuming. I know. The babysitter was going to message me when she left your house. I got nothing. They aren't there."

It's like there is a gravity well, and I'm falling into it, sucked down towards the man in front of me. I need his hands on my body. I'm practically naked before him.

"Aren't I good enough?" I croak, "Look at me. I thought I was enough for him. What's wrong with me?"

Harrison moves, and I do too, stepping into his embrace, feeling his strong arms wrapping around my bare skin. I tilt my face up to his as he looks down at me. I feel so small.

"I just wanted to make him happy."

It feels like a dream as I go up on my tiptoes, as he hesitates. Then my lips touch his and we kiss. I can taste the drink, but there's also a passion, and I press my lips firmly to his. He's stalling still, and I feel like I'm at the cliff edge, hanging on be my fingernails. Then, finally, he reciprocates and I open my mouth to slip my tongue into his.

I reach behind myself, wrapping my fingers around his wrists, prying his hands from my waist, pushing them lower until I can feel his wide, rough hands cupping my rear. I press into him, letting my fingertips explore his front.

"Will you let me make you happy?" I whisper.

I sink to my knees in the darkness, not waiting for his answer. I find his zip and slide it down quickly, then slip my hand into his trousers. When I feel him, how hard he is, how big he is, it's a shock. He's fully erect: I did that to him. Polly in her lingerie with her crocodile tears has made Erica's husband as hard as iron. I gasp involuntarily, astonished.

"Polly, wait."

It's too late. I have my fingers around his shaft, pulling his tip out. He clears his throat to say something else but he never gets the chance: my lips close around his head and I begin to suck.