Quid Pro Joan

The summer of 2007 was rough. I'd worked damn hard in school, got an engineering degree, kept working hard, got into a great firm -- aerospace was our field, climbed, and was working directly for a V.P. Very by the book place, too. No favoritism, no messing around with colleagues spouses, no sexual harassment, nothing. Pure meritocracy. That came straight down from the CEO and the board. It was fantastic. I had married Tiffany, a gorgeous woman I'd met while hiking up in the mountains above Colorado Springs. She was smart, athletic, with a great sense of humor. My height exactly, with a toned frame shaped by mountain hikes, kayaking and so on. Perfectly proportioned B cup breasts, a flat stomach, narrow hips, and shapely legs. We were really happy, work was satisfying, everything was right.

Then my boss got a 'can't refuse' offer and moved to Houston. I wasn't moved up. That surprised me. But surprise turned to actual anger when they brought in Larry, an asshole from outside the firm. It completely changed the place. Casual, effective teams became groupthink cells that overanalyzed everything. And that's coming from an engineer. Micromanagement is your friend became the unofficial slogan. And worse, the casual, truly friendly atmosphere got forced out unnecessarily by simulated camaraderie. Group sporting events, mandatory parties in Larry's huge house.

I must have taken some of the stress home, because our sex life withered. At the time I blamed it on Tiffany. Looking back from decades later, I bet it was more my fault. People are complicated. Maybe that's why I took revenge on Larry by mind-fucking his stunning wife, Joan. You could tell from their behavior that she was just as much an accessory as his house and seven series BMW. She was at all of the events spouses were supposed to attend, and holy shit, she almost made them worthwhile. She was a bit taller than me, with long blonde hair, easy D cups, hips that said 'bend me over and hold on!,' and a smile that made you feel like the only man on earth. Whew. I often had dreams after those horrible parties; I actually started to look forward to them. I'd have suggested more but my colleagues would have beaten me senseless.

Instead I'd wake up in the middle of those dreams, laying next to Tiffany and beating off. And that changed our lives.

It was probably 2AM on a cold January night when I was half asleep and stroking. I was dreaming that Joan was seducing me. "I'm sooo lonely, won't you please fuck me? I'll do anything for you" imaginary Joan was moaning.

"Shave your pussy for me." I mumbled. Really -- I actually said it. No really out loud, but not too quietly either.

Tiffany murmured something and shifted. I froze for a second, but I was too horny and close to stop. When he breathing returned to normal, I finished the job, rolling over to nestle my knob where her thighs met her ass. It felt fantastic. Tiffany had gotten used to the occasional "wet dream," so I didn't worry about that.

But you still could have knocked me over with a feather the next day when she walked out of the bathroom stark naked, with a completely hairless mound between her legs. And she posed to show it off for me.

"I shaved my pussy for you!"

I stared, blinked, and then pulled her into bed. I threw her back, and she opened her legs to show off her handiwork. I dove, licking and enjoying all the perfectly smooth skin. Tiffany orgasmed -- she'd always gotten off on my tongue -- and I had to have her. I plunged deeply into her, and rode her hard. She was a healthy, athletic woman. I did not hold back. This was a great change from my usual perpetual horniness and feeling undesired. I was too surprised to even drag things out. She bucked underneath me as I pounded into her, and soon I was injecting myself into her. We gasped together, enjoying the closeness.

"Wow, thanks babe!"

"So you liked that?"

"Absolutely! Where did that idea come from?"

"Just occurred to me that you'd probably like it."

"Did I make it sufficiently clear that I did? Do?"

"Oh yeah" she smiled.

It was later that afternoon, believe it or not, that a thought occurred to me. Had the midnight murmurs had anything to do with this seemingly spontaneous shaving? I decided to try a test.

The next night a dream woke me up, I muttered "fuck, I love those high heels baby."

The next evening, I was getting ready for bed when Tiffany strutted out of the closet in nothing but a new pair of high heels. My jaw hit the floor, both because of how hot she looked, and because the experiment seemed pretty conclusive. She was more the hiking boots or slippers type. I wasn't completely certain, but I thought she might have bought them that very day.

"Aren't you just full of surprises?"

She winked, and said "I was hoping to be full of something else too, mister."

A few minutes later, she was. I was on cloud nine! It was a double header that night, and we slept the sleep of the exhausted.

