"Touch Yourself"

He wandered through the mansion's backyard, nodding or smiling to those who made significant eye contact with him, which wasn't often. Those who didn't know him didn't seem inclined to make his acquaintance and quickly diverted their eyes as if in fear that he might actually greet them and force polite conversation. While they were all obligatorily dressed in this season's fashions for upscale barbeques, Carson was dressed more appropriately for a backyard kegger or skinny dipping pool party.

Those of the guests who did know who he was considered him an outsider -- an outcast, really -- the underachiever of the Templeton family, who abandoned his family's business to go out into the world and do ... just about anything, so the stories went. These weren't Carson's people; these were his brother's people ... and as far as he was concerned, Robert could keep them all.

While he never envied his brother's success -- or the headaches that came with being so important and powerful -- he neither resented him for it; the younger of the two brothers had graduated high school at 16, got the first of his three masters by 20, and today -- on the occasion of his 30th birthday -- was personally worth half a billion dollars.

And what about Carson...? Well, while his brother had been conquering the world, he'd been conquering his demons. His addictions of choice...? Independence ... and women. The day after high school graduation -- despite having a full ride to any University of his choice and a promise from his father that once he'd graduated, he would take over the family business -- he disappeared with an older woman he'd met just days earlier in a hotel lobby. She spent the next three months showing him Europe and teaching him how to please a woman, then simply abandoned him in Berlin with a handful of Deutschmarks and a promise that he'd do very well on his own. He did, too, wandering about the Continent for more than a decade, exchanging his labor and talents for the new Euros to which the populace was converting.

He sometimes slept on the street alone, and other times slept in penthouse suites with the wives or daughters of important, powerful men. It was only after he crossed the Channel the last time and slept with the wrong woman in London that he was deported back to the Colonies.

And now, here he was ... yearning for another man's woman ...

... his brother's wife.

She looked down at the celebration from their bedroom window. She had worked for days with an events organizer to get things just so for Robert's party. And the view from the window was indeed, pretty as a picture, just like the planner had promised. Every last detail had been chosen to reflect their honeymoon trip to Belize, down to the candles on the tables. Jessica had poured through their photos and videos until she captured it all. All, except for the feeling.

Robert was her first and only lover. They were an item from the time they were teenagers, inseparable by the time he left to go to college, married when he finished his first master's degree. He had been on top of the world, and she was too young to realize it would be a downhill ride from there. Downhill? Most women her age would envy her place, and many would even be able to enjoy it. Her time was her own and she had more than enough money to do as she wished. What she wanted, though, was to get that spark back with her husband.

The ice in the cocktail glass she had set on the window sill tumbled against the sides as it melted, bringing her back to now, reminding her she had guests and responsibilities down stairs. She looked down at the patio and caught a glimpse of Carson sauntering through the knots of party goers. She could see people move away as he neared, duck their heads, turn to get another glimpse as he walked by. While not all of the stories that circulated about him were true, at least according to Robert, enough of them had been reported by reliable sources to give credence to the rumors. She had never heard any of the stories first hand, but thought her husband was probably blind to some of his brother's escapades. Robert didn't seem to so much envy Carson's adventures as he seemed to enjoy living vicariously through him. He would never contemplate doing some of the things his brother had been purported to do, but he enjoyed sharing in the tales. It was as close to fire as Robert would ever dare to dance. His caution made him reliable, but it also squelched his desire. He was content with lukewarm.

...the warm smell of colitas, rising up through the air...

When she walked back out onto the patio, the sun had just begun to sink below the horizon, imparting a pinkish purple glaze over the glimmering pool. The band, just a few neighbors with guitars and a steel drum, made that old Eagles song sound exotic and sensuous. The syncopated rhythm dragged her hips in, making her body follow the teasingly slow beat. She sidled up behind her husband and put her hands on his waist.

"Care to dance?" she whispered in his ear, biting him playfully on the earlobe.

Robert turned and gave her a perfunctory peck on the cheek. She knew from the cool dry kiss what the answer would be.

"Not now, Jess, I'm in the middle of something here," he said as he gestured to the group of three or four men standing nearby.

It was his birthday, and if discuss business was what he wanted to do, well, he should get to do just that. His attention had already returned to the discussion before she could apologize for the interruption. She glanced around the patio, searching for a friendly face, someone who would rescue her from this moment of abandonment. Seeing no one, she opted for a trip to the bar. One more of these fruity umbrella drinks and I might have to abandon these pretty strappy sandals, she thought as she sipped. The alcohol numbed the sting of rejection for now, but she knew that in the morning, it would be back.

"Happy fucking birthday, babe," she whispered as she raised her glass in his direction before she tipped it back and drained it.

"Happy fucking birthday, babe."

"Such language..." Carson whispered from just over Jessica's shoulder, causing her to flinch in surprise. He'd seen her heading for the wet bar and made his way inconspicuously through the crowd and decor, not wanting to be seen by her ... or her husband. As she made eye contact with him and showed a spark of recognition, he finished by conspicuously looking her up and down and, leaning in closer, whispering, "...from such a beautiful ... mouth."

He gestured to the bartender -- who already knew full well what he was drinking -- then turned to look out on the crowd, trying to impress upon anyone who might be paying attention that he was only standing near his brother's sexy wife, not with her.

Carson was good at appearing casual when he needed, intense when he wanted. And while he yearned -- had long yearned -- to share some intensity with Jessica, she had always been Robert's girl; Carson would never violate such a trust by having physical relations with his only sibling's wife.

That fact tore him up inside every time he looked Jessica's way. She was an erotically sexy woman, almost a twin to the woman who'd drug him off to Europe all those years ago. He was everything Carson would want in a lover ... and married to his brother. He'd fucked many a taken woman in his life -- some the mates of good friends and even extended family -- but to take Robert's spouse...? Never gonna happen, he assured himself, raising his beer bottle to drag on it, then glancing down briefly at Jessica's impressive cleavage and finishing, Fuck...! One line I would love to cross.

(OOC -- What's she wearing? The bikini? Bikini and sarong? Dinner dress? Pool attire?)

Jessica didn't realize she had spoken out loud until she heard his voice, close enough to felt his warm breath against her ear. When she started, she tipped her glass, causing the last few drops of her drink to spill down her front. The cold liquor trickled down her chest, between the cups of her pretty blue bikini, then continued down her tanned belly until the fat drops disappeared in the flowered print of her silky sarong, darkening a dime sized spot right below her navel. She blamed the sudden shiver she felt up her spine on the cold wet material against her hot skin. Whatever else she felt she attributed to the alcohol.

When the bartender acknowledged Carson's wave Jessica held up her empty glass and nodded, letting him know she wanted another, too. Another drink wasn't going to do anything for her dirty mouth, but it would ease some of the sting of being brushed off by her husband. Yeah, she had noticed the way Carson looked at her, but she didn't really think anything of it. His reputation was not lost on her. Besides, it was nice to be acknowledged, even if by her husband's black sheep brother.

