Opening Caitlin

On Caitlin's thirtieth birthday, she woke to find a letter on her husband's pillow.

"Open at 10 AM," it said.

She looked at the clock. It was 8:15.

She looked back at the envelope, and considered it.

If she opened it now, there was absolutely no way Richard could know. Right?

As logical as that seemed, Caitlin didn't trust that. Richard had a way of knowing these things.

Caitlin crawled out of bed and did her morning routine of yoga. Six years ago, when she'd first met Richard, she could do a whole suite of yoga poses without thinking about it; in the intervening time, she'd gotten a little bit heavier, and this had translated into her stupid breasts getting in her stupid way during her stupid morning yoga.

Richard had moved away for five years, and had only recently come back into the area. On the first night after they reconnected, he'd fucked her right in the foyer of her house, and Caitlin had discovered she'd never had a better sex partner. On the second night, he told her he loved the extra weight in her breasts and hips, and she discovered that she loved him.

On the third night, he had flown her to Vegas, where they were married at a drive through chapel as a prelude to a night of debauchery Caitlin never could have imagined. And in the three months since then, Richard and Caitlin had settled down to married life together, working long hours at their jobs and making love late into the night. They'd had no chance for a honeymoon, and Caitlin was exhausted. She had been looking forward to her birthday weekend, largely for the promise of sleep that it held.

Caitlin finished her routine, hopped in the shower, shaved everything that needed shaving (per Richard's preferences), and hopped back out. She even stared at herself in the mirror for a good five minutes, checking out the tone of her belly. She might be heavier, but she was still sexy; her waist dipped in deeply before flaring out to good hips. Womanly hips, the romance novels she used to read liked to say. And her skin was creamy and smooth... Caitlin rubbed lotion into her skin, then went to look at the clock.

The clock said 9:15.

Forty-five minutes.

Caitlin contemplated the sealed envelope again. "Open at 10AM." She shivered. The mere use of the word "open" made her pussy ache for Richard's cock. Where was he? How had he gotten up without waking her?

Caitlin went to her closet and found a new outfit there--a shortish, flippy black skirt, black tights and pumps, a black, satin demi-cup bra and a fitted pink linen shirt. Simple, business casual attire, something like what she would wear to work. Hardly the outfit of high adventure. Caitlin colored herself perplexed.

She dressed, did her make-up, and at 9:57, she picked up the envelope and sat down on the edge of the bed to wait for the clock numbers to turn.

They were the longest three minutes of her life so far.

At 10AM on the nose, Caitlin opened the envelope.

"Happy birthday, my love," said the note inside. "If you want your present, you will have to solve a series of riddles and overcome a series of obstacles. Your obedience and resolve will be tested. Remember that each clue holder speaks and acts with my authority, and do not be afraid. At the end, however, I promise that the present will be well worth opening.

"If you get lost or confused, call this number.

"Your first clue: her lips are pink, her house is blue, and she holds your second clue."

Caitlin's heart tripped, and suddenly her mouth was dry.

What in hell was Richard up to?

Lara, Caitlin's coworker, had bought a blue house three blocks away just a few months ago. Richard and Lara had never really hit it off, she thought, but maybe...

It was a lovely spring day, so Caitlin decided to walk the three blocks to Lara's house. If it looked like she was home, maybe then she'd ring the doorbell. If not... well, then, she'd misinterpreted Richard's note. She checked the phone number printed at the bottom of the paper--she didn't recognize it.

Lara's car was in the driveway when Caitlin walked up, so she rang the doorbell. The door opened to reveal an out of breath Lara in pink satin pajamas that revealed the outline of her wide nipples. Caitlin stared at her coworker, wide-eyed. Lara wore soft, glossy pink lipstick, and was staring back.

"Happy birthday, Caitlin!" Lara said breathlessly, then grabbed her hand and pulled her inside.

"Hi," Caitlin said, nervous and unable to keep from darting glances at the outline of Lara's nipples. Her breasts were fantastic. She'd never seen her coworker without a bra before...

Caitlin snapped her attention back to reality. Lara was smiling at her, and holding out another envelope. "Open after you get to first base," it read.

Caitlin took the envelope curiously and stared at it. "First base?" she asked. "Am I supposed to head over to the softball field?"

"No, silly," Lara said, and then suddenly she had taken Caitlin into her arms and had joined Caitlin's lips to her own.

Caitlin froze as her lips were engulfed in intense, wet softness; then Lara's hands came around her neck and Lara's tongue slid into her mouth, and Caitlin responded eagerly with a groan.

