The Bet

"Want to make a more, uh, interesting bet?"

I stared across the table into the steel gray eyes.  They blazed with 
the fire of competition that characterized our relationship over the 
years.  I too felt combative juices rising. Nothing short of an 
unequivocal answer would do. 

"Yes." 

"Since we started our business fifteen years ago, we've met the third 
Thursday of each month to play cards. In the beginning, for match 
sticks, it was fun.  It was better when we graduated to pennies, then 
serious money.  Now we've both too much money.  The excitement's gone-
agreed?

"Yes, come to the point." My eyes held steady.

"To regain the excitement, I propose the ultimate bet, new deck, one 
hand, five card draw. The winner- and I state this succinctly, but 
delicately as possible-gets to, shall we say, sleep with the losers 
spouse."

I didn't flinch.  I never show weakness, especially to my partner.  
That had been the hallmark of our rise in the corporate world. We both 
engaged in hard-fisted business dealings, quick decisions and ruthless 
gutting of our competitors. But, it was an intriguing bet--not 
collectable of course. Or, what didn't I know?  I couldn't back down.

"Deal."  I barked, but felt my gut heave.  To steady myself, I sipped 
wine and looked around the room.  My partner cracked a new deck and 
began to shuffle.  We two were in our private room in an exclusive club 
atop a building in Tampa.  Years ago, we had purchased the building, 
and started the club with its spectacular view of the bay and switched 
our card game/meetings from the original ramshackle basement to our own 
club. However, our meetings had changed over the years.  In the 
beginning there was excitement; a feeling of accomplishment. Now we 
played lackadaisically and planned business options.  All so boring.  I 
felt rising excitement as the cards were dealt.

Two tens, a seven, a three and a two, not bad I thought.

"Bet?" came from across the table.

This is a totally ludicrous bet, but two could play this game, I 
reasoned.  Carefully to show no emotion I answered, "Yes, the loser 
must actively help the winner in the, ah, shall we say, seduction."  
Intently I watched the gray eyes for a sign of weakness. There was 
none.

"Cards?"

"Yes, three?"  Damn, I knew my voice was shaking slightly, but I 
covered by clearing my throat.

I picked up two threes and a queen.  That made two pair, queen high; 
defiantly a strong hand.

"Bet?"

Confidently I stared into the gray eyes. "Yes, the winner gets to tell 
all to the loser in explicit detail, and the loser must listen." At 
last, I got the reaction I wanted. For a split second I saw the gray 
eyes widen, then relax.

"Call."

In slow motion, my partner's hand turned.  The fanned cards contrasted 
starkly with the snowy whiteness of the starched tablecloth. 

"Two pair, ace high," came from the smug voice across the table.

Damn, I'd lost to that bitch Alice.

"Well my dear, it's certainly been an interesting evening," I said 
trying to hide my shock.

"Yes, Jean.  I did enjoy it.  It's late.  Perhaps we'd better go now."

I avoided eye contact.

In the elevator, Alice turned to me.  "Just a little bit of business.  
One of us has to do something about Claudia."

"Yes," I agreed.  "I'll start tomorrow." 
 
Claudia was already in the office when I arrived.   As always, she was 
beautifully dressed, hair cut fashionably, little makeup.  When she 
stood and brought me messages and coffee, I noted that her figure was 
abundantly displayed in a tight spandex top complete with that 
ridicules mini skirt.  Ten years younger than Alice or I, she -well, 
she looked good as always.  As she left my office, I noted that her 
butt was still round and high, whereas mine had began to expand and 
surrender to the forces of gravity.  I dialed the employment agency on 
my private line.  I felt no remorse.  Claudia was an excellent 
secretary, but she distracted our male customers.  We just couldn't 
have that.

Hoping that last night's card game had been a bad dream, I threw myself 
into a stack of papers.  At ten thirty, the intercom went off. This was 
our private line installed so we could easily communicate.

"Jean, I see by the schedule that you're having lunch with that 
delicious hunk of a husband of yours at 12:30 today at the Windmyre?"

"Yes."

