Sharing Susan Ch. 03

Susan comes home late after a showing a house to a new client. As soon as she walks in, I can tell she is frustrated by the way she throws down her purse and kicks off her pumps. "Oh god, that last one was such as asshole," she sighs.

"Tough day?" I ask her. I'm in the kitchen, steaming vegetables and grilling a fish, and she walks over and pecks me on the cheek.

"The worst," she says. "The Wilson closing took forever, the lawyer was late, and then this guy that wants to see the house up in sunset hills delays, keeps me waiting around, and then barely does more than walk through the front door before he starts telling me how much he hates the house, and the whole time I catch him just staring at me in all these weird ways," she says.

"I'm sorry your day was so difficult," I sympathize with her. "Here, sit down," I say. She does, and I serve our dinner, and we eat quietly, not saying much at all. After forty minutes or so, I tell her that I am on a deadline, and will have to work late. She nods, it is so familiar, and says she is going up stairs.

I do the dishes, and then I disappear into my office. I work a bit, typing a few sentences on the grant, but mostly I'm am just waiting to hear the phone ring. Waiting for Ray to call her. I keep glancing at the time, and then at the extension. The time crawls by until finally, at exactly 11:05, the shrill bells of both the princess phone upstairs in the bedroom and the red extension line in my office begin to shriek at once. I can feel my heart racing, and on the second ring Susan picks up. As gently as I can, I lift the heavy receiver off its cradle, cover the mouthpiece, and press the phone to my ear.

"Is this Susan?" I hear Ray ask.

"Yes, who is this?" she asks, suspiciously.

"Susan, I don't know if you will remember me. We met a few months ago, just after Christmas," he begins, gently.

"Really? Where did we meet?" she asks. I can tell from her tone that she is both annoyed to be called so late, and suspicious, probably thinking it is one of her real estate clients.

"Well, its a bit awkward, I feel so forward, but it was at a small hotel. My name is Ray. You, your husband and I all shared a drink" he says, warmly.

"How did you get this number?" she asks. Her voice is sharp, suspicious.

"Well, no mystery," he says. "I remembered your names, Susan and James Salters, and you both said you lived there in Cedar Rapids, so I just called information. You're in the book, as they used to say," he chuckles.

"I see," she says. Not as sharp a tone, but still very weary. "And what is it you want?"

"Well, I have kept thinking about our very unexpected and pleasant night," he says. "And how much I enjoyed spending time with you and James, and I just wanted to call, to see if we could maybe all be friends," he says.

"Ray, it was very nice to meet you, and I'm sure that you are a very nice person, but that just is not going to happen," she says. Her voice stern.

"Susan," Ray pauses, "I can imagine how rude it must seem, me just phoning you up like this. Let me apologize. I've had a little bit to drink tonight, and I really just wanted to say hello to you, and to tell you just how much I enjoyed meeting you, and James, too," he says, and his voice is gentle and charming.

"Really, you enjoyed meeting James, too," she says, a bit sarcastically.

"I did," he replies, smoothly. "He is a very articulate man, and I enjoyed talking with him, and I think he enjoyed it, too," he tells her.

"I think I know what you really want, Ray. I've run into men like you all my life," Susan says, her voice not so stern, a bit of humor there, I can tell, though I doubt Ray can hear this like I can.

"I'll be totally honest with you Susan," he says. "I have been thinking about you. How could I not? I feel like you gave me a real gift on that lonely night, sharing a little time with me, and, if you'll pardon my saying it, sharing your really stunning beauty with me, too," he says.

"Aren't you married Ray?" she says, sternly again. "I seem to remember you wearing a ring," she says. "Where is your wife?" she asks flatly.

"Susan, my wife of 20 years died last year," Ray says, his voice quiet.

"Bullshit," Susan says.

"No, not at all," he says. I am shocked as I listen in on the extension in my office. There is the change in his voice. If he is acting, it is very good, he seems almost choked-up, and I press the phone to my ear. I do seem to remember him wearing that wedding ring, but I can't remember what he said about it. He certainly wasn't grieving when we talked earlier, and now I'm sure he is lying to her.

