Acting on Impulse

This is a story that shows the result of acting on impulse. By acting in anger and desperation; what seemed like good ideas at the time, resulted in a simple housewife leaving herself vulnerable to the depraved desires of two manipulating men.

*

My heart is still thumping in my chest, and my stomach is still all churned-up. What a morning this has been, and all because my husband has a roaming eye. What am I going on about? Well I'll tell you. Bloody men!

My name is Sandra but everybody calls me Sandi, I'm thirty-three years old and have been married to Roger for twelve years. I've always had a well paid job, earning nearly double Roger's wage. But we just had our first child three months ago, a gorgeous little girl called Rebecca, and I gave up working to look after her. But this has drastically reduced our combined income. This didn't hit us at first, but now its getting on for six months since my last pay cheque, and things are getting tight.

Last night was our wedding anniversary. And although Roger did remember, and he took me out for a meal, it wasn't to an expensive restaurant. Even this simple meal in a pub which would have been sufficient, but for the fact that Roger spent all night ogling two girls that were sitting at the bar. Talking to him was like talking to the wall, in-fact, I think the wall was paying me more attention. Then when we got home, he was flirting with the young girl who'd been babysitting. Luckily she only lives a few doors away, as I don't think I'd have trusted him to have given her a lift home. Then to really ruin the night; when we got into bed, he immediately fell asleep, leaving me getting more and more frustrated.

So this morning when he'd gone to work, I was in a really foul mood. And I decided to do something to get my own back. I'd bought no new clothes for ages, because we were cutting down on our spending. But I thought to myself, if he's going to be looking at other girls, then I'm going to get other men to look at me! First thing to make a girl feel sexy; is sexy underwear. And good sexy underwear doesn't come cheap. There are no really good underwear shops in our local town, so I'd have to go some twenty miles or so to the nearest city.

But here again our money problems hit me. Only last week my beloved Laurence failed his MOT. Laurence is the name of my big old Land Rover truck. I've had it since I was twenty-one. It's slow, noisy, thirsty, and draftee, but has never let me down in all the twelve years I've owned it. When I'm driving it; I sit up there so high, and feel so safe. And the MOT he just failed? Well in England to get your annual road tax, if your vehicle is over three years old, it needs a road worthiness test in a garage, we call it an MOT. Well my Laurence failed; so no MOT, no tax. No tax means you're not insured. And any one of the three things means you can't take it on the road. We couldn't afford to have the garage fix Laurence, so Roger was going to get one of his friends to look at it for me. But this was something else he hadn't done.

Well fuck the road tax! Fuck the insurance! And fuck their silly old MOT! My Laurence has always got me where ever I wanted to go in the past, and he wouldn't let me down now. So I got the baby ready, with all her stuff, and bundled her into the back of my trusty Laurence. I dropped her off at my mom's, and off I went to get some drop-dead sexy kit.

I knew which shop I was heading for, it was a small exclusive place. Everything in there cost a bomb, but what the fuck! There was only a little parking space in-front of the shop, with enough room for about four cars. I swung Laurence into one of the parking bays and jumped out. Now if Roger had seen me he'd have nagged me all day long, he always insisted on my reversing into the parking space. But today Roger could go-fuck-himself!

Now to go shopping I'd wanted to look my best, but with no new fashionable stuff, I had to go back to basics. One thing that will always be in style is showing lots of leg, bust, or flesh in any area. And that was something else that Roger had let me down on! He'd given me a target weight and waist size when our Rebecca was born, and he'd promised that when I got back down to my original nine stone, and twenty-two inch waist, he'd buy me a complete new outfit. Well I'd reached this target two weeks ago, and there was still no sign of him taking me shopping to buy the new outfit. Anyway, as I say I'd got a short skirt and a tied blouse. So I was showing lots of leg, bare tummy, and plenty of cleavage.

I walked into the shop, and straight up to the centre counter, where the man who owned the shop was standing. Then bold-as-brass, without trying to make sure nobody else could hear. "I'm looking for some really sexy underwear."

"Well you've come to the right place. Because that's all we sell here. But what kind of sexy do you want? Frilly? Skimpy? Silky? Or old fashioned lacy? That's really back in fashion now."