"Jean honey, you do remember our card game and--the bet?"

"Yes, Alice."

"I want you to call John at 12:30 and cancel."

"But, he'll already be there then?"

"Yes, honey and so will I.  We'll just happen to meet, and since you 
stood him up, I'm sure John will be a gentleman and ask me to join him.  
After all, we two couples have know each other for ten years."

Steeling myself to show no emotion, I answered, "No problem. Consider 
it done." 

"Jean, I do love your honesty.  By the way, you haven't seen me today.  
I'm wearing the silk number you hate because you think it makes me look 
trashy.  I'll bet John will love it.  I'm taking off my bra in the 
washroom before I leave.  Ta ta."

A burning sensation consumed me as I spent at least thirty minutes 
immobilized, thinking about the last ten years.  Jean and John. We'd 
been married for ten years and called ourselves "J" and "J."  John was 
an attorney in the same firm as Alice's husband Allen.  "J" and "J" 
friends of "A" and "A" was the private joke between the two couples.  
Surely, John wouldn't fall for Alice's plans. I was certain he'd been 
faithful during our marriage, and so had I.  Well OK, there was that 
executive in Orlando.  After the corporate meetings, I had dinner with 
him.  We danced.  We kissed.  I let him feel my breasts.  But that's 
all there was.  It didn't count.

I was interrupted by a call on my private line.  It was the employment 
agency with replacement names for Claudia.

Later, I went to the outer office, and told Claudia I had canceled 
lunch and was going to the building snack bar instead.  She turned, 
fixed her beautiful blue eyes on me and smiled.

At three P.M., I heard Alice arrive and minutes later the intercom went 
off.  "Jean, thanks so much for your help. It was easier than I 
thought.  As planned, John invited me to lunch.  We shared a bottle of 
wine and talked about old times. I'm sure he noticed I wore no bra.  It 
was a little chilly in the club.  My nipples stood out nicely."

Bitch, I thought, "Glad you two had a nice time.  Now we need to 
discuss the merger with..."

"But Jean, honey, there's more.  We ordered a second bottle, and I 
excused myself to go to the ladies room.  I removed my panties. When I 
returned to the table, I told him to put his hand under the table. You 
should have seen his face when I hooked them on his fingers-still warm 
they were."

"And?"  Determined to give her no satisfaction, I physically willed 
myself to relax.

"And, you probably don't believe me.  Check his coat pocket this 
evening.  Ta ta."

Damn, had it been that easy?

That evening over dinner I apologized to John for missing lunch.  He 
answered in monotones.

Later, I went to his closet and put my hand in the pocket of the coat 
he'd worn that day.  I felt smooth silk and my fingers burned as I 
pulled Alice's panties into the light.  Slut, I thought.  There's 
barely enough her to even bother to wear.

At 10:30, the next day the intercom buzzed.  "Jean, how's it going with 
the Claudia problem?"

"I have two interviews at the agency tomorrow.  Should be able to find 
a replacement and fire Claudia in the next two weeks."

"Good, now, uh I need more help on the uh bet."

In spite of myself, I exhaled in exasperation, "Yes, Alice."

"In two weeks there's a meeting in Orlando. I want you to attend.  Make 
the reservations today and make sure John knows you'll be out of town 
all weekend."

Orlando, I thought.  I'd told Jean about the businessman that kissed 
and fondled me.  She was twisting the knife.

"Jean, I'm coming to your office. I want your opinion of the note I 
wrote for John."
 
She was as beautiful as ever.  However, I did note with some 
satisfaction that her roots were showing and her breasts seemed to sag 
more than usual.

She passed me a handwritten note.

     "Lover

     I'm so excited at the thought of our private weekend. 

     On the Friday before our rendezvous, you will receive directions 
to the hotel.  Yes, I'm teasing you. I want you to have private 
fantasies concerning where and what I have planned. 

     Just to be discreet, I'm not using our names. I will be registered 
as a Mrs. Smith.  I will leave instructions to give a key to my husband 
Mr. Smith. 

     When you come into the anteroom, take off your clothes except your 
tie.  I will be waiting for you in the bedroom.  Bet you can't guess 
what I have in mind.

