This is probably the most important night of my life. I kid you not! Estelle is going out on a date with Dexter. He is the adonis black boss at the place where I work. Dexter is quietly spoken and he has been interested in my wife for a long time. But it is company policy that the senior managers don't fraternise much with the workers. So I feel that we have had to move with some care. I told Estelle that Dexter was interested in her and she smiled. She has always been intrigued by black guys. So I said that I wouldn't kick up a fuss if she had a date with him. To avoid unwelcome company attention, i even said that I would act as their driver. That way, no one could say that they were out alone.
Estelle is grooming her short auburn hair. She runs her brush through it repeatedly and it glows lustrous in the Tiffany light she has on the side of her dressing table. On her top she wears a tightly fitted black basque, her shoulders bare. The black leather skirt beneath that is skin tight. It looks as though it has been stretched onto her orbed buttocks. She has chosen black mid thigh, butter soft cavalier boots to wear beneath that. I have never seen these boots before and wow, they make her look as she needs a good fucking. She looks like a high class whore and that really pulls my rug. I just never thought that she could be this sexual. She can see it in my eyes, the sudden insecurity.
'I want him to fuck me…you don't mind do you?'
'No M'am' I answer.
I watch her carefully applying mascara and then lipstick. She is taking a lot of trouble to be hot for Dexter.
'Come on then, why?'
I blink. Why what?
'Why have you accepted that it will be Dexter and I?'
I swallow hard. It's a question that i wasn't anticipating and i really don't want to answer it. Its one thing confessing that she has fantasised about Dexter but quite another for me fessing up why i will agree to this.
I gambit something that i already know that she won't countenance. She will never allow me to watch him fuck her. So I start there.
'It's nothing to do with voyeurism..' I insist, 'that's something different. There are lots of guys who want to watch their wife fuck someone else, but I know your rules apply.'
She nods approvingly. it's good to get this straight isn't it.
'So why are you a willing cuckold then?' she persists.
I shiver. My voice is hoarse. I don't want to tell her. It is so shameful.
'I don't just want a date Tony…I want a relationship with the man. I have to know that you're in this all the way. i need to know you understand why YOU need it too.' I am interrogated by her soft green eyes.
God, this is so embarrassing. Yet if i don't tell her, the evening could evaporate.
'You won't laugh?'
She shakes her head and clips her watch on her wrist. perfume is added.
'Because…' shit this is difficult, 'because you deserve better than me'.
The point intrigues her. She crosses her legs and runs her fingers down over the soft black leather of her boots, feeling their lovely texture.
'You feel inferior to black guys?' she wonders.
'Yes, but it is more personal than that. I feel inferior to you. I love you…'
She interrupted me,
'No, you worship me….don't you? Love infers equality.' she whispered.
I have no idea how this makes her feel and that terrifies me! Disgust, surprise, amusement, any reaction is possible.
'I felt I married down, ' she said, 'Mummy thought that i could have done a lot better.'
The remarks cut me open. They are so honest!
'Does that shock you?' she asks, watching me intently.
I shake my head and blush.
'You are sweet and you are kind and you are attentive….but you're not very successful' she said calmly. 'Dexter is black and he is successful.'
'yes, I know' I agree. 'I know that when you married me you really should have been with Luther. Luther was top of the pile.'
'I wanted Luther, but he did drugs back then and I feared getting a habit. Because of that i settled for you, it was stupid and I was just 20.' she said slowly.
'Yes M'am' I respond.
Estelle nods. She is wearing a ten grand diamond set Rolex. It cost me all my savings and then some. I'm still paying off instalments. It would be a trinket purchase to a man like Dexter.
'So this is corrective…it is placing me back in company that i should have always kept?' she wonders.
'Yes M'am'
Estelle re crosses her legs.
'That why you tongue rather than try to cock me?' she queries.
My face is now bright red.
'I can't get stiff you know that, but yes….yes….I don't deserve to fuck you.'