"I want something that doesn't leave much to the imagination."

"In that case, our skimpy range is mainly over in that area of the shop. Once you find what you want, there is a changing room at the back of the shop. If you need any assistance, just come and ask. And I hope you don't mind me saying, that I think you're making the right choice. With a body like yours, it would be a sin to cover it up."

I felt myself blush as he made his remark, but I turned away without answering him, and made my way to where he'd pointed. The stuff was so nice, it was difficult to know what to pick. I'd been browsing around for about ten minutes, when suddenly. "Do you mind if I pick a few things for you to try?" I nearly jumped out of my skin as the shop owner spoke from directly behind me.

"Err. No of course not, I'd be glad of your assistance, there's just so much to choose from."

"Even if I do say so myself, I'm a pretty good judge of what style suits what type of lady."

"Ok then, tell me what style you think would suit me."

"Well you've got such a sexy little body, you don't need anything fancy, or overstated. I'd suggest a thong, and a half cup bra. Here try this set, it's almost transparent, but it will certainly show you off to best effect. Then there's this set, still very revealing, but silk material. And then there's this lace one, not my choice, but maybe you'll like it. If you want to go and try them on, the changing room is vacant. If any of them take your fancy, you should find me around the shop somewhere, but I'm expecting a delivery to my store-room at the back, so if I'm not about, just pick up the little brass bell on the counter, and give it a ring."

I tried on all three sets, and was in love with all of them, but with price tags starting at around ninety pounds, this little lot would in total exceed three-hundred and fifty pounds! Now pissed as I was with Roger, I couldn't spend that kind of money. Even the cheapest set at ninety, would cause us a lot of financial pain.

Then and idea hit me, I looked out of the curtains, and the manager of the shop was still milling about, so I started putting the underwear on, one set on top of the next. All the time I kept having a quick peek through the curtains, to check where he was. Then as I'd just put my own underwear back on I was having a peek, and I saw him disappearing into a door to the side of the changing cubicle. I assumed this led to his stock-room, and he'd gone to take care of the delivery as he'd said.

Now I was panicking, I had to pull my skirt and blouse on, and get out to Laurence as quickly as I could. I made my way from the cubicle as quickly as possible, but trying not to arouse any of the other customer's attention.

I was about ten feet from the door, when I heard a voice behind me. "Was there nothing suitable?" It was the shop owner, who was stood by the cubicle, with his hand just about to open the curtain.

"Err. No thank you." I replied as I looked back whilst opening the door. I could see he'd now pulled the curtain back.

As I stepped out, I heard his call, "Hey! Stop! Where are the outfits?"

I ran as fast as I could, jumping into Laurence, and turning the key. He burst into life as usual, and I crashed the gear stick into reverse. Then dropping the clutch, I floored the throttle pedal, and pulled a handful of steering on. We shot off backwards, and there was a jolt, and an almighty screeching sound. I had been looking behind me, but as I swung my head to where the noise was coming from, I could see my front bull-bar had swung into the side of the car parked next to me. But I didn't stop, I kept my foot hard down, and Laurence just pushed the car sideways out of his path. It was a brand-new Jag, and as we lurched free of it, I could see we'd ripped the side open from front passenger door, along to the back bumper.

We were reversing from the parking bay, back up towards the door of the shop. I turned my head back to see where I was going, before I crashed into anything else. I could now see the shop manager coming running out of his door, only to be met by Laurence's back end rumbling its way towards him. He stopped in his tracks, and jumped clear, I rammed the stick into first, and we were off. We were in second gear before I'd left the little car-park. I kept my foot hard down not attempting to slow down as I joined the road. Luckily the traffic was light, and apart from some horn blowing, we were away without incident.

I didn't head for home; instead I drove around the city for a while to see if we were being followed. Then after about fifteen minutes driving around, I made my way back home. I didn't pick-up baby, my nerves were too shattered. So here I am, sitting here a nervous wreck. What happens now? Well one good thing, Laurence pours out black smoke, so the whole back end of him is filthy. There is no way you could read the number plate even stood up close. So I felt quietly confident that I'd got away with it.

"Ring ring, Ring ring. Ring ring," The phone, I about jumped out of my skin. I didn't want to answer it. But why? It could only be my mum, or maybe a friend.