The kiss was hot and slick, and over all too soon. Caitlin was barely able to take in all the sensations before Lara had pulled back and was looking into her eyes.

Caitlin's hand flew to her lips. "Wha--?"

"First base, Caitlin," Lara said huskily. "Happy birthday. I've wanted to give you that for a long time."

"You have?"

"Oh, yeah," Lara said. "Thank your husband for me." She grinned.

"How did you--"

"That last work party," Lara said, blushing. "I was tipsy and he caught me staring at your tits, and it wasn't hard to suss out that we share similar admiration for..." she was staring at Caitlin's breasts.

"I see," Caitlin said weakly.

"Was that your first girl kiss?" Lara asked.

"Yes," Caitlin said.

Lara sidled closer. "Do you think that was your last?"

"I don't know..."

Lara's arms were around her again, and this time, Caitlin kissed back with appreciation, enjoying the softness of Lara's lips, the lushness of the female body pressed into her own. Caitlin felt a spurt of sudden moistness between her legs, and she clutched Lara as though drowning.

It wasn't like kissing a man, not at all, but it was exactly the way Caitlin had imagined kissing would be, when she was a girl. Not only that, it was the sort of kiss Caitlin suspected she gave. Not necessarily the kind of kiss she'd want all the time, but--

"Sorry," Lara said, breaking away. "Really, really sorry."

"No, don't be," Caitlin said, and stared at her coworker, bemused.

Lara stared back.

"Well?" Lara asked.

"Well what?"

"You got to first base," Lara pointed out.

"True." She opened the envelope, and read out loud. "Number two: Columbus sailed the ocean blue in..." She paused and looked up. "Fourteen-hundred and ninety-two." Caitlin paled and blushed alternately for a moment.

"What is it?" Lara asked.

"Jon and Tess live at 1492 Wedgwood Lane."

Lara smiled. "Lucky dogs," she said.

Caitlin shook her head. "Oh, no. That can't be... I mean, the first base thing has to be a fluke. Richard wouldn't..."

"Oh, yes, Richard would," Lara said with twitching lips. Caitlin blushed more deeply.

Lara saw her off with a cheery wave, though every step of Caitlin's walk home filled her with anxiety. At home, she climbed into her car and drove over to Wedgwood Lane. Only her extreme conviction that Jon and Tess would never do anything to hurt each other kept her going.

Jon answered the door, holding a cup of coffee and wearing a sleepy smile and a pair of flannel sleep pants. He looked incredibly sexy, unshaven and tousled, while leaning casually against the door jamb.

"Jon?" Caitlin said nervously. "Is Tess at home?"

He nodded. "Come on in."

"I don't mean to bother you," Caitlin said. "It's just... look, did Richard say anything to you about a scavenger hunt? Is there a clue here?"

"Why don't you come on out back," Jon said. "I'm sure Tess wants to give you the clue herself."

Caitlin sighed, and followed Jon through to the back--

--where Tess was frolicking naked in the hot tub.

Frolicking seemed like such a silly word

Caitlin thought disjointedly,

until you actually saw someone doing it.

Tess leaped up out of the water, sunlight glinting off of every taut curve of her body, then fell back in. Water sloshed over the edge of the hot tub. Caitlin stared, intimidated by Tess's tanned, toned body.

"Happy birthday, Caitlin!" Tess said, exuberant and seemingly ignorant of Caitlin's discomfort. "Jon, give our girl a birthday kiss."

Caitlin half turned to look at Jon, and he was, to her surprise, right behind her. "Relax," he whispered, grinning and holding the coffee cup away from their bodies to avoid spilling. He bent down to give her a slow, sensual brush across the lips. "You look very sexy today," he said when he was done.

"Uh, thank you," Caitlin stammered.

"Come here," Tess said, leaning out over the edge of the hot tub. Her nipples puckered in the cool air. Caitlin walked over.

Tess's wet, bromide-flavored lips met hers, and for the second time in her life and in an hour, both, Caitlin found herself kissing a woman. What made this kiss different was the fact that Jon was standing directly behind Caitlin. She felt the brush of his hands on the side of her body, and steeled herself to feel them touch her breasts; she rather suspected Jon and Tess represented second base at this point. But Jon's hands moved to Tess's breasts instead, where he began massaging and kneading his wife's wet flesh, and squeezing her nipples.

Tess moaned into Caitlin's mouth.

Then Jon's strong hands took Caitlin's in his own, and guided them to Tess's nipples.