     Yours,

     Mrs. Smith"


"Do you like it Jean?"

"Yes, very clever, but I don't understand the last paragraph."

"I'm planning something with John that I've always wanted to do.  It 
will only work with a first time lover.  Allen would never do.  I've 
mentioned it to him, and he thinks it's silly.  I purchased a leather 
outfit complete with pushup bra and high boots.  I guess it's the 
dominatrix in me.  You could never have guessed could you?"

I flashed a sardonic smile hoping she wouldn't miss it.  She didn't.  
Her eyes narrowed as she continued.

"When your naked husband enters the room, I'll be poised at the bed.  
One booted leg will be up on the bed rail.  He'll see that I'm 
completely exposed.  The outfit has no crotch.  Whip in one hand, I'll 
pull him down by his tie until his nose is buried in me.  On the bed 
will be a complete collection of toys for us to play with over the 
weekend."

Calmly, I listened as she explained other perverse pleasures she had in 
mind. I couldn't believe my husband would participate, but she seemed 
confident and her panties were in his pocket.  A plan formed in my 
mind.

It was ridiculously simple to execute.  Late in the afternoon, I called 
Allen on some small pretext.

We chatted, then: "Allen, I'm going to Orlando next weekend."

"Damn Jean, guess I'm a bit jealous.  I like Orlando. Haven't been 
there in some time."

"Then why don't you come with me.  Alice is going out of town.   We can 
do Orlando together.  You've always been such a good friend and so nice 
to me.  I've often thought that, well, you and I..."  

I let the sentence hang. There was silence.  My gambling instincts 
sharpened.  Poker face, don't spoil the moment--I waited.

"Well ya, I guess..." I had him.  So easy.  

I called a favorite hotel in Orlando and booked a room.  Then I 
recalled Alice's instructions:  

"Jean, in order to completely fulfill the bet, I want you to book my-- 
make that your husband and my-- room on the beach in Clearwater.  Just 
to make it more exciting, I want you to deliver my note with the map to 
your husband.  Isn't this fun?"

Damn, the bitch was enjoying this.  

Thinking of Alice's note, I wrote my own to Allen.

     "Lover

     Come to me.  I'm so excited at the thought of our private weekend. 

     On the Friday before our rendezvous, you'll receive directions to 
the hotel.  Yes, I'm teasing you. I want you to have private fantasies 
concerning where and what I have planned. 

     Just to be discreet, I didn't use our names. I will be registered 
as a "Mrs. Smith."  I will leave instructions to give a key to my 
husband, "Mr. Smith." 

     When you come into the anteroom, it will be completely dark.  Look 
into the bedroom.  I'll be there.  Just watch.  I plan a special treat 
just for you. Bet you'll have fun trying to figure out what it is. 

     Yours,

     Mrs. Smith

I didn't share Alice's desire to be a dominatrix, but had to admit to 
my own fantasy.  I remembered the man in Orlando.  The exciting part 
wasn't that he kissed and touched me; it was where we were--dancing in 
an exclusive lounge. He had moved his hands from my back and was openly 
caressing by breasts.  I knew others could see us.  I didn't care. 
Instead, I allowed other dancers to see his movements. 

I had little recollection of what he looked like, but often, late at 
night, I remembered his hands and the other dancer's eyes. In my mind, 
I replayed ending a dance and walking back to our table, his hand 
casually on my cheeks to guide me.  People were watching me and 
whispering to each other. I had pulled back my shoulders and stared at 
the women with their raised eyebrows and their men with eyes fastened 
on my uplifted breasts.  At the table, I had unfastened two more 
buttons of my blouse and asked him for another dance.  Many times while 
lying in bed with my husband, the remembrance of his caresses made my 
nipples hard. On a few occasions, I brought myself to orgasm at just 
the thoughts.

