Beth's Seduction into Porn Ch. 02

What was she been thinking, screaming her desire for Steve when she knew how thin the walls were? What must the Nortons think?

Beth avoided both Robin and Steve the rest of the weekend and begged out of meeting Violet Sunday for lunch. The idea was to straighten things out with Vi, that whole thing about Joe, but Beth was having trouble thinking about it. She was having trouble thinking about much beyond the events of Friday night.

Beth always thought of herself as open-minded, but all day Saturday and Sunday, her thoughts were consumed by the wrongness of the things Robin said, that she said and did, and the things she discovered about herself.

Beth experimented in college—with her friend's sister, Megan—and it was a lot of fun. Shame it had to end the way it did...

There was no denying that Robin was attractive. The older woman's obvious interest was intriguing, like her awareness that her own attraction to Steve was reciprocated. And Robin and Steve were a sexy couple.

But Robin and Steve were also a married couple. That meant something, didn't it?

So what did it mean that she was interested?

The week passed in a blur. Data entry was a mindless, repetitive job, but Beth threw herself into it with a passion, forcing her eyes to focus on records and database fields instead of the sexy images her mind kept conjuring. For the most part, it worked. She volunteered for even more overtime. If she kept this up for another week, she would double her paycheck.

Beth considered curtailing her morning ritual for the week. After all, the temptation to think about Steve would be less that way, she figured. That plan worked OK Monday, but died a quick death Tuesday morning.

That morning, while in bed, she had a vision of such power, such intensity that she was halfway to orgasm when she found both hands between her legs. Was it a dream? A fantasy? She didn't know and didn't care.

She was on a small stage, the floor painted the usual matte black. Empty, cheap-looking seats stretched before her. It couldn't have seated more than 200 people, tops. Together, the lingering sweat of stage productions come and gone combined with the sawdust and cigarette smoke to produce the unmistakable smell of a theatre.

Looking down, Beth saw that she was wearing a black crepe Donna Karan evening dress and holding a leather mask. The hem of the dress was jagged; below it, a graceful pair of Nine West suede pumps. The pair of peacock feathers was a brilliant splash of color against the bone white of the mask while rhinestones formed a fanciful filigree flowing from the same spot the feathers did.

"Beth."

She turned to see a formally-attired man. His black jacket was the traditional peak collar; his tie, white. His face was obscured by an ornate mask. Similar to the familiar comedy/tragedy faces, the face of his mask was split in two, comedy on the left in white and tragedy to the right in black. But despite its familiarity, there was still something strange and threatening about it. Dark, slicked-back hair could be seen behind the mask and just beneath its edge she could see his lips pursed in a predatory smile as a shudder gripped her.

As he stepped closer with measured, confident steps, she could make out the scent of his cologne—musky and slightly spicy, it was indisputably masculine. The sound of his footfalls rang through the empty theatre as he approached, its emptiness giving them an added weight.

He seized her roughly and, pulling her quickly into an embrace, kissed her with a savage passion. The ferocity of this welcome assault was itself intensely erotic and was made more so by the contrast between his behavior and his elegant attire.

He positioned himself carefully as they embraced so he could lean her back in a slow dip with ease. From this position, as he continued covering her in kisses, his free hand pulled up the hem of her dress. She could first feel, then hear, his appreciative growl as his hand continued up past her knees, coming finally to her soft, trimmed down. With a flick of his wrist, he flipped the edge of the dress up past her thighs.

Beth gasped as his mouth made its way down her cheek. He lightly ran the edge of his teeth along her neck.

"Open your eyes and look at your audience," he purred softly in a rich, oddly familiar baritone.

She did and was shocked to see people in the seats, where mere moments before, they were empty. It took several seconds to realize that she was exposed. She was about to pull her dress down when he nuzzled up to her ear again.

He pulled her hands away and thrust two fingers in her. He growled, "Don't do that. Don't you want them to look?" As he said this, he slowly allowed the edge of one finger to brush against the center of her passion. "Can't you see just how exciting you're finding this? Can't you feel it?"

Beth's long, jagged moan escaped before she knew it. "No, I can't..." Her hands stretched down to fix her dress.

He added a third finger now and bringing them together began a torturous, exquisite exploration of her exposed lower mouth, cutting short any further protest as her arms fell weakly to her sides.