Flirting didn't come naturally for Jessica. She had never even dated anyone but Robert, so her experience was limited, at best. But Carson was well versed in warming up a bashful girl, and his exaggeratedly teasing remark about her beautiful mouth caused her to blush furiously. She tried to think of some witty retort, one that would show him she could keep up. Even fueled by a drink or two over her usual limit, though, words failed her. Thankfully, the bartender showed up and rescued her before she had a chance to say something stupid. She raised her glass in Carson's direction and invited him to toast to Robert, the reason for this gathering tonight, and the person who brought them together in this moment.

"If nothing else, he sure knows how to enjoy a party," Jessica added at the end of her toast, looking wistfully across the crowd to where Robert stood, surrounded by friends.

She noticed one of his newer interns standing near him, so near she was brushing her body against him when she leaned closer to listen to him talk. Robert didn't seem to be encouraging her, but he didn't seem to be discouraging her, either. Jessica tossed back her drink, stood and wobbled on her pretty heeled sandals. She put her hand out to Carson to steady herself before she lost her balance completely, leaning into him before she stepped back and sat down. She kicked her shoes under the bar and tried it again. This time, she was able to stand unassisted. She turned to him and extended her hand.

"Care to dance?" she asked, bowing slightly, giving him a nice view of what was nestled in her soft blue bikini top.

She might not have been so daring had she not been bolstered by the tequila in her drinks, or in the safety of her own back yard among friends and family. Family...Carson was that, after all. There was certainly no harm in getting to know this mysterious brother in law of hers a little better.

Carson had never seen Jessica tipsy before. In all truthfulness, they'd only met a half dozen times during her years of dating and then marriage to Robert; and they'd only exchanged words -- and few at that -- half those times. So, for all he knew she was a fall-over, stumbling drunk.

But ... Carson had a sense for that, and Jessica looked out of her comfort zone now. He glanced about the crowd, looking for Robert but also finding his father and the man's new half-his-age, former Miss Texas-turned-newscaster wife. None of the trio seemed to be paying him or Jessica any attention at all.

He looked back to the bartender -- who winked knowingly out of the corner of his eye before heading off to another guest -- then leaned a bit closer to his sister-in-law and whispered, "I don't think dancing together out here, around all of these people--"

His eyes dropped conspicuously to her cleavage, still bearing the remnants of the moisture trail that Carson yearned to clean off with his tongue. "--with you looking so fine. But ..."

Be careful how you frame this, buddy boy, he warned himself. He didn't want to sound like he was hitting on Jessica -- because, in all honesty, he wasn't -- but he did yearn to be alone with her, even if it was just on opposite sides of the same room deep within the mansion and away from the crowd.

"...perhaps we could meet upstairs ... maybe the library. I have been told by Robert that you have quite a music collection...?"

Smooth, he told himself, only half serious. In a bar or hotel lounge, any woman sitting atop a stool would have known he was trying to pick her up. Some would have slapped him; others -- most, he knew from past experience -- would have eventually been in bed with him sooner of later. But with Jessica, and with this setting, he didn't know. She might think he was being bad ... or she might think he was just being nice, getting her away from the view of the guests before the rest of the alcohol hit her blood stream.

"I'm going to head up," he said, turning and grabbing the fresh beer that the bartender had delivered without being asked. "Why don't you wait a moment ... get your balance back. See you up there, yes...?"

He didn't wait for her to answer. He was actually hoping that she'd take a moment to consider whether this was a good idea or not, because he really didn't want prying eyes to see them leave the patio together.

She felt warm, certainly in part due to her more than slightly inebriated state. Dancing probably wasn't a good idea, any more than that last drink had been. There were maybe half dozen couples shuffling around in the soft sand she had had spread to make it more like an island paradise. She didn't envy the clean up crew their job tomorrow. That sand was going to be damned near impossible to get out of here. But right now, it felt good between her bare toes while she stood there contemplating Carson's invitation. The party, while not in full swing, was certainly on autopilot, and should last at least another couple of hours. If she made a casual swing through the guests, put in one more appearance, she could most likely disappear without notice.

"How's the second most beautiful woman at the party?"

The voice behind her was as familiar as the greeting. Her father-in-law had been addressing her that way from the day they met. He was just charming enough to get away with it. She was always second to his current wife, and his exes had to get in line behind Jessica.

"Just taking a minute to sit back and enjoy the view," she said as she leaned back on the bar. "The planners nailed Belize, it's just like our honeymoon."

Well, except for the romance, and the laughing together, the dancing, and yes, the sex...none of that had been included in this package. But this was not the audience for that self-pitying lament.

"Well, thank you for being a good wife to my Robert. He's a good man, but he's a lucky man because of you," he said, and leaned forward to kiss her on the head. "See you kids for brunch tomorrow?"

Assurances they would indeed be there for brunch, air kisses and waves, and there they went, leaving her to work the crowd solo on her way to the house. She passed through Robert's circle, making an effort to not stare down the perky little intern who was still hovering at the shoulder of her husband. He acknowledged her presence with a brief wave and a smile, a thanks for the party mouthed to her. She smiled back and blew him a kiss, then continued on her way.

When she got to the door, she hesitated, suddenly feeling dizzy, and was it apprehensive? Had she sent the wrong signals to Carson with her clumsy attempts at flirting? Fuck! she thought. What if he was expecting her to meet him upstairs to..well, fuck?

In the library on the window seat with your brother-in-law, chanted her still tipsy mind. She couldn't help but giggle. The sound bounced off the walls of the cavernous entry hall. She could hear dishes clanking in the service kitchen as they were stacked and rinsed by the caterers. No one heard her as she tiptoed up the stairs, holding on to the railing to steady her steps. That last drink was really starting to hit her. And she was cold. She stopped by her bedroom; not the one she shared with Robert on the occasion he was in the mood, but her room, where she kept her things. Her dark blue sweater was still on the bed where she had discarded it earlier. She pulled it on over her bikini top and glanced in the mirror. Warm and covered, that's better, she thought as she made her way to the library. She stopped at the door and took a deep breath to ease the queasiness, slow her racing heart. She had nothing to fear, she reminded herself. Robert had told her a thousand times that there was no one he trusted more than his brother, except her. She trusted Robert's judgment completely.

"Still in the mood for some company?" she asked tentatively as she entered the room.

"Still in the mood for some company?"

Carson stood at the massive entertainment center, an array of new and old sound producing devices surround in turn by a wall full of CDs, LPs, cassettes, even 8-Tracks that Robert and Jessica had, according to his brother, been collecting together almost since their first date. He turned, holding an 8-Track with a psychedelic-era photo on it and asked, "'Dance hits of the '60s'...? Please tell me this is Roberts and not yours."

He laughed and, as she gave her answer, punched it into the still new looking 8-Track player, selected Track B, and began shifting to and fro in a dance motion that was so subtle he could have simply been accused of being tipsy...

Which, Carson could see by her own wavering, Jessica was becoming even more so as every little bit of alcohol made its way into her blood stream. He looked her over -- when her eyes were diverted elsewhere -- and felt his penis growing in response to her erotic beauty. She was ... perfect. Impressive, firm breasts ... smooth, tight tummy ... round ass and shapely hips ... and those long, athletic legs. And, of course, above the neck she was only the most beautiful woman at the party.

And ... she was his brother's wife. Carson shouldn't be in this room with here at all, let alone when she was drinking and he was horny. Relax ... you're not going to do anything stupid, he reminded himself. But, sometimes it was all about perceptions. The wild man of the family alone with the semi-dressed, sexy young wife of the coldest member of the family...

