The Going Away Party 1

"Hello. Hello. I'm home."

My usual greeting went unanswered, so I tossed my jacket on a chair and made my way through the house looking for Barbara. Maybe she was napping. Or out in the yard.

"Sweetheart, where are you?"

No answer, only silence. Then I noticed the house was buttoned up, windows shut, doors locked, and I remembered she told me this morning that she might be late tonight.

I was a little disappointed, and a little relieved. It had been a long day to end a long week and I was bushed. I could use a little time alone to unwind. I kicked off my shoes and hung my slacks and shirt in the closet and flopped on the bed in my boxers.

"Ahhhh!" The soft bed felt great. I plumped a pillow under my head and groped for the remote, flicking on ESPN to check the scores. Then I just let the day drain away. It went in a flood and I drifted into a dream before I even realized that I had closed my eyes.

When I opened them again, the room was dimmer. How long had I slept? As I tried to focus, I noticed a subtle, sweet and spicy fragrance and felt soft lips on my cheek.

"Are you asleep?" a quiet voice asked.

Barbara was home.

I turned my head and returned the kiss.

"You're home."

I reached up to hug her tightly and welcome her with a deeper kiss. I could smell cigarette smoke in her hair and a hint of wine on her lips.

"What time is it?" I asked as we broke the kiss. She began to unbutton her white cotton blouse. It was already untucked and her shirttails hung down over her short, tight denim skirt.

"It's about eight," she said. "Sorry, I'm so late. We were having fun and I sort of lost track of time."

"We?"

"Yeah, you remember, I told you this morning we were having a little going away party after work for Bill. We went to Logan's -- that little place around the corner -- and had a few drinks. Everyone was there."

That's right, I remembered. Bill worked in the production department and had gotten an offer to manage production at another company across town. Barbara said everyone hated to see him go. He was a good man, intelligent, hard working and easy to get along with ... a rare combination.

He was also good-looking, tall and slender with sandy hair and blue eyes and I thought Barbara was going to miss him more than most. She had a bit of crush on him.

He was just her type and from time to time she would laugh about flirting with him at work. She was a free spirit who had an easy way with people. Everyone liked her and I was sure that her sometimes-ribald wit had roused some attraction from Bill. But always the professional, he had never ventured beyond mildly suggestive chat. I always wondered what Barbara would have done if he had.

She continued to talk about the party as she unhooked her garters and peeled her stockings down her tan legs.

"It was fun. Everyone got pretty loose after a couple of drinks and let their hair down. A couple of them surprised me. It's funny that you work with people for years and think you know them, but at a party like this you find out they aren't exactly who you thought they were.

"Like Alice. She always seemed like such a prim little tight-ass, but she was the one who pumped the juke box full of quarters and pulled my boss, Tim, up from the table to dance. That was a sight. He was stiff as a board, but that didn't stop Alice. I never would have thought she could move like that."

"Did you dance?" I asked. I knew she loved to dance and I often felt bad that I never did. I was self-conscious, but I always told myself I just liked listening to the music. I felt a little guilty about that so I hoped that she had a chance to dance and had a good time tonight.

"Not at first," she replied. "I was talking to a couple of the guys from work and I was just taking it all in. It was interesting watching everyone."

"Not at first?" I asked.

Barbara finished slipping her bra off from under her blouse and turned to look at me. She had a shy, but mischievous look on her face that hinted at something naughty, and as she stepped closer to the bed the dangling sides of her blouse shifted and swayed to reveal the rise of her breasts while the thin material slid across hardening nipples. She had my attention.

"Well, Bill asked me to dance," she said.

"And?"

"And nothing really," she said. "We just danced and talked. And, well, we flirted a little bit."

"That's nothing new, you're always flirting with him. Why so coy?"

She bit her lip lightly and lowered her head. Then looking up at me through her eyelashes, she answered.

"It was different this time."

"What do you mean different?"

"I think he wants to sleep with me."

I started to sit up a little straighter in the bed, but she moved over me and held me in place as she climbed on to the bed. She straddled me and bent down to kiss me, her lips soft and wet, her tongue gently tracing my lips.