She smiles. Somewhere deep within her the instinct to humiliate stirs.
I watch her stand and she moves towards where I sit on the side of the bed. She runs her fingers through my hair.
'Its vulgar, its vile, its dirty…but I agree with you. You're not good enough Tony.' she murmurs.
I accept her assessment, my voice cracking. This is awful. But i am given her hand and i kiss her fingers.
'I really really want Dexter understood. When he asks me to, i will leave you.' she whispers.
I nod despondently. I am like a balloon, burst and left limpid in the gutter.
'Does that terrify you?' she wonders.
i concede yes.
'I am a bitch. I will use you to find a better man, do you understand?'
'Yes' I gulp.
Tonight, tonight it is the most important of my life. it is terrible. It is utterly terrible. I have conceded it these dark nights alone. I have always needed Estelle to be a bitch to me. It has always been coming. She has always had the potential for this. I have heard her talk about success. I have seen her admire black men in films. I have heard her envy of a cousin who hooked up at last with the black guy of her dreams.
Her mobile phone rings. It is him.
'Hi darling….yes….yes….I'm almost ready. It's so neat, I'm looking forward to seeing you!'
She looks condescendingly down at me. A leather clad leg is pressed between mine. She taunts me with her eyes and I start to lick the leather.
'No seriously me too….I. It's just sexy that we are doing this now.'
The leather of her boots smells so new, as though it has been fresh ripped off the back of some animal. I can feel the texture of the buttery hide as I lather it with my tongue. I feel lost. It feels pre ordained that I must tumble down to some humiliating place, down down beneath her heel.
Estelle doesn't want her leather boots too wet, so she transfers my face to her hand. I start to lick the palm of her hand whilst she talks on the phone…
'No, Tony won't be a problem, honest. Test him, see how he responds, but you will be surprised!'
The phone call ends. I stare up at her.
'You guys…you've talked a lot…..on the phone' I murmur shocked.
'Get your car keys' Estelle orders crisply. She is not inclined to explain a thing to me.
We head south on the highway. Its eleven miles to the bar where we will meet Dexter. Eleven miles out of town. Estelle is riding in the back, cross legged, a sophisticated otherness settling upon her. I try to make conversation and get not an answer. I am so nervous.
At last she snaps irritably at me,
'Speak when you are spoken to…do you understand?'
It stops me dead. I stare in the mirror at her, beautiful but angry. This is the point though. Tonight, during this transition, I cannot be me, the husband. I have to be less. I have to be something else and incidental. Gooseberry doesn't adequately describe it!
We draw up at the bar and notice that Dexter's Ferrari is already parked there. It sickens me to see it. Completely, several years worth of salary out of my league, even for the deposit! Estelle has seen me clocking it. Only now, only now, she must think, do you realise just how out of your league a man like Dexter is!
'Get the door please' Estelle whispers.
I jolt myself from the reverie and do as ordered. We walk towards the bar over the gravel, Estelle before me, her boot heels crunching on the gravel. Her body moves in that svelte way that makes men want to tug their cocks when they see it on a video.
'Estelle….wow, you look great!' enthuses Dexter as we approach him at the bar. My wife smiles happily. Good. Dexter glances at me. He is suspicious.
'Order some drinks, ' Estelle tells me curtly, 'Dexter drinks bourbon.'
The remark, it puts me down. Look, he is nothing. He watches. Bourbon…how does Estelle know?
I watch them move to a quiet alcove with brushed satin seats. A discrete corner of the bar. They are chatting happily, freely. This isn't the first time. It isn't the first time. Shit!
By the time I bring the drinks, they are seated. I take my seat and notice his hand. It rests languidly on Estelle's thigh. There is no show about this. He has done it before. He HAS DONE IT BEFORE. They accept the drinks without thanks and then talk about how nice a place this is. Social chat with Banquo's ghost seated silent beside them. I feel like a fucking lemon. I wait patiently to speak, following Estelle's edict. At last Dexter looks at me…
'Estelle tells me that you come to heel, that true?'