How's does she deal with that? Carson wondered. Robert had never been the warmest of people when he was younger. He was intelligent and friendly, but ... well, passion had eluded him as long as Carson had been around to watch his younger brother. How the HELL did you land a BABE like this, Little Bro'?

Carson's little shuffling dance steps had moved him up to within arms reach of Jessica. He looked at the dark blue sweater now concealing some of her body ... but, of course, not the interesting parts. The bikini's upper half emphasized the wonderful curvatures of her young, firm breasts; and the bottom half, while concealing a great more of her as the new styles were now, only made Carson even more so want to see what she was hiding down there.

"How about that dance...? he said softly, still wiggling just enough to said to be dancing ... as he closed on her.

From behind, it was hard not to notice the similarities in the brothers' physiques. Carson's shoulders were a little broader than Robert's, but they shared a general build. In dim light, it would be easy to confuse the two of them. In the dark, it would be almost impossible to discern the subtle differences. If she hadn't known the man facing the wall wasn't her husband, she might have made a big mistake. Maybe she already had...

*"'Dance hits of the '60s'...? Please tell me this is Roberts and not yours."*

"And just what would you say it I told you not only is it mine, it's one of my favorites?" she asked.

She was expecting Magic Carpet Ride, song one, track one. Yes, she had them cataloged. She had a lot of free time on her hands. She spent a lot of it in here. But then she heard the thunk, the change of track, and knew before she heard the opening B chord what song they were going to dance to for the first time.

And
I don't hardly know her
But I think I could love her
Crimson and clover

The room was spinning. Not so fast she couldn't keep up, just enough to make her reach for Carson's arms. Just like she would if she were sober and accepting his invitation to dance. She took his hands, so like her husband's, the man who should be holding her, and steadied herself before she moved in closer.

Ah
When will she come walking over
Now I've been waiting to show her
Crimson and clover
Over and over

Moving her hands up his shoulders, she rested them on either side of his neck. She maintained arm's length, though. Her ballroom dancing lessons were never far from her mind. Leave enough room between you and your partner to maneuver freely. She wanted to wrap her arms around him closer, rest her head on his shoulder. Instead, she kept that safe distance.

Yeah
My mind's such a sweet thing
I wanna do everything
What a beautiful feeling
Crimson and clover
Over and over

Okay, just a little bit closer. Just for balance. And a little warmth. Ah, fuck it...because it felt good to be held.

"And just what would you say..." she said with an almost challenging tone, a sly smile -- attributed to the booze, Carson thought -- on her lips that he'd never seen before. "...if I told you not only is it mine, it's one of my favorites?"

He playfully gave her an I surrender gesture as he moved to her. From every direction, what seemed like a thousand speakers -- Only the best system, of course, Carson thought of Robert -- began belting out the classic Shondell's song.

And
I don't hardly know her
But I think I could love her
Crimson and clover

Carson thought he detected a confused look on Jessica's face and wondered whether it was the song she'd been expecting. She reached out and took his arm, seemingly more to steady herself than dance with him.

Ah
When will she come walking over
Now I've been waiting to show her
Crimson and clover
Over and over

Still barefoot after kicking off her heels at the bar, she was considerably shorter than Carson. He tipped his head to one side, looking down into her eyes to say sincerely, "We don't have to do this."

But she took his hands and moved in closer to him, maintaining an appropriate gap between them.

As they began to sway a bit -- ever so noticeable -- she moved her hands up to Carson's shoulders ... and closed the gap just a bit. It was enough that as they moved, occasionally her breasts, held tightly in that form-emphasizing bikini, ever so lightly brushed his chest, which he hadn't intentionally kept exposed by the unbuttoned shirt but was now happy he'd done.

Yeah
My mind's such a sweet thing
I wanna do everything
What a beautiful feeling
Crimson and clover
Over and over

Carson was hard as a rock! His erection had been fluctuating with his thoughts and view of his sister-in-law since her slip of language at the bar. Then, Jessica began closing the gap between them ... ever so slowly ... her hands moving cautiously up his shoulders to his neck, her torso -- that beautiful, perfect torso with all of its perfectly placed curves -- coming into contact with him until he could feel the warmth of her belly and chest against him.

He tried to be inconspicuous in shifting his groin back, trying desperately to keep his firmed member from pressing against her. The gap was no longer a gap; they were as one, like teenagers at a high school dance pushing the decency rules to the limit, waiting for a Chaperone to come pry them apart.

Suddenly, Carson pulled away from Jessica, stepping a couple of steps back ... looking at her with an embarrassed, somewhat apologetic expression. "Sorry. I, uh ... I think..."

He ogled her again, pained at the thought that he would never -- could never -- have this beautiful, erotic woman in his bed. He chuckled nervously, then said bluntly, "I think this is a mistake, Jessica. I ... I asked you up here to ... to ... well ... to be alone with you ... but ..."

He shook his arms and body a bit, like a sprinter loosening up for a ten second dash. God, what were you thinking, man. You can't do this to Robert ... to your brother. What did you think was going to happen...? She hot ... and she's drinking ... and you're a horn dog.

"You've seemed unhappy," he said, not even knowing that he was going to broach the subject with her ... ever. He'd been watching her during his stay at the mansion, watching her far more than she or her husband had been aware. And it was obvious that Jessica simply wasn't happy. And seeing his brother blow her off tonight, after she'd put so much into the shindig, was just ... well, unacceptable.

Jessica deserved more than this. She deserved to be loved and respected. And, as he again ogled her form and yearned to be with it, on it, in it, he knew that she deserved to be pleasured as well. Sharing a bottle of his father's 12 year old Scotch a couple of days back, Robert had divulged that it had been a while since he and Jessica had made love. Robert hadn't asked what a while meant; weeks, months, years?

Carson couldn't imagine a woman this attractive, this young, this vital, this sexual going without. She was going to get it from someone. Carson wished he could be the one to give her that pleasure, but he knew he could never face his brother again after doing such a thing. Oh hell, I could face him! But I couldn't lie to him if he asked, 'Did you have sex with my wife?' "

Of course, there was always another factor that Carson hadn't considered until just this moment: he might want to be with Jessica, but that didn't at all mean that she wanted to be with him. If he had hit on her, had leaned in and pressed his mouth to hers, she may very well have slapped the shit out of him and run off to Robert to tell of his affront to the couple's vows. It's a bit conceited, don't ya think, to just assume she wants you to fuck her?

He decided to be forward, far more forward than any man had a right to be with his brother's wife. He closed the gap between them, remaining just out of arm's length. "Jessica ... I want to be with you. I want to see you ... happy ... satisfied--" He laughed, surprised that he was going to say it but did. "I want to see you screaming out in ecstasy as you're overcome with euphoria! But ... I couldn't do that to Robert. I ... Well, I just couldn't do that to my brother ... no matter how much I want to be with you."