Her blouse hung wide open and for a moment I could see her full breasts and swollen nipples before the blouse fell back in place barely concealing them again. Her tiny denim skirt had ridden higher and I could tell she wore nothing beneath the skirt. I hadn't noticed her pulling her panties off. Had she been wearing them?

And where our bodies met I could feel a heat rising in her.

"What makes you think that?" I asked.

"He told me."

"He did?" I wasn't surprised that he wanted to sleep with Barbara, lots of men did, but I was surprised that he told her. "That's certainly different. He has always been so proper and professional."

"This was his going away party, remember," she said. "We don't work together anymore. He doesn't have to be professional anymore," she said. "Actually, he said that in a small way it was one of the reasons he took the new job. I mean, it is a better job with more money and all that, but he said he knew he wouldn't have to hold back anymore. He said I have been driving him crazy and this gave him the chance to find out if I was just flirting, or if I wanted something more."

"Did you..."

"No. No, we just talked and danced," Barbara said. "We did dance slow and close, close enough for me to tell he was serious... and we did kiss. Just a little."

"In front of everyone?"

"No. No." she said. "By the time he worked himself up to tell me all this, it was already getting late. To tell the truth, I wanted to stay, but I knew you would be getting worried so I told him I had to leave. He walked me out to the car and in the parking lot, he kissed me. He said it was his going away present."

"Then what?"

"Nothing. I left and came home."

"How do you feel about all this?" I asked.

"Surprised," she said. "Just as surprised as you look right now. And flattered. It feels good knowing someone finds you attractive, especially someone like Bill. I mean, he's the kind of guy I was always attracted to before I met you."

"I can understand that."

"You know what else?"

"What?"

"It really made me hot," she said, grinding her hips against me lightly. "All that close dancing, knowing -- and feeling -- how much he wanted me. It just got me going. I couldn't help it. Then when he grabbed me and kissed me in the parking lot, I almost lost control. I just wanted it. If we weren't married, I would have gone home with him. I could hardly drive home. All the way, I kept thinking about what happened and I was just exploding."

I must have looked as stunned as I felt. My emotions were racing. I didn't know how to feel. Her passion radiated from her whole body and I wanted to respond, but I was so shocked by what she had told me that I just lay there. Questions and doubts raced through my mind along with desire.

"Baby, don't be mad," she said. "Nothing happened, just a little flirting."

"I know, I just didn't expect this, I said. "I don't know how to feel."

"Well, I do, at least about one thing," she said trailing her hand down my chest and stomach and on to a place that undeniably revealed one emotion her story had aroused in me.

She looked down at me with her a raw animal desire and again lowered her head and as her lips brushed my cheek, she whispered:

"Make love to me."

Whatever else I was feeling was swept aside as I felt her moving on top of me, rubbing, grinding, caressing and kissing. Her whole body was in motion, alive with a desire that would not be denied.

And I could think of nothing but to answer her every move with my own and to answer her every desire with my own. Hard, hot and unrelenting.

I pulled her blouse off her shoulders and pulled her to me, crushing her breasts against my chest and feeling her hard, hot nipples ignite an even deeper fire within me.

We rolled on the bed, all arms and legs and lips and hands gliding over each other, kissing, touching, feeling every inch of each other's bodies, driving each other to heights of passion we had not often approached.

I couldn't wait any longer, and rolled her onto her back, pushed the little skirt up to her waist and parted her legs. But as I moved between them, she reached out and touched my lips with one finger and said:

"Not yet. I want to make love to you."

I was puzzled and hesitated and in that moment she rolled me off her and onto my back and jumped up from the bed.

"I want to do something special for you," she said. "I love you so much. I want to you to feel something you have never felt before. Just wait a minute."

She moved around the bed like a ghost in the darkening room. I could barely see her. And then light burst from a match and she lit a candle on the nightstand.

"There that's better," she said, and then danced, almost giddy, to my closet. When she turned around she had several of my neckties in her hand and a wicked look on her face.

"What?"

"Shhh!" she said with a finger to her lips as she crossed the floor toward me. Before I could speak again she was wrapping one of the ties across my eyes and knotting it tightly.

