The Wilkerson Institute

"Actually, I do," I said. "I had never thought of just locking her up in the apartment. Would she want to go to college?" An interesting idea. I suspected mad, torrid sex could only go so far.

"I have no idea. That you have to talk about with her. And your apartment. Where will she be staying? In your bedroom?... Do you have a second bedroom available?" I nodded yes. "Let her have her own room. She might never use it, but she'll have it, her own little piece of the world, where she can retreat to when necessary. And respect it. Don't go in there unless she asks. Follow me?"

"Hmmm, yes. I suppose I can see the need, although it'll take some work. And I'll probably need to put in an exercise room as well...maybe convert the study," I said, half to myself.

After a few moments musing silently, I noticed the office door open and Becky delivered the finished contracts and left. We read through them in turn, then Wilkerson slid a phone across the coffee table towards me. I placed a call to my bank and gave a coded instruction. Fifteen minutes later the phone rang again, and Wilkerson received confirmation of the wire transfer. We stood and he shook my hand, then ushered me out. As he opened the door, he asked me my plans for the evening.

"Nothing in particular. We hit the town last night. Any suggestions?"

"Actually, yes. First, you and Elyse will be leaving tomorrow. Traditionally, her closest friends will be throwing her a going away party in her dorm room tonight, late. She really wouldn't want to miss it, so expect her to leave you with a substitute this evening. And Saturday nights, the girls really like to let their hair down. There's usually a real wingding down in the night club. I think you might find it, er, interesting."

I smiled and said I'd think about it. As I headed out, Becky told me that Elyse had left word she would be in the Nautilus room, if I wanted to drop by. Then she stood and headed into Wilkerson's office, trailed by a slim redhead with amazingly long legs. Well, it was Saturday afternoon, after all.

***

I found the Nautilus room without mishap and pushed the door open. Inside were four large contraptions, apparently the full set of gizmos with weights and beams and such. I never liked these anymore than I liked calisthenics. Three were in use now, Elyse and two other girls, all pumping and puffing. All wore spandex exercise outfits, but Elyse had definitely the most extreme of the three. Last night she had described a trashy exercise getup, and this went to the max. Her suspender suit barely consisted of a thong bottom whose thin straps curved up and around her breasts, framing them. The bandeau bra was quite small, cupping her full breasts but barely covering her nipples. Every pump and puff jiggled her tits like a bowl of Jell-O. But despite the getup, she wasn't just showing off. She was working hard, sweat running down her red face and off her body, her long, dark hair matted with perspiration. She nodded when I came in.

"Afternoon," I said. "Having fun?"

Puffing, she grunted out, "Yeah. Join me?"

Shaking my head, I replied, "Not in a million years." I sat down on the free machine. "Just watching, thank you very much."

Elyse snorted in derision, to which I just grinned and settled back to watch. She had her arms on some counterbalanced weights, pushing them forward and together in front of her before letting up and letting them spread her arms back behind her. Good for the pectorals, I'm sure. Maybe she was serious about rug burns. Reminded me of exercises we made the frat pledges do outside the girl's dorms. I looked around the room. A gym bag, undoubtedly Elyse's, was under her stool, along with a large towel. The other girls, cute blondes, but nowhere near as impressive (At least, to me.), were working on leg lifts of some sort. In some ways, this place reminded me of the gyms you see in commercials for fitness centers. Nothing but beautiful young women in spandex. The reality, of course, is nothing but fat, middle aged housewives in jogging suits.

The other two left shortly thereafter, waving at Elyse with 'See you tonight.'s. Elyse, stopped her pec pumps and shifted around on the seat. Placing a leg on each side of a spring mounted Y-frame, she began to press it together and release it with her knees. She was actually very well muscled. Her thighs rippled with the effort. This was a truly inspirational sight, as the minuscule crotch of her thong suit began to ride up between her pussy lips. In short order, considerable pink was showing. I could feel my own crotch beginning to stir, and Elyse noticed. Smiling, she adjusted her suit (actually ending up pulling it higher into her cunt!) and asked, "Sure you don't want to join me?"

Tempting, very tempting indeed. But I didn't like the idea of just anybody wandering in. I declined. "Not right now. Maybe another time." Maybe exercise equipment would be a good idea, after all!

Now that she wasn't working her upper body, she had regained the wind to talk. "So, everything go all right with Mr. Wilkerson?," she asked.