"You like what I'm doing, don't you?"

Beth could only nod weakly as his hand destroyed her ability to think. With each agonizingly leisurely stroke, she gasped and moaned as he delved just slightly deeper than the time before.

"Tell me."

"Mm...I love what you're doing to me."

He chuckled cruelly. "Of course you do. Do you care that there's someone watching you?"

"Uh—well..."

Suddenly, his hand thrust all the way in, forcing her to gasp. "No! I don't care who's watching me!"

Picking up the pace, he began to ravage her with his hand properly now. "Good. Now, give them a better view."

She went rigid. "O god no, please please please don't make me do this."

He chuckled as he started going faster. "Make you? You want to do this."

With a groan, she silently spread her legs wide.

As he kept going faster, Beth became aware of the wet, slurping sounds of his hand as it became almost deafening. She could feel the crescendo building quickly—the knowledge that people were watching this, staring at her most intimate part being ravished was thrilling, intoxicating.

Everything quickly spun out of focus when he suddenly stopped. Beth gasped in surprise. "No! Don't stop!"

"Are you sure you want these two hundred some-odd people to watch and hear your orgasm?"

"God, I don't care, just please don't stop!"

"Tell me you want it."

A strangled cry erupted from her. "Yes, please make me cum in front of the audience! I want them to see and hear me cumming from you finger-fucking my pussy! Please, I need your hand in me again, I'll do anything!"

He looked at Beth with a strange and frightening intensity. He growled, "Yes you will."

With that, he thrust his hand inside her again. Her orgasm was upon her before she even knew it, a tsunami sweeping away her thoughts, her feeling, and perhaps one or two scruples. As Beth became aware of the musk of her own arousal drowning out the theatre smell, her lover gently lowered her to the stage and walked away.

"Until later," he purred. He flashed that predatory smile again and walked off-stage.

No, the plan didn't last very long at all.

For the next two days, from the time she got home until she fell asleep, her thoughts were completely consumed by her new fantasy and renewed guilt. Adding to the confusion was the fact that the Nortons were quiet this week. The silence was unwelcome, but not as unwelcome as her reaction to it. Did she upset them? Did they change their minds? Did they hate her?

Violet called Thursday and sensed something was wrong, but Beth didn't want to talk about it—how could she explain it to her? How could she start? She couldn't even explain it to herself!

So it was a surprise when during lunch on Friday, her phone rang as she was trying to figure out what to make for dinner. Looking at the caller ID, she saw it was Robin. She decided to let it go to voicemail.

When she checked her messages a few minutes later, she was surprised by Robin's message.

"Hi Beth, it's Robin. Steve and I would like you to join us for dinner tonight. We think we should talk. We'll cook if you bring the wine. I know you're screening your calls, but give me a buzz. I think you owe it to yourself to hear what we have to say."

The next ten minutes were pure torture; there was no other word for it. Beth knew she needed to talk to someone about what happened last week. She couldn't tell Vi. None of her other friends would understand it.

The Nortons were the only ones who would. Could she face them? No, that was impossible. But what did Robin mean when he said Beth owed it to herself?

After going back and forth countless times, she finally called Robin back. Grateful that it went to the answering machine, Beth said cheerily, "Hi, it's Beth. Thanks for the invitation and I'll see you tonight!"

As she listened to Beth leaving the message, Robin smiled to herself. Curiosity and isolation: were there two better weapons? Robin reflected idly on what to make for a side dish and took another a sip of her coffee.

Beth pulled out of the liquor store parking lot, two bottles of Chianti resting on the floor of the passenger seat. There wasn't any return call from Robin, and Beth almost fooled herself into believing that she was too busy to try calling to confirm.

She considered changing, but what was the point? If she was casual, it would send a nice, relaxed tone for dinner, right? The black jeans were OK and they looked good on her. The pin striped dress shirt with the French cuffs—OK, maybe that was a bit much, but what the hell. The oxblood mules would help keep it casual.

So it was a real surprise when she knocked on the Nortons' door to find Steve in a suit. Then he flashed that incredible smile and Beth got a little weak in the knees.

Damn but he looked good! His suit was gray with black pinstripes and under it were a white shirt, metallic tie and black slacks. It looked very Calvin Klein, as did his shoes. As always, some stray dark hairs covered his eyes slightly but that just made them all the more piercing. A little stubble was starting to come in on his cleft chin and while she normally thought stubble looked messy, with Steve it just made him sexy. Yummy, even.

