Repercussions : Part Three (A continuation of ‘The Bet’)Franco pulled the Audi up in fro

Repercussions : Part Three (A continuation of ‘The Bet’)

Franco pulled the Audi up in front of the restaurant as the sound of the gravel crunched slowly under the tires. He took a brief moment to breathe, looking at his tired eyes staring back at him in the rear-view mirror. It had been a long day. Several houses shown and two apartments inspected, all in different towns, all that had failed to impress either his cash-strapped clients or himself. Half of them had been well into the country, private communities built around ancient churches. Each quaint village ruined by ugly steel security fences built to keep away gypsies and nosy neighbors whose peering eyes cast instantly damning judgement on any newcomers who dared to look at one of the many empty villas that surrounded them.

The rear of the car was filled with the chatter of the women. Eleonora, his wife, and her work-friend Pamela had been talking excitedly since they had picked up the woman at her apartment. Eleonora had barely introduced him before they both squeezed into the back seat of the little car. He had thought about turning on the radio to drown out their non-stop yapping, but he would have to turn the volume up to maximum and they would be sure to notice. Instead of this, he lit a cigarette and kept his eyes on the road, praying that the night would end quickly. It was a useless prayer. He knew how the night would end. And he wondered for the tenth time how he was going to handle watching not just his wife but both of them seduce some more-than-willing young bull into their bed. Eleonora had even suggested that he might have the chance to fuck Pamela as well when it was all over. Suggesting it as she was on her knees sucking his cock and balls to a long, drawn out orgasm that had left his head spinning and with only the word ‘yes’ left in his lust-hazed brain. He used the mirror to take another look into the Audi’s backseat. Her friend was pretty enough, and her shape was nice, hugged closely as it was by her tight black pantsuit. With her blonde hair and smooth white skin, the two of them could be sisters. Most men would jump at the chance. But the last thing Franco wanted was another cum-fucked slut to fuck at the end of the evening. He rarely even fucked his wife afterwards now. Although, God-damn him, he still found the sight and smells and sounds so damned erotic, assuring not only his hard-on but his own need to shoot his seed all over his slut wife’s sex-bruised body or face. But that had become less about her and more… more about what, he wondered?

The valet opened the car door and took his keys with a smile and a light bow. He was a young man in his early twenties with a full head of hair and that dark look that Eleonora loved so much. Franco cut the man off as he reached for the back door, blocking his view as much as possible as Eleonora slid her bare legs from the back seat. His wife had gone beyond herself tonight. A new hairstyle swept her curly blonde hair across her shoulders and her short mini-dress, shimmering metallic gold, brought out her smiling eyes like bright stars over her smiling red lips. There was a time when he would just have turned the car around, taken her home, and torn her clothes off; taking her like the animal he thought she loved. But that decision was not his anymore and the animal he was paled meekly in comparison to the animal she dreamed of. She did not even bother to kiss his cheek as she exited the car, her eyes far too busy exploring the scene; taking in the sights of the new restaurant and the young waiters waiting eagerly to cater to their desires. He saw them looking at her, how could he not? Yet once again he kept his mouth closed and made to take her arm possessively. Only for a brief moment forgetting to extend that same arm to Pamela as she herself exited the back seat of the Audi. Unlike his wife she paused to thank him, looking at his face with a question in her eyes as he closed the door behind her.

The restaurant itself was beautiful, brightly lit with pure white walls and blue trim in the Greek style. Waiters and staff slid deftly between tables and groups of people just sitting down or just about to leave. The wide windows were open to the Adriatic breeze which somehow made the dining room larger than it was and far more livelier. Franco had already spotted the table he had requested freshly prepared and waiting for them patiently in a far corner by one of the broader windows. The maître-de was friendly and efficient, bringing them over to the table with a professional sharpness that Franco more than appreciated. The wine-steward as well knew his business and soon enough was pouring out a Spanish white that eased Franco into his seat and took his mind off the furtive stares his wife’s legs and loud pleasant laughter were attracting from the men around the room, especially from the younger ones whose eyes were always searching for the next set of legs to slide between.