"Yep. Papers all signed. We can fly back tomorrow. Say, what, do you have a passport or something?"

"Don't need one for Mexico. I've got my birth certificate. Uh, thanks. You're really a sweet guy, you know?"

Now it was my turn to snort in derision. "I know a couple of women who could give you an argument on that one."

"What? Your exes? Mental defectives. So, what were they like? Do I look like them?"

I shook my head at the thought. "Not even close," I said. "Janie, my first wife, had your color hair, but nothing else matched. Short, pretty in a plain sort of sense, freckles, maybe ten pounds too heavy. And Tanya? Blonde, tall, leggy, slim. Fashion model type."

"So how'd you marry them?"

I thought back over the years. Presently, I spoke up. "Janie was my college sweetheart. Married me right out of college. We were together eight years, some good, some bad. Tanya I married on the rebound, I guess. Three years, all incredible, some incredibly bad. Been on my own since."

"No kids, right?"

"Nope."

"So what happened?" She stopped her workout and lay back against the seat, winding down. Unconsciously, she readjusted her outfit, recovering her nipples where they had peeked out, and hiding her twat.

"Well, I told you about Tanya."

"Fooling around, right?"

"To put it mildly."

"And your first wife?," she asked.

"That's a bit longer story."

"So tell me." She stood and grabbed her bag. "Come on," she said, leading me towards the showers. Throwing her towel over a hook, she turned on one of the showers. "Sure you don't want to join me?," she asked, peeling off her outfit.

Her height, or lack thereof, was a problem we would have to work out someday. But not now. I just smiled and said, "No. I'll just watch. But thanks anyway."

Watching Elyse shower was a treat in itself. She lathered up all over, and luxuriated in the steaming spray. From under the jet, she called out. "So?"

"So what?"

"So what happened with Janie?"

Oh. "We just grew apart. She wanted a husband who was going to stick around, a real nine-to-five guy. Steady, dependable, regular hours. And that wasn't me, at least in those days."

"How so?"

"Well, I mean, right after we got married, the Corps shipped my sorry ass off to the garden spot of the Pacific. And then shipped me back in pieces. That was really hard on her. And when I got out, it was long days at work and long nights at night school. What really tore it was when I quit IBM to start my own company. The hours were even longer, and there was no steady paycheck for the longest time. She just couldn't take it anymore."

"So she left you? For that?"

"Some people can't handle it. I'm probably as guilty as anybody. I suppose I should have seen the signs. But I was too involved with my own problems to notice. Or care, I guess." Somehow, talking to a nude girl half my age taking a shower was a lot easier than talking to someone else. Although a lot stranger, looking back on it.

"What happened to her?," asked Elyse.

"Who? Janie? A few years later I got a card from her. She was marrying an accountant. We exchange Christmas cards. She lives in a development on Long Island, three kids, mortgage, the whole works. Just what she wanted all along."

Elyse turned off the water and began to towel herself off. "And then you married Tanya?"

"Yeah. Christ, what a fucking screwup that was!"

"On the rebound, huh?"

"No shit! A fucking trophy wife, only she wanted to be on everybody's mantle. And mean? Boy, was she pissed when I held her to the terms of our prenup."

"Smart guy. Most men don't get one," sympathized Elyse.

Another snort from me. "If I was so fucking smart, then why did I marry her. Thank God my lawyer insisted on one. He says he knew the first time he met her I'd need one." We both laughed at that.

Elyse wrapped the towel around herself, which wasn't really too effective in covering her. I mean, she had a lot more curves than that towel did. Reaching into her bag, she pulled out a hair dryer and plugged it in. Taking out a brush, she turned on the dryer and did her hair in a mirror. I sat on the counter, catching glimpses of her through the gap in the towel. Finally, hair dried and brushed loose, she turned off the noisy machine, over which we couldn't talk anyway.

"Did they do, umm, anything, er, well you know, that, I mean, uh, you want me to do?," she stumbled out, blushing.

It took me a few seconds to comprehend what she was asking. Then it was my turn to blush. I cleared my throat self- consciously and said, "No. Not really." What a question! But then I thought about it. That's why I was here and why Elyse was coming home with me, right?

"Everything was pretty normal, that way," I continued. "It certainly was with Tanya, anyway. Very adventurous lady, that one. Too adventurous, in the end."

"Adventurous, huh?"

"Yeah, you could say that."

"You just did," said Elyse.

