Oblige Paul, call Harry

I tried my best to convince my husband that I should just stay with him, but he was determined to have a presence at the reception. Reluctantly, I readied myself. I looked at the clothes I had brought … they were all chosen specifically to arouse Paul. Without him, I thought I would feel more like a high priced call girl than the doting wife I was trying to be. I chose a light purple bareback mini dress that was probably more appropriate for a swingers’ club than a professional reception. Underneath, I couldn’t wear any underwear; I set about doing my makeup and hair. After I was done, I marveled at the sight in the mirror. I really did look like a whore, and I loved the way it made me feel. I walked out of the bathroom, hoping to get a reaction from Paul. Unfortunately, he was already fast asleep. I sighed, frustrated with the situation, but still feeling sexy.

I knew Paul wanted me to stay near Harry all night, and decided to oblige. I picked up the phone and called up to his room. “Hello,” he answered. Even the innocuous greeting annoyed me.

“Harry, it’s Irene; I don’t think Paul can make it out of the room tonight,” I hesitated, really not wanting to continue. I forged ahead anyway, “But, I’m already dressed and want to get out of the room,” I swallowed hard, “Do you think I could come with you, as your date or whatever?” I knew he was smiling on the other end of the phone.

“Well, I guess I’ll have to cancel the hooker I ordered for tonight, but sure. I’ll be down in a minute,” he paused before adding, “Just in case you’re wondering, yes, I expect you to put out on the first date.” He hung up the phone before I had a chance to call him a pig. I was I for a long night.

A few short minutes later, Harry knocked on our door. I opened and he wasted no time taking in the sight of me, “I thought I cancelled the hooker,” he said with a grin. I rolled my eyes and ushered him into the hall.

“Let’s just get downstairs, Harry.” I hoped he would have better manners amid the crowd. He shrugged and let me pass. He stayed a few steps behind me as we walked to the elevator; I knew he was admiring my swaying ass in the tight dress. We entered the elevator car and he pushed the button for the lobby. I tried to avoid eye contact and stayed as far away from him as possible.

“Are you planning on wearing that the whole night?” he asked.

I shot him a hateful look, “I thought you’d appreciate this dress.”

He laughed. “The dress is just fine,” he answered, with a gaze that made me cover my breasts by crossing my arms, “I was talking about the ring.” I looked down at my wedding ring. I should have taken it off if I was pretending to be Harry’s date. I considered going back up to the room and discarding it for the night, but Harry reached into his own pocket and pulled out a ring of his own, “It’s fine. I always keep one of these on me - some girls really go for married guys.”

I knew Harry was depraved, but I had to laugh at how absurd he was. A bell rang and we arrived at the lobby. Signs pointed us in the direction of a ballroom and we entered. As we did, Harry put his arm around my waist. I looked up at him menacingly, but he only smiled and whispered, “We’re a married couple, Irene, don’t break character.”

“Shit,” I thought, knowing he was right. Now he had a reason to touch me all night long and I couldn’t do anything about it. I nodded and **** a plastic smile onto my face. The ballroom was full of men in suits and women in fancy dresses. My outfit was even more out of place than I expected, and drew a few stares from the people who noticed us enter. Harry led us to the bar, where I immediately asked for something strong. It was an open bar, and I intended to drink at least enough to get this party moving a faster. I downed the first before Harry even took a sip of his gin and tonic, and ordered another. He raised an eyebrow at me and shook his head. He had no problem with me getting drunk.

Two drinks turned into three and by the fourth, I was feeling tipsy. Harry was leading me around the room by the hand, stopping to talk to almost everyone he came across. He introduced me as his trophy wife; I smiled demurely and tried in futility to remember names and companies as I listened to what seemed like hundreds of men tell funny stories and leer at me.

It felt nice. It even felt nice when Harry would occasionally slide his hand down my back and onto my ass. I was still getting drinks and after a few hours tipsy turned into dizzy. I was clutching at Harry’s arm just to keep upright. Eventually, he led me back to the bar, “You look like you need to sit,” he observed, casually, and pulled a barstool out for me to collapse into. I nodded and did just that.

Salesmen continued to walk by, handing Harry business cards, genuinely happy to have met him. I contemplated the possibility that they were just trying to steal another glimpse of me, and smiled at the thought. I ordered another drink as he shook hands with more and more people who seemed to be crushing in around us. I caught myself hiccupping drunkenly and tugged on Harry’s sleeve. “I think it’s time for bed,” I slurred.