I swallow hard. Estelle is watching me intently.
'Yes sir' I answer. Now there is a glimmer of something on Estelle's face. It is affirmation.
'You accept that she is going to be mine from now on?' His voice is gruff and once again i am lanced with what they must already share, what they have discussed, and what they know.
'Yes sir'.
He nods, but still, you can see that Dexter is just a little sceptacle.
'He has no self esteem left. He will do whatever we say,' Estelle's voice is so soft.
Dexter coughs. He's unsure. He rises from the table. We are meant to follow. We make our way past the bar, through the door to the johns and on towards the back of the building. This is a service area. Beneath a dusty light that swings on its cord, Dexter stops and turns, facing me, Estelle watching from behind.
I watch him unzip his fly. Estelle observes. Dexter's member, dear god, it is semi stiff and it is thick. It is frankly ugly with a bulbous glans that hangs like a pendulum on the hawser length of his tool. Dexter waits. He waits as the light swings, back and forth, back and forth.
'Suck his cock' Estelle says in a whisper.
I glance at her. Christ no!
She waits too. There will be no second order. Tonight is pivotal. Tonight I try out for a new role. I feel sick lurch up my gullet and wonder whether I can keep it down. I try. I just succeed.
I kneel before Dexter. Estelle smiles. A big test but as she suspected, I'm malleable.
Delicately, slowly, my hand shaking, I direct his helmet into my mouth. It tastes salty. I feels massive in my mouth. I think that i might gag or sick up. But he is staring down at me, his expression impatient. I am meant to fucking well get on with it. So I start to move, my mouth back and forth on his manhood. I stare up at him as I do it. His cock stiffens. Now Estelle relaxes. It is as if this was never a problem. It is as if the plan would always succeed. 'Bitch' the word rattles around my brain. I am sucking Dexter off and thinking 'bitch, bitch, bitch.'
Dexter grunts. Much as he might not want to show it, my sucking is having an effect. I am working smoothly now, closing my eyes and pretending this is not happening. I am sucking a brautwurst, something, anything, just not Dexter's thick cock.
'Reckon I'll finish down his throat' Dexter snarls.
Estelle stares transfixed at him.
Dexter grunts and there is a flood of the most foul salty semen in my mouth. It erupts there, and is supplemented with rhythmic squirts of more. He has grabbed my hair and pulled my mouth deep onto his cock so I cannot withdraw. The fucking mess is oozing out of the side of my mouth though and I am panic struck. Streams of the salty spunk run down my chin.
'Swallow it' Estelle orders her gaze locked on Dexter.
I swallow it. I swallow it struggling. I splutter, choke. Some hits the corridor floor. Dexter groans…the eruption complete. He pulls his cock out of my mouth and it dangles stiff in front of me, heavy, powerful, alpha.
'Zip it back up' Dexter orders. I do as I am told, packing back inside his pants what I have just worshipped.
I watch him kiss my wife slowly. Open mouthed. It is a celebration. I am just like she said I would be.
They start to retrace their steps alone the corridor. I am still kneeling there. Dexter looks back..
'You best drive on home..' he said, 'you won't be needed.'
A cook walks past me as I then later trying to clean up my mouth with a handkerchief. I am wrecked. i must smell of his cock and the taste of the fucking thing is still in my mouth. I spit but it won't go away. I am shaking. I can't stop my hand shaking. I press my arm against the wall so as not to fall over. I can't tell you what this does to you. When you are mastered that way. Its not a steep slide down into degradation, you feel heaved off the edge of a precipice. The cook walks back past me with a tray of chicken legs covered in a marinade.
'You OK man?' he asks.
I nod. I will be.
