Deep Down Inside Ch. 09-12

Chapter 9: A Tall Order

My BMW was in the shade. I turned the keys one click backwards to shut off the radio and avoid draining the car battery. That had always been one of my dad's concerns, a dead battery. Although looking back I suspect he was just annoyed by his son's music and wanted to cut it short. I took a sip of coffee only to spit it back in the Coffee Bean cup. It had gone cold during the time I was there. I'd give her one more minute to show up and then I'd leave. In reality I'd only been parked there for roughly ten minutes but I was feeling anxious, and the more I thought about what my wife had done the past weekend and her telling me, "What are you going to do about it," the more anxious I became.

We hadn't discussed our unusual sexual experience apart from me blurting out a few jokes that evening. The morning after we'd cuddled for hours and I'd been unable to keep my hands off her. I'd finally apologized for being so handsy but then blamed her for being so hot the day before. She'd drilled her finger into my chest and teased, "You mean having your own personal porno show?" She'd then thinned her eyes, studying me like a cop. She'd completely omitted anything to do with Kaden, and I figured that was intentional and left it at that.

I wanted nothing more than to initiate our sexual game again but over the next couple of days her face burned red in embarrassment whenever I'd touched her. I knew we had to talk, the tension was getting crazy, I'd been unable to think about anything but her while away at work, and then she'd practically avoided me while I'd been home. The longer I'd let it go the stranger her behavior had seemed. I kept going back to the night she shouted down Kaden in Lucy's bar, and marveling how every guy in the room took a step back. That's who I'd known her to be, but after that last weekend at Kaden's my image of her had several puzzle shaped holes in it. And so, what was I going to do about it?

I checked my phone to see it was 12:30.

Finally Camille's Prius pulled into a spot beside the Italian restaurant. She loves her patios and I had a clear view of her at a small wrought iron table. She ordered a glass of wine, set up her laptop and waited. She pulled a small mirror from her bag, adjusted the pink ribbon around her ponytail, and touched up her lipstick.

She'd worn a wine colored sheath dress, with a low neckline that could've passed for evening wear. It also ended above her knees, and the skin of her legs, the skin above her breasts, her neck, face, arms, her skin all over had a glow from running over an hour that morning. She'd applied eyeliner and a light stroke of shadow, and penciled in her lips with a wine shade to match her dress. Something about those colors and her pulled back hair made me think of a wild school teacher.

Graham showed as she finished a glass of Pinot Noir. Unsurprisingly he was dressed the same as last time. They sat side by side looking at her laptop as she went through the edits. A second glass of wine was consumed. Food showed up, and the plates were set to either side of them so they could maintain focus on the laptop. They ate slowly as they worked, the Pinot Noir disappearing much faster than the food.

I had to wonder why Marty wasn't there. It was his writing they were editing, you think he'd want to have a say in it.

I zoomed in on Camille's lips curling into a smile as Graham made her laugh again. I was parked close, sitting in the back seat with the tinted windows up for cover. A few strands of her dark chestnut hair came free of the pink ribbon and hung over the side of her face and a gentle breeze passed through the open patio and made them flutter. It spoke to how buzzed two glasses had left her.

Camille stepped away for a minute to use the ladies room. Graham rose with her like a gentleman. Her sheath dress was snug, not a single seam down the back side, and while the smooth wine colored fabric didn't pinch into her butt there was a depression following her butt crack that accentuated their movement as she walked inside.

The half eaten plates were cleared while she was away and another glass of wine showed up. Camille returned, and Graham, also standing, placed a hand on her low back to seat her. She saw the wine and protested, and Graham squinted at her, his eyes like a cowboy's, and he raised a finger, signaling just one more.

His hand went to the upper part of her back, where the dress dipped down so he was touching her smooth skin. A finger on his opposite hand pointed to the laptop screen as he scanned a section of interest.

She read it out loud and then clicked on the keypad to make an edit. More hair had tumbled out of her ribbon, partially concealing her left eye, and Graham, staring at the side of her face, slid a finger across her cheek and tucked it behind her ear. His other hand never left her back, and in fact moved higher up, so his fingers came over the top and down to rest on the ridge of her collar bone.