The night began as it always did; with Eleonora casually flaunting her body for all to see as she sipped at her wine and picked at her meal. Yet this time her conversation was not directed at himself. In fact, for all he was involved with the table, he might have well been left outside taking a nap in the Audi which, to be completely truthful, he would have well preferred. Instead what conversation there was remained between Eleonora and Pamela. At first, Franco had tried to keep up with it all but then gave up completely for lack of interest. They talked about work, about their boss at work, about the workers at work, this bitch or that bitch at work. They talked about movies they’d like to see and the handsome men in those movies. They talked about stores and clothes and hairdressers; which ones were more or less expensive, and which had the bitchiest, ugliest saleswomen. They talked about their favorite reality shows and which wife of which city had their breasts or ass or lips fixed. Throughout it all, Franco just started out the open window at the boats sailing off into the darkness of the bay. He tapped a cigarette out of its box, sighing as he took that first long drag of sweetly addictive poison. As he sat there dreaming of a new life for himself an Eleonora – out there someplace across the sea - a few words of their laughing conversation began to interest him.

“Okay then.” Eleonora urged, “How about the one standing over the table over there talking to the little boy? He seems sweet enough. And look at his ass! Wouldn’t you want to feel an ass like that pressing between your thighs?”

Pamela could not help but to laugh, quickly hiding her smile behind her napkin rather than losing a mouthful of Alaskan salmon. This was not the first young man her friend had pointed out, although her tastes had gotten a bit more spot on. The young man in question seemed well-mannered and kind as he spoke with the child, making the youngster and his parents laugh with some odd joke. His dark hair was cut sharply and, unlike most of the wait-staff, his eyes weren’t constantly seeking out the nearest set of cleavage as he worked his tables. But still, he was a boy, probably still in university by the looks of him. Hardly come into his beard; and, oh, how she loved a beard on a man. There was something about the way a man’s stubble scratched across her cheek that made her shiver all over. Even now, just thinking of it, she felt a pleasant tingling up and down her arms. But Eleonora liked them a bit younger, going on about how the young man in the crisp waiter’s uniform would be just the thing to put a smile on her face.

“Really, Ellie. Alright, I admit that he’s cute.” Pamela admitted. “But he could hardly be over twenty or so. Not to mention that he is most likely not making enough income as a waiter to be good boyfriend material. He probably still lives with his mother for pity’s sake!”

Eleonora scoffed at her friend’s naive innocence, trying once again to force the idea into her thick head. “Pam, who is saying anything about having him as a ‘boyfriend’? We are not looking for your ‘one true love’ tonight. Just something to loosen you up a bit while your dream man decides to finally appear.”

“I’m loose enough thank you. And I don’t plan to get any looser.” Pamela replied, somewhat distracted by the cigarette smoke now making its way across the table. Normally she detested the scent. Especially at dinner. But Franco’s filthy habit at least provided some distraction from Eleonora’s constant boy-watching. “Besides, you might be satisfied with a young man with a … you know… that can make you happy for a night, but I just want a grown man who can just keep me… well, happy. Is that so hard to understand?”

Isabelle just laughed, waiving her friend away as she accepted another glass of wine from the porter. The night went on and at last dinner was cleared from the table. Franco was on his second cigarette as the deserts came. Pamela and Eleonora split something impossibly chocolate and impossibly decadent while Franco knocked back a triple espresso and a glass of Sambuca. The entire time, Eleonora had not stopped watching the young men pass by, stretching out her bare legs for them to see, smiling like a girl as she noticed them looking her way. At the beginning of the night it seemed simply silly flirtation. Now hours later, it was frankly embarrassing. Pamela kept glancing towards Franco, watching each time he turned away to look over the dark waters of the bay. His eyes seemed… sad. His demeanor more irritated than encouraging. She thought back to all that Eleonora had told her of their relationship. Of the way Franco had just adored watching her with other men. Had even inspired her to do so. Now, watching the man chew through his cigarette, she wondered if it was all true. Or if Eleonora was simply failing to see. Perhaps not wanting to see.

They left the restaurant soon after but, and to her chagrin, they did not drive directly home but to a small club that Eleonora insisted they visit first. Once again Franco sat up front, sliding the Audi towards the waiting valet, and once again helped both women from the car. Pamela could not hear herself speak with the sound of the heavy base being blasted through the club’s doors as they opened wide for them. One little hour, Eleonora said, and if she was not happily dancing up a storm then they would leave and forget the entire idea completely. Pamela let herself be pulled in by her friend, both hands held in hers, unable to stop herself from laughing along with Eleonora as the silliness of the situation grabbed hold of her.