"Um...hi?"

"Beth, hey, it's good to see you again! Come on in! Honey, Beth brought some Chianti."

Robin called from the kitchen. "Hi, Beth! Steve, why don't you take the wine and pour us some? Beth was asking last week about the flat-panel, by the way, so maybe you could talk about that?"

"That's right, you told me. Hey Beth, why don't you follow me towards the kitchen? I'll open up one of the bottles and in the meantime, we can talk computer stuff."

To listen to them, they seemed like a perfectly normal, everyday couple. There was no hint that there was anything at all unusual about them. Perhaps that's what made them so odd.

Beth followed Steve to the kitchen as he explained about the monitor. "It's a 19 inch monitor, which really gives you as much viewing area as a traditional 20 inch monitor because you don't lose anything at the edges of the screen. This particular model is rated very highly by a couple of magazines..."

She was having some difficulty following because she couldn't look at him: the man in her dreams wore the same cologne: musky and slightly spicy. The memory of it brought her right back to that theatre and the shocking things she imagined doing. She caught herself absently stroking the spot on her neck where her dream lover ran his teeth. She knew that scent was a powerful trigger of memories—

It was Steve. Smelling his cologne forced her to realize the truth: it was Steve in her dream: the same lips, same cologne, same cat-like manner...

"Um, Beth?"

She turned to look at Steve, who was looking at her worriedly. "You OK?"

"Sorry, Steve. Must be work on the brain—I should say hi to Robin: I'll be right back, OK?"

"Sure, we can talk about this later." He looked at her inquisitively but she ignored it.

Beth willed herself to walk away from Steve and couldn't help but luxuriate in the weight of his gaze on her as she walked away from him and entered the kitchen.

Robin was wearing a crimson blouse with the sleeves rolled up and a pair of long black shorts that looked like they might be microfiber. The blouse really accentuated her green eyes and her hair looked fantastic, as always: that pixie cut really suited her. Beth looked at it wistfully, wishing her hair could do that.

Robin was just closing the door to the oven when Beth greeted her. "Hi!"

Her hostess jumped almost a foot before she turned to look. "Beth! Jeez, you scared me out of my skin," she laughed. "Hey, that's a nice look for you," she added after a moment.

"Thanks! I wasn't sure how this would look, exactly."

"It looks great!" Robin gave her a big hug. "I'm glad you came."

So it was pleasant niceties for now, Beth reflected. Given the reception she got from them, it seemed like they weren't angry or anything—a depressing thought, really, since that meant she spent the entire week flogging herself for nothing. So what were they going to say?

"No way," Beth gasped.

Steve continued, "No, really! She had no idea! So there she is, at the chalkboard for about ten seconds, before she turned and realized—"

"—that my skirt wasn't exactly lying flat in the back—" supplied Robin.

"—when she saw the reactions of the others in the class," he finished.

"I would have been mortified!"

Robin laughed as she poured more wine. "I was for a few moments, but realized that there was nothing I could do to change it, so why let it bother me? Besides, two of my classmates asked me out after."

"Really?"

"And you're looking at one," Steve added casually.

"That's a hell of a way to meet your future wife!"

"But hey, if that's what it takes..." Robin purred while giving Beth a knowing look.

The couple chuckled and nuzzled for a bit as Beth looked on. They seemed so happy together. There was something so innocent about the way they were with one another. If it hadn't been genuine, it would have been revolting, Beth concluded as she took another sip of Chianti.

"So, thanks for dinner, guys, it was delicious."

"Well, cooking for two is hardly different from cooking for three," said Robin as she passed Steve the bread.

Steve took a slice of Italian bread as he passed it on to Beth. "Besides, she practically does anyway: I do tend to eat a lot."

"'A lot'? No, honey: a professional athlete eats 'a lot'. You, you're a whole team!"

They both chuckled at that: it was obviously something they joked about often. The mood shifted slightly as a look passed between them and Robin took a sip of wine. She paused for a moment before beginning. "Beth, why were you avoiding us this week?"

Caught slightly off-guard, Beth responded, "It's work, I've been putting in a lot of overtime—"

Steve smiled gently and Beth fought not to lose herself in it. "Come on, Beth: that's an excuse, not a reason, isn't it? You agreed to come, so we couldn't have made you very uncomfortable or angry. So we're a little curious: what was it?"

