Suzanne Ch. 02

Chapter 02

The friend takes over

"I can't go shopping, I'll just go home," Suzanne forlornly sighed.

"I don't want you sitting there feeling sorry for yourself. When Jim gets home you'll break down and confess," Barbara sympathetically said.

"He's away, on business," Suzanne explained.

"Good! You've got time to recover, and put all this behind you, so he need never know," Barbara told her.

"How can I? He has a right to know," Suzanne tearfully said.

Barbara looked at her, acting like a foolish adolescent. The problem wasn't trivial, yet she was making a musical production out of it. Her sympathy was wearing thin. She could see why it happened, in a twisted sort of way. The young woman needed a dominant male in her life, and that old man had fit the prescription, just as she was feeling vulnerable.

It was still a surprise to hear her nice, placid friend, had fucked a neighbour. Or rather, the fool let him fuck her; according to her version of events. Suzanne had backed into his car, without insurance to pay for the damage. She had stupidly got herself in a position where he took advantage of her.

If it had been Barbara, she would have torn the old goat off a strip in the street, negotiated a price, and paid him off.

Her friend was wealthy enough, but her husband held onto every penny. He had a point, for she didn't have a clue how to handle financial arrangements. The way he neglected her, she suspected he might be having an affair. Though it was more likely he was in love with that damn corporation he worked for.

"You can stay here, and I'll look after you. We'll go shopping, I insist. OK, after you shower," Barbara relented. She imagined that old man's cum leaking into her friends panties, and shuddered.

"I'll get you some clean underwear," Barbara shouted.

She looked through her closet, wondering if there was anything to fit Suzanne. They were about the same height and build, though Suzanne's bust was bigger. She felt a twinge of jealousy, and shrugged it off.

She liked the idea of dressing her up, like the daughter she never had. She wouldn't have brought her up to be so helpless, even without a father being around. Her patience had been sorely tried, while listening to the young woman's bleating, with constant weak excuses thrown in.

She felt like slapping the woman, telling her to get over it. It had just been a quick fuck, for crying out loud. In an instant she made up her mind. She would help her out, and have a bit of fun with her too. She might even get something on that old bastard of a troublesome neighbour at the same time.

"Come on hurry up!" Barbara cajoled.

"I can't wear this, it's too short," Suzanne complained.

"It's all I've got to fit you. You can't wear the dress, its stained," Barbara lied. "It's in the wash," she embellished the lie, feeling pleased with herself.

"OK! I guess it's all I deserve," Suzanne woefully admitted.

Barbara was going to tell her to snap out of it. She had chosen the short dress to make her feel more assertive, and learn to be proud of her sexuality. She was a young sexy woman, not a stupid adolescent. The self-pitying attitude was annoying enough to push her in a different direction.

"Yes, that's right. You behaved like a slut, so now you look like one. Satisfied?" Barbara crossly commented.

The wide eyed look of surprise on her friends face was a picture, needing no explanation. Barbara felt satisfied from jolting her, pulling her back from the abyss. It also pushed them both into a different relationship, where Barbara was taking over.

"Just shut up whinging and do as you are told," Barbara couldn't help bullying her. She wore the dress to a dinner party, with a friend, and hadn't looked like a slut. On Suzanne the bust line was fuller, and that lifted the hem a little, that's all.

"You want me to keep quiet about your nasty little affair, then do as you're told, or else," she warned. She was sorry to explode with the threat, but her patience was running out. When the young woman responded with murmured acquiescence, she was tempted to slap the stupid girl, to bring her back to reality. Of course she wouldn't reveal the naughty secret. It made her think though.

Suzanne was quiet while they shopped. She made excuses not to buy anything, saying she had to make her allowance last until Jim got back from the business trip. It was true, and also suited her to feel undeserving of a new outfit.

Barbara was tempted to ask if she was suspicious of Jim being away on business trips so often. Realising she was being vindictive, she instead bit her tongue.

Barbara noticed men looking at her friend. Some looked over her long legs, while others studied her breasts. They looked large and plump, almost spilling over in the borrowed dress. Suzanne hadn't noticed the attention, being too self-absorbed. If she had, she would have been deeply embarrassed. As a shapely blonde, it was usually Barbara receiving the attention, which she thoroughly enjoyed.