"She's got great tits, doesn't she?" Jon murmured, low in Caitlin's ear, as Caitlin's fingers fumbled on Tess's breasts, with Jon's still guiding her. His fingers intertwined with hers, and together they twirled Tess's left nipple. Underneath Caitlin and Jon's fingers, Tess's nipple swelled. Tess groaned deeply, and stabbed her tongue into Caitlin's mouth.

"Mm-hm," Caitlin responded, then moaned in shock when Jon's fingers rubbed over her own nipples, through the fabrics of her shirt and bra. Where he touched seemed directly connected to the slit between her legs, and she ached there, suddenly, and felt a small squeeze of moisture.

Oh, my God

, Caitlin thought.

What has Richard gotten me into?

Tess eventually broke off the kiss, and slid away from Caitlin's hands, back into the tub. "It's too cold," she said, shivering.

Jon said, for Caitlin's ear only, "You've no idea how long..." then backed away as well.

Tess luxuriated in the water for a moment, grinning up at Caitlin. "You should see your face. You didn't know we're swingers, did you?"

"How did Richard know?" Caitlin blurted.

Tess shrugged. "He plays golf with Jon. Jon likes to talk."

Caitlin looked over at Jon, who now sat on the patio furniture easily, and as though a giant erection were not poking up the fabric of his sleep pants.

"Don't worry," Tess said. "We don't expect anything out of you in the future. But if you ever want to join us..." she trailed off, giggled, and swished water around herself.

Jon just nodded.

"My clue?" Caitlin asked plaintively.

"Sure!" Jon reached under the newspaper spread on the patio table, and handed her another envelope, which, sure enough, said "Open after reaching second base."

The clue read: "If you've made it this far, know the true tests are coming. Go see the fellow who takes care of our plumbing."

"Caitlin?" Tess asked. "Are you okay?"

Caitlin's hands were suddenly icy cold, and she pressed them to her heated cheeks in an attempt to reach a temperature balance.

"Yeah, I'm fine," she said. She made her good-byes and got into her car.

She rested her head on the steering wheel for a long moment.

"Why him, Richard?" she asked the air. "And how did you know?"

She considered calling the emergency number.

She considered giving up and going home.

Instead, trembling, she inserted the key in the ignition, started the car, and drove across town.

Outside Aaron's apartment, she sat in the car for another long moment. It was about half an hour until noon.

"You could just go home," she assured herself.

Instead, she went to the door.

Aaron opened the door wearing the same twisted smile she felt on her own face.

"Welcome," he said, and gestured her inside.

She walked in. Looked around. She hadn't seen it since Sharon had left.

"You don't have to do this," she said. "You can just give me the clue and I'll leave."

"What clue?" he asked.

She glared at him.

"Oh, this clue," he said, and waved an envelope at her, in such a way she couldn't read it. He held it out to her, writing-side down, and looked into her eyes.

She stared back for a long moment, and wondered why either of them had ever really considered it. Was glad that they had not gone through with it. He scared her, on some fundamental level.

"You should leave," Aaron said. "That's probably for the best."

Caitlin took the envelope, read the outside. "Demi Moore did it, and just so we're clear, it's that movie you hated, not the one you love," it said.

Striptease,

Caitlin thought, and looked up at Aaron with a puzzled look fixed on her face.

"So..." Caitlin said, not sure what to do next.

"I'm pretty sure he's not asking you to shave your head."

"What, exactly, did Richard say I would do? And what are you supposed to..."

Aaron was staring at her with the serious intensity that had made her back away from actually having a full-blown fling with him a few years back. Any other man would be grinning in anticipation, but the coldness of Aaron's gray eyes was startling.

He didn't answer her.

Caitlin tried again.

"My first message said that all the clue holders speak and act with Richard's authority," Caitlin said.

"You're supposed to dance for me," Aaron said. "Give me a lap dance. Until I come." He said it baldly, without delicacy or prevarication, with the same restrained authority that had once caused her to lie awake fantasizing about him every night.

"I see," Caitlin said, biting her lip.

"I missed that," he said. "Watching you bite your lip, the way you do when you have a decision to make."

"I don't want to dance for you," she blurted.

He raised an eyebrow, his expression a mask of idle curiosity--but his eyes had darkened, were cloudy with anger, maybe disappointment.

"I want to blow you," she said.