"No, no! Steve, it isn't anything like that! It's just that—it's that, well..."

Robin turned to gaze at her as her eyes narrowed in thought. "You thought we would be upset for having heard you last weekend?"

Beth hoped it was just the wine that made her cheeks feel so warm just now. "What are you talking about?"

Robin smiled and flashed Steve a satisfied smirk. He grudgingly pulled out his wallet. "You win, honey."

Beth stared at them. "Wait a second—you...knew? You guys fucking knew?!"

Steve looked at her innocently. "Knew what, Beth?"

"That...God, I've been feeling terrible all week!"

Robin chimed in, "I told you that you owed it to yourself, didn't I?"

"OK, so...there's really nothing to feel bad about?"

They looked at one another, then at her. "Nope," they chirped in unison as they beamed at her.

Beth took another drink of wine. All that anxiety and guilt...for nothing! But still, there was Steve's appearance in that dream that was haunting her all week.

Beth took a deep breath. "You know, if you guys weren't so genuinely nice, that would be really, really disgusting."

Both doubled over in laughter. As Steve howled, Robin managed to gasp, "Yeah...we get that a lot." It was such a relief to learn that things were going to be OK. Steve was laughing so hard that it proved infectious—before long, Beth too was giggling.

"So how did you guys get into it?"

Beth desperately hoped she didn't sound too curious by asking. It just didn't seem like the idea to make and sell one's own adult videos was one that occurs to most couples.

Steve and Robin shared a look, seemingly asking one another who should answer. Robin eventually nodded. "It goes back a bit. We always thought it would be interesting to see what we looked like on film. Given what Steve does for a living, it wasn't hard to find some equipment to use. So that's precisely what we did."

"Looking back on it," Steve continued, "I guess it's one of those things where you wonder why you never thought of it before, but to make a long story short, we got the idea from an actual adult movie. It was kinda forgettable, and we decided that we could do better ourselves—"

"—so we did," Robin finished. "I mean, I may not be as young as some of the women, but I know that I can turn heads, so at first, we started making the videos just for ourselves. Then one of Steve's co-workers happened to mention that amateur videos were really popular. We crunched the numbers, and it seemed like fun.

"And now, about three dozen men and women are getting off on watching us," added Steve. "I have to say, it's kinda hot, knowing that."

Sitting back in her chair at the table, Beth crinkled her nose. "Really? You like that?"

With a broad smile, Steve also sat back and put his arm around Robin. "Sure! My wife is so hot that there are guys jerking off about her across 5 time zones. I mean, come on, what's not sexy about that?"

"Besides," Robin added archly, "I like the anonymity of the fantasy."

Beth looked at her quizzically. "The 'anonymity of the fantasy'?"

"See, they don't know what I really look like. Steve edits out any distinguishing features or alters them so that it looks like someone else entirely."

"Isn't that a lot of work?"

"You might think so," allowed Steve, "but since we rarely shoot either of our faces anyway, it doesn't wind up being as much as you might expect. So this way, you get the thrill of danger but without any real risk."

"Wait: so there's really no way someone could recognize you two?"

"No: it would be impossible. Not enough facial features are in the videos. Remember, I do deal with this sort of thing for a living."

Beth fell silent for a moment so Steve took the opportunity to top off her wine.

Robin looked at her silently. "You know, Beth—"

"—hm? Sorry, Robin, I kinda spaced out there for a moment, didn't I?"

"It's OK. So...are you seeing anyone these days?"

"Hm? Oh...no, not really. It's just hard to meet people."

"I can imagine," murmured Robin. "Steve honey, we're running low on wine. Would you be a dear—"

"—I was just getting up to see to it, dear," he grinned. "I'll be back in about or fifteen minutes. Requests?"

Robin looked to Beth, who shrugged. The older woman thought for a moment before also shrugging. "I'm sure whatever you get will be fine, honey."

"OK. Back in a bit." He leaned in and gave Robin a kiss, then, with a wave, strode briskly to the door. Beth couldn't help admire the view of Steve leaving. The slacks really did nice things for his butt. She sighed briefly, then turned back to face Robin only to realize with a shock that Robin witnessed her ogling.