Had Jessica not been feeling so incredibly sorry for herself she might have realized she had gone too far before Carson called her out. Had she come up here with more in mind than a friendly conversation? Well of course she had. If she was honest, she would admit she had imagined him in some of her steamier alone moments. The fantasies were easy to conjure to life, based on some of the stories she had heard about Carson and his colorful years out of the country. Not that the details were shared about, but Jessica was well read enough to fill in the blanks. She had never felt guilty letting Carson fill in for the dream lover. It was like fantasizing about someone famous. Not like anything was ever going to happen for real, but the occasional solo trip to O-town was no one's business but her own.

So, she let herself be drawn to him, so close she knew that if nothing else, his body was responding to her. Why couldn't this be Robert? she thought as the music fought to drown out her conscience trying to warn her she would have regrets later. How could it be wrong to get what I need for a fucking change? she thought.

Well, because what you think you need would make you a whore, dear...or is that a fucking whore?

And then, before she could counter herself, the decision was made for her, just as all major decisions had been decided for her the last ten years. In the best interest of Robert. No one could do anything that would hurt, upset, or, god forbid, disappoint Robert.

"You know Carson, you are absolutely right," she said.

She felt the floor sway a little, but she steadied herself, took a few steps back. The tequila was peaking right about now, making her feel artificially brazen. In reality, she was hurt. What came out, though, was anger.

"No one should ever do anything to Robert, we all should be doing everything for Robert. Thanks for the reminder. You're a good brother, I'll make sure you get your points for that. See you at brunch."

She turned sharply, catching the hem of her sarong under one of her feet, and heard the delicate fabric rip as she untangled herself. The cloth gave and fell to the floor, leaving her standing in a fluffy blue puddle. She bent and picked it up without turning around. Yeah, that's right Carson, it's perfect, isn't it? she thought as she realized he was probably watching her walk away. But her bravado had faded, and she walked through the door without saying another word.

Tomorrow, she would most likely forget much of this exchange, thanks to the amnesiac effect of the alcohol she didn't usually drink. Right now, she was just so fucking pissed! It wasn't so much the rejection, well, okay, yes it was, but it was more. She was tired of always being second. No one ever asked what would Jessica think? about anything. It was always Robert. Every decision, every consideration, all were made in deference to what Robert would want. Would people be shocked to find out that Jessica wasn't what he wanted? At least not sexually. The occasional blow job, always at his request, seemed to keep him satisfied for months. When his parents pressed them for grandchildren, Robert always alluded to Jessica not being ready. It was true enough.

Her room was soft and feminine, her own private sanctuary. The windows faced the patio, and she could see the party winding down, the band had left and the caterers were beginning to break down some of the tables. She pulled her curtains and dropped her bikini to the floor. She crawled up on the bed and closed her eyes. The spinning sensation she thought would abate intensified instead. Damn it. She had been this drunk before, but not on sweet mixed drinks. The dizziness gave way to nausea, and she thought she was going to be sick. She made it to the bathroom and leaned against the cool tile walls. That stopped the queasiness almost immediately. Maybe a shower would help. There was much more she would like to wash down the drain than just her physical discomfort. She was embarrassed by her actions. She had practically thrown herself at Carson, and on Robert's birthday, no less. She really was a whore, she thought a bit miserably, just not a very good one.


The cool water did have a sobering effect on her, and after a few minutes under the strong spray, she was less nauseated. She stepped out and grabbed a towel. When she was dry enough, she wrapped it around her hair and walked back out to her bedroom. This time when she lay back, the spinning sensation was gone. She ran her fingers absentmindedly up and down her chest, between her breasts, down to her navel. She thought about Carson, how his arms had felt wrapped around her, how her breath had felt when she exhaled, her mouth so close to his neck. Had he noticed her hard nipples, pressing against his chest, separated by only the material of her bikini? She thought he had, by the way his cock had pressed against her for those few minutes before...Rewind...to the part before he had rejected her for Robert. When he was pressed tight to her.

Her nipples were hard now, her breath against his neck, whispering please Carson, I need this so much...I need you so much...
What Jess? You need what?

Fingers, leaving a trail from her navel, finding her perfectly manicured patch of soft curly hair, waxed to perfection for the party tonight, in case Robert had....fuck Robert! This was her fantasy, damn it.

Wet, already slippery, wanting so long the mere hint of a touch is all it took to make her ready.
I need to be wanted, ravished, taken, taken completely and because it's all you want...that's what I need...Carson...

Her clit was aching now...when she touched it, she cried out softly...oh fuck Carson...

One finger slipped inside, she arched her back, moaned louder, imagined his body lowering down to cover her...enter her. Another finger slipped in, reached deeper, caused her to groan. She pinched a nipple with her free hand, completed the circuit, felt her body give in to the tension and let it go. Not the biggest orgasm, but enough to release her from the torment of rejection that had kicked her soundly in the gut earlier. Sleep might not be so elusive tonight after all.

She rolled over on her side, catching a glimpse of her door, which instead of being closed, was ajar a few inches. Had she left it that way? Or had Carson followed her to her room to make sure she got there? Had he seen her, or heard her? It didn't matter. He had made it clear he wasn't interested. She drifted off, aided by the liquor and the climax.

"You know Carson, you are absolutely right."

Carson smiled, just slightly. He was glad to hear her agree with him. They had gone too far, and they needed to back up. And Jessica agreed with him. And then...

"No one should ever do anything to Robert," she continued, in a tone that smacked of hurt and disappointment and anger and sharp sarcasm. "We all should be doing everything for Robert. Thanks for the reminder. You're a good brother, I'll make sure you get your points for that. See you at brunch."

And she turned, and -- after a tussle with her sarong that Carson was afraid only angered her more -- was gone.

He stood there for a long moment, conflicted with how he was supposed to react. He was damned if he did and damned if he didn't ... fuck Jessica, that was. The only way he could have fixed this was to go back in time and not approach her at the bar, and he doubted that even Robert had the money to build a time machine to accomplish that feat.

Carson turned back to the sound system, punching buttons on the 8-track in a desperate attempt to find something, anything, that would take his mind off what had just happened. But they were all songs of love, hurt, or dancing ... or a combination therein. He finally killed the power, leaned forward to rest his head against a speaker box, and mumbled, "Fuck."

After several minutes, he came to the conclusion that he had to apologize to Jessica, and he had to do it now. He could let it go until tomorrow and hope that when the booze wore off, she would either have forgotten what happened or would accept that it was just drunken flirtation. But ... he hadn't been drunk. He'd only had the one beer, and though Jessica might not have known that, she did know his history as a ladies' man and would know that he should have known better than to invite her upstairs in her conditions, plural, meaning drunk and lonely.

He screwed up his courage and headed down the long passageway, not having any idea where he might find her but feeling fairly certain it would be either in the loving couple's bedroom or perhaps on one of the many balconies that came off the hall or the extra rooms. Carson found the door to the master bedroom open wide and stepped inside. "Jessica ... can we talk...?"

There was no sign of her. Carson stepped inside farther, looking about. He hadn't been in the room since just after his brother bought the place, and the remodel was stunning ... and obviously expensive. He strolled about the huge room, forgetting his original mission for a moment as he took in the limited edition prints and antique crystal vases.

Then, he heard it, sound from one of the adjoining bathrooms. The huge suite had two such rooms, one to each side, each of which connected to private bedrooms, one for Robert, one for Jessica. His brother had explained that sometimes his travel and business schedule brought him home at all hours, so the extra rooms were so that the two of them could keep their rest at those times. The master bed was, of course, for better times, when life was less hectic and love was in the air.

