by Cyan
Copyright 2005 by Cyan
All Rights Reserved; No Redistribution.
"Well now," said Vivian. We sat at lunch, in a chain restaurant, looking out over a busy thoroughfare. "I'm guessing perhaps you invited me out for a reason?"
I wondered whether something had shown on my face. She was right, of course. I was having second thoughts about telling her, but you'd have to in my situation. I felt myself stalling. "Well..." I said.
"I know you," said Vivian, looking like there was no question but I had something to try to tell her. She does know me. For a while, back when she was my boss, I came to trust her more than anyone, and though now we saw each other only from time to time, she was still the best person I could think of to talk to about my present situation. The only person, in fact. And now I was not facing up to that conversation, and though she had no idea what I might have to say, she clearly sensed there was something. "Is it about Rich?" she asked.
She was definitely right about that! And I'm sure my face gave Vivian her answer, but I still didn't know where to begin. I suppose it all began with the first time my friend Marcy met Rich.
"Wow! You landed a babe!" Marcy'd said as soon as he was out of earshot. Marcy, who is my best friend in the world, can be like that, so I'd become at least somewhat accustomed to her blunt ways since the two of us had become friends.
"He's a dear," I'd replied. Actually I did sometimes have the same thought Marcy had just expressed. I wondered why Rich had fallen for me, and occasionally just pondered my luck.
"Oh, he's far more than that," said Marcy, with a look in her eye. "If you ever find he's too much for you to handle, I'm here to assist." She grinned.
It was a joke, of course. But it wasn't the sort of joke I'd ever make, at least I don't think so. Of course I knew Marcy and willingly put up with the ways she embarrassed me sometimes. I'll keep that in mind, is what I should have said, maintaining perfect poise and a touch of slyness to match hers. Instead of what I actually did, which was to sit there silently, probably blushing. Marcy undoubtedly notices my inarticulate moments, but she always finds ways to get us through them, an encouraging hand on my shoulder, or an immediate declaration on another subject entirely. "I'll bet he's something in bed," she said.
I managed a self-satisfied "yes". One of my better moments.
"Does he spank you?"
"What?" I said, before thinking. And when I was thinking, I simply stared. Marcy grinned, seemingly not the least put out. Perhaps a bit amused at my reaction if anything. That's Marcy.
Her smile grew sly again. "It's all part of the fun, you know," she said. "And with a guy like Rich..."
"Not our thing," I said, having recovered some composure.
"Didn't go so well?" she said. This certainly wasn't one of the occasions when she obliged me by switching to a tamer subject. "You never tried it with him," she said, as if she read it in my face.
"We're not all like you," I said. Please, change the subject! I begged her in my mind, but I knew I'd given her more openings.
"Have you ever had a guy spank you?" she went on. Again, she didn't need my reply to see her answer. "So you don't even know if it's your thing!" That got what was almost a laugh out of me. I supposed, in a way, Marcy is entertainment for me. "With a guy like Rich, you don't want to miss out on something like that."
"Marcy," I said, and hoped my voice wasn't whiny. "It's time to talk about something else!"
"Hm, a reluctance, I see," said Marcy. "We need to give you a little taste, just so you'll know yourself."
Maybe that's when I first began feeling lost. "What?" was all I could say.
Now her smile looked indulgent, if anything. "Just enough to see how you respond," she said.
"What are you talking about?" I said.
"A little experiment," she said, seeming almost lost in thought for a moment. Brightening, she added, "It can be perfectly innocent, and you'll still find out."
I stared. I wanted to repeat my question, but heard myself say in a weak voice, "Find out?"
"Whether it does it for you," she said. "Come here," she said, standing.
She stood there, waiting for me. What did she have in mind? Unfortunately, the only things I could make of it were clearly too far out to even think about. But Marcy? Despite Marcy and her ways, and what she'd just said... "Marcy!" I said, but my voice was weak again.
"Come," she said, the steadiness in her voice a striking contrast to my own. She held out a hand. She stood there waiting as I stared. Finally, calmly, she reached down and took my hand, and drew me.
My heart was in my throat as she drew me toward the bedrooms. This can't be happening, was my thoughts. She led me in the bedroom we use and sat on the bed, not letting go of my hand. "Just a little bit to give you a try," she said, looking up at me as calmly as if she were suggesting I try tasting something new at lunch.
"Marcy!"
Her smile seemed just a touch indulgent. "Perfectly innocent," she said.
"Marcy, come back to the kitchen," I said, finally finding some sort of words. I attempted to withdraw my hand from her grasp.
She held her ground. "Now no chickening out," she said.
She certainly twists things. "Marcy, I'm not going to..."
"It's for your sex life," she said.
"Our sex life is fine."
I swear, she looked like she'd won. "Fine? Is that what your sex life should be? Just fine? With a guy like Rich?" Sometimes I've found it hard to match Marcy's verbal sallies, because she always has an answer for everything.
She tugged on my arm suddenly, and I found myself over her lap! Her hand went on my back, softly. "Relax," she said. "Calm down."