I smiled and shrugged. "Well, you know I used to shave her. Very sexy girl. Long legs, liked to show them off, which was just fine with me. Not exactly beautiful. Striking, I'd say. And she really liked to do it, too. Anytime, anyplace. And anyone, as it turned out."

"And your first wife? Conservative there, too.?"

I had to think that one over a bit. Pursing my lips, I ran my hand over my face before I answered. "Sort of. Yes and no. I mean, she'd do anything I asked. Anything. But I had to ask. She never initiated anything in our entire marriage. Ever."

"Never?," asked Elyse, looking mildly shocked. Taking off her towel, she tossed it into a bin. Out of the bag she pulled a dress, stockings, and high heeled sandals. She scooted up onto the counter next to me and shook out a stocking.

"Not that I can recall," I replied, shaking my head.

Elyse slipped on the stocking and straightened it on her leg, then shook out the second. "Was she, you know, frigid?"

"No. At least I don't think so. Frigid women don't have orgasms, right? At least I don't think they do. And Janie came. Maybe not every single time, but I'd think I'd have known if she didn't come in eight years. She seemed to be enjoying it. A lot."

The second stocking slipped on and Elyse began to put on her high heeled sandals. "But she didn't start it, huh?"

"Nope. I guess that was the husband's job. I'd buy her nightgowns and stockings and the like, but she'd never wear them unless I told her to specifically. Never wear dresses unless we were going out. Ever." I hopped off the counter and took Elyse's hand as she climbed down. She adjusted her stockings, lace topped thigh highs, and put on her dress.

"What about the sex?"

"Same thing. She never once asked for it. Never reached for me at nights, no early morning wake-up calls, no quickies or nooners, unless I asked or started it. I mean, I could walk up to her in the kitchen and stick it in her face, or push down her pants, and she'd take care of it quite nicely, then and there. But she'd never do what you did this morning, that fashion show and whatnot."

"Too bad," said Elyse. She turned her back to me. "Zip me, please?" She had put on a sleeveless, mid-thigh length, slip dress made from a flowered rayon print. Spaghetti straps crisscrossed to a low, zippered back. Neck and shoulders and a fair bit of cleavage showed. Very nice. We were back to classy. I zipped. "Thanks," she said.

She tossed her stuff into her bag and slipped her arm in mine. "I'm thirsty," she said. "Let's get a drink."

We sat at the bar and had a couple of gin and tonics. "Mr. Wilkerson said you'd be leaving early tonight. A party. So I figure we'll see the show here tonight. Okay?"

"Thank you," said Elyse. She leaned over and gave me a soft kiss on the cheek. "I appreciate that. We'll make certain you get taken care of."

"So, what's this show like?," I asked.

Elyse simply rolled her eyes. "Oh, God! It's just crazy! You just have to see it to believe it!"

"What's the dress code, classy, flashy?"

"Trashy! Just plain trashy and slutty as can be! You can wear whatever you want, but the rest of us just go nuts!" She downed her drink and stood up with an evil gleam in her eye. "Come on, let's see if I can get you in the mood." She took my hand and led me back to the room.

***

I waited for her in the nightclub. She had told me to get there by nine, but it was still a few minutes to. I lazed back in the booth and thought about this afternoon.

Elyse had pulled me into the bedroom and had undressed me. Pushing me back on the bed, she had unzipped her dress and slipped it off. Climbing onto the bedsheet beside me, she had knelt and given me a hand job until I was as hard as a rock. She had me raise my ass and stuff a couple of pillows under me, and then had straddled me, stockinged knees besides my hips, and sank down onto me. She then had told me to put the remaining pillows under my head, lie back, and enjoy. And I had enjoyed, Elyse gave me quite a show. She proceeded to give herself as much pleasure as she was giving me, pinching and licking at her huge nipples, spreading her pussy lips and rubbing her clit and my cock. She squeezed her cunt around me, performing that exquisite and amazing ripple effect. I simply had my hands on her ass, guiding her thrusts, subtly informing her when I wanted them slow and easy, hard and fast. Even after I had exploded upwards into her she had continued to rock atop my groin, clamping her pussy around my shrinking dick and refusing to let it go. Repeated ripples on the flaccid organ had me up for an encore performance in about ten minutes. Excellent!