I concluded that she was in a very receptive state while she was asleep, and took my 'suggestions' deeply to heart. Enthusiastically, even. So, first things first. The next time I woke up, I suggested that she and I were even deeper in love, more attracted to each other, and much more adventurous. Check, check, and check. Our good marriage that had started to grow stale in the bedroom became a fantastic, orgasmic partnership. I almost had to get coffee on the way home from work to reinvigorate myself for my wife.

And she showed some initiative too. Every now and then we'd be out and about and she'd elbow me and nod at a woman "she's gorgeous, isn't she. Want to find out if she fucks as good as she looks?"

Mind. Blown. Apparently if I wanted to expand our horizons it wouldn't take much suggesting. But I was loving our new normal and just soaked up the affection, trying to give it back to her and then some. Even the Vice Prickident didn't bug me as much.

And then he pulled a stunt like I'd never seen before. I've seen similar and a bit worse now, but at the time it was a new experience. I was spitting nails. I'd had an idea I worked on for a while. Not revolutionary, but more than an obvious next step in developing some important technology. It all hinged on a subtle point that I was rather proud of. Well, not only did that fucker steal the project, he screwed it up because he didn't understand that point, and then he blamed it entirely on me. Hit me with a bad fucking performance review because he was a thief and a moron. I was livid.

Tiffany stepped up and consoled me when I got home. Then she got down to business.

"Let's get this asshole."

"Love to. Believe me. How, though?"

"Burn his car?"

"He'd just buy another. Risky, too."

"Start a rival company, hire him and fire him?"

"Too complicated. Too Count of Monte Cristo."

"Name a sandwich after him, but a really bad sandwich?"

That got a chuckle out of me.

"Fuck his wife? She's amazing. Hell, I'd fuck her, and I'm not even bi!"

"You'd be okay with that?"

"He stabbed my man in the back. Let's really get revenge!"

"She is super hot."

"I know. What possible revenge could be better? Even with a bad review your income is excellent. We have everything we need. Fuck her. Hell, maybe I even want you to; maybe it makes me wet baby."

We talked about options, and how to get to the point that I could have Joan. Then we fucked. The whole time I was inside her, Tiffany was talking about me fucking Joan. "Picture it, baby -- her legs wrapped around you just like this!" She was driving me nuts, and then she was emptying my nuts. I pulled out, emptied all over her face and breasts, and she played with my cum while I went down on her.

We kicked ideas around together for days. That was pretty surreal. Then it was time for a mandatory party. So we dressed, perhaps with a bit more care than usual, and off we went. It was more fun than usual, because it was really a recon mission. We were both watching, observing Larry and Joan in a way we never had before. How did they interact? How did they work together?

The answer was 'not much.' It was like she was the Matre de hotel, and he was a client being entertained by someone else. There was nothing there, as far as we could see, except that she knew how to run a party the way he liked. She was good at it, too, so she had some time between keeping the cook on track and making sure enough of the staff were circulating with enough drinks. No, they didn't have permanent staff, they were hired for the event.

Tiffany struck up a conversation with Joan while she was making sure everyone was having a good time. She told me about it later. I was off talking to a colleague who was almost as much friend as colleague, too far away to hear. But I saw what was going on, and it seemed that the two women were comfortable with each other, smiling and laughing. I saw Tiffany point me out, and raised my glass to toast the two women from across the room.

We debriefed on the drive home.

"Saw you talking to Joan -- learn much?"

"Yes, a lot actually. There used to be some affection, but she's disassociated now. She feels like an appliance in that big house, nothing more. She is not a happy camper, but she also knows how good she's got it. I'd say she might be asking 'is all this worth it' though. She is fucking sick of him. And she said you were handsome too. Later in the party I saw her checking you out."

"No kidding?"

"Yep. You've got a shot, mister."

"Well, if my wife says I have a shot, who am I to second guess that?" I laughed, and Tiff laughed along with me. We were both enjoying how weird this was. And sexy.

"We made a coffee date."

"For you and her, or for me and her?"

"Ha ha, me and her baby. Don't rush it, we'll get you there."

"Of course; when?"

"Next week."

We took a bit of a break from our strategizing after that party. We'd learned a bit, and we were likely to learn more when Tiffany and Joan met for coffee. So we percolated. Let our minds chew on it in the background.

I was a bit distracted at work the day they met for coffee. It didn't help when Tiffany texted "lots of news! See you this evening!"