"Hello."

"Hello. Is that Sandra Hall?"

"Why, who wants to know?"

"This is Mr Armstrong here; I'm the proprietor of 'Silks & Satins'. I just wanted to inform you that I will be handing your purse and handbag over to the police when they arrive. I expect you'll be able to pick them up from the station when they arrest you."

My heart sank, I'd been in such a state, I hadn't even missed the bloody handbag. With all the rushing to get dressed and out of the cubicle, I must have left it hanging on the peg in there. What the hell could I do now?

"Please don't call the police."

"And why ever not? You've not only stolen goods from my shop, I have a customer here, whose beautiful new car has been torn to shreds. He's just sitting down in a state of shock."

"Please I beg you; I'll bring your stuff back."

"My dear, I wish it were that simple. Even if I decided not to prosecute, what about this gentleman's car? He'll need the details of your insurance."

Now I knew I wasn't insured, so the bill for this guy's car would be out of my pocket. There was no way we could pay out for a car that must have cost about forty grand.

"I'm not insured. Sob sniff. That's why I didn't stop. Please don't phone the police, I'll go to prison."

"You are in a mess then. Don't move away from your phone, I'll ring you back in a minute."

So I sat there waiting, wondering what he was doing at the other end. Eventually, the phone rang. "Hello."

"Right my dear, I don't like talking about this kind of thing on the phone, so I'll be very brief. You be the same, just a simple yes or no. If your answer is no, I'll ring the police, and we'll just let matters take their course. Here is my proposition. I've just taken delivery of a complete new range of swim wear. I would normally hire a model for the day. If I bring my camera, and the stuff to your place, and you model it, I won't prosecute. The gentleman whose car you demolished is prepared to claim off his own company insurance, and not go to the police. Providing you let him join us, he'd like to watch you while you do the modelling."

"But what are the costumes like?"

"I said I wanted a simple yes or no. If the next word you utter isn't yes, then I'm putting the phone down, and phoning the police."

I had no real choice to make, it had to be yes. "Yes."

"Ok my dear we've got your address, it'll take us about thirty minutes, that's time for you to have a shower, and get yourself in the right frame of mind. Buzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz." The phone went dead as he'd dropped his receiver.

So now I had two men coming to my house, to photograph me in? In what I didn't know. I went upstairs, and removed the layers of underwear, the cause of all my problems, and then I ran myself a hot bath. As I lay in my bath, I began to re-run the mornings events through my head, wondering just how I'd got myself into this bloody mess. As normally happens when having a bath, time passes before you know it, and I was still mulling the morning's disaster through my mind, when I heard the front door bell. "Shit!" I hauled myself from the tub, and put on a bath robe, then made my way down the stairs.

My stomach was full of butterflies, as I opened the door. "Excuse me miss. Sorry to have disturbed your bath. Parcel for you, can you sign here?"

"Oh yes. Oh its ok, I'd been in there too long, I was turning into a prune."

He took the slip I'd just signed, and gave me the parcel. "I hope you don't mind me saying. But if the prunes we had for school dinners had been like you, then we'd have all been going back for second helpings." With that he turned on his heals, and was off up the garden path.

I put the parcel down in the corner of the hall, and suddenly realised that I'd still got his pen in my hand. Now it wasn't a diamond studded or real gold one, but it was a relatively expensive pen. I wasn't dressed to chase after him, so I put it on the hall window sill. I rushed back upstairs, and was about to throw off the robe, with the intention of getting dressed, when the door bell rang again. I turned around, and I was pulling the robe together as I ran back down the stairs, thinking the postman had returned for his pen.

As I opened the door, I picked-up the pen and handed it forward. "Here it is. Oh! You're not the postman. Oh sorry." As you've probably guessed, it was the shop owner, and a man I'd never seen before.

"Thank you for the pen. Do I call you Sandi or Sandra?"

"No, sorry that's not for you." I said as I took it back from his hand, and put it back on the window sill. "Sandi I suppose. Err. I suppose you'd better come in."

"Which room, front, back, or do you want us to do it in your bedroom?" The shop manager had a big holdall on one shoulder, and a silver metal suitcase thing in his other hand. The other man had two large bags, which looked like my Husbands fishing rod bags.

