I was fully nude, freshly laid, and nauseous with anxiety as I sat quietly at one end of Barbara's long, dark antique wooden dinner table. Barbara and her husband's Phil's house was in a secluded residential area near a fresh water lake, and birds chirped earnestly in the distance as the late morning sunlight whitened Barbara's modern interior via skylight.
I sat in a wooden chair; my hands nestled in my lap, covering my limp, flaccid penis, staring across the table at my equally mortified girlfriend, also nude, and also in a deep mix of horror and contemplation.
"How did we get to this point?" I wondered as our hosts Barb and Phil scuffled about the kitchen getting us coffee.
The whole series of events flickered before my eyes -- how Anne, my supervisor at work had seduced me, then encouraged me to pursue ___ sexually, even setting up our date at Barb and Phil's stately-home. I wondered if Anne had set us up. I wondered if behind her bookish glasses dwelt a perverse and sadistic mind.
"There there," said Barb, my boss, resting a manicured claw on my naked shoulder.
"Don't look so upset, Peter. Getting caught isn't the end of the world," she said.
Barb seemed honest in her nurturing, but I didn't trust her one bit, neither it seemed did Alli who was obviously less enthused to be held nude and captive in the home of two Italian-American yuppies.
"What do you want from us?!" stormed Alli, casting a menacing look at Barb.
"The same thing everybody wants," answered Barb. "A little respect."
Alli shut her mouth as Phil, Barb's husband came up from behind Alli and set his hands on her shoulders. Phil was a builder by trade, and his hands were thick and rugged, in contrast to his wife's hands which were graced by long fingers and coned fingernails. The hands of a manager.
"You should be lucky we don't call the police," said Phil in a light-hearted, yet deadly serious tone.
"Breaking and entering? Plus the fact we found you bare in your backyard, plus the fact that the police chief is my poker buddy?" continued Phil.
"You could be in a lot of trouble." He began to slowly massage the black shoulders of my West Indian girlfriend.
"So I assume you have something else planned?" I sighed.
Phil's light blue eyes flickered in the light and glanced towards Barb, who appeared to nod and encourage him to say what came next.
"I know you think that I am a very wealthy man," said Phil, as he moved to sit at the table, his posture revealing that he was "leveling" with us.
He pulled he shirtsleeves back revealing his strong forearms, and rest his hands on the table.
"But I wasn't always wealthy. In fact, I used to be quite poor. Barb used to be quite poor too," he said nodding towards Barb.
"But now that we are wealthy and middle aged," he continued, "we like to live the good life. We like to take vacations, we like to eat at fancy restaurants," he said.
"Where is this going?" interrupted Alli.
"Well, honey, we like to indulge ourselves," he said, patting her on the back. "And today we are going to indulge ourselves in you two."
A shudder of anxiety ran down my spine.
"But first, I think we could all use a good cup of coffee," Phil said, pushing glasses at all of us. Thirsty, I quickly grabbed it and took a few dregs. Alli also held her cup to her mouth and drank. Barb and Phil followed.
"You see," Barb entered, pushing her lush curly black hair from her face.
"You are just such a handsome boy," Barb said, sitting down. "And," she said, pausing to look at me, "I've heard everything about you," she said, running one long fingernail down my forearm.
As her finger moved downwards I began to feel a bit dizzy. It sort of set in, like the sound you hear in the back of your head after a long concert -- this fog of disorientation, and I began to talk but I couldn't understand what I was saying.
The light in the kitchen began to dim from extreme light to dark and I recall looking at my hands but not feeling them.
I glanced across the table at Alli, who began lowering her head until it fell flat on the table, I looked back at Phil, who began to stand up, and said something like "Don't worry" or "Don't hurry" and then. I don't remember what happened next.
****
At some point, I felt a hand on my body. It shook me, and I started to slowly crawl out of the black back into the light.
Woozy, I opened my eyes and felt my surroundings. I was on a bed, still nude, presumably upstairs in Barb and Phil's house. I looked around but couldn't really figure out how I had got there. So I stood up to get around the room when BOOM! I fell flat on the floor, my penis lightly chafing against the wooly carpet on the floor. My feet were bound. And that's when I noticed two other feet. Two laced-up work boots that could only belong to a man.
"Tried to escape, eh?" said the boots. I remembered that voice. It was Phil's voice. In a second he reached down, pulled my up, and sat me at the end of the bed. I glanced nervously around, and saw that Barb sat fully-clothed in a wicker seat in the corner, and Phil was standing before me in a blue t-shirt, a pair of tight, blue jeans, and those brown workers boots.
"Where -- Where's Alli?" I asked still hazy from my magic cup of coffee.
"She's fine," said Barb, from the corner chair. "She's asleep in the guestroom."
"Oh, ok," I answered back, still a bit foggy.
Phil shuffled his feet nervously, and looked back at Barb.
"Well, hon, should we start?" he asked in a sensitive tone.
"Go ahead, honey," she said, nodding confidently. "Give it to him. I want to watch."
It was now quite clear to me what was about to happen. I wasn't to be used by Barb, as I had thought briefly downstairs. I was about to be used -- or, how did Phil put it? Indulged by the master of the house.
I saw his strong frame step towards me and one forearm reached in my direction, a clubby hand grasping under my chin, then a salty finger pulling my mouth open and inserting it inside. My mouth reacted coldly, allowing the intruding digit to sit on my tongue, but doing little else.
"Barb, you sure have some good looking employees," he said.