Camille took a sip of her wine, and not a small one. Graham brought his glass up and toasted her, enticing her to sip again. She was now close to finishing her third glass. The wild strands of hair had returned to her face, and so she undid her bow, shook out her ponytail, and collected all her hair together as she leaned forward and exposed her toned back to him. Without her asking, Graham cinched his hand around her pony so she could use both hands to tie off the ribbon neatly. I'd assisted her in that procedure a thousand times, and every time I marveled at the magnificence of her long neck and slender shoulders the way Graham was doing.

The check came, and things wrapped up quickly from there. Camille was clearly flustered and off her game, almost knocking over her water glass. She hardly seemed the same woman.

They left the restaurant and stood at the curb for a while. He seemed to maintain his hand on her shoulder, in a protective, guiding way, while he motioned with his thumb towards the south side of the parking lot. I'm sure he was trying to offer her a ride home. For the first time that day my pains of jealousy felt more like the early stages of heartbreak, because if she got into his car, I think he would've been emboldened to take it further, and my wife was not in a great head space to resist. I even thought about coming out of hiding to stop it. But then she took out her phone and ordered an Uber, which Graham couldn't protest to.

They stood there another few minutes, laughing, with Camille pushing against his chest like she does when I tease her, or more specifically when I tease her about something a little naughty. When the car arrived he gave her a hug, one big hand set at the nape of her neck, and the other at the arch in her low back—tits to chest, crotch to crotch.

I drove to my studio and printed out several of the day's pictures. I was terrified of Penelope and Javier walking by and seeing the printer spit out the dirt I had on my wife. I then went to Michael's, bought some Foamcore boards and tape, and then in the alley behind the big craft store I taped the pictures in chronological order until I had two forty-by-sixty-inch boards filled up with evenly spaced prints.

Camille worked from home on Tuesdays and Thursdays, half of that Thursday was spent meeting with Graham and the rest at home in her office space, although she'd had three glasses of wine, so not sure how much work was being accomplished. Nevertheless, I stayed at work until six-thirty, my normal time home, drinking a beer and watching an Angel's game at a pub two blocks away from our house.

When I walked in I heard her in the bath, and so I quickly brought in the Foamcore boards and slid them behind our dresser. Eventually she came into the bedroom, damp and with a towel wrapped around her waist. I walked up behind her and cupped her breasts. I'd noticed the bong on our coffee table on my way in and could now see a slight glaze over her eyes. Pot tended to make her horny, so that was good. She leaned back into me, and I kissed her neck. "A late bath? Rough day?"

"Actually no, it was a pretty good day."

As she pulled away from me she mentioned her lunch with Graham and said they worked out some of his final concerns. He'd once doubled as a punching bag for Mark Wahlberg, and the leading actress on the film and, a married mother of one and whose name Camille withheld even from me, could lose her family if identified in the book. There were two other married woman, not quite as well known, for whom fucking Graham wouldn't just be embarrassing but likely end their marriages as well.

"If he was so concerned why fuck married women at all?"

"He feels really bad about it now."

I thought about him caressing her cheek that afternoon as he swiped the hair away from her face. Graham was one leopard clearly looking to add spots, not change them.

"We agreed the three married actresses were special cases," she went on, as she moved to the dresser and pulled open a drawer. "So we snipped away at their breadcrumbs and I'm going to sneak the edited version through."

I walked to the side of the dresser. "Funny you should mention breadcrumbs."

I pulled the two Foamcore boards out and laid them on the bed. She looked at me like I was crazy. The boards contained photos of key moments, the laughing and flirty looks from her, his hands all over her sexy body, their parting hug, and one image where his aging but handsome eyes were up close with her big youthful blue beauties, full of intrigue and warmth, and I could feel the sexual tension burning between them.

I pointed to the first image but she pushed my arm away from it.

"Are you serious?"

"Just the facts, ma'am."

"You spied on me again and took pictures?"

"Just the facts," I said again, trying to play a TV role and let her know it was only for fun.

"I plead the fifth," she said, finally playing along, and rested a thumb under her jaw. "But we might have to talk about this." She waved her other hand over the series of photos.

"That's fine." I stepped closer to her. "But first I'd like to submit this into evidence as well." I pulled the towel from her waist

"My towel?"

