Cheryl and Turner were out back sitting beside Turner's pool. Cheryl was wearing a too tightly fitting two piece that Turner insisted she buy. He was dressed in a casual pair of khakis, light green polo shirt, and loafers. As usual they'd spent the night at Turners, and since Cheryl was off on Saturday's this was a good time for the two of them to just talk and compare notes.
Turner had been thinking about a number of things that he believed would expedite his chances at winning the bet he secretly had arranged with some other men. He wanted to present his ideas in ways that would arouse the least suspicion, and increase the speed at which the bet could be won. He had until Labor Day to win, but it was already August. He was still pretty confident in his ability to manipulate what Cheryl thought, but in some ways her strict upbringing was, even now, a retardant. He'd thought seriously about secretly filming her having sex and using the footage as a wedge, but he still wanted to try another way first.
Looking over at her he already saw how pervasive in some ways his influence had become. He had gained a profound influence over the style and kinds of clothes she wore. For one thing the two piece she was wearing that very afternoon was way too small. He'd made her buy several white swimsuits a few days earlier, saying they better exhibited her tan. He really made her buy them because when they were wet they were almost completely transparent. Cheryl was bothered by the transparency, but had agreed. He knew it was because she was so enamored of him and of his assurances that she'd never have to wear them when they had company. Her breasts were pouring out of the top and oozing from the bottom at the same time. Her panties were clearly too tight in the crotch, if one looked at all they could see the cleft between her pussy lips Her camel toe as some people described it, was on display for all to see.
Her regular clothing had undergone a transformation as well. Most of her blouses and dresses plunged deeply down the front usually giving much more than just a glimpse of cleavage.
Bras had become a thing of the past. Lately he had her in form fitting chemises and camisoles that held her breasts loosely in place but still permitted significant movement. The soft textured material also had the affect of abrading her nipples inducing their almost constant protrusion. On days when the weather was cooler or in the evenings as the sun went down she was a sight to behold. It left her in a state of almost constant self-consciousness, a mood that always increase her suggestibility..
He'd gotten her out of the habit of wearing panties too, except in the most extreme situations, and those extreme circumstances had recently been reduced to only times when her minis were so short the absence of panties would have meant an eyeful for any passerby. He loved leaning his hand over and fondling her pussy when they drove down the street. She never failed to blush.
Cheryl's make up had undergone a Turner directed transformation as well. The discreet pinks and blues had been replaced by harsher and cheaper looking hues. She wore much too much mascara, and her eyelashes were always artificially enhanced. Once when they were standing in line to get tickets for some show or another he deliberately he took his fingers and smeared her lipstick. She had to stand there, in line, all smudged. She was mortified.
Turner's next objectives involved some body modifications. He wanted her to have a tattoo with his name on her ass, and he was looking for ways to get her to have her nipples and pussy pierced. He thought he could get her to do it if he played his cards right.
His prime objective, however, was, and had always been to get her in bed with another man. He believed today was the day he'd go in that direction. He had a plan. It had been one he'd used in college to get a girl to sleep with Fraternity Brothers. He believed Cheryl was a ripe candidate for this. He reflected on it as they relaxed by the pool.
"It sure has been a beautiful day hasn't it?"
Cheryl answered. "I love it out here by the pool."
"You're beautiful in that suit. It accentuates your dark tan, and the shape of your magnificent body." Even after several weeks Turner saw how his slightest compliments inspired a rash of red. He could get her to blush at the drop of a hat.
"Turner I should be thinking about getting home. I do have to put in some hours tomorrow at the bookstore."
"Let me take you home." He paused; this was the time to ease into the new thing. "Cheryl have I told you about my cousin Mike?"
"No I don't believe you have. Who's your cousin Mike?"
"Mike is a younger cousin who was married until just a few weeks ago."
"What happened to Mike?" She was always the curious type. To Cheryl someone who had stopped being married, that might mean anything.
"Well Mike married his high school sweetheart. She worked while he went to college, and once he graduated he worked to put her through. It was a marriage made in heaven, and after both had earned their degrees they squeezed out a couple of puppies. Everything had been going fine until about a year ago."
Turner looked over and saw Cheryl was all ears. "Then they found out about his wife. Carol had cervical cancer. Everything stopped for the both of them." From there Turner went on, in great and grisly detail as he discussed the chemotherapy, the radiation treatments, the loss of her long golden hair, her inexorable weight loss, the destruction of her personality, her increasing dependence on the love and nurturing of her devoted husband, and her ultimate slip into a comatose state. "She put up a good fight, but you know how it is. She died. Mike hasn't been the same."
"That's a shame." Cheryl, being the empathetic type, was genuinely saddened.
Turner started going into Mike's story, the quest for the right doctors, the best treatments, his struggle to put up a good front in the face of ultimate and final catastrophe, and how in the end her death meant his as well. "Yeah, now he just stays at home. He has a nanny for the kids, and all he does is sit around and mope, cry, and rant at God."
"What? Can't you do anything to help? He shouldn't just sit around."
"I thought of a lot of things, and I've tried to help him. He's just not into anything. He wants to die."
"That's such a shame."
"He likes you though. He's seen you at the bookstore, and when I told him I was dating you. He talked about the natural goodness he saw in you, and how much you reminded him of her. You know, your sweetness and all like that."
"Like that what?"
"Well you are a warm caring person Cheryl. You do care about other people. You wouldn't do what you do if you weren't."
Cheryl was glad Turner connected her feelings with her real job as a teacher of disadvantaged children. That's how she felt. "It's a shame we can't find someone for him. I mean someone who might at least listen."
"That's why I brought him up Cheryl." Turner gave her one of his serious, sincere, concerned looks. "I thought maybe you could go out with him." He saw her look, and it was a little askance. "I don't mean an official date. I mean just as someone who might lend a sympathetic ear."
"You mean like an apostle of goodwill."
"Yes. But I thought better of it. It would never work."
"Well why not?" She asked.
"First I know you would never do it, and second I don't think you should."
"If you think I could be of help Turner, I'd be willing at least to give it a try."
"Come on Cheryl. That's asking too much."
"No it's not. It sounds like he could use a shoulder."