All she did was rub my back lightly. I couldn't believe my position, over her lap, like a recalcitrant child. "All innocent, just to find out," she said. "You can remain dressed."
I still remember those moments. Marcy lightly rubbing my back, me in that ridiculous position, looking at the floor and her feet. I wondered how I could end up like that. The thought of attempting to escape came to me. She was clearly trying to calm me. I didn't know what to say. I wondered again how things could turn into this so quickly: we'd been having a normal conversation in the kitchen only minutes before!
Her hand went up to my neck briefly, softly massaging. "Yes, relax," she said. "It's just to try it out."
"Marcy," I began, but not quite knowing how to put what I needed to say.
"Sh," she said. "Just relax, and for once in your life, just go with it and live a little." She rubbed my back for a little more, then stopped.
We were motionless for moments. I realized I was insane to merely lie there waiting, and finally began to get up. Her hand immediately went to my back, pinning me. "No!" she said, sharply but not overly loud. "Relax." Feeling a struggle would be totally ridiculous, I gave it up for the moment, trying to come up with some sort of way out of this.
Her hand went back to caressing my back. "Just a little innocent fun and we're done," she said. I thought about it. As outrageous as it all was, if I just let her go through with it, would that be the easiest way out? No, I couldn't do it!
She rubbed my back. "Yes, relax," she said. "It's OK." I wondered what to say. Hadn't I already made it clear that I wasn't up for this? Of course Marcy very well knew that, even before she'd said a word about it. "Yes," she said.
But of course, I was acting as if I'd decided to go along with it. I had to remind myself that by doing nothing, I was getting in deeper! I had to act. She just rubbed, softly. It actually was easier to simply lie there than to resume a struggle. "Good," she said.
A minute or more went by of silence. Just her gentle stroking of my back. I felt a fear, growing within me. In my throat. It was as if a dreaded realization was upon me. I wasn't saying anything. This wasn't right. Her hand went to my neck again, gently caressing, her hand against my hair. It definitely wasn't right.
"I've decided it will be better with your pants off," she said. And began fiddling with them.
It wasn't words I said. Why I didn't say something rational, I don't know, but all I heard from myself was a little fearful sound. "Relax," she said, still fiddling, and managing to undo them. I certainly couldn't let this happen with my pants down!
She pushed them down. And lifted off my shoes, to push my pants entirely off. Then she began on my underpants. "Marcy!" I said.
But not loud. The room was so quiet, I couldn't say it loud. "It's all right," she said, and in a second, they were all the way off. "Now, for something like this, it needs to be at least a little bit sensual," she said. And began caressing the back of my thighs.
I was scared. Not of what she was planning to do, but of what was happening. What did this mean? Another minute passed. In another minute, her circling hands were clearly covering my butt too. When would this be over? "Now be ready: it's going to sting," she finally said.
I said nothing.
She slapped my butt. I jumped, just a little, but made no sound. She did it again, then again.
Repeatedly, until I truly wondered when she would stop, the sting clearly getting to me. "Good," she said, soothingly, even as she continued.
Finally, thankfully, she stopped. Again, her hand was on my back, caressing, but no longer on my bare skin. "There," she said. "You can stand up." And she repositioned her legs, giving me little choice but to do just that. I immediately looked around for my pants and underpants.
"No," she said. "To the corner," guiding me to the corner of the room.
"Marcy!"
"It's part of the experience," she said, pressing me close against the two walls. Then she backed away. Then silence.
I stood, eyes into the corner. Could this be real? Here I was, no pants or underpants, standing in the corner of my own bedroom for Marcy?
"OK, get dressed," she said. When I turned, I found her sitting on the edge of the bed where she'd been before. I felt very strange gathering my clothes in front of her. Somehow I felt I was supposed to dress right there, and I didn't resist. As I finished getting my shoes on, I wondered what I could possibly say, to follow that. Or do.
She stood, and approached. With a smile, she put a hand on my opposite shoulder pulling me into a short, half-hug. "Good girl," she said. That's not what I felt like, as she drew me back to our kitchen.
As she made to leave, I wondered when Rich would be home.
* * *
Rich was laughing. On the phone with someone, who had called a minute earlier. I tried to think of who would call him. He finally hung up. "I'm going over to Marcy's" he said. I stared. "She needs me for something."
* * *
Marcy met us at her front door. "Well, isn't this a surprise!" she said, her eyes on mine, obviously noting my presence, standing next to Rich. I was not going to let him go alone!
She took him down into the basement. I felt like a fool following. It was something electrical, and Rich would be in his element. But clearly from Rich's reaction, it was something real. I wondered if Marcy had had this problem for a long time and just picked now to ask someone to look at it.
She led me back upstairs. "You really didn't have to come," she said as we sat in her kitchen. There was noise from the basement. She frowned, but then brightened. "Why don't we go back to your place?" she said.
That brought back to mind the events of that afternoon! I felt I was jumping from the frying pan into the fire. "Uh..."
She grinned. "I'll tell you what," she said. "Come here."