I've always tried to deny my bent toward exhibitionism. I'd seen men 
looking up my skirt, but usually shifted to disrupt their view.  Yes, 
"usually," I thought.  But then I remembered the guilt that followed on 
the occasions when I had convinced myself that they could see nothing 
and let them continue.   I compensated for my frustrations by berating 
Alice for her somewhat risqué outfits.  But deep down I had always 
known, and I now admitted to myself, that I loved the thought of 
purposefully exposing myself, especially to strangers.

The Friday arrived.  Not wanting to trust Claudia, I made arrangements 
for the two packages in my desk to be delivered to Allen and John.  
Ruefully I handed a package addressed to John to the first courier. 

At 4 o'clock, I called Claudia and gave her notice.  I told her the new 
girl, whom I had interviewed and found to be comfortably plump, would 
start Monday.  She showed no emotion. Relieved I watched her pretty 
rear end twitch out the door.  She cleared her desk and left the 
office.

I drove to Orlando on I-4 and checked in.  I had a quick dinner 
delivered to my room then showered.  My instructions, delivered to 
Allen, told him to arrive at the hotel at 8 P.M., pick up the key and 
come to my room.

At 7:30, I switched off all the lights in the anteroom. In the bedroom, 
I lit candles and placed them around the room.  Slipping into a silk 
robe, I lay on the bed. Satisfied that I was perfectly illuminated with 
soft light to hide the ravages of time, I noted that Allen could remain 
unseen in the anteroom.

At 8 P.M., I heard the door open, saw a brief shaft of light, then the 
click of the lock.  As instructed, Allen stayed in the shadows.

Taking a sip of wine to bolster my courage, I opened my robe.  Both 
breasts exposed, I touched the wine then put a cold drop of golden 
liquid on each pink nipple.  I was doing it--my fantasy--exposing 
myself to an unseen man. Nipples fully erect, I spent delicious minutes 
playing with each.  Currents of pleasure shot from my breasts to 
virgina.  Taking care not to look in Allen's direction, I contemplated 
moving the silk gown off my hips to completely expose myself.  But, 
remembering those few extra pounds, and the fact that I didn't look as 
good as Claudia, I opted to move my hand under the robe.  I knew Allen 
could see movement under the silk.  Slowly I worked it down my body, 
clearly destined for the warm place between my legs.  My hand reached 
my pubic hair, and I hesitated, playing with the silky curls.  The 
pleasure of what I was doing was almost overwhelming.  My thoughts went 
to the businessman with whom I had danced.  He had touched my leg, but 
I stopped him. I should have let him feel my thighs. I should have let 
him slide his fingers up under my panties.  I should have taken him to 
my room.  No, not that.  It was the pleasure of exposure.  If I had let 
him touch me under my skirt while others watched...

My hand slipped over my mound, I inserted two fingers.  The pleasure 
was delicious. I was doing the ultimate --masturbating in front of a 
stranger.  Well, almost a stranger; this was perhaps even more wicked--
another woman's husband.  The wetness flowed over my fingers. I turned 
to the door and moaned...

"Allen..." 

                                           -0-

Relaxing in a comfortable chair overlooking Tampa Bay, Claudia sipped 
expensive champagne and watched the curve of the bridges as they raced 
towards St. Petersburg.  Silly bitches, she thought.  She knew they 
were going to fire her. She had managed to get one of their club cards 
and was now enjoying the evening in their private club, at their 
expense. Since she looked a lot like Alice, (except she knew her 
breasts were better) it was easy to get in. 
 
She looked at a young waiter who eyed her hungrily.  He appeared to be 
about 19, cute, but lots of pimples. Each time he moved to the table to 
refill her flute, she shifted to allow him to peek further down her 
top. Maybe, she thought, I'll tell him I'm Alice.   Since I kept a 
duplicate key, I'll take him to her office.  While he sits on Alice's 
couch, I'll lick his little cock.  Won't suck him. Want him to last 
long enough to do me doggie style while I lean over the bitch's desk.  
He'll talk, of course, and the news will be all over the building the 
next day.  What a fun way to start a rumor.

Luckily I also fucked the telephone guy and had him tap their private 
lines.  Sure would love to see their faces tonight when they discover I 
looked in Jean's desk and switched notes to their husbands.