When Barbara saw a French maid outfit, she almost pointed it out to her friend, to share a joke and lighten her mood. Instead she told Suzanne to go and secure a comfortable seat, for a coffee at their usual cafe. Her mood had lightened when they met up again. Suzanne too seemed more relaxed, enough to purchase a couple of bottles of white wine, to share that evening.

"You enjoyed his attention didn't you," Barbara stated, with a raised eyebrow, indicating she was waiting for confirmation.

"How could I enjoy behaving like a slut?" Suzanne protest, in a whisper.

"You did, and you do. Care to test it out? I dare you to find out the truth!" Barbara teased.

"I'm not a slut! How can I prove it to you?" Suzanne hissed.

"Look at me and carry on talking, as though distracted. Let your legs fall open, as though by accident. Don't look up, I'll tell you why in a minute," Barbara smiled.

Out of the corner of her eye, she watched Suzanne nervously move her knees apart, then clamp them together. While smiling for effect, she warned Suzanne to do as she was told. The tone of voice worked, for the woman opened her legs slightly. As commanded she leaned back and laughed, letting her thighs part. It sounded false but no one was listening.

Two office workers, taking a lunchtime coffee, were staring at Suzanne, seeming to will her legs apart. Sitting back in the leather chairs, with nothing between the two groups, revealed her white triangle. Barbara had experience of surreptitiously observing people, and could flirt privately in a room full of strangers. She watched the two men share mischievous glances, then turn back, to staring at her friend.

"Two men are looking up your dress. Don't you dare move! Make the laugh again and squirm in the seat," Barbara firmly ordered.

Suzanne did as she was told, though her face declared it was under protest. Any woman would know Suzanne felt the silk dress slide up her thighs. The men didn't care, as they convinced themselves this was an accidental encounter. It was all the more thrilling for that.

With her legs parted more, and the hem further up her thighs, they had a clearer view of her panties. It wasn't so outrageous as to be too obvious, though wives wouldn't be convinced. They weren't here, so it didn't matter. Barbara was excited to be giving them a thrill, by exposing her friend.

She crossed and uncrossed her legs, with the rasp of nylon stockings, pleased to see their eyes swivel to her. She wished now she had dressed Suzanne up in suspenders and stockings. They were so much more exciting to men.

She threw her head back and laughed at the stream of complaints from Suzanne. Lifting her legs up, as though it were a spontaneous reaction, the hem slid up the stockings. The way she sat revealed the white of her thighs. She knew exactly what she was revealing, having played this game before.

Lifting both legs onto the sofa she bent her knees, holding a calf in one hand, and let a shoe fall off. It looked as though she were relaxing at home. Once before in this cafe, she had made this pose. The pretence of distraction had been that she was reading a book. This time she hoped it looked like two women lost in conversation. She felt the hem fall back, to reveal stocking tops, on the leg balancing at the edge of the sofa.

The marvellous tingling up her spine, was way out of proportion with the sensation of silk running over her leg.

The two men didn't know which way to turn. Sitting opposite them were two sexy women, oblivious to where they were, or what was going on around them. The two women were enthralled with each others' girly gossip. The men were tensely watching every move, yet trying to be inconspicuous.

"Please Barbara, stop this now. It's degrading," Suzanne complained.

"You will do as you are told, naughty slutty girl," Barbara taunted her. It was a surprise that Suzanne continued with the pretence, indicating something else was keeping her going, as well as the threat of divulging her sordid little secret.

"You are feeling aroused, aren't you! You are a bit of a slut after all," Barbara laughed. Watching her friend's face turn from pale white to puce was a treat. She had guessed correctly. "Your panties are soaking wet, isn't that right, slut," Barbara stated.

"Don't shout, please," Suzanne warned her. Their voices weren't raised, it just felt like it, from such an intimate detail being broadcast in a public place.

Barbara sat back with a smug look on her face. It hadn't been denied. Both women were looking at each other, now genuinely engrossed in their duel of wills. Suzanne had little chance. Her eyes were kept locked with her friend, unable to look away. It was as though the older woman knew everything, yet she hadn't a clue why this was happening to her.

Barbara leaned forward to whisper something in her friend's ear. "You're a naughty little slut, and I've caught you out. You enjoy being a dirty slut," she whispered.