Of course, Robert had divulged that the air had been void of love for a while, so Carson could just imagine that the huge extra-king bed had been cold for a while.

He approached the bathroom door, already knowing that it led to Jessica's bathroom. He stood there for a moment, wondering, What do you do now, genius. You can't go inside. And knocking on a locked door ...? You'll just get a FUCK OFF from her.

He needed to face her, to be with her to ensure she listened to what he had to say. He backed away, then left the room, returning to the hall and making his way to the door that led to Jessica's private quarters...

Where he stopped at the sight of the cracked open door ... and, beyond it, Jessica making her way about the room ... naked.

He couldn't help himself. Not only did he not back away and leave, as he should have, but he looked up and down the passage to ensure he was alone, then stepped closer for a better view. She was spectacular, not that he had ever had a doubt that she would be. With her bikini top shed, Carson came to realize just how perfect and firm her breasts were, just how swollen her nipple could be. As she turned to lay down, facing him and -- he feared for a moment -- seeing him through the crack, he took in the view of her ... and realized that he was getting hard for her once more.

He stepped back, chastising himself, This is wrong! You need to leave! You need to leave NOW! But ... he couldn't do it. He wanted to see more of Jessica; he needed to see more of Jessica. He looked up and down the hall again, finding himself still alone, then stepped to his right and forward, making it possible to see her body but not her face ... which meant she wouldn't be able to see him either.

And what he saw ... simply awed him. Jessica caressed a hand slowly down to between her thighs ... and ... Oh, god ... baby ... really...?

As he watched -- and reached to his own groin, to make his fully hardened dick more comfortable within his slacks -- Jessica began writhing to her self-stimulation. As she arched to the pleasure she was dealing herself, she groped at her breast with her free hand, pinching at its huge nipple.

He leaned a bit, eager to see her face -- even if it meant being seen himself -- and caught her expression just as she orgasmed. Her back arched almost impossibly, her mouth widened, and the euphoria deep within her came out as a silent scream of delight.

Carson continued watching her, totally oblivious that he was now gripping his dick so tightly that a bit more would have brought him intense pain. Jessica's body relaxed into the bed as she came down off her high. She looked so ... happy. Much happier than he'd seen her since he'd been reacquainted to her just a few months earlier.

He jumped back suddenly, seeing her open her eyes and roll his direction on the bed. Fuck! She saw you ... didn't she? He stood absolutely still, absolutely silent, waiting for her to scream at him -- at whoever was outside her door -- but nothing came but breaths that were quickly shifting from labored to relaxed.

He gave it another long moment, then backed away, thankful that the mansion had been built with the greatest of workmen and had no squeaky floor boards. Downstairs, he found the party breaking up; the caterers were no where to be scene, the workmen were almost done breaking down the rental equipment, and only a handful of guests remained, all seeming to be business associates eager to get a last word with their host, who didn't seem to be anywhere to be--

"Carson!"

Carson spun in surprise to face Robert, who was walking his direction quickly with a serious expression. Oh, fuck ... he knows. What does he know...? That I danced with his wife? That I told her I wanted to fuck her? That I WATCHED her masturbate?

"I wanted to make sure Jessica had invited you to the brunch tomorrow," he said, his expression still hard. It was obvious the man had things on his mind, and Carson was just thankful that they weren't Are you boning my wife? He waved his acknowledgment of some anonymous guest seeking his attention, and finished, "Casual dress. Baker's. You remember it, the little cafe on Third Avenue. Ten o'clock. And don't be late. I have someone I want you to meet."

All Carson could do was agree not to be late, and Robert was gone again. And so was Carson. He returned to the little bungalow out back that his brother had said was his For as long as you need it, seriously. Inside, he quickly stripped out of his now-sweat soaked clothes, stepped into the little shower, turned on the luke warm water ... and beat off to the image of Jessica hunched over the tiny bathroom counter, screaming in ecstasy as he pounded her from behind.



Baker's hadn't changed in a decade. Still the homey feel, still the older waitresses -- most of them apple pie making grammas -- still the hard wood tables with flowery sun umbrellas out in the patio. Carson was late -- he'd found himself in the bathroom again, fantasizing to the pleasure of being deep inside his sister-in-law -- and when he arrived, he was both pleased and horrified to find the Robert had saved him a chair ... next to Jessica.

He greeted everyone assembled, shaking hands where accessible, kissing cheeks where appropriate, politely being snubbed where expected. With all of that done, Carson finally glanced down to a very nervous looking Jessica and said softly, "Wonderful party yesterday. I enjoyed myself."

He sat beside her, turning his attention to the rest of the group and listening to the conversation at it rolled about. The assembled group included people from all walks of life with one thing in common: the renovation of the cultural center that, for the most part, Robert's charitable foundation was paying for.

Carson listen in silence most of the time, making one or two comments about the freedom of movement about the property that the new Skyways and Park Trail would enhance. Above and beyond that, he really had no interest in what any of these people were talking about. He was here for one reason and one reason only...

At one point, as the conversation became very animated and the laughter and comical commentary made it possible for him to speak without the others hearing, Carson turned in his chair to reach a tray of hors d'oeuvres on a tray behind him. He whispered to Jessica, "I saw you in your room last night ... after the library. When can we be alone...?"

Jessica's very first tequila hangover greeted her bright and early the next morning. The party was a blur of smiling faces, music...Crimson and Clover popped into her head. Funny, she didn't remember the band playing that one...then it dawned on her why that song came to mind. Carson. Oh, fuck. Had she really made a drunken pass at him? Please, please let it just be a dream, she thought. Her head ached, she felt sick.

"Hey sleepyhead, time to get up!" Robert's voice, calling through the door. He was showered and dressed, oblivious to her condition. "We've got to get going if we're going to be there to greet our brunch guests."

It never ended. Robert could muster all the energy and enthusiasm necessary for any event, any interaction, as long as it had little to do with her. Some damned fund raising gathering, people kissing his ass, glad handing him, falling all over themselves to have Robert acknowledge them, if only for a moment, and he was in his element. With his beautiful, smiling, content wife by his side, he was the very picture of success. It was the picture he had presented to the world all his life.

There had to be some Tylenol in the medicine cabinet, if she could just get her legs to steady under her and take her there. She sat on the side of the bed and glanced toward the door. It struck her as odd, the door to the hall not being closed. Then she remembered it being ajar when she had fallen asleep. After she had...and she wondered again, if Carson had followed her to her room, seen what she had done, heard her whisper his name? God she hoped not, she shuddered at the thought. She hoped he played his usual thanks, but no thanks card he usually threw when invited to just about anything the family had planned. Too bad he hadn't played it last night, she thought. Sitting at the same table with him was not what she wanted to do this morning. She was embarrassed enough, and hoped a few days would pass before she had to make polite conversation with him again.