I couldn't get anything out of her until I got home.

"Well, what's the news?"

"Where to begin? Joan is down for anything that makes Larry's life difficult, or makes him mad. Or slightly increases his risk of getting a hangnail. She'd blow you in a heartbeat, and sleep with you the next heartbeat. She dared me to call you over, in fact."

"No kidding?"

"No kidding. She remembered you of course, and thinks you're handsome. And I bragged about you a bit, big guy."

"So do we have our plan?"

"Not quite. I mean, you're welcome to -- I might even want to watch -- but if you want to get his goat that's not the way. She says he's determined, totally determined, to never get divorced."

"But he sleeps around."

"He's convinced she'll never leave him -- he doesn't want the public shame, wants to do better than his dad, something something death before divorce. He won't put any effort into the marriage to keep her happy, but he'll never divorce her. He wants -- needs -- a publicly defensible façade of a great marriage, no matter how rotten it is behind closed doors."

"What a turd."

"I know. But here's where it gets interesting."

"Do tell" I said, with a raised eyebrow. If Joan wasn't sure me defiling her would irritate him, what would?

"The company policies scare the hell out of him. Joan knows the board doesn't abide any funny business. Keep it in your pants if you want to keep your butt in your seat is how she put it. Complete hands off policy for colleagues and their families. And that cramps his style. At his last shop, the office pool was... where he did his skinny dipping. He misses it, but he wants to keep this job, he wants to end up on the board, here."

"Interesting. Not good for my long-term prospects, either. So how do we exploit this?"

"Well, if we can get him to slip up, we'd have leverage. We need to be able to ruin him, and he needs to know it."

"Hire a hooker?"

"Not now, we're trying to plan something here."

"Ha, ha."

"Besides, unless it were a board member's wife or daughter, why would they care? It's close, but no cigar."

"I don't know any women at work I could rope into this."

"Never seen any at the parties; they'd have to be really hot, and really eager to do whatever you asked them to do."

"Dammit."

We sat there for a while, thinking.

"I only know one really hot woman who's ever eager to do what I ask."

Tiffany leaned over and kissed me. "Whatever you need baby."

Hmm.

That night's sleep really did me some good. We talked over breakfast, since it was a Saturday morning.

"We in on this?" I asked.

"A week ago I'd have said 'it's important to you, so it's important to me' but that asshole cheated my man. I want to hurt him just as much as you do, I think."

"Okay, I can only see one way to hit him where it hurts." I ran through the logic we'd already discussed, summarizing it. "So we need a woman who he shouldn't have sex with, who will get him to have sex and be ready to testify. Baby, there's only one."

"Yeah, I see it too" she said with a sigh. "You sure you're okay with this?"

"Are you? That's at least as important a question."

And then we both asked "How bad do you want to bring this bastard down?" at exactly the same time. We both burst out laughing. I finished first.

"I hate the thought, but the end game might make it worth it."

"So what's the end game?"

"I force him to offer Joan to me to keep us quiet."

"Woah. You devious sun of a gun. That's turning it up to eleven."

"Exactly. I can grit my teeth and tolerate you seducing him (ugh) if the end game is my knowing I've had his wife with his consent. Forced consent. I hope he fucking hates it."

"Something tells me he would. Will. He will absolutely chew his own guts. Which is why you have to be fantastic, and keep Joan coming back."

"Okay, this whole scheme just got a bit easier to tolerate. Think that's possible?"

"Honestly between Joan's desire to mess with his head, and your natural abilities, I actually think it's all but guaranteed baby."

"Compliment received. So let's go over the plan, starting with the bitter pill, then moving quickly to the honey."

We talked it through, discussed some minor variations, and finished up with the agreement that we needed Joan in on this. She might have some insights that could help.

I slept pretty well that night. Had a dream about Joan and Tiffany and I. I woke up less uncomfortable with the fact that Tiffany sleeping with Larry was the key that would set the plan in motion. Odd, maybe, but I didn't look that gift horse in the mouth. Especially since Tiffany seemed kind of excited about the idea of me and Joan. She reached out to Joan, and they set up another coffee date.

In the intervening nights I gave Tiffany a few suggestions that she'd play her part just well enough, and no better, he'd be awful, she'd be even more devoted to me, you know. Insurance.