After a quick check of my dishevelled hair and my drained face in the mirror of the john, I make my way unsteadily out into the bar. The place has gotten busy and now at the bar I see them. There is Dexter, Estelle leaning against his substantial chest and three others. Two are senior managers from work and the other is a married girl that works for them. The managers glance at me. A cursory glance. The married girl's look lingers a little longer. May be I see pity there. May be she has done this to her husband too. Women chose. They're genetically driven to. It is as if I don't exist for Estelle, she hardly notices me as I quietly slip past them all.
Back outside the cool air clears my head. I step a bit better towards our car. I step faster and slump into the driver's seat. What next? Drive home. Wait and see if I'm needed. Estelle, well, she might need me? I shake my head. She doesn't even want me let alone need me. So I sit and ruminate. They have been seeing each other. They have been dating. Fuck company policy. There was a group of them there at the bar, black managers and a young white married bitch that one has in tow. It sickens me. The sudden realisation of it. These men, they feel beyond retribution. Else the compulsion to take women they want, well it is far too great. May be they love the fucking risk, who knows. What is gut wrenchingly clear though is how much Estelle wants this. She wants to be his bitch. She knows that she is too good for me.
I wait a hour cutting myself about mentally that way. I slice and slice again. Then I see them. Dexter, Estelle, one of the black managers and the married woman. Where the other guy has gone I don't know. I watch them walk to the cars. The married girl is in a leather skirt that is little more than a belt too. I try to think of her name. Her husband, her husband he works down in stores someplace. The black manager guy leads her to a Porsche next to Dexter's car. He kisses his bitch slowly whilst Dexter taunts them. Nothing will stop them though, this little bitch is longing for the guy's touch. I watch him get the door for her and she slips into the passenger seat. It leaves Estelle and Dexter talking, laughing beside his red Ferrari. The urge to wank is immense. I blush thinking about the need. Then Dexter kisses her. It is the first time I've seen it. But how many times before, how many times as he done that!? He gets the car door for her and Estelle slips into his car, her long shapely legs slid into place and the door closed.
As they drive past my car, she notices me. A glance no more. There is no need or a want. The Ferrari purrs by.
I feel drained. I feel as though I have been dragged through inside.
I turn the key in the ignition but then the passenger door is sprung. Before I put the car in gear the other manager is beside me. He smiles.
'Tony!' he says brightly.
I swallow.
'Weren't you sent home?' he queries.
I mumble something incoherent.
'Weren't you sent home?' the guy repeats. He has something in his pocket. It is firearm shaped.
'Yes sir' I admit and count. I count thinking this is where this critical day ends.
'May be you were feeling wrecked, cos Estelle has binned you huh?' he sneers.
I gawp at him. He savours my shock. He smiles.
'She don't want to see you no more. You didn't do as Dexter told you to. Shock I know…but that is her choice'.
I stare incredulous at him.
'You could may be transfer to our site up in Canada' he suggests, 'that would be discrete huh?'
This is a nightmare. I can't speak…nothing….nothing….
'Or you could move out to this nice little bedsit we have down town and promise not to make a nuisance of yourself to Estelle..' my tormenter continues.
We wait. I stare out at the bar, people laughing, coming and going. They don't know a thing.
'Well?'
For fuck's sake! I feel like doing something drastic. He moves the pistol shape in his pocket. I hesitate.
Somehow I murmur, 'the bed sit.'
The guy smirks. He says that we will drive back to my place and I can collect up my things. Then we will go straight on to the place he means. I don't know where Estelle is or what she is doing. I feel powerless.
'Donna's husband bailed out much the same way..' my companion observed as we neared town.
Donna…that is the married girl I'd seen.
'He was sent packing so Ambrose could drop by Donna's place whenever he chose'
I feel nauseous again. The urge to wretch catches me in the pit of my stomach.
'He thought he could handle it that way…but one night he just had to go and intrude, he just had to go and look…you understand' the bastard beside me reflects.
We turn into our road and I see our house.
The guy taps my arm with his hand…
'You know what Tony…hell….that guy had an accident! You get me?'