"Hey," I tried to protest.

"Relax," she said and lightly brushed an erect nipple across my lips, "and enjoy it."

I tried to kiss the hot bud of flesh, but it was gone and she giggled at my futile effort. "You will have it, and more ...in a little while, but now come with me."

She helped me up and led me to the far corner of the room onto a stool next to the bookcase. She tugged down my boxers then made me sit. The hard, flat wooden seat was cold on my buttocks. Then, in a flash, she was binding my right ankle to one of the legs of the stool.

"I want to make love to you," she said again and I began to understand. "I want you completely helpless. I'm going to do everything."

As she moved to my left leg, she brushed her breasts along my legs. I could feel her shudder and heard a low sigh that rekindled my own passion that had been lost in my apprehension about what she was up to.

Soon, I was bound and completely immobile. Blindfolded, legs lashed to the stool and hands tied at my sides to the top of the rear legs of the stool.

She had what she wanted. I was helpless.

"What now?" I asked.

"Be patient," she said and though I could not see her I sensed her pausing to think.

Then I could hear her bustling about the room, rummaging in drawers and then out into another room. I couldn't imagine what else she might need or want. I heard the water run in the bathroom and, in a moment, she was back at my side.

"Unnh! Ahh!" I groaned as her lips encircled the tip of my penis. She had leaned over without touching me at all and the sudden moist warmth of her mouth was like an unexpected electrical shock.

Her tongue flicked and circled the most sensitive places, surprising me with the intensity of the pleasure. Perhaps it was true that when you are deprived on one of your senses, the others are heightened. After a few deft strokes, I could feel my penis begin to spasm. I was rocketing toward orgasm like a teenager with no control.

She sensed it, too, and as suddenly as she began, she stopped and pulled away.

"Oh, you're so cruel," I said.

She laughed.

"You have no idea. This is just the beginning," she replied. "But that will have to hold you for a while. There is something I need, and it's not here..."

Then I felt her lips on mine and she kissed long and hard and deep, our tongues exploring and probing. When she broke the kiss I was so lightheaded that it was only through a haze that I realized that she was fully dressed. I felt her blouse against my chest, her stockings against my legs and the hem of that little denim dress brushed across my thighs.

But before I could say a word, she sealed my lips with a piece of adhesive tape.

"...so I have to leave you for a little while."

I felt her straddle my leg and lower herself until I could feel her, hot and wet. She ground herself on my thigh for a moment and said, "Think of me."

And then she was gone.

I could hear her footsteps receding down the hallway and across the tile of the foyer. The door opened and slammed shut. Then more faintly I could hear the car engine starting.

"Where the hell is she going?"

"How could she leave me like this?" I wondered. "Nothing could make this better than it already was. Was I supposed to just sit here like this until she got back? Damn, Barbara!"

My desire faded as surprise and irritation replaced it.

Here I was sitting naked, tied to stool, blindfolded and gagged in dark bedroom and she just up and takes off somewhere and leaves me like this. What if something happens? How would I explain this?

I began to feel like a fool and the humiliation transformed the irritation to anger.

Why would she do this to me? How could I let her?

How indeed?

It was the excitement and the mystery that got me. And as I thought about how she led me to the stool and strapped me down, anticipation and desire pushed the other emotions aside again.

So, where did she go? She needed something. What? What could it be?

Whipped cream? Chocolate? The delicious thought of her sweet mouth filled my mind.

Maybe, feathers? Or a whip? She does have that mischievous streak.

Just the thought of the possibilities hardened me again, my penis was now so sensitive that it felt as though the slightest contact with my thigh would be enough to trigger my climax.

What if she went to get her friend, Connie? We had, in the throes of lovemaking, fantasized about a threesome. Connie was dark-skinned with almond eyes and jet-black hair and a wild streak that ran much deeper than Barbara's. I had never been unfaithful, at least if fantasies don't count, but I had undressed Connie in my mind almost every time the three of us have been together. And I had often imagined what it would be like to make love to her. When I masturbated, I imagined that she was very, very good in bed. Maybe that's what Barbara meant when she said she wanted to do "something special" for me. Maybe, she thought that would make up what happened with Bill.