The Tylenol was, in fact, in her medicine cabinet. She swallowed three tablets, one extra because her headache was a doozy. Her face was a little puffy, from all the alcohol, she knew. She splashed some cold water from the tap and patted herself dry. No time to worry about it, and no one was going to be there to see her, anyway. She dressed quickly, thankful for the casual atmosphere of Baker's. A sundress and sandals, where were her sandals from last night? She looked toward the pile of clothes she had discarded in the floor, remembering she had destroyed the pretty sarong, and that her sandals had never made it into the house. No telling where they had ended up after the cleaning crew found them. She settled for another pair from her closet and made a note to go looking for the others later when she had time.

When they got to Baker's they were right on time; Robert was a master of making an entrance. They greeted the guests, thanking them for attending the party the night before, joking it must have been tame for everyone to be able to make brunch on time. Carson was no where to be seen, not surprisingly. Jessica was relieved; she wasn't ready to face him yet. Her headache had eased, but the uneasiness she felt about looking Carson in the eye again was strong. She hoped he felt just as uncomfortable, but knew there was no reason he should. He had most certainly turned down women who had thrown themselves at him before. What would Robert think...oh, god, now she was doing it too...always what would Robert think...but she did wonder what he would think if he knew she had made a drunken pass at his brother...and been turned down? His admiration would just grow. Carson is so loyal to me he wouldn't even do my beautiful wife...not even when she threw herself at him. How lucky am I to have such an awesome brother?

She was startled out of her reverie by the sound of the chair next to her being pulled back...by Carson. So, he had made it after all. She felt her face warming, not sure if she should speak first or feign indifference. He seemed uncomfortable, but it could be simply that the assembled guests weren't his people. Robert always included him in these gatherings, but Jessica got the impression he only attended for Robert, just like most of the other people here. Robert's minions. She thought her anger from last night had evaporated with her headache, but obviously, she was mistaken. Or was she just pissed off at Carson for making her feel stupid? The anger was misdirected, she knew. She should be most angry with herself, and when the hurt was gone, she was sure that's where her anger would get directed.

"Wonderful party yesterday. I enjoyed myself."

I just bet you did, she bit her tongue before she could let that sharp remark out of her mouth. Instead, she gave him one of her company smiles, as Robert called them. She let one shoulder fall slightly, looked up, and let the corners of her mouth extend upward, causing her eyes to crinkle just enough to make her appear thoroughly charmed to be acknowledged.

"I know your being there meant a great deal to Robert," she replied.

Then, she turned away from him and pretended to be absorbed in what her husband was saying. She gave him her best company smile and made sure everyone near saw the look. Everyone. When Carson spoke, she turned her head half way, not really looking at him, but acknowledging him just enough to give the impression she was interested because he was Robert's brother, nothing more. She felt childish, and was surprised by how much last night still stung. Still, she wanted him to feel that sting, too.

"I saw you in your room last night ... after the library. When can we be alone...?"

She felt as much as heard his words against her ear. Then she felt the color drain from her face. She hoped no one else noticed. So she had been right. He was at her door, the open door. For how long? What had he seen? Or, oh, god, what had he heard? Had she called his name? She flipped back through her memories, but they were clouded by the alcohol. It was impossible to sort between fantasy and reality here, in front of all these people, sitting next to her husband. What now? Was Carson going to use what he had seen against her? What could he possibly want? He had made it clear it wasn't her. All the shit about oh, I want you but Robert...blah blah blah. So many words.

"I don't think that's a good idea," she said, her fake smile back. "Now if you'll excuse me, I need to visit the ladies room."

She leaned over and whispered to Robert she would be right back, then slipped away from the table and headed indoors. She heard her mother-in-law whisper loudly that she wondered if it was morning sickness. The nausea she had been fighting the past half hour rolled over her and threatened to expel the little bit of brunch she had managed to get down. Thank god that couldn't possibly be the case, she thought as she made her way to the small quiet bathroom. When she got there she splashed some cold water on her face and noticed her hands were shaking. How was she going to go back out there and face Carson?

Carson kept his gaze on the people around the table as Jessica departed, not wanting anyone there -- particularly her husband -- to know that he had any more interest in her than the others. He waited three or four minutes, then half stood, raised his fingers to his lips, and let out a short, hard whistle that startled each and every body around the table. He rose to full height, looked about the stunned faces, and apologized, "So, so sorry, folks. I just saw an old girl friend of mine and ... well, I..."

He stepped back from the table, apologized again -- this time specifically to Robert -- then headed through the patio cafe, letting out a whoop and a laugh toward no one in particular.

Carson circled Baker's and entered the interior seating area through the side door. He'd practically been raised her on their hamburgers and apple pie, so knowing where the Ladies Room was was a gimme. He stopped in the hall, looking out toward the dining area, and barged into the bathroom, uncaring whether or not anyone beside Jessica was in there. He could always say it was an accident; Excuse me, wrong door.

Jessica spun to face him and as she responded he seized her at the wrists and drove her back into one of the two stalls ... and pressed his mouth hard to hers in a forceful, passionate kiss.

Slow, deep breaths, Jessica chanted to herself, willing the trembling in her to subside. She knew that while she wasn't the center of attention, she would be missed, eventually, and she would have to go out and face Carson. So what? she thought. So what if he saw me masturbating? If he heard me say his name? It wasn't like he had caught me in bed with another man. He was the one who had been where he shouldn't if he had seen, or heard anything.

She was just so incredibly embarrassed, and ashamed of how she had behaved. Getting drunk, throwing herself at her brother-in-law, that was bad enough. Then, for him to witness her at that moment of complete weakness. Robert had never even seen her touch herself, which was surprising, given their circumstances.

That thought caused the color to rise in her face again, and reminded her she had better not stay gone much longer. Her nosy mother-in-law would be along any minute to check on her if she didn't reappear outside.

When the door opened she sighed, thinking she hadn't avoided her after all. She smiled before she looked up, never expecting who she saw looking at her. She blinked once, then again, thinking it must be her imagination, certainly he wouldn't have the audacity to barge in here and...

He had her by the wrists by the time she recovered her ability to speak, but when she opened her mouth to do so, she realized she had no idea what to say. She let him push her back, felt the cold metal door of one of the stalls give just as his lips came down on hers.

All of the anger evaporated in the sudden heat that rose up inside her. So he did want her, after all. The realization washed over her and she allowed herself to revel in the warmth, savor the kiss that she had been craving since the night before. His tongue coaxed hers into a heated exchange while his lips held hers tightly. The rest of her body longed to feel him, pressed hard against her, but this was not the time, or the place. Not that any time or any place was ever going to be right. Everything about this was wrong.

Carson quickly latched the stall door shut and turned back to Jessica, grasping her hands and pressing them against the stall wall by her sides. He press his mouth hard to hers again, urging her lips apart, tangling his tongue with hers. He pressed his body hard against her -- his chest to her breasts, a thigh into the gap between hers.

He wanted her so badly, right here, right now. He didn't care who she was, didn't care that she was married ... to Robert ... to his brother. He didn't care... He didn't... He...

He pulled his mouth from hers, pressing his forehead into her neck. His breathing was hard, excited; he could feel the warmth of it reflecting off her wonderfully smelling skin and back at him.

You DO care! he chastised himself. You DO care ... about Robert ... about what this would do to him, to his marriage. And Jessica. You care about her ... even more than you lust for her, dammit! What happens to her after you fuck her? Could she live with it? Even if Robert didn't find out...?