I dropped it to the floor and reached between her legs. "I'd like to present to the jury one very naughty pussy." I slipped a finger into her slit and leaned forward to kiss her. For a few seconds I lightly massaged her pussy, her day old Brazilian wax feeling slick to the touch, as our kisses deepened and her thickening breath divulged her arousal.

She moaned, but her brow furrowed at the numerous pictures. The flirting going on in them was real. I'm sure stepping outside herself and viewing it from a distance was shocking to see just how brazen it appeared. I held her face in my hands and kissed her again, wanting her to know I wasn't mad. I lifted her up by the armpits, seating her on the bed, on top of a Foamcore board. It creased with a pop as her weight landed on it.

"Did he offer to tie you up again?"

She laughed dismissively. "He actually apologized. He said he didn't mean to be so forthright but every time he'd gotten the wrong idea about a woman it turned out she was just playing hard to get."

I chuckled. "Man, to have that kind of confidence. I guess that's what it takes to sleep around with famous women. Do any stories in the book go into it? I mean, tying up women?"

"Several, actually."

I put a knee on the bed between her legs. "Did you enjoy those?"

She looked at me with a knowing smile, and impishly thinned her eyes, "I did."

"When you read it, did you imagine it was you being tied up?"

Her smile grew, wickedly so, but I needed her to actually say it.

"Did you?" I repeated.

"I did." She wrinkled her nose and stuck out her tongue at me.

I looked away at the dresser and laughed.

I thought for a moment about catching her getting hot and bothered for Kaden. "If not for my display, would you have answered truthfully just now?"

"Probably, but if not for your little spying game would you have asked?"

"Nope. So I guess there are a lot of unasked questions now, huh?"

"That depends, I guess."

"On what?"

"On how much you really want to know."

"Oh," I laughed again. "So you're saying I should expect to find you playing with yourself while watching my friend again?"

She rolled her eyes. "I was not."

"Close enough."

"So you are mad."

"I'm not."

"Yes you are."

"I'm not, I'm really not."

"OK, but you photographed me, and you clearly are bothered by it because you brought it up."

"I'm..." I thought it through, "puzzled by it."

"Just puzzled? Were you just puzzled afterward—after we got home from Kaden's?"

I assumed she was referring to me masterbating to her fingering herself as a result of what she'd done at the party, and I explained, "I just never thought... You know, I didn't think you got off on that kinky kind of stuff."

"Sex? You think I have an issue with sex?"

"You know what I'm saying. Not just sex. And I thought you had issues with guys like Graham and Kaden—pushy guys trying to bed you."

She laughed, I think over the phrase 'bed'.

"OK, yes, I do have an issue with that."

"And yet..."

"And what? I still can't find them hot?"

"Not just hot. I mean, you fantasized about Graham tying you up, and then at Kaden's... that business on the chaise lounge.... That was kinda.... Well it looked like you were enjoying more than just eye candy."

"So you are upset."

I laughed. "No." I took a deep breath. "It's just so not like you. I mean, when we stood there in the gazebo and exchanged vows, I thought I truly knew you, but.... I mean, this was just a surprise is all."

"Are you saying you made a mistake marrying me?" Her face brightened with amazement, like a teenager who'd been fed a heaping spoonful of gossip.

"Jesus, Camille, no! I'm not saying that at all. I'm just intrigued by my wife's inner...". Only one word came to mind—'slut'—but she wouldn't understand I'd be using it appreciatively, and quickly substituted, "My wife's inner horniness."

She laughed again, "Ah! Now I'm starting to understand. OK, fair enough, I'm probably way homier than you'll ever know. Does that freak you out?"

"Of course not. The hornier the better."

"As long as I'm horny for only you, though. I can be attracted to other guys but only horny for you, right?"

"No..." That was a lie I quickly corrected. "OK yes, but no. Look, yes it makes me jealous you were horny for another guy, but no, that's not necessarily a bad thing."

Her eyes split open with confusion.

"I don't know about you, but I thought this past weekend was incredible."

"You mean your free porno show?"

"If that's what you want to call it, yeah."

"So your ideal version of me will do anything to get some middle aged guy to come all over her face? My friend Mary Lou said tit slapping videos are a thing now, how about that?"