And before I knew what was happening, she'd led me into her own bedroom. "Get undressed," she said.
"What?"
"Quickly!" she said, with a glance back out toward the basement stairs. "Hurry!"
And without waiting for my answer, she began to "help".
* * *
"Quickly. Put your hands on the bottom of that chair," she said. She had something in her hand. A stick of some kind. "Go ahead, we can't take much time," she said.
There, I was, standing there, naked. "Marcy," I began.
She just gave me that hurry-up expression. I eyed the stick. I knew it was made to spank with. And it looked like it could really be painful. Seemingly in disgust, she grabbed my arm and pulled me to the chair. "Down," she said, guiding me into the position she'd wanted me to take.
She quickly moved to my left side. This was impossible. If what happened in the afternoon was beyond comprehension, this was so far beyond, I couldn't think straight.
I immediately found out that the thing hurt like hell! She gave me more, exactly five, I recall. "OK, to the corner," she said, as if still in a hurry.
I stood there. Naked. Rich was in the house and could come up at any time. How would we explain this? Would he come in the bedroom? No, he'd wait. We'd come out. Looking at an outfit, Marcy would say. She left the bedroom.
I heard her footsteps, on the basement stairs. This was impossible. I couldn't be simply standing here. But she came back up, in just a minute. Not enough time for anything to have happened. Well, not much, but they had undoubtedly said something to each other. "OK, get dressed, quickly," she said, back with me in the bedroom.
* * *
Rich was laughing on the phone. It was definitely Marcy. Thankfully, she hadn't called him to come over again, and unless they were sneaking off during working hours, they had no opportunity. But I was surely worrying over nothing. "I'm going out," Rich said. He'd hung up.
"Where?" I asked, too quickly.
"Just for a minute," he said.
And he was. Back in ten minutes, hardly time to pick up something from Marcy's if that's where he'd gone. He sat down again.
I thought about it all. Was I being stupid? I went and sat on the arm of his chair. Leaning against him, I put my lips to his ear. "I want it now," I whispered.
That's not something I do, at least not very often. I suppose I've wriggled just a little when he gave me a goodnight hug or something, but very seldom did I ever come out with a blatant invitation.
He looked up at me and smiled. And kissed me on the lips briefly. But I could tell there was something. "It's been a long day," he said. He kissed me again. "You understand?" And pulled me into a hug.
Even in his hug, I was thinking. He turned it down? Rich? That definitely wasn't like him!
* * *
He was on the phone sometimes, and I could just tell it was her. Nothing untold, but he was always happy when he was talking to her. It was now weeks since he and I had done it, and I'd tried two more ways to entice him. Both times, it had been a "long day". I think the thing that scared me most was the way he brightened when he was on the phone. I still couldn't think of any times they could have gotten together. Or not many.
I finally realized I needed to face up to Marcy. I invited her out to lunch one Saturday. "Oh, I wish I could," she said.
"Something up?" I asked. It wasn't with Rich, because he was at home. There was silence for a while. I wondered how to interpret that. "Marcy, we need to talk," I said.
"Talk?"
I took a deep breath. "Yes," I said, with all the firmness I could muster.
More silence. Then she said, "OK, come on over."
* * *
It hurt like hell. I wondered how it had happened again. After walking into her house with totally resolved to talk about her and Rich, I'd once again found myself falling into this. I was naked, again, looking at the seat of that chair. She seemed as if she'd decided to stop holding back. She reached ten, and I thought I'd die. Twelve.
"OK," she finally said. "Corner."
It was absurd. She left the room. There I was, in her corner, naked, and why? Why was I going along with this? Especially given the pain.
I heard her voice, and realized she was on the phone. She laughed. I cringed. Her voice went lower. There was silence. It didn't seem like she'd hung up. I stood there.
Finally, I heard her voice again. More laughing. I wanted to die right there.
* * *
Vivian had no problem maintaining her gaze, but I felt my eyes drop. "Interesting," she said.
I hadn't told her quite all of it. I could hardly get what I had said out of my mouth without stuttering. But she had a picture. I lifted my eyes momentarily, to find hers still on me. "And?" she said.
She awaited my response. "I guess..." I finally began, but my voice died.
"You probably want to know if they are doing it," said Vivian. She was certainly right about that, and I sneaked a glance at her again. "Well, they certainly are," she said.
It was like a punch in the stomach. "In their position, you find ways. You find times, ingenuity being at its best." Suddenly I felt I'd already known it was true but had needed Vivian to confirm it. But then, how could Vivian be sure? "But the really interesting thing," she said, "is you and Marcy."
"Huh?"
"Your little sexual escapades with her."
"What?" They were the opposite of sex, if anything!
"Three times? And you were as willing the third time as the first two?"
Vivien definitely had it wrong. Didn't she? She must be wrong. I hated every minute of them. When I glanced up at her again, she still gazed at me, with an interested look in her eye. Curious. But she was wrong.
She had to be.
Cyan Stories
Erotic fiction, sex stories, for erotica lovers.