Once again the workday dragged. Tiffany teased me a bit, but now there were details that probably had to be kept secret, so I didn't pry at all. We never even mentioned Joan by name. As soon as we were both home, though, we pulled the curtains, played some music, the whole spy movie countermeasures game. It was kind of funny.

"So, what did she say?"

"She thinks the basic plan is really good. Apart from the one obvious drawback, that I have to sleep with that creep. She assured me he isn't crazy, he won't break out any branding irons or whips, but he's also not great. Legend in his own mind sort of guy. But she's worried how you'll cope that evening."

"My buddy Johnny Walker and I are going to hunt some Wild Turkey. That's how I'll cope. You'll probably need my head to clear the next morning before we -- ugh -- talk about it."

"Well, she had an idea about that part too. She wants to come over."

"What, come -- see me -- while you're with him?"

"Yessiree. I think it's a great idea!"

"But the whole point of this is for him to have to agree. He has to look me in the eye and say "Kevin, you can have sex with Joan." That's the point."

"Right, but wouldn't it be even hotter if she'd already given herself to you behind his back? You'd have taken her from him both secretly and with his forced agreement."

"Hmm, you have a point there. We've got -- how long have we got?"

"Three weeks, maybe four. He's been talking about another party, and Joan is going to make sure it happens. The date will be finalized soon."

"Great. So I'll sleep well again in 22 or 29 days."

"Oh, come on -- it will be worth it when he grits his teeth and offers her, and she rides your rocket to the moon and back."

"True. That will be sweet."

"And in the meantime, I'll just have to keep you too exhausted to mope" she said, tackling me and showing me some new ideas she'd had. Holy shit, had she come a long way from when I started muttering in the dark.

The party date was announced. Joan had moved it up a bit. I don't think she wanted me to have to stew any longer than necessary. That's what Tiffany said. They were in touch pretty regularly now, and were almost growing close. It was weird, but kind of hot considering that all three of us were working toward Joan and I getting as physical as a man and very enthusiastic woman could be. Joan filled Tiffany in on what would work best to entice Larry. The beauty of it was, she didn't even need to build up momentum and then say no. The board wouldn't care one iota who seduced who. The higher the manager, the more responsibility to avoid any potentially embarrassing escapades, and doing a direct reports wife qualified with a big pink slip bow on it, no matter who had the initial idea.

When Joan wasn't training Tiffany, she was asking Tiffany about me. Tiff said a lot less about that, but she got a quirky little smirk on her face when I tried to pull that particular string. "You're gonna have a 'verygoodtime' she'd say, mimicking the warden from the Mummy movie. Then she'd chuckle to herself. I was really enjoying this devious side. Maybe to distract myself from mile marker one in this big project.

A couple of days before the party, Joan and Tiffany went shopping. That night, I got a fashion show. Joan was there, too. It was the first time I'd ever seen her when she wasn't at a mandatory fun event. She looked fantastic. Some women can make a casual dress and a pair of tennis shoes look like a runway in Milano. She rang the doorbell, Tiffany answered, and pretended to introduce us.

"Walt, this is Joan. Joan, this is my husband Walter."

"Very pleased to meet you Walter -- or do you prefer Walt? Or do you prefer doggystyle to reverse cowgirl?"

I maintained my composure, and stood there like a gentleman. A gentleman whose eyes just about crossed and whose mouth hung open like a mounted fish on the wall of a bar, but a gentleman. The ladies burst out laughing and then so did I.

Joan grabbed my hand and turned me to get a good look. Never had a woman do that before.

"You're right, he does have a nice ass!"

"He knows how to use it too" Tiffany smiled.

"I hope so!" Joan said, and I suddenly felt some pressure that I'd never felt before. I needed to perform! ... but not tonight.

"We'll call you up in a few minutes" Tiffany said. She kissed me on the cheek, and before she pulled away Joan kissed me on the other cheek. Suddenly I got the feeling that performance was NOT going to be a problem.

A few minutes turned out to mean forty-five. I was watching reruns of Alone and someone was just about to tap out when I was called upstairs. Tiffany looked magnificent. She was in heels, a cocktail dress that was suggestive but wouldn't have people pointing and whispering, and her hair was sort of done. She had a choker of what had to be rhinestones around her neck, and a simple tennis bracelet on her wrist. She looked amazing. Normally I'd have said the best part were the stockings, because I love a fancy pair of stockings, but what surprised me the most was her cleavage. Tiffany blushed a bit.