Discovering Allison Ch. 7 & 8

Chapter 7: Commitment

Randi headed for work secure in the knowledge that things would be different on Monday. Having been the bearer of good news (as well as excellent blackmail material) Randi was now going to be rewarded by the new boss of Westman and Associates; Mrs. Westman.

While John would still run the company, he would be doing so at the orders of his wife, Pam. Randi now remembered numerous instances where Pam had talked about "what the company needed." Now it appeared she would have her chance to enforce her will. That wasn’t the only area where she’d be enforcing her will, either. Randi almost felt sorry for John when he got back from his trip.

He headed for his office and pulled up the email account he had given to Allison. It was now 2:50. She had ten minutes to reply accepting the mysterious command to be a slut for the evening. The seconds ticked away and Randi tried to remain patient.

Randi almost wished he had AOL when the message finally came. Something about the innocent voice of "You have mail" seemed to be incredibly exciting given what he knew would be the contents of the message.

Two words: I accept.

It was all Randi could do not to masturbate right there to relieve the sexual tension. Instead, he called Allison at home.

--

Alison was in tears when the phone rang. "Hello," she said.

"Hi honey," Randi said. "I know what I want to do tonight."

"Oh shit."

"What," Randi asked.

"Something has come up," Allison said, completely unprepared as she had forgotten about their plans. She tried to think quickly. "Sally needs me really badly right now. I can’t really go into it because I promised not to tell but I really need to do this as a friend. Do you trust me?"

"Of course I trust you honey," Randi said.

For the first time, Allison felt truly guilty and hated herself. "I’ll call you if I can," she said. "Are you going to be alright?"

"I’ll think of something," he said. As he did, he could hear the doorbell to their house ring. He found it hard to sound depressed with the smile on his face; a smile put there because he knew who was at the door.

"Hang on honey."

"Okay," Randi said.

Allison opened the door and was confronted by a deliveryman.

"Delivery. Sign here," the young twenty-something said, oozing apathy. Allison signed as quickly as possible with no clue what she was signing for.

"What is it honey," Randi asked.

"A delivery, hang on and I’ll see what it is," she said. "It’s addressed to me."

As Allison opened the rectangle box, she dropped the phone in horror. Inside was a short black dress, silk top with spaghetti straps, thigh-high stockings and high heels and a note: "I want my slut to dress appropriately tonight. See you in two hours and fifty minutes."

"Hello," Allison could hear Randi saying in the distance. She scurried to retrieve the phone. "Are you alright?"

"Yea."

"So what is it," Randi asked.

"What was what?"

"The package silly. What was it?"

"Oh just some work stuff," Allison said. "Honey, I have to get ready. I love you."

She hung up the phone just before collapsing from the strain.

Chapter 8: Into The Unknown

The address turned out to be a very nice neighborhood split evenly between rental units and homeowners. The house in question looked like a two-bedroom rental unit. It was not an area where Allison’s outfit would go unnoticed. In fact, there were very few places she imagined it would.

She waited in her car until she saw no cars coming or foot traffic and bolted for the door. She heard a dog barking and ran even faster, mortified at the idea of being seen. Thankfully, she made it to relative safety of the porch and hid behind some waist high bushes. As she caught her breath and tried to find the courage to ring the doorbell, she heard a cellular phone ringing. She searched around frantically eventually seeing a phone laying on the ground.

Attached to the phone by a piece of ribbon was a note: "Answer me."

Frantic lest the ringing draw attention, she did.

"Hello Allison, Are you ready to begin?"

"Who is this," Allison asked not recognizing the distorted voice.

"You haven’t answered my question. Are you ready to begin?"

"Yes," she said. "I’m here. Do you want me to come in?"

"Before you do, I think you should know what’s expected of you. In the mailbox, you will find a video recorder. Your assignment is to convince the young man inside that you need to record him having sex with you. Should you fail to motivate him, your husband will be informed. Do you understand?"

"You want me to have sex with this guy and videotape it to prove I did," Allison said. "And he doesn’t know anything about this?"

"That’s correct."

"Is that it," Allison asked, relieved that this might be much easier than she had imagined.

"Yes, that is it. When you are done, you will leave the recorder in the mailbox. Oh, one more thing, the man in question is dating a very attractive woman who is coming to visit tonight. Of course, I am sure an enterprising person like you will come up with a way to convince him to change his plans. When you see him, you are to ask him this exact question: 'Are you all talk or can you really do all those things you said you wanted to do to me?"

The phone clicked and Allison realized that things were not as easy as they seemed. Just then, she could hear movement inside the house.

Allison didn't know it but Randi knew the man living at the house casually. He was a friend of a friend and they had spent some time drinking a few times at a friend's house, the last time being a couple of days ago.

The guy's name was Patrick and he worked sporadically as a painter, when he wasn't too busy smoking pot, surfing or trying to pick up on 18-year-olds; which is socially acceptable when you're in your 20s. Unfortunately, Patrick wasn't.

Patrick had seen a picture of Allison at the friend's house once and commented on her fuckability. When Randi didn't say anything, he went into a twenty minute speech detailing each and everything he would do to her. It seemed that Patrick's tastes (and his estimation of Allison's flexibility and depravity) were excessive.

At the friend's house, the guy had also described his schedule. He had a girlfriend that he had been seeing for about a week. He talked about how great it was; she came by at 7:00 o'clock like clockwork. They fooled around for a few hours and she was gone in time for him to watch Letterman in bed alone.

Randi had asked him if the girl found the relationship fulfilling. Patrick looked at him funny and said "Who cares. She comes over. I fuck her. She doesn't. I find someone else. There are lots of women who just like sex. Of course, you're the type of guy they like to marry so you wouldn't know that. They're too busy trying to trap you. Me, they realize I have no prospects, no money and no big future. Me, they just want to fuck."

That conversation had come back into his head in stereo frequently in the past day or so. Randi now understood that most women probably did like to fuck and be just as dirty as men. The problem was that Randi wasn't the type of guy they wanted to be dirty with.

So, instead, Randi sat watching as his wife stood naked on Patrick's porch as the door opened. Randi thought the look on Patrick's face was priceless; like seeing a grown man finding out the Easter Bunny really was real.

The shock wore off and Randi watched the two talking. Then, Patrick opened the door and motioned Allison inside. Randi wished he could watch but knew there would be time to watch her in action later. For now, he just wanted her to get used to taking directions....

To Be Continued...