"Back room, I think. I'll just nip upstairs and get dressed; I'll be down in a moment"

"Hang-on, you might as well take a costume up with you, just give me a second to open my bag."

I followed them both into my back room, and the shop owner, who I later found out was called Ted, put both his case and bag on the floor. Then he searched around inside the bag, and pulled out a bright yellow swim suit, which he handed to me. I took it up to my bedroom, and was soon pulling it on. It was a really nice costume, not over the top skimpy, but a very sexy cut. It was the kind of thing that I'd wear on holiday, to go down to the beach.

I plucked up my courage, and down I went to see these two men. As I walked in the room, they'd been busy setting out the gear they'd just carried in. In one corner of the room was a screen, three cloth covered panels, similar to the type you can find in a doctors surgery. Then there were four big lights, each on its own stand. And the big silver case was laid open, and it contained all types of camera equipment. They'd also set-up a clothes rail, and hung out a selection of costumes from his big holdall.

As I walked in, they both spun around, and Ted said. "Oh yes! I just knew you'd look stunning in that. What do you think Les?"

"You weren't kidding. She's got a cracking little body."

"Come-on then my dear lets introduce ourselves. This is Les, and you can call me Ted. We already know your name, but let's just make sure you don't mind us calling you Sandi."

"No, Sandi is ok. And please let me just say to Les just how sorry I am, for what I did to his car."

"Is that really true? Will you show Les just how sorry you are?"

"Of course I'm sorry, but what do you mean? How can I show him?"

Well by now, Les was sitting in the centre of my big three-seater leather settee, and Ted was kneeling on the floor, messing with his camera.

"Well in my book, you can sometimes say sorry with a kiss. I'm not sure if that would do it for Les?"

"It would certainly be a start."

"I am really sorry." And with that I walked towards him, and bent down to give him a kiss.

"Wait a minute. Let me get my lights and camera set-up first."

"What! You're going to take a picture of me kissing him?"

He busily positioned his lights all around, and turned them on, illuminating the whole room. Then with his camera in his hand, he rolled across the floor to a position behind me. He was laid on his back pointing the camera's great big lens upwards towards me.

"I want pictures of you doing everything. Ok, step back over me, and then come forward like you just did. But this time, lean forward to kiss Les, as you're stepping over me. I want to see your lips meeting, framed by a shot taken through your legs."

"You can't be serious?"

"What do you mean?"

"What if anyone recognises my face?"

"These pictures are just for me and Les. No one else will ever see them. When I take the ones for the display cards, I've got a masquerade mask for you to wear. It covers the eyes, nose, and cheeks, so it still allows your pretty smile to be seen."

"But you still. I mean you want me to let you take a picture from down there, with my legs open, wearing this costume?"

"So that wasn't a genuine offer when you said you wanted to make it up to Les?"

"It was, but I never expected you'd want to take that sort of picture of me."

"So, you're going to behave all childish about this? Well in that case I guess this isn't going to work. We might as well get this lot packed up, and let the law deal with you."

"No don't be like that! But are you saying that unless I want the police involved, you're expecting me to let you take that kind of picture?"

"Yes. I would have thought that would have been obvious. Surely you can't think that's a high price to pay? You've just stolen nearly four-hundred quid's worth of gear, and written-off a forty-grand car. A few pictures of you showing the gusset of a swimming costume doesn't seem much to ask?"

"But when you phoned me, you said I'd just be modelling the swimwear."

"I don't think I did. I asked if you'd model swimwear, and you said yes. But I never said that would be sufficient to pay us off for you stealing from me, and damaging his car."

"But I thought that was why you'd come here, just to take simple photos of me wearing your costumes."

"We're going around in circles my dear. It's quite simple. Are you going to let me take the shot, or are we leaving?"

"Well ok, you can take this one, but I'm not doing any dirty stuff."

"I haven't asked you to. Now stand with your left leg there, and your right leg over here, and lean forward to give Les a kiss."

I put my legs in the positions he pointed to, and bent forwards. My hands rested just above Les's shoulders, on the back of the settee. I pursed my lips, and we kissed. "Hold that pose, don't move."