I can't stop it this time. I wretch and get my handkerchief over my mouth just in time.
'You sure you don't want that move to Canada Tony?' he wonders.
I shake my head.
'That's fine, that's fine! You can see them about town huh. You can admire from afar, but you never address the lady, you hear?'
Estelle is grooming her short auburn hair. She runs her brush through it repeatedly and it glows lustrous in the Tiffany light she has on the side of her dressing table. On her top she wears a tightly fitted black basque, her shoulders bare. The black leather skirt beneath that is skin tight. It looks as though it has been stretched onto her orbed buttocks. She has chosen black mid thigh, butter soft cavalier boots to wear beneath that. I have never seen these boots before and wow, they make her look as she needs a good fucking. She looks like a high class whore and that really pulls my rug. I just never thought that she could be this sexual. She can see it in my eyes, the sudden insecurity.
'I want him to fuck me…you don't mind do you?'
'No M'am' I answer.
I watch her carefully applying mascara and then lipstick. She is taking a lot of trouble to be hot for Dexter.
'Come on then, why?'
I blink. Why what?
'Why have you accepted that it will be Dexter and I?'
I swallow hard. It's a question that i wasn't anticipating and i really don't want to answer it. Its one thing confessing that she has fantasised about Dexter but quite another for me fessing up why i will agree to this.
I gambit something that i already know that she won't countenance. She will never allow me to watch him fuck her. So I start there.
'It's nothing to do with voyeurism..' I insist, 'that's something different. There are lots of guys who want to watch their wife fuck someone else, but I know your rules apply.'
She nods approvingly. it's good to get this straight isn't it.
'So why are you a willing cuckold then?' she persists.
I shiver. My voice is hoarse. I don't want to tell her. It is so shameful.
'I don't just want a date Tony…I want a relationship with the man. I have to know that you're in this all the way. i need to know you understand why YOU need it too.' I am interrogated by her soft green eyes.
God, this is so embarrassing. Yet if i don't tell her, the evening could evaporate.
'You won't laugh?'
She shakes her head and clips her watch on her wrist. perfume is added.
'Because…' shit this is difficult, 'because you deserve better than me'.
The point intrigues her. She crosses her legs and runs her fingers down over the soft black leather of her boots, feeling their lovely texture.
'You feel inferior to black guys?' she wonders.
'Yes, but it is more personal than that. I feel inferior to you. I love you…'
She interrupted me,
'No, you worship me….don't you? Love infers equality.' she whispered.
I have no idea how this makes her feel and that terrifies me! Disgust, surprise, amusement, any reaction is possible.
'I felt I married down, ' she said, 'Mummy thought that i could have done a lot better.'
The remarks cut me open. They are so honest!
'Does that shock you?' she asks, watching me intently.
I shake my head and blush.
'You are sweet and you are kind and you are attentive….but you're not very successful' she said calmly. 'Dexter is black and he is successful.'
'yes, I know' I agree. 'I know that when you married me you really should have been with Luther. Luther was top of the pile.'
'I wanted Luther, but he did drugs back then and I feared getting a habit. Because of that i settled for you, it was stupid and I was just 20.' she said slowly.
'Yes M'am' I respond.
Estelle nods. She is wearing a ten grand diamond set Rolex. It cost me all my savings and then some. I'm still paying off instalments. It would be a trinket purchase to a man like Dexter.
'So this is corrective…it is placing me back in company that i should have always kept?' she wonders.
'Yes M'am'
Estelle re crosses her legs.
'That why you tongue rather than try to cock me?' she queries.
My face is now bright red.
'I can't get stiff you know that, but yes….yes….I don't deserve to fuck you.'
She smiles. Somewhere deep within her the instinct to humiliate stirs.
I watch her stand and she moves towards where I sit on the side of the bed. She runs her fingers through my hair.
'Its vulgar, its vile, its dirty…but I agree with you. You're not good enough Tony.' she murmurs.