His upper thigh was still buried into her groin, moving about there as he so badly wanted to do with other parts of his anatomy. He wanted her in that state of ecstasy again, that euphoria of sexual satisfaction. He had so enjoyed watching her the night before, and he wanted to see her cum again ... and again ... and again.

But ... he knew he couldn't do that to her. He couldn't pleasure her. He wouldn't pleasure her. But...

He lifted his mouth close to her ear, whispering, "I want you to feel that good again ... like last night ... when you were with me ... I know you were thinking about me while..."

He released his grip on her wrists, reached down, and began working her dress up her thighs to her waist.

"...I want to see you like you were last night ... exploding ... speaking my name."

He hadn't actually heard Jessica murmur his name as her fingers were delving about her pussy, but he knew -- hoped -- she'd been fantasizing over him, not her husband. Carson felt the warmth of Jessica's thighs, then her hips, then her waist as he bared her lower half. He grasped at her buttocks, pulling their groins hard together.

"...I need to see you that that way again," he continued, pressing his mouth to hers for short but passionate kiss before continuing, ...You ... need to be that way again ... with me."

If he'd been in the state of mind to think about it, he likely would have assumed that she assumed he was about to have her. But he wasn't; he couldn't. Instead ...

Carson grasped her at the wrist again as he returned to kissing her ... moved her hand between their bodies, forcing her long fingers to caress the skin of her flat, firm belly ... then ... urged her fingers downward ... under the waist line of her panties.

"Be that way with me," he said suggestively.




At least ... he couldn't put her there. She could. He knew she could; he'd seen her do it. The only question was ... would she ... with him ... here ... now ... in the bathroom stall of Bakers

Everything in her head screamed NO! Not just because it was here...in a bathroom stall, where anyone could walk in. In fact, she knew they wouldn't be alone for long, someone was going to come looking for her.

He wants you, wasn't that what was bothering you? Well now you know, isn't that enough?

Of course it wasn't enough. Her body longed to be ravished, explored, consumed.

His words, spoken between kisses, caused her to recoil...

I know you were thinking about me while...

Just as she had suspected. She felt like she should be mad, feel violated, yet she didn't.

Until she realized he didn't want her...he wanted her to...

"Are you out of your fucking mind?" she hissed in his ear, even while she felt herself growing wet, never had she been so incredibly turned on than she was right now.

He was fucking with her again. He was the one who invited her to the library, he was the one who followed her to her bedroom, and then today, well, it was all him again...wasn't it?

Her finger made contact with her outer lips, parting them easily in the slick wetness. She moaned softly when she made contact with her clit.

"Be that way with me"

Now that the message was clear...he wanted to watch her...she was even more pissed off. She grabbed at his hands, pushed her hips into him hard, looked him in the face.

"You had your one free show," she hissed. "Now let me go before I scream."

"Are you out of your fucking mind?" Jessica hissed at him.

He was, of course. He was crazy with lust for her, and even worse crazy with the fantasy that he could make her pleasure her own self ... in his presence ... in a public bathroom!

"Be that way with me"

She pulled her hand away from her and out of her panties. She pushed him away, again hissing, "You had your one free show. Now let me go before I scream."

Carson moved back against the stall door, staring at her. His dick ached for her, and even more, his eyes ached to see her that way. It wasn't going to happen, though; he'd gone about this all wrong. He'd done it wrong. Hell, even contemplating that this might actually happen ... that was what was wrong, not the method but the pure madness itself.

Then, her words sounded again in his head. You had your one free show. He smiled slightly. He reached to his belt and began to unbuckle. "Is that the problem then...? You feel I haven't paid...? I'm wanting something for nothing...?"

He moved into the corner of the door and the stall wall, putting as much space between the two of them as possible as he unbuttoned, unzipped, and pulled his fully hardened erection out. With his gaze firmly upon Jessica's eyes, he began stroking himself ...

She felt a little resolve returning when her skirt was covering her again. Her panties were wet, though, no way to ignore that.

The space between them allowed Jessica room to smooth her skirt into place. She glared at him when he smiled back at her. All that arrogance she had suspected him to possess seemed to play in the corners by his mouth, and his smile turned into a leer.

*"Is that the problem then...? You feel I haven't paid...? I'm wanting something for nothing...?"*

Jessica didn't even know how to respond. Anything she had felt before this...whatever the hell it was...had changed in the close confines they now shared.

"If you think that's the problem you are no where near as smart as you think, you arrogant son of a bitch".

Damn it, it had been way too long since she had been this aroused, she was torn between feeling outraged at his proposition, and intrigued. But she wasn't going to discuss it with him here. She let him stroke himself a few more times, looked down, knowing that was exactly what he wanted her to do. She saw his hand wrapped around his erect cock, a drop of precum glistening, looked back up into his eyes, glazed over slightly, still with that look...so smug. She hated that he could read her, knew what she was missing. Knew how much she was missing it...

"Zip up your plaything." She heard herself talking, but it didn't sound like her at all. "Maybe we can reach some sort of mutual satisfaction, but it sure as hell isn't going to happen here."

She glanced back down at his exposed member, then back into his eyes.

"I have a great view of the pool from my room. If you were to be out there, say, around midnight, I might be taking in the view. No promises, mind you..."

The challenge hung in the air, and Jessica wondered if she had pushed too far the other way. Then she heard the bathroom door open, and had a more immediate dilemma on her hands.

"If you think that's the problem," Jessica snapped, "you are no where near as smart as you think, you arrogant son of a bitch".

Carson ignored her, continuing to stroke himself, longer and harder. He was sure he'd miscalculated, horribly. He'd hoped masturbating for her might be the answer, even the score, per se. But it seemed he was wrong.

"Zip up your plaything," she went on, trying to end his show.

Carson thought he detected a change in her tone; it seemed less angry and more just put out, maybe even embarrassed by his display.

Then, hope was renewed when she added, "Maybe we can reach some sort of mutual satisfaction, but it sure as hell isn't going to happen here. I have a great view of the pool from my room. If you were to be out there, say, around midnight, I might be taking in the view. No promises, mind you..."

Carson stopped masturbating, although he kept the grip upon his member. Despite the disappointment in learning this wasn't what she wanted, he'd started feeling really good, mostly because of the situation and not the actually self-pleasuring.

And then the door to the bathroom open, followed by the sound of heavy heels on the tiles. His heart leaped with panic; he'd told himself when he first came into the Ladies Room that he didn't care if he got caught, but now that he was likely to be, he realized that that had been horse shit.

For some unknown reason, he lifted the index finger of his right hand to his lips, signalling Jessica to be quiet. As soon as he'd done it, he felt idiotic, grimaced, and mouthed Sorry!

As he listened to the heels clicking across the floor, stepping down to the far sink but not apparently into the adjoining stall, he caught a questioning glare from Jessica -- and suddenly realized that he was still gripping his dick as if holding onto a fishing pole, waiting for an inevitable strike. He released his grip and...

... smiled ... smiled a wicked smile. He took a step closer to her, leaned in close, and whispered so quietly he feared that even she might not be able to hear him, "Masturbate with me tonight. Promise. Or I'll cum right here ... right now ... all over that beautiful, limited edition dress of yours. Promise me, Jess. I'll take your word."