"Really?" she says. "You know Ray, this is a very old line," but I can tell Susan believes him, there is a softening in her voice, a warming.

"She died unexpectedly," Ray explains. "A drunk driver hit our car."

"I'm sorry to hear that Ray," she says, with real openness now. "I guess that kind of explains why you are dialing my number late on a Tuesday night when you should be in bed, and when James might have answered the phone," she points out.

"Will you have a drink with me Susan?" Ray asks.

"Its late, Ray," she says, on guard, but still with a warm voice. "Look, I had a really tough day, and James is downstairs working," Susan tells him.

"Please Susan?" he asks, playfully. "I'm pouring myself a vodka, and I would really like it if you would have a drink with me and tell me your troubles," Ray says. She hesitates, and I can hear her shifting on our bed, upstairs.

"You know, I'm not really a drinker, Ray," Susan replies.

"Just one?" he pleads.

"Alright, hang on" she tells him. "I have to go down to the kitchen." I hear her put the phone down on the nightstand, and she comes downstairs. I put the extension down, quietly, out of sight, and I hear her knock quietly on my office door. It opens, and she peeks in. "How are you doing honey?" she asks me.

"Its hard going," I tell her. "But I'll probably be done by two or so with any luck," I say, turning casually back to the flashing cursor on my screen.

"I'm going to have a nightcap and turn in," she says, "Want one?"she asks.

"Wow, you did have a hard day," I say. "Enjoy it, I need to stay clear and get this done, thanks though," I say, hoping she will think I'm absorbed in my work. She closes the door, and I hear her in the kitchen, and then the rattle of ice and a glass, and her footsteps returning upstairs. I pick up the extension, and press my ear to it.

"Are you still there," she says into the phone. I can hear the rattle of the ice from her drink through the line.

"Yes, I am," says Ray, "waiting for you."

"You must be very lonely, and probably a little weird," she tells him.

"I am lonely Susan, but you are the first person that made me think there is still something waiting for me, maybe" he says very gently.

"Don't get your hopes up, Ray," she says. "I'm just having a drink with you."

"I hope you don't think I'm too forward," he says. "But I think that maybe you are a little lonely yourself tonight, and that's why we are talking. Where is James, if I might ask," he says.

"Working late," she tells him flatly, downstairs in his office, so don't get any ideas" she says, but I can hear the smile in her voice.

"Ah, I see," Ray says.

"I've had a really tough day, Ray, and you seem like a nice guy and all, and you've obviously had a really bad year, but I really should go," she says suddenly.

"At least finish your drink with me," he asks. There is silence on the line, a very long pause.

"Ok, one drink," she says. Again I hear the rattle of ice as she takes more of the vodka. I hear Ray drinking, too.

"Did you enjoy the night we met, Susan," he asks, his voice firm, strong. Again, there is a pause, and then the sound of Susan sipping her drink.

"I did Ray," she admits. "But come on, that was just one of those things that happen in an odd situation like that."

"I thought that you did enjoy it," he says. "Now tell me if I'm wrong, but I think that in that moment, totally anonymous, you felt free and alive, in part because you didn't have to think about what everybody in that small town might think about how you felt or how you acted. I know you must get a lot of unwanted attention. I bet since high school you've been very modest, always doing the right thing, never flaunting yourself," he says.

"You have no idea Ray," she says. "I have to be so careful, I need to protect myself, and James, and our family when we have one. I think about that all the time, and men are so disgusting," she says.

"But you know how beautiful you are," Ray replies. "And I know you enjoyed sharing that with me, and to me it was a real gift. A memory I really treasure," he tells her.

There is silence on the end, and I wonder if she is about to hang up on him. It seems like it, as if both Ray and I are holding our breath. Then, we both hear the rattle of ice in her glass.

"I. . . Ray," she begins. "Its hard to admit, but. . . I did, but look, I"m married, where do you think this could go?" she asks.

"Did you talk to James about it. How did he feel?" Ray asks.

"Oh, I don't know" Susan replies. "I think he was excited by it, a bit, but I would never put him in that kind of position," she says firmly.