I accept her assessment, my voice cracking. This is awful. But i am given her hand and i kiss her fingers.
'I really really want Dexter understood. When he asks me to, i will leave you.' she whispers.
I nod despondently. I am like a balloon, burst and left limpid in the gutter.
'Does that terrify you?' she wonders.
i concede yes.
'I am a bitch. I will use you to find a better man, do you understand?'
'Yes' I gulp.
Tonight, tonight it is the most important of my life. it is terrible. It is utterly terrible. I have conceded it these dark nights alone. I have always needed Estelle to be a bitch to me. It has always been coming. She has always had the potential for this. I have heard her talk about success. I have seen her admire black men in films. I have heard her envy of a cousin who hooked up at last with the black guy of her dreams.
Her mobile phone rings. It is him.
'Hi darling….yes….yes….I'm almost ready. It's so neat, I'm looking forward to seeing you!'
She looks condescendingly down at me. A leather clad leg is pressed between mine. She taunts me with her eyes and I start to lick the leather.
'No seriously me too….I. It's just sexy that we are doing this now.'
The leather of her boots smells so new, as though it has been fresh ripped off the back of some animal. I can feel the texture of the buttery hide as I lather it with my tongue. I feel lost. It feels pre ordained that I must tumble down to some humiliating place, down down beneath her heel.
Estelle doesn't want her leather boots too wet, so she transfers my face to her hand. I start to lick the palm of her hand whilst she talks on the phone…
'No, Tony won't be a problem, honest. Test him, see how he responds, but you will be surprised!'
The phone call ends. I stare up at her.
'You guys…you've talked a lot…..on the phone' I murmur shocked.
'Get your car keys' Estelle orders crisply. She is not inclined to explain a thing to me.
We head south on the highway. Its eleven miles to the bar where we will meet Dexter. Eleven miles out of town. Estelle is riding in the back, cross legged, a sophisticated otherness settling upon her. I try to make conversation and get not an answer. I am so nervous.
At last she snaps irritably at me,
'Speak when you are spoken to…do you understand?'
It stops me dead. I stare in the mirror at her, beautiful but angry. This is the point though. Tonight, during this transition, I cannot be me, the husband. I have to be less. I have to be something else and incidental. Gooseberry doesn't adequately describe it!
We draw up at the bar and notice that Dexter's Ferrari is already parked there. It sickens me to see it. Completely, several years worth of salary out of my league, even for the deposit! Estelle has seen me clocking it. Only now, only now, she must think, do you realise just how out of your league a man like Dexter is!
'Get the door please' Estelle whispers.
I jolt myself from the reverie and do as ordered. We walk towards the bar over the gravel, Estelle before me, her boot heels crunching on the gravel. Her body moves in that svelte way that makes men want to tug their cocks when they see it on a video.
'Estelle….wow, you look great!' enthuses Dexter as we approach him at the bar. My wife smiles happily. Good. Dexter glances at me. He is suspicious.
'Order some drinks, ' Estelle tells me curtly, 'Dexter drinks bourbon.'
The remark, it puts me down. Look, he is nothing. He watches. Bourbon…how does Estelle know?
I watch them move to a quiet alcove with brushed satin seats. A discrete corner of the bar. They are chatting happily, freely. This isn't the first time. It isn't the first time. Shit!
By the time I bring the drinks, they are seated. I take my seat and notice his hand. It rests languidly on Estelle's thigh. There is no show about this. He has done it before. He HAS DONE IT BEFORE. They accept the drinks without thanks and then talk about how nice a place this is. Social chat with Banquo's ghost seated silent beside them. I feel like a fucking lemon. I wait patiently to speak, following Estelle's edict. At last Dexter looks at me…
'Estelle tells me that you come to heel, that true?'
I swallow hard. Estelle is watching me intently.
'Yes sir' I answer. Now there is a glimmer of something on Estelle's face. It is affirmation.