"It would more than do that," I thought as my mind raced through the possibilities.

Then the reality of the idea hit me like a brick. I could just picture Barbara walking in with Connie and showing me off, trussed like a holiday turkey. I could hear Connie laughing already. Helpless and horny with two women getting a good laugh about it.

The embarrassment killed my erection, and anger began to rise again. Oh, yeah, what a hoot that would be. And that's the kind of thing Connie could never keep to herself. I was mortified. I would never be able to look any of our friends in the eye again. How would I know if they knew? This was too awful to think about anymore, but I couldn't get it out of my head. Where the hell was Barbara?

Yeah, where was she? How long has she been gone? It seems like an hour? Can it be? Or have I just lost track of time sitting here with only my senses of smell, hearing and feeling. How long can it take to get a can of whipped cream? The store is just down the street? Come on, Barbara, enough is enough.

I began to wriggle and fidget. Maybe I could loosen the ties. Maybe I could free myself. Boy, would I have a surprise for her when she got back. By the time her eyes adjusted to the dark in here, I would have her. Maybe I would tie her up. Give her a little taste of her own medicine. I hardened again thinking of her bound and helpless and at my mercy. I would make her beg me to fuck her. I would...

The stool tipped and tottered. I was going over. I tried to gasp, but the tape on my mouth stifled the attempt and instead gagged as I tried to right myself. I felt woozy and overbalanced. The stool rocked sharply the other way then caught just before going over and then back again. Finally, it settled and I decided I had better not squirm around so much.

But I had to move. The hard wood of seat was pinching the bones in my butt and they ached, and the ties had begun to bite into my wrists and ankles. Nothing I could do would help. If I squinched down to ease the pressure on my wrists, my butt would push harder into the seat. If I pushed with my feet to take the pressure off my butt, I would cut off the circulation to my hands. They were tingling and beginning to numb.

Come on, Barbara, where are you? This is getting to be more torture than titillation. I contemplated tipping the stool over on purpose. Maybe it would ease the pressure. But what if I hit my head on the bookcase or table? I tried to remember where they were, but blindfolded I didn't know just where I was. Hell, what difference does it make? If I knock myself out, at least my ass won't hurt anymore.

I was still weighing the possibilities when I thought I heard a car pull in the driveway. I stiffened and listened, forcing everything else from my mind.

Silence. Maybe it wasn't her. Maybe it was our neighbor, Tom, just getting home.

Then I heard a car door close. Relief washed through me and I felt a little sheepish at all my wild imaginings. Of course, she did just what she said she would and now she was back. If only I could have been patient as she had asked. But she wouldn't know all that and my "something special" was just moments away. Thoughts of her filled my head, thoughts of how hot she was before she left and how we would fulfill each other's desires. I was so ready for her.

I heard her key the lock and the door swing open. But there was something else. Voices. It sounded like a man and a woman talking and laughing. They were too far away for me to make out the words, but it was clear she was talking to someone outside the door. Who could it be?

Tom must have seen her pull in and come over for something. He had a knack for dropping in at inopportune times. This may have been the most inopportune of them all. Come on, Barbara, just get rid of him. But I knew she wouldn't, at least not so abruptly. It would be rude and that's just not her way. I do love that about her, but just this once, I wish she would be rude and tell him to go home. I needed her so badly.

After a few moments, I heard footsteps in the foyer and the door shut behind them. I would have cried out to her in joy, but the tape trapped my words and my heart began to race. It beat so hard that I could almost hear it.

I thought that something didn't sound right about the footsteps, but it must only be the sound of my heart pounding with anticipation. I'm so feverish with expectation that my mind is playing tricks on me.

I heard the footsteps again moving across the tile floor and this time it was clear. There were two sets of footsteps. Barbara's running shoes with their little squeak and the sharper sound of leather shoes slapping the tiles.

"What the hell? She didn't invite Tom in, did she? Not with me sitting here like this? What is she thinking? Maybe he needed to borrow something. Sugar? Milk? Whatever? Just give it to him and send him home, please. This was a little too close for comfort.