A few of the men heard and gave Harry approving grins. “Can’t say no to that,” he declared. I stood and said good night; some of the men took the opportunity to lean in for hugs and light kisses on the cheek. I accepted each one, and didn’t complain even as they clearly were only trying to cop a feel. Finally, we made it out of the crowd and onto the elevator. I leaned against the corner and closed my eyes.

When I opened them, I was sitting on the edge of the bed and heard water running in the bathroom. Everything was spinning, but I could tell this was a much nicer suite than the standard room Paul and I had. “Is this your room? It’s so nice,” I called out to Harry, not knowing if he could hear me over the running tap. Moments later, the water stopped.

“I like to spoil myself on these trips,” he called back. I couldn’t keep my eyes open without feeling nauseous. I closed them and felt myself fall backward onto the mattress. I took a deep breath.

“I shouldn’t be in here, Harry,” I said, “why didn’t you just take me back to Paul?”

He stepped out of the bathroom, wearing a robe, “What type of guy would I be to bring a drunk wife back to her sick husband?” I didn’t really follow the logic, but I couldn’t follow much at all right now. “Sleep it off here tonight, and you’ll be back downstairs with him in the morning.” He took my silence as acquiescence. He came and sat on the bed beside me.

I thought back over the evening. I was still amazed at how Harry had gotten everyone he talked to so enamored with him. “How do you do it?” I asked, clarifying, “how do you get all those people eating out of your hands?”

Harry laid back on the bed beside me, I could feel the sleeve of his robe against my bare shoulder. “Hell, it’s easy, I can pretty much tell what someone wants to hear after a few minutes. From there, it’s all bullshit.”

I opened my eyes. The room was spinning somewhat less. “Is that how you got that stewardess on the plane?” I blushed as I said it, knowing that I was practically telling him outright that I had watched the whole episode go down.

Harry laughed, “Of course. You say the right thing to a girl, and she’s all yours.”

It was my turn to laugh, “Oh, it’s that easy, is it?”

“For me it is.”

I turned my head toward him. Despite myself, I was finding his arrogance a bit charming. “Yeah, well let’s test it. What do you think I want to hear?”

He smiled broadly, having clearly thought about this for awhile in the past. He knew he finally had his chance. “You want someone to tell you how sexy you are,” he told me, “and you are the sexiest thing I’ve ever laid eyes on, Irene. I can tell that Paul isn’t doing his part. You want me to tell you how stupid that makes him. You want to hear me tell you how I can fix it for you.” He reached over and put his hand against my cheek, caressing gently. I let him. I had to admit to myself that he was right. I wanted someone to want me as much as Harry did right now - as much as the salesmen downstairs had. Harry continued, “I know you’ve got a wild side that you’re hiding. You pretend to hate me for the nasty stories you hear about me, but deep down, you want to be in one of them,” he moved his hand down my neck and to my breast as he spoke. I didn’t react.

“A girl doesn’t go out on a fake date dressed like this if she doesn’t want to get wild.” He leaned in and kissed me. I kissed back, knowing how wrong it was. Part of me wanted to slap him and leave, but the rest of me was too drunk and horny to not let him have me. He reached behind me to undo my dress and casually tossed it aside. He kissed lightly at each of my nipples and slid his hand between my thighs, before looking up at me, “See how easy that was?”

I laughed and responded, “Amazing.” I kissed him again.

“Now you try. Tell me something I want to hear,” he said.

I considered his request and responded, “I want to show you why they call me the anal champion.” He had already climbed on top of me, and I turned over underneath him. I heard him let out a self-satisfied chuckle. He backed off to let me get on all fours. When I did, he turned to position me on the bed so I faced the closet and immediately closed the temporary gap between our bodies. He opened his robe and I felt his cock press against me. His right arm snaked underneath me to fondle my tits and he used his left to guide himself into my ass. I moaned in pleasure as each inch made its way into me, only turning to look back at him once he had managed to get all nine inches inside. I gave him a seductive smile, urging him to start fucking me. He started slowly, but soon picked up speed. I could feel his balls slap against my thigh. He continued to grope me from underneath and moved his available hand to grapple a handful of my hair. He pulled lightly, causing me to arch my back and gasp in pleasurable pain. He thrust in and out of me as I used one hand to play with my wet pussy. Finally he plunged into me for a final time and released his seed in my ass. I screamed in ecstasy.

“Way better than that blonde whore,” He breathed, pulling out of me and falling to his side of the bed. I was too drunk and happy to do anything but slide forward and pass out. The last thing I felt was an appreciative slap on the butt for a job well done. I smiled and drifted off into slumber.