(Author's note: this is dedicated to my brother and sister Literotica writers and all the readers who've shared their thoughts on my stories in comments and via email.
Well, maybe not all the commenters...)
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The couple struggled through the tangled forest of oak and hickory, stumbling and slipping in the thin soil that covered the crumbling, naturally terraced slopes of South Illinois limestone. Clusters of locust thorns and wild rose vines tugged at the man's velvet cape, gradually nicking and pulling it to ruin. The woman stopped frequently to shake her petticoats and inspect her bodice; terrified of getting ticks under the cumbersome attire she wouldn't have worn in a million years if it wasn't her husband's thirtieth birthday.
"Jesus Christ, why couldn't we have just done this in the living room?" She huffed, blowing a strand of blond hair from her face. Her eyes were a cold blue; her cheekbones high and severe; her jaw square and prominent. At five foot eleven she towered over her husband by four inches and now looked down upon him like an irritable Viking goddess.
"As I explained before, it's all about the fantasy," he answered with a distinct lack of patience. He could easily imagine the look she was giving him so he didn't bother to turn to face her. Instead he trained his gray eyes into the trees; scratching his sparse mustache and pushing his limp brown bangs back from his sweaty brow.
"Remind me why I love you again," said the woman.
"Because I'm so awesome?"
"No. I'm pretty sure that's not it."
He paused to look around. It was mid-spring and the forest had leafed out a lot in the two weeks since he and Lloyd had scouted out the rendezvous. The landmarks looked all wrong now, when they could be seen at all. It would have made more sense if they had all gone out together, but Gene had insisted they meet there. Now he was regretting his stubbornness and worrying he'd gotten himself and Betty hopelessly lost. If she realized he was now leading them through the woods more or less randomly that would be all the excuse she'd need to cancel everything. Once again he peered desperately into the leaves, seeing nothing but more leaves and tumbled chunks of eroded white stone.
"Maybe you love me because you have a geek fetish." he said; trying to cover up his mounting panic.
"Obviously I must. Fate is cruel sometimes." She said wistfully. "Hey, isn't that Lloyd over there?"
Gene followed her gaze and spotted Lloyd too. He was down a steep wooded slope in a small glade in the opposite direction of where Gene had been looking. "See, I told you I knew where I was going," he said brightly, his mood suddenly levitated with relief.
"What the hell is that on Lloyd's head?" Betty asked.
"That's his costume. Try not to laugh at him; you know sensitive he can get."
Even by the standards of fantasy role playing Lloyd looked pretty stupid. His tunic was a poorly sewn garment of old burlap and his orange fright wig with the pale flesh-toned pointy ears sticking out perpendicular to his head looked like a Halloween abortion against his ebony skin. His habit of breathing with his fat lower lip hanging open did not help the effect at all. He held up a plastic battle axe as he saw Betty and Gene bumbling through the undergrowth toward him.
"Are you sure you're not pushing him into this?" Betty asked Gene, not for the first time. She had long claimed that the main reason Lloyd and Gene had been friends for so long was that Lloyd was so easily manipulated. And if there was one thing Gene loved, it was getting his way.
"Trust me. He's more than eager."
"'oo goes thar? Raaarg," said Lloyd as they stepped into the grassy, sun dappled clearing.
"Hi Lloyd," said Gene.
"Oh my God, you're even a bigger dork than Gene," laughed Betty. "I thought black guys were supposed to be cool."
"We aren't starting yet?" asked Lloyd in confusion. Gene had insisted the whole point of meeting out here rather than coming together was to make the encounter more "believable".
"I'd like a chance to catch my breath," said Gene.
"Hmph. Some king you make," said Betty as she tipped the gold plastic crown forward over her husband's eyes.
"When the hell you guys going to start?" said an oily, overfed young man in homemade armor painted in black enamel. He sat up under the overhanging limestone bluff, perched on a dusty shelf of stone next to a man in wizard robes. Neither Gene nor Betty had seen them through the dense cluster of scrubby buckeyes as they had walked into the clearing.
"Yeah, you've already dropped out of character," sneered the gangly, thirty-something wizard as he squinted through his clear-plastic framed glasses.
"We're just goofing around right now, we haven't really started yet," explained Lloyd.
"Who the hell are they?" said Betty pointing to the two strangers. Her blue eyes flashed with anger. If she had been a Norse goddess lightening might well have leapt from her fingertip.
Lloyd looked suddenly sheepish; far too sheepish for a troll. "Uh, this is Lord Niarb Gib and The Great Blue Wizard, Longstaff. They're my guild..."
"Aw fuck, Lloyd," said Gene in sudden exasperation.
"They said this is guild territory and we couldn't have a non-sanctioned event unless they were allowed to monitor."
"Guild territory? This is a National Forest Lloyd. Your lame-ass fantasy guild doesn't have any actual jurisdiction here."
"I am not letting a bunch of goddamned strangers watch when I… I'm just not letting anyone watch, that's all," growled Betty.
"What!? This is fucking weak," said the wizard.
Gene's panicked mind worked feverishly. The whole plan, his ultimate fantasy, his birthday gift, was about to blow up in his face. How could Lloyd have been so stupid?
Ever since Betty had told him how a previous boyfriend used to tape their lovemaking he had been obsessed with the thought of those tapes. With surprise he realized he had a weird fascination with the idea of Betty having sex with other men. He had told her about his fixation but she insisted the tapes were long gone. He suggested something else, maybe a set up where he could watch her with another man in real time; live; in the flesh. She had been intrigued, but resistant. "Men can't handle that shit," she'd said. But slowly, over the course of a year, he'd worn her down. Finally, a month ago, she revealed she'd be willing to go through with it on the condition that she got to pick the man. And the man she wanted was Gene's best friend Lloyd.
"I've never done it with a black guy before and I'm curious," she had explained.
Gene had been relieved. Lloyd was a perfect subject for Betty's curiosity. He was a big man at six foot three, two hundred and fifty pounds with dark walnut brown skin. Inside he was a sweet, harmless, Tolkien obsessed dork from East Saint Louis. Most importantly, Lloyd was a human doormat, every girl he'd ever dated had walked all over him; hell, Gene frequently walked all over him. He wasn't the kind of guy to steal your woman without asking politely. Even so, Gene was a little taken aback by Lloyd's eager, almost ecstatic, acceptance of his offer to share his wife. It was obvious his best friend had entertained fantasies about his wife.
Over the last few weeks Gene and Lloyd made the planning for the event their shared hobby. Together they dreamt up the "Troll Bait" scenario. Gene and Betty would dress as lord and lady, Lloyd as the monster. When they wandered into Lloyd's lair he would attack and best Gene in combat. Gene would be forced to watch "helplessly" as Betty was ravished. After her defilement Gene would slay Lloyd the Troll and rescue the Betty the damsel. Then they'd all go get Mexican food and a few pitchers of margaritas.
When they outlined the plan for Betty she just looked at them expressionlessly and asked, "What are you guys, fucking ten years old?"