He pulled back from her ... then, gaze set on those beautiful eyes, he reached down to his groin and took hold of his penis again ... threatening...

Jessica held her breath as she listened to the clack clack of expensive heels on the tile floor. When Carson motioned for her to be quiet she had to fight the urge to say something smart. No shit, really?

She heard a barely perceptible clinking noise, Carson's open belt buckle, and glanced down to see Carson's hand still holding his dick, it was still hard, that big drop of precum threatening to start a trail down his hand. The urge to reach down and catch the drop with her finger almost overcame her fear...she would have loved to make him squirm. But , there would be no explaining this if they were caught.

When he spoke her eyes widened, trying to hear him had her holding her breath.

*"Promise. Or I'll cum right here ... right now..."*

Paper towels, water running, click clack and the door swished open. No one else entered. Jessica breathed a sigh of relief.


Promise? Well of course she would promise anything to get him to stop...stop right now. She didn't doubt it was more than an idle threat.


"Yeah, I promise...now please, we've got to get out of here." She took one more look down at his cock, still stiff in his hand, and smiled back at him.

Her smile may not have been as wicked by outward appearances, but that was deceptive.

"Bring your best game tonight, Carson. I'll be expecting it."

Carson was simultaneously horribly disappointed and incredibly thrilled; he'd wanted so badly to see Jessica drive herself to ecstasy again here and now, but in consolation -- and, ironically, in a much better situation -- he'd get to see her do it tonight instead. That was, of course, assuming she didn't back out.

He smiled broadly and, as she'd put it, zipped up his plaything. He unlatched the door to the stall, peeked out to verify that they were alone, and opened the door, gesturing her free. But as she passed by, he quickly snatched at her, pinned her against the stall wall again and pressed his lips to her in a passionate kiss...

He might never get to fuck her ... he might never even see her touch herself again. But taste her he had to do, at least one more time.

The kiss was unexpected. She assumed their negotiations had drawn a line at any physical contact. After all, what would Robert do? Obviously, Carson wasn't as devoted to his brother as he claimed. He might not be willing to fuck his brother's wife, but he was willing to tread very close to that line. Just because they were alone now didn't mean someone wasn't on their way here now, seconds from opening the door and...

The thought both terrified and oh, fuck, turned her on. She accepted his kiss willingly, returned it. When his tongue ran across her teeth she bit down, gently at first, then hard enough to make him gasp.

Jessica couldn't remember ever biting anyone in her life. The feeling of his flesh between her teeth was...satisfying, somehow. His reaction, complete surprise, only added to this new feeling of, well, she didn't know exactly what it was. She just knew it beat the hell out of the way she felt an hour ago.

Before Carson could speak Jessica put a finger over his lips.

"Don't mess this up by saying anything. Give me a few minutes before you go back to the table."

She nudged him out of the way and walked out of the small room into the hallway. She could have told Carson the coast was clear, but she left him where he was. He had gotten in without her help, surely he could get out.

Carson flinched, jerking back at the pain and, before remembering where they were, growled, Fuck!"

He laughed, reached a finger to his mouth, pulled it away to reveal the blood leaking from his cut tongue, then laughed again as he stuck his finger back into his mouth and sucked on it suggestively.

"Don't mess this up by saying anything," Jessica commanded. "Give me a few minutes before you go back to the table."

She pushed passed him, leaving him in the Ladies Room ... contemplating how the hell their relationship had come to this. What the hell are you doing...? The day before, he was just a guy with a married brother; now he was masturbating in public with that same sibling's spouse...? He stepped out of the stall and looked into the mirror, sticking out his tongue to inspect the damage with a smile. She'd done a good job on it, the blood droplets forming as fast as he could wipe them away. He gulped down the iron-rich fluid and laughed again, turning for the door --

Just as one of the faces from his brother's brunch entered and stared at him in shock. Carson just looked about him with feigned surprise, side stepped the elegantly dressed Donor, and said with humor, "One of us ... is in the wrong restroom, wouldn't you say?"

He departed without waiting for her response, and once out the door, took a left instead of a right and returned to the sporty little hot rod that, like his bungalow, his brother had loaned him while he rebuilt his life in America.

He shot down the highway, going no where in particular, a smile on his face and his hand gently massaging his groin ... eager for the evening to come.

Brunch was winding down when Jessica made her way back to the table on the patio. Robert glanced up when she got to her chair, then stood and, quite gallantly, helped her to her seat. He bent to kiss her head and gave her a puzzled look. "You okay?" he asked her softly.

Guilt flooded over her. She was most certainly not okay. She had just made plans to rendezvous with his brother for a little after dark peep show. Nothing was okay about that.

Just hot, is all, really babe," she smiled up at him. "Maybe when we get home we could go for a swim?" she asked. They both loved the pool and used to spend most summer evenings in it before they started to drift apart.

"Sure, Jess, that sounds good. I just need to tie up the loose ends here, then we'll go," he smiled.

Robert glanced around the patio, most of the guests had started to disperse into the bright afternoon sun. He seemed to be looking for someone in particular.

"You didn't happen to see Carson back there, did you?" he asked. "I wanted him to meet someone."

Oh, yes, I saw Carson, most of him, in fact, she thought. She felt the color creeping up the back of her neck as her mind went back a few minutes, replayed the picture of him standing there, hard cock in hand, leering at her...

"I thought I saw him walking to the parking lot, but I'm not sure it was him." Not exactly a lie, just an omission and a possibility. He had left, for all she knew.

Carson stood beneath the hot, streaming water of his shower for what seemed an eternity, replaying what had happened, not just this morning at Baker's but in Jessica's room the evening before. He glanced downward, at his semi-solid dick, and wanted to grab it and beat his way to satisfaction, envisioning Jessica standing before him doing the same ... or even better, sitting atop his groin with him sunk deep inside her.

But he resisted. He was saving it up for her, wanting to put on a good show. He couldn't believe that they were going to do this; he couldn't believe that he was going to do this. Was he really going to sit in his brothers swimming pool and masturbate ... with his brother's wife?

It was like something out of a bad porno, a really bad porno. Porn stars didn't masturbate together; they fucked, and sucked, and fucked again. But ...

You can't do this, Carson! You can't go out there and pound you pud for her. You'll only want her more. You think you're doing this to KEEP yourself from fucking her ... but it'll only make it worse ... make you want her more...

He was driving himself mad, thinking about Jessica, staring at his twitching dick; the water soon began to run cold and he realized he had to get past this mayhem. Back out. Call her, tell her it off ... over.

He emerged from the shower, dried, and plopped face down onto his bed, groaning into the blanket, I want her ... so ... fucking bad.



Carson had set his alarm for 11pm, but he awoke before that to the sound of splashing and voices. He rose quickly, moving to the bungalow's window and parting the closed drapes just enough to see ...

Jessica ... and Robert ... in the pool...?

He stepped back, destroyed. What the hell is she doing? What is she doing in there with ... with...

He moved back to the window and stared out at them and after a moment laughed at himself. He was jealous, of course; jealous or envious, he could never remember which was which. But he was one, or both ... because the woman he lusted for ... was in the pool with of all people, her husband.