All characters are 18 years of age or older
*
Lawrence was beside himself with worry. He watched Elisabeth displayed on the large screen and felt nauseated by his shameful betrayal. She would never understand. He had demanded that Randy return the thumb drive and the photos but his boss had laughed at him. In desperation the young husband threatened to tell his wife everything. Randy had invited him to do just that pointing out that the email with her photos had come from Lawrence's own desk to Randy's and the collection of her purloined underwear in his desk drawer had all been provided by Lawrence himself.
"But this ... this, this is like pornography..." he pleaded. "She looks like a total slut on that tape."
"Yeah she does, but don't tell me you didn't like it," Randy chided. "You knew the tape was rolling and you didn't have any trouble shucking and fucking the little cunt."
Lawrence winced at Randy's description of his unsuspecting wife, but he knew it was true. Making her perform that way and knowing someone else was seeing her doing it was exciting for him in a most shameful way. Even the thought of the humiliation she would feel if she ever knew turned him on. But deep down he feared the consequences of losing her and knew he had to put a stop to his boss's ever increasing demands. He tried to sound decisive and uncompromising.
"It has to be over now. I can't do anything else," he whined waving his hands. "What else could you possibly want? I've done everything you've asked!"
Randy smirked. He froze the frame on screen as Elisabeth orgasmed the first time.
"I want some of that," he stated emphatically. "I want the little cunt wrapped around my cock."
"That's impossible!" spat Lawrence. "You're crazy."
Randy looked at the shaken husband and dramatically shook two white tablets onto his desk blotter. "Not impossible at all," he grinned.
___________________
Lawrence watched his wife towel dry her long hair. Her breasts shook with the vigorous rub and he marveled at the guileless innocence of his wife's naked body. Her nipples danced invitingly on quivering globes and then disappeared behind the curtain of damp hair as she leaned forward and shook her tresses out. She looked the picture of innocence, not the horny little cunt that his boss had called her.
The recollection made Lawrence look guiltily toward the clock radio that had allowed Randy access to their most intimate moments. He swallowed hard as he thought of how mortified Elisabeth would be if she knew anyone else but her husband had witnessed her private performance. The thought stirred his cock.
The hairdryer fluffed her dark raven mane as she tamed it with the circular brush, coaxing soft waves to frame her pretty face. She paused for a minute to lower her arms and take a long pull from the steaming cup of herbal tea he'd brought her.
"It must be my taste buds," she called out over the noise of the hair dryer, "it tastes a bit off. Maybe it's been in the cupboard too long."
For a moment Lawrence was afraid she wasn't going to finish it. But with a shrug, she drained the china cup pursing her lips at the odd taste. A few more practiced passes with the brush and her hair fell softly over her shoulders. He watched her bend down to let her breasts seat in the satin cups of her bra then reach behind to fasten the little hooks. She rummaged in her underwear drawer for the matching panties and then muttered when she couldn't find them. A pang shot through Lawrence's gut as he pictured Randy pawing them and lewdly sniffing the crotch the day after she'd worn them last. The man hadn't even the decency to put them away when Shelley brought them coffee.
Lawrence knew the secretary had seen them and she'd doubtless noted the deep red flush that had taken over his face as well. "Just go. Just go!" he was thinking, hoping she'd leave quickly. But she didn't. She hovered around exchanging knowing glances with Randy and maintaining a cheerful smirk that had Lawrence shifting uncomfortably until the door finally closed behind her.
"Does she know anything?" Lawrence had hissed in frustration.
"Would you like her to?" Randy chortled when Lawrence glared out the window, too uptight to even respond. If Shelley did know what was going on there was no guarantee that Randy hadn't told others as well.
Elisabeth's voice dragged his thoughts back to the bedroom where she continued dressing. "Do I look okay?" she asked.
"Beautiful," he muttered, scarcely wanting to acknowledge how good she really did look. Lawrence's guilt peaked once again on the knowledge that it was Randy she was unknowingly preparing herself to meet.
She seemed a little wobbly as she put a hand on the wall to slip into her high heels. Lawrence could see that her pupils had begun to dilate.
"That tea..." she giggled and took his arm unsteadily as he led her out the door.
By the time they reached the hotel, she was noticeably mellow. Her cheeks had an unnatural flush and her movements were languid. The ingrained modesty that would have kept her knees pressed tightly together as she exited the car had left her and she gave the parking valet an unobstructed view up her dress as she slid out.
The maître de was expecting them and he led them through the crowded lounge to Randy's table. Randy's - and Robert Valdez' and Ted Rolling's table!
Lawrence was stunned to see two of his work rivals sitting alongside his boss and smiling smugly as he and Elisabeth approached the table. He looked hard and questioningly at Randy and the man's gloating, self-satisfied grin sent a chill through his gut.
Elisabeth was leaning against her husband, tucked in the security of his long arm, uneasy in the company of the other men without really knowing why. She appeared to be a little bit drunk but Lawrence knew it was entirely the pills he'd crushed into her herbal tea. She'd had no alcohol as yet, but it would take very little drink to turn her from mellow to jello.
Randy was on his feet holding the chair next to him motioning for her to sit down. Lawrence reluctantly surrendered her hand. He sat away from her in the only other chair available. Randy solicitously helped her slide in close to the table and she seemed oblivious to the man's hands lingering possessively on her bare shoulders. The young husband's uneasiness grew when he caught the disquieting wink his boss exchanged with the other two men. It was clear that something was afoot between the three of them.
Lawrence hoped that it was mere coincidence that the two assholes he trusted least just happened to be here at the same time in the same hotel lounge, but the likelihood seemed remote. He looked across at Elisabeth trying to catch her eye but his lovely wife was turned toward Randy listening to his bullshit. She didn't see Ted Rollings trade the nearly empty glass in front of her for a full one. Nor did she catch Randy's conspiratorial nod. They were all in on it. He was sure now.
Elisabeth's second drink was hardly finished when Randy proposed a toast and handed her a glass of white wine. Her husband could see that she was already struggling to focus and expected the plan was to get her totally shit-faced. Her pupils were already fully dilated and Lawrence suspected there was more than wine in the glass she was given. It took her a long time to answer even the simplest question and her voice seemed strained, her words slurred.
He watched Randy take more and more liberties, trailing his hand across her back, letting it fall onto her thigh to play with the growing expanse of leg that was showing. Lawrence could feel the other two watching him to see if he'd react. It was humiliating for him to sit by and say nothing while Randy played the role so obnoxiously.
The hem of Elisabeth's dress had migrated above her stocking tops and Randy trailed his finger across the bare skin that was showing. "Don't you to wear a garter belt with those?" he asked her facetiously. Elisabeth looked down at her own lap as if trying to comprehend what she was showing. She made a half-hearted attempt to cover herself and mumbled "They're thigh highs. They stay up themselves."