The ended up at the bar and somehow Pamela had wound up with a drink in her hand. Something vodka. Something very, very vodka. They had also ended up surrounded by young men. All of whom somehow knew ‘Tina’ very well and all of whom were very interested in her new friend. It was not very long at all until both of them were surrounded, buried behind a wall of leering smiles, lean powerful muscles, and hardening cocks. Welcome to heaven, Eleonora joked, as she leaned back glowing in their attentions and made a game of deciding which of the young men she would dance with first. Eleonora gave them her name as ‘Aria’ and was soon pulling her onto the packed dance floor, pressing her into the arms of one of them. The finest bull in the place, Eleonora half-whispered, half-yelled into her ear. And Pamela could see just what she meant. The young man was ridiculously handsome and had a body of solid muscle; a blonde and virile Adonis whose very smile was deadly. And his eyes! Dark and dangerous and insanely sexy. Unable to resist Pamela let him take her into his steel-cabled arms and she very nearly swooned as she felt his insanely massive cock press hard along her inner thigh.

Franco sat in his usual corner, ordering his usual drink from the usual waitress. Her face was blank and uncaring, a fleshy ball of raw dough that had seen and heard too much to care about most anything. Franco liked her. Liked those eyes too dead to care or to pass judgement. She brought him his drink, watered down whiskey, and then went on her way not saying a word. He slid into his usual seat as the two girls headed over to the bar. He knew what would happen. The crowd of young men. Each eager not only to find his wife again but to discover who the new woman was. Predators scenting fresh prey. He stared into his glass and waited patiently. Sometimes it was just a few minutes. Other times it was hours. Soon enough his wife would call to him and he would go outside to get the car from the valet. To do the dance again. To play the fool, the cuckold, the pathetic ass with the hot wife who needed so much more than he could ever give. This time it would be worse though. Worse with two of them. He found himself calling for another drink far too quickly, trying desperately to forget what lay before him. The waitress laid another lonely drink before him. He watched a moment as the cold drops of water slid down the sides of the amber filled glass, mesmerized for a second by that simple motion. Then, letting out an ugly curse, Franco grabbed the glass intending to knock the thing back in one shot and call for yet another, and another, and another until his mind was too fucking numb to think more.

Her hand stopped him. He looked up to see Pamela’s face in front of him. She was here, nervous and distraught. Perhaps more than a little frightened.

“Franco. I…  look I know you are here with your wife but… would you just mind driving me to the nearest bus?” she asked, her voice quivering and on the edge of tears, “I just want to leave. If it’s too much of an imposition I will just call for a cab, but from here to home… the bus will be fine. Please, if it’s not too much trouble? I’m sorry to bother you.”

Franco was confused, “But I thought you and Eleonora were both having fun? Dancing and… all?”

“Please Franco, please? Just too the bus? I won’t bother you after that.” Pamela replied with a pleading look in her eyes, “You can come back. Its only a few minutes drive. Please? I know its an imposition.”

“No. No. It’s not an imposition.” he responded, still somewhat taken with shock. He reached for the glass of whiskey reflexively thinking to drain it down but then, upon seeing Pamela’s tearing eyes, thought better of it and left the glass to linger where it sat, “Let’s go. I’ll summon the valet.”

Franco did not drive her to the bus but slid the Audi onto the highway and drove her all the way to her front door. He would never leave a woman alone at night to wait for a bus that might never come knowing the system as he did. It would be a crime. He could imagine his parents rising from the very grave to strike at him for such a brutish and unmannered thing. Such things just were not done by a gentleman, after all! So instead he silently made the decision to drive the thirty or so minutes in order to satisfy his own sense of chivalry and to set his sainted parents peacefully at their rest. The fact that it would also drag him away from the club for a good hour was also in his mind. An hour where he could keep his mind centered on the road instead of the way his wife looked, smiling gaily as a half-dozen horny strangers gathered in about her. Each with only one thing on his disgusting mind. Each one…

“You should really stop smoking, you know.”

“What?”Franco mumbled, suddenly broken from his thoughts.

“Smoking.”Pamela replied from the light-streaked shadows of the passenger seat, “It’s bad for your lungs. For your body. Its unhealthy. And it makes your breath stink.”

“I’ve been smoking all my life!”, Franco shot back, a bit too much anger in his voice. Anger he instantly regretted showing. “I’m sorry. I’ve just been smoking all my life. Since I was a kid.”