After a brief nap, we dressed for dinner downstairs. Then we split me to shower and change in our separate rooms. I promised to meet her in the club. Before she left, she explained the procedure for tomorrow. I was to leave out whatever I was wearing for the flight home or would need in the morning. Jeanine would could up after I came downstairs and repack for me. Sounded quite efficient.

And now I waited for Elyse to return. Around me, the festivities were already starting. Certainly the girls seemed to be preparing for a wild and crazy night. Legs and tits were displayed in abundance. Miniskirts and fishnets seemed to be the norm, with a variety of tops displaying extraordinary amounts of cleavage. Even the waitresses were in the mood, their sheer blouses even sheerer, the short skirts even shorter, and their high heels even higher. On stage, a slim blonde with long legs was stripping, doing a slow bump and grind to the heavy bass beat pumping out over the speakers, having just replaced a redhead with bigger tits but shorter legs.

I was simply sitting there, taking in the sights, when Elyse came through the door. She was a show in her own right, sauntering up to the table, swinging her ass from side to side, really flaunting it. Man, she looked like Nickel Annie ready for the fleet to come in!

The most noticeable thing about her attire was the boots. Long, black, shiny vinyl, with high heels, that came above her knees to mid-thigh. Above that was a lot of skin, the sight stopped only by the smallest of tight black vinyl miniskirts. When she slid in next to me, I noticed the sides of the skirt were buttoned, or rather unbuttoned, right up to the waistband. Her ample titflesh jiggled and wiggled in a thin and lacy black bustier. This barely covered her nipples, and the bright brass ring attached to the zipper that ran down it's front was pulled halfway to her navel. Shit!

She slid in next to me and kissed me, sliding her tongue halfway down my throat. "Having fun?," she asked huskily.

Eyes popping out at the sight, I could barely mumble assent.

Our waitress bought another round of drinks and we settled back to watch the action around us. Elyse would occasionally point out some of the kinkier moments. But on my own I could see quite a bit. I remember a brunette seated at a table in the center of the room with a chubby fellow. At one point, she unzipped his pants and reached inside to stroke him off. But before she could finish, their blonde waitress came along with drinks. Seeing the hand job, she set her tray on the table, she had raised her skirt and knelt on his chair, straddling him and fucking him while he pawed her tits through the thin fabric. Coming quickly, she had climbed off and continued her rounds like nothing had happened, leaving the brunette to finish him off.

Quite a few men were in the audience, almost all accompanied by one or two students. But several were at the bar, taking in the scenery, and Tina and Louise had set up shop in the booth nearest the bar. They were dressed in fishnet stockings and high heels, and that was it! They had a real routine going! One would go to the bar and greet a man, sipping a drink with him while rubbing his crotch, then lead him back to the booth. Once there, she would promptly proceed with sucking or fucking him till they both got off, then kiss him good-bye and wander off to the ladies room. A few minutes later, clean and ready to go again, she'd be back at the bar looking for the next victim. Astoundingly, they were using the same booth, and often both would be doing their particular partner of the moment at the same time. I still say they're going to end up in a bell tower some day, and told Elyse so.

"They are a bit much," she admitted.

"What do you other girls think about that pair?," I asked pointing at the copulating couple with a jerk of my head.

Elyse stopped rubbing my erection through my pants and looked them over. Reaching down, I took her hand and returned it to my lap. She looked back at me and smiled. "You like that, huh?"

"Yeah. Now what about Tina and Louise?"

"That's just standard operating procedure for those two. I mean, they're absolute nymphos. The sick kind. They're inseparable! They room together and go at it all night long. You wouldn't believe some of the shit they've got in there! Everybody treats them nice, I suppose, but gives them a wide berth, so to speak."

Elyse waved her free hand at the room. By now a pair girls on stage were beginning to overtly stimulate themselves, rubbing their pussies and licking their juices off their fingers. "So, what do you think?," she yelled. It was definitely getting raucous.

I looked around. Several other guests were being serviced in booths and at tables around us. Turning back to my date, I yelled back over the din, "Fellini does Las Vegas! On acid!"

Elyse shook with laughter. Then she joined in the madness. Slipping beneath the table, she unzipped my pants and gave me a vigorous mouthfuck. Then she zipped me up and crawled up next to me. Wide eyed, I watched as she picked up her drink and, putting it to her lips, spilled my come into the glass. Swirling it around a moment, she then proceeded to drink it down in one long gulp. She licked her lips and smacked them, then kissed me hard, laughing at my astonishment. Wow!