This surprised him, almost as much as it surprised her. But once said, she couldn't take it back... She dropped to her knees before him. Her fingers fumbled with his belt, and for a moment, he didn't seem inclined to help or interfere, either way. She looked up, and saw he stood there, eyes fixed on the middle distance, jaw clenched.

She gave up with the belt briefly, desperate to touch him as she hadn't been able to during all their years of flirtation and friendship, and rubbed him through the thickness of his jeans. She could feel the hard column throbbing there, and she rubbed her cheek against it. His hand dropped gently to her hair and caressed an errant strand, tucking it back, and she made a soft, open-mouthed moan when he touched her.

"Fuck it," he said hoarsely, unbuckling his belt and dropping his pants. His cock sprang free, and he shoved it blindly into her mouth. Caitlin began to work on it, laving it with her tongue, sucking on it, drawing on it, moaning as she did so, and pulling moans from him.

His fingers tightened in her hair, and he was holding her head still and fucking into her mouth, then, everything came to a crashing halt as he froze and came in her mouth. She swallowed convulsively, then kept him in her mouth until his cock went limp and began to shrink.

Then he was kneeling next to her, arms around her, crying into her hair. "Oh, god, Caitlin, I love you, I love you..."

Two years ago, this had been her fondest wish.

That was no longer the case.

"I'm sorry," she said softly, pulling gently away from him. She stood up, straightened her skirt.

"Sorry?" he asked.

"I have to go."

"We aren't done here," he said harshly, and his tears were gone as quickly as he had come.

Caitlin reached down and picked up the envelope; when she stood again, he was beside her, reaching for her wrist. Because she had loved him, and because he still loved her, and because her husband had sent her here, she didn't pull away.

Once he had her wrist, he clamped down on it like a vise. He outweighed her by more than a hundred pounds, easily, and he was well-muscled; he picked her up with the other arm and carried her into his bedroom.

"What are you doing?" she cried. "Let me go."

His bed was neatly made, and there were restraints at every corner.

"No, Aaron. No. No!"

"Yes," he said, and tied each of her limbs down with ruthless efficiency.

"Aaron. No, you can't do this! I don't want this!"

"I speak and act with the authority of your husband," he said flatly, tying a blindfold over her eyes.

"That's not how he meant it!" she cried.

"Shut up."

Caitlin considered screaming. When she felt cold metal at the waistband of her tights, she considered it very seriously indeed. Just before he cut the tights from her legs, he whispered, "Don't scream, Caitlin."

"How--?"

"I can smell your thoughts, just like I can smell your cunt." He cut into the waistband of the tights and tore the fabric down one leg, then the other. Then, something cold and very narrow nudged between her pussy lips, sliding through her wetness upward to press briefly against her clit. The scissors! Her heart raced. Oh, god was he going to cut her? Hurt her? Take some bizarre revenge on her for how things had gone two years ago?

The doorbell rang. The scissors went away from her pussy; footsteps receded and the bedroom door opened and closed.

Caitlin strained to hear, but there was nothing.

How could Richard have known? How could Richard do this to her? How could Aaron do this to her, for that matter? And how in hell did it come up between Aaron and Richard to do something like this to her? And, well, John and Tess and Lara, too? What the fuck did Richard say about her when she wasn't around?

Caitlin pushed against the restraints, testing for weakness, and found none. She tried rubbing her head against the bed in order to loosen the blindfold, but that didn't work, either.

The bedroom door opened. Footsteps approached slowly. The bed dipped beneath the weight of Aaron joining her. He crawled up over her body, unbuttoning clothes as he went. When he started kissing her neck, she inhaled sharply.

And then relaxed.

It was Richard. The aftershave. The aftershave! That gave it away. Aaron never wore any scents at all, and Richard's extremely expensive, spicy aftershave was the last thing Aaron would own, let alone wear. Caitlin nearly wept with relief.

This must be part of the hunt, she decided. It was insane, all that had gone before, totally, totally insane, but part and parcel of Richard's domination habit, and really, nothing too untoward had come of it. The conspiracy between Aaron and Richard was still worrisome, and the taste of Aaron's semen was still in her mouth--but, all things considered, it was just a blow job. It's not like she could get pregnant from a blow job. Wouldn't that just be the heights of irony? Being sent on a sexual scavenger hunt by one's husband, and then catching pregnant from one of the friends he'd roped into the situation--

But it was all right now, because this was Richard, and the scavenger hunt was over. Caitlin had the brief thrill of wondering if Aaron were still in the apartment--but Richard's intense nibbling on her neck was certainly taking her mind off the many, many questions the day had brought.