With one hand she held onto the hem, and with the other gave Suzanne a playful push, not caring if it looked like an accident or not. Suzanne lost her balance, and slid to the edge of the slippery leather sofa. She gave an added shove, with the hand holding onto the hem.

"Whoops!" Barbara loudly declared, to the whole coffee shop. The guys sitting opposite got an eye-full of Suzanne, on her back on the floor, with legs spread. A line of waiting customers turned their heads in unison. They all watched the poor woman trying valiantly to pull her dress down. The white panties were on view to all and sundry.

Her friend waded in to help, though purposely getting in the way. Barbara seemed desperate to cover her friend's embarrassment, and leaned over to help her up. Her stockings and suspenders were revealed to the two guys ogling the spectacle. Her dress was crinkled up from where she had been sitting on it, revealing all, when inelegantly bending over.

Obviously she hadn't meant to flaunt her body, it was an inadvertent mishap, while helping her friend. Or, so they thought. Their elbows nudged each other, but they didn't look away from the show. Barbara's perfect smooth cheeks were on display, framed by suspender belts and stocking tops. The panties were creased between her cheeks, tantalisingly revealing one rounded cheek completely.

Barbara manoeuvred her friend over so she could get up on hands and knees. She made a fuss of pulling the dress down, while revealing her own backside. Barbara looked suitably flustered, and Suzanne was beetroot red, brightly flashing an obvious state of embarrassment.

They left the coffee shop in a hurry, with everyone silently staring at them. It didn't suit Barbara for them to start applauding the show. She needed to keep her friend relatively quiet, fearing too much attention would have her rebelling. She found the game so exciting, she planned on playing it again.

It wasn't until the first bottle of wine had been killed off that Suzanne relented.

"Yes, alright, I give in. I was slightly aroused," she admitted. "There is no way I would do such a sordid thing, if you hadn't forced me into it," she added, in mitigation.

"That's not the point. You were hot from strangers looking up your dress. Some might not think it exciting at all, while others would love it," Barbara shrugged. "It just depends what you're into," she added.

"I have no idea what I'm 'into', as you call it," Suzanne declared, after a long pull on a fresh glass of Chablis.

The conversation went down hill from there. They made up strange fetishes, firing the silly ideas at each other.

"Wearing leather boots, filled with sour cream," Barbara laughed.

Suzanne could hardly speak from laughing.

"What? Tell me," Barbara implored.

"Made up, and dressed as a doll, for a man to play with," she wheezed out eventually.

"No points for that one. It's a genuine fetish," Barbara informed her friend.

"You're joking, really? Your turn then," she sighed, while shaking her head in wonder at this new world opening before her.

Next day Barbara didn't feel like pulling a practical joke on her friend. They both had thick heads, from having opened more than the two bottles.

"You need to go in there with a more positive attitude today. Be assertive and take command of the situation," Barbara coached her friend. "You need something to frighten him with, and I've got just the thing," Barbara growled.

"Just put it on," Barbara insisted. She didn't tell her she had bought it yesterday. She pretended it had been bought some time ago, for a fancy dress party.

She had intended just to show her the maid outfit as a joke, then take it back to the store. Partly from annoyance, as well as thinking it might work, she bullied Suzanne into it. If the old guy had a heart attack it wouldn't worry her in the slightest. If she had been more alert, she might have considered the devastating effect it would have on her friend.

"Go knock him dead!" Barbara quipped, then quickly put a hand to her head. She needed another cup of coffee, and an ice pack. She needed a maid herself today, for there was no way she was fit enough to cope. It struck her that right here was the solution. She contemplating blackmailing Suzanne into being her maid.

"Go on, you don't want to be late!" Barbara cajoled her.

Suzanne walked past her car, still parked in the street where they had collided. If she had the keys she would have fled for dear life. Instead she pushed her hands deeper into the coat pockets, trying to hold down the fluffed up petticoats.

"Is this your idea of a joke?" James asked.

"Sorry, sir. I borrowed it from a friend," Suzanne explained.

She stood before his desk feeling small and foolish. The hangover left her feeling fragile, otherwise the inappropriate outfit would have been refused. She had been bullied and cajoled all morning, now he was dominating her.