“And all your life it’s been bad for you.” Pamela answered slowly. “You shouldn’t do things that are bad for you. That make you sick. You’ll end up killing yourself. And then where will you be?”

Franco stared at her, noticing through the streaking overhead highways lights that the woman was actually smirking at him. And then where would he be? For the first time in too long he laughed, and even if it was just for those few silly moments, he felt normal again. As the minutes dragged by he felt himself getting serious again though.

“Tell me. Why did you want to leave the club? I thought you and… and Eleonora were having a good time.”

Pamela started out the window of the car as the buildings and streets passed by in far too much of a rush. Her words were a whisper, half stolen by the wind, “Ellie was. Me? I don’t know. All those men. So young and… may I say, shallow in their intentions? The one I was dancing with…. his hands were all over me. I wasn’t ready for that yet. Not with…  Oh, I don’t know. Maybe Ellie’s right and I’m just a prudish frump.”

“I don’t think you are a frump.” Franco replied, his own voice nearly too quiet to hear. “This is your place isn’t it?.”

Pamela got out of the car saying a quick but truthfully meant ‘Thank you’ and headed up her front path. Franco sat in the car watching her walk up to her door, watched as she fished her keys out of her purse and disappeared through her front door with a final wave and a grateful smile. He stood there a moment, the engine of the car still running as the car trembled beneath him. By his habit he fished his cigarette pack from his jacket, his other hand fumbling in his side pocket for the lighter. The night was quiet and by some miracle there was not another car on the road. He would have to go back he knew.  Back to that club. Back to his wife. Back to whatever nightmare the night held for him. With a last doomed sigh, he slid the pack of cigarettes unopened into his jacket pocket and slid the car back onto the highway unwilling but resigned to his fate.

Eleonora had never been so alive. The music was pumping hard, the vodka and soda were coursing happily through her veins, and the hands and attentions of so many young men had taken her, touched her, whispered their hot thoughts into her ear as she reached down to stroke their powerful hard-ons through their pants. The flickering lights and confusion of the packed dance floor hid well her grasping hands and flushed cheeks even as it hid the many hands gripping her ass and fondling her breasts. She could have any of them, she thought, all of them! She saw their faces, so strong and hungry, imagining one then the other staring down inches from her face as he pounded her in half with the savage aggression of a lover. Throughout the night she felt the warmth build between her thighs. She bit her lip playfully, as she felt them pressing along her trembling body. The time for dancing was through, she thought. It was now time to choose. Pamela had already disappeared. She was probably already being fucked blind and stupid by one of these amorous godlings. She could picture it. Sweet, and so proper Pamela being driven to heaven and back with each thrust of a hungry cock. Eleonora could feel the first trickle of moistness grow along her thigh. It was time to join her.

His hands gripped her shoulders hard as he pulled her back into him. Her initial wide-eyed shock grew into an even wider smile as she felt his shaft pressing against her ass and its hardened tip reaching up towards her spine. She looked back to find him smiling down at her with his shining black face split wide by the whitest of smiles. Like a lion so very sure of his prey. He began thrusting up and down between her ass-cheeks, making her gasp in lust-filled surprise at his impossible length. It was like someone was sliding a hot iron bar up and down her ass and he knew before she did that she was his. All the other men slid away from them now, each realizing what was going on as Eleonora began moving her ass up and down along his slowly thrusting shaft. With his hands firmly set on her shoulders they were moving to the music, the steady bass of the beat clouding her head with only the thought of what he was doing to her with his monster still trapped helplessly in his trousers. She had to let that monster out, she thought. She had to feel it feed.

“What’s your name?” she pleaded in a small whisper, trying to control her panting breaths.

“My name is William.” He replied, his thick island accent only making his voice, a rich baritone, even sexier as he wrapped his long, powerful arms around her heaving chest. “You can call me Will… and you will come with me tonight. Won’t you, my little girl?”

“Yes. Yes. Will… I will… Yes.” she stumbled in her response, his words as well as his perfectly chiseled body far too commanding to ignore. For a moment she thought of calling Franco, of telling him to get the car, of the motel where he tipped the man fifty euro, of Franco’s hot eyes as he watched. But then William descended on her with those dark, smiling eyes and those heavy lips, his tongue sliding along her own… and whatever was left of her could think of nothing else.