"No." I laughed. "I mean, I wouldn't mind some aspects of a porno, but-"

"Yeah, that's what I thought."

She was leading me away from what I really enjoyed about her "free porno show" and into one of her rants. "Look, you're giving me shit, I know, and maybe I deserve it on some level. Yes, some porn stuff turns me on and I like seeing women do nasty things. But I don't think that makes me a complete asshole-"

"I didn't say-"

"Let me finish—Kaden and Graham are two guys who exemplify everything you're going on about, and yet I know you've fantasized about doing those very things with them."

"So you're now saying that my life is a ruse and I actually enjoy being treated badly?"

We weren't exactly arguing and I kept my voice light and understanding. "No that's not what.... Well maybe without the ruse part there's a sliver of truth to it. I dunno, how would you explain it? Light bondage? Because that's what I'd thought at first but it doesn't get at the whole story, does it?"

"I guess I can put aside my sexual politics when I'm in the mood for hot sex with a guy who turns me on. Is that wrong? But now I want to know what you think—why do you believe I'm attracted to them?"

I suddenly found myself on the defensive and didn't hold back. "I think it's precisely because they are assholes. They're dangerous or something. Bad boys or some shit. I think you're hardwired like so many other women—like Bobbie—and no matter how smart you are you still find assholes like Kaden kind of raw and hot. And that makes me love you more, not less. I just liked seeing you lose yourself and become a little wild. I don't know, watching you blow off steam."

"With you though, right? You like me getting hot and bothered and then doing a porno show in our bedroom?"

"That's probably accurate. But what if you weren't married to me? What if you were in the same situation with Kaden and Graham and I was out of the picture? Would you have slept with them?"

"I have no idea and that's a stupid hypothetical."

"I just want to know who my wife is..."

"What? What are you insinuating now?"

"Nothing. Or I guess I'm asking if marriage is smothering your inhibitions."

"Oh God, Alex, if I felt like my marriage was smothering anything I wouldn't be married."

"But if you weren't. Would it be different with those guys?"

"Jesus, Alex. I'm not really sure. I guess if we weren't married, if I didn't have a career, and maybe if I was still a cocktail waitress in some terrible sports bar, then maybe."

"Maybe what?"

"I'd maybe let them stick their dicks in me and fuck my brains out, is that what you want to hear?"

That did it. I eased her back so she was flat, and then spread her legs.

"OK," she said, shocked by the suddenness of my move, "Apparently that's exactly what you wanted to hear."

I rubbed a peace sign over her smooth labia majora, made even slicker now by vaginal teardrops of lubricant. My tongue entered her pussy, finding her even wetter inside. I pushed my tongue in and up and down and out. I wanted to keep going, but stopped, and she whimpered with disappointment.

"What are we going to do about this naughty pussy of yours, huh?"

"I don't know... What are you going to do about it."

"Oh-huh-huh-haah," I growled and gave her naked body the once-over. "Maybe right now you need to show me just how naughty your pussy really is."

I took her arm and rolled her over and onto her hands and knees. Holding her by the wrist I led her hand behind her and set it over her vagina. "Go ahead," I instructed, "show me."

Warm curiosity turned her face milky smooth and her amusement put a smile on her sweet. tender lips. I watched as she did as she was told and began playing with herself.

My Foamcore boards hadn't produced the fun reaction I'd been hoping for, but our conversation had. After an awkward week of quiet uncertainty she was at it again.

"Did Graham's hands feel good on you?"

"Yes!" came her slowly spoken response. Getting her pussy going was all she needed to come clean with her desires, and her fingers picked up pace.

"Now we're getting somewhere. So let me tell you what I see here." I reached between the Foamcore boards to grab an image off the bottom one. It was the image of her being seated by Graham with both hands on her. I shook it at her and then dropped it in front of her face. "I think you told Marty to sit this one out on purpose."

She lowered her face onto the picture of Graham caressing her cheek, and she buried her fingers in deeper. "What if I did?" she challenged.

I spanked her raised and rounded ass as her fingers darted in and out of her glistening vagina. With her cheek pressed to the board she panted over the printed picture as she repeated, "What if I did?"