'You accept that she is going to be mine from now on?' His voice is gruff and once again i am lanced with what they must already share, what they have discussed, and what they know.
'Yes sir'.
He nods, but still, you can see that Dexter is just a little sceptacle.
'He has no self esteem left. He will do whatever we say,' Estelle's voice is so soft.
Dexter coughs. He's unsure. He rises from the table. We are meant to follow. We make our way past the bar, through the door to the johns and on towards the back of the building. This is a service area. Beneath a dusty light that swings on its cord, Dexter stops and turns, facing me, Estelle watching from behind.
I watch him unzip his fly. Estelle observes. Dexter's member, dear god, it is semi stiff and it is thick. It is frankly ugly with a bulbous glans that hangs like a pendulum on the hawser length of his tool. Dexter waits. He waits as the light swings, back and forth, back and forth.
'Suck his cock' Estelle says in a whisper.
I glance at her. Christ no!
She waits too. There will be no second order. Tonight is pivotal. Tonight I try out for a new role. I feel sick lurch up my gullet and wonder whether I can keep it down. I try. I just succeed.
I kneel before Dexter. Estelle smiles. A big test but as she suspected, I'm malleable.
Delicately, slowly, my hand shaking, I direct his helmet into my mouth. It tastes salty. I feels massive in my mouth. I think that i might gag or sick up. But he is staring down at me, his expression impatient. I am meant to fucking well get on with it. So I start to move, my mouth back and forth on his manhood. I stare up at him as I do it. His cock stiffens. Now Estelle relaxes. It is as if this was never a problem. It is as if the plan would always succeed. 'Bitch' the word rattles around my brain. I am sucking Dexter off and thinking 'bitch, bitch, bitch.'
Dexter grunts. Much as he might not want to show it, my sucking is having an effect. I am working smoothly now, closing my eyes and pretending this is not happening. I am sucking a brautwurst, something, anything, just not Dexter's thick cock.
'Reckon I'll finish down his throat' Dexter snarls.
Estelle stares transfixed at him.
Dexter grunts and there is a flood of the most foul salty semen in my mouth. It erupts there, and is supplemented with rhythmic squirts of more. He has grabbed my hair and pulled my mouth deep onto his cock so I cannot withdraw. The fucking mess is oozing out of the side of my mouth though and I am panic struck. Streams of the salty spunk run down my chin.
'Swallow it' Estelle orders her gaze locked on Dexter.
I swallow it. I swallow it struggling. I splutter, choke. Some hits the corridor floor. Dexter groans…the eruption complete. He pulls his cock out of my mouth and it dangles stiff in front of me, heavy, powerful, alpha.
'Zip it back up' Dexter orders. I do as I am told, packing back inside his pants what I have just worshipped.
I watch him kiss my wife slowly. Open mouthed. It is a celebration. I am just like she said I would be.
They start to retrace their steps alone the corridor. I am still kneeling there. Dexter looks back..
'You best drive on home..' he said, 'you won't be needed.'
A cook walks past me as I then later trying to clean up my mouth with a handkerchief. I am wrecked. i must smell of his cock and the taste of the fucking thing is still in my mouth. I spit but it won't go away. I am shaking. I can't stop my hand shaking. I press my arm against the wall so as not to fall over. I can't tell you what this does to you. When you are mastered that way. Its not a steep slide down into degradation, you feel heaved off the edge of a precipice. The cook walks back past me with a tray of chicken legs covered in a marinade.
'You OK man?' he asks.
I nod. I will be.
After a quick check of my dishevelled hair and my drained face in the mirror of the john, I make my way unsteadily out into the bar. The place has gotten busy and now at the bar I see them. There is Dexter, Estelle leaning against his substantial chest and three others. Two are senior managers from work and the other is a married girl that works for them. The managers glance at me. A cursory glance. The married girl's look lingers a little longer. May be I see pity there. May be she has done this to her husband too. Women chose. They're genetically driven to. It is as if I don't exist for Estelle, she hardly notices me as I quietly slip past them all.