"Well at least you are on time. I expect you to carry out my instructions to the letter, young woman," he sternly addressed her.

Suzanne lost herself in the simple task of cleaning and tidying the kitchen. Working through his list of instructions was easy enough, though when she entered the bathroom, a shudder wracked her body. This is where she had so badly let herself down. A wave of guilt threatened to overwhelm her. Her friend was right, she had enjoyed his attention. More than that, she had let loose all inhibitions, to experience a tremendous orgasm.

"You all right?" James asked.

She was holding onto the sink, staring at herself in the mirror. It was a gut feeling that made him guess why. "Yesterday. . . It just happened, one of those mad moments," he tried dismissing it.

"You're right. I'm a slut. I enjoyed what we did, I've never let go so much," she admitted, more to herself than him.

He had come looking for her, after sitting at his desk, unable to work. He had tried to resist the urge, but the sight of her dressed as a fantasy maid was so powerful, it compelled him to seek her out. The wild sex they had yesterday had disturbed his well ordered life.

He put his arms around her, to console her. One arm wrapped around her slim waist, with a hand to her cheek to wipe away a tear. His arm pressed against a soft, full breast.

His close presence was enough. Thinking about the naughty game with Barbara yesterday, and the wild sex with him had already fired her up. A needful passionate feeling threatened to overwhelm her. Instead of resisting she let it build, with a desire to find out what might happen.

She looked at him in the mirror, seeing a face filled with desire for her. It didn't put her off, rather it intensified the feeling of being his naughty little slut. She pushed her bottom back against him, feeling his erection.

She watched his hands pull the dress from her breasts. They cupped them, in no hurry to maul them. Instead he gently massaged them, creating wonderful sensations, building the desire, stoking the file in her belly. It wasn't too late, she could stop him, but the will to resist began to evaporate, with the heat of desire.

He rolled both nipples between fingers and thumbs, teasing them erect. He reluctantly let go of one, to pull his cock from his trousers. He had been married for thirty years, making love to the same woman, never straying. When they were young it had been furtive, never so sensual as this.

This young body was available to him, like no other had been.

His penis seemed to appreciate the opportunity, for it seemed larger and more eager than it had ever been. With his wife it had been a convenient coming together, for mutual satisfaction, just a routine. It had quickly fallen away to once a week, once a month, then just the occasional pleasant coupling.

His youthful enthusiasm had been recovered, with the experience of age allowing a more patient and prolonged experience. His cock nudged her thigh, and pushed between her legs. His hand returned to her breast, happy to nudge her sex through her panties for a moment or two.

He felt a hand take hold of him. With a twist of her fingers the panty crotch was pushed aside. Manoeuvring her bottom, she guided herself onto him. On tiptoe she poised, offering her precious gift, waiting for his move. He felt the slickness of her lips rub the head of his cock, as she trembled on tiptoe. He guessed she needed him as much as he needed her.

"You're such a wonderful sexy slut. You're a beautiful young woman, delicious to look at, and such a naughty slut," he heavily whispered into an ear.

Her legs were trembling, from standing so tensely, and from intense desire. She felt his cock playing over her pussy, nudging her clit. His hands moulded her breasts, pinched her nipples, setting them on fire.

She needed to fall upon his cock, to feel it inside, to have it all, deeply piercing her body. Instead she waited for him to take her, relishing the building desire. Again she was ready to cry, this time from joy.

"Take me, make me your slut, fuck me. Please!" she cried out.

He thrust up, lifting her higher. She sank down upon his cock, feeling it fill her, feeling every ripple in her vagina as it gripped tight.

James felt as though he was having a heart attack. His whole body shook with heaving breaths, every pulse bulging, thumping loud in his ears, in rhythm with the jets of his load bursting into her.

He let her slide to the floor, too weak to hold her up. At his feet she looked up at him, with a look of shock and pain on her face, still in the throes of an all consuming orgasm.

"I'm just a little slut, your little slut, please sir," she whimpered.

James managed to awkwardly get onto the floor with her. He wrapped his arms around her, tensely gripping her frail frame. Her breasts were still lewdly on show, where he had pulled them free. He held them in one large hand, pushing them together, caressing them. He couldn't work out what had happened, why she was acting this way. He didn't care.