Back outside the cool air clears my head. I step a bit better towards our car. I step faster and slump into the driver's seat. What next? Drive home. Wait and see if I'm needed. Estelle, well, she might need me? I shake my head. She doesn't even want me let alone need me. So I sit and ruminate. They have been seeing each other. They have been dating. Fuck company policy. There was a group of them there at the bar, black managers and a young white married bitch that one has in tow. It sickens me. The sudden realisation of it. These men, they feel beyond retribution. Else the compulsion to take women they want, well it is far too great. May be they love the fucking risk, who knows. What is gut wrenchingly clear though is how much Estelle wants this. She wants to be his bitch. She knows that she is too good for me.
I wait a hour cutting myself about mentally that way. I slice and slice again. Then I see them. Dexter, Estelle, one of the black managers and the married woman. Where the other guy has gone I don't know. I watch them walk to the cars. The married girl is in a leather skirt that is little more than a belt too. I try to think of her name. Her husband, her husband he works down in stores someplace. The black manager guy leads her to a Porsche next to Dexter's car. He kisses his bitch slowly whilst Dexter taunts them. Nothing will stop them though, this little bitch is longing for the guy's touch. I watch him get the door for her and she slips into the passenger seat. It leaves Estelle and Dexter talking, laughing beside his red Ferrari. The urge to wank is immense. I blush thinking about the need. Then Dexter kisses her. It is the first time I've seen it. But how many times before, how many times as he done that!? He gets the car door for her and Estelle slips into his car, her long shapely legs slid into place and the door closed.
As they drive past my car, she notices me. A glance no more. There is no need or a want. The Ferrari purrs by.
I feel drained. I feel as though I have been dragged through inside.
I turn the key in the ignition but then the passenger door is sprung. Before I put the car in gear the other manager is beside me. He smiles.
'Tony!' he says brightly.
I swallow.
'Weren't you sent home?' he queries.
I mumble something incoherent.
'Weren't you sent home?' the guy repeats. He has something in his pocket. It is firearm shaped.
'Yes sir' I admit and count. I count thinking this is where this critical day ends.
'May be you were feeling wrecked, cos Estelle has binned you huh?' he sneers.
I gawp at him. He savours my shock. He smiles.
'She don't want to see you no more. You didn't do as Dexter told you to. Shock I know…but that is her choice'.
I stare incredulous at him.
'You could may be transfer to our site up in Canada' he suggests, 'that would be discrete huh?'
This is a nightmare. I can't speak…nothing….nothing….
'Or you could move out to this nice little bedsit we have down town and promise not to make a nuisance of yourself to Estelle..' my tormenter continues.
We wait. I stare out at the bar, people laughing, coming and going. They don't know a thing.
'Well?'
For fuck's sake! I feel like doing something drastic. He moves the pistol shape in his pocket. I hesitate.
Somehow I murmur, 'the bed sit.'
The guy smirks. He says that we will drive back to my place and I can collect up my things. Then we will go straight on to the place he means. I don't know where Estelle is or what she is doing. I feel powerless.
'Donna's husband bailed out much the same way..' my companion observed as we neared town.
Donna…that is the married girl I'd seen.
'He was sent packing so Ambrose could drop by Donna's place whenever he chose'
I feel nauseous again. The urge to wretch catches me in the pit of my stomach.
'He thought he could handle it that way…but one night he just had to go and intrude, he just had to go and look…you understand' the bastard beside me reflects.
We turn into our road and I see our house.
The guy taps my arm with his hand…
'You know what Tony…hell….that guy had an accident! You get me?'
I can't stop it this time. I wretch and get my handkerchief over my mouth just in time.
'You sure you don't want that move to Canada Tony?' he wonders.
I shake my head.
'That's fine, that's fine! You can see them about town huh. You can admire from afar, but you never address the lady, you hear?'