"You know what I think, Susan" he says. "I think he really enjoyed seeing you so free, and alive, and so beautifully sexy," Ray tells her, and I'm amazed at how smoothly he is leading her down this path.

"Maybe," she says, with just a bit of the sing-song lilt of vodka in her voice now.

"What are you thinking right now, Susan?" he asks.

"I was remembering the hot tube" she says flatly, almost as if she doesn't want to say it.

"Me too," Ray replies. "Susan, tell me what you are wearing, right now," he commands her.

"You can't be serious," she says.

"You want to. Tell me, Susan," he says, so firmly.

"I'm wearing a blue, silk wrap dress, very modest. I wore it at work today," she says.

"Surely you are wearing something underneath it?" he says, playfully, a smile in his voice.

"A white maidenform bra, and white satin full-back panties," she says, a bit of a catch in her voice. "Not very sexy, Ray," she says.

"That is a very serious bra, isn't it Susan?" he continues.

"Yes," she says, flatly.

"I bet the underwire is digging into you, and straps are cutting into your shoulder," he says. "I bet that bra is keeping you all together, making sure nothing moves too much, that you don't distract anyone," he tells her.

"Yes." she says, in almost a whisper.

"Take off your bra, Susan. It's time to get a little more comfortable after your hard day," he tells her.

"Come on Ray, really?" she says.

"Take it off, or hang up," he says. He thinks he has her, but I can't believe it, and I think that she is about to hang up, but she stays on the line, and I hear the rattle of the ice in her drink again. And, then I hear her shifting, around.

"Are you taking off that dress," he asks?

"Yes," she whispers.

"Mmmmmmmmmmmmmm, I'm imagining you Susan, taking off your dress, and now I want you to reach back and unhook your bra," he tells her.

"Yes, I'm unhooking it now," she murmurs, her breathing heavier in in the phone.

"Let it fall to the floor," Ray commands her, "and then slide your panties over that round ass and down those gorgeous legs" he tells her.

"I wish you could really see me" she whispers. "I'm sliding my panties off," she tells him.

"I'm imagining you, Susan, and I want you to feel like I am right in the room with you," he says, warmly, his voice husky now.

"I feel it," she says.

"Good. Tell me you have just stripped for me," he commands her.

"I just stripped for you," she whispers. Her voice shaky, and it is hardly audible to either Ray or me.

"More, Susan, say it. Tell me," he commands her.

"I just stripped for you, Ray," she says, firmly.

"That's it," he encourages her. "It feels good Susan, being able to share yourself like this. You've been keeping it together for so long, being so modest when you know what that body is, what power you have, how gorgeous you are. You are safe with me, Susan, and you can give in to what you are even afraid to admit you desire. I know you are wet, Susan. Touch yourself," he tells her.

"Oh God . . . "she says.

"That's it. It feels good, doesn't it," he asks.

"Yes," she admits to him.

"Slow Susan, don't cum yet. You are going to do something for me," he tells her.

"What?" she asks breathlessly.

"Susan, I want you to follow my exact instructions. If you don't, I'll hang up, and you will never hear from me again. Understand?" he says.

"What do you want me to do," she asks.

"I want you to dress in your sexiest bra and panties, the ones you had a fantasy about when you bought them, but I bet you have never worn since, even for James," he says.

"Ray, I. . . I," Susan doesn't know how to reply. I can tell that she is confused, and I am surprised. Does she have fantasies like that?

"Don't resist Susan, do it, like I know you want to do it," he says. Through the phone, I hear her moving, and then her dresser drawer opening.

"I'm putting on a sheer, lacy white thong, and a matching white bra, both are just almost completely see-thru," she tells him.

"What did you imagine when you bought them?" he asks.

"I've never told anyone this," she says. "But. .. oh god, I can't believe I'm going to admit this. . . I've had this fantasy, since I was in high school, of being a cheap stripper. . . I've never even told James that," she says. I am shocked to hear her say it as I listen, pressing the phone to my ear. I had no idea that my demure, always modest wife could imagine herself like a stripper, or that she would want to.

"Then you have the shoes to go with your outfit, don't you Susan?" Ray says, confidently.

"Yes," she whispers.

"What do they look like?" he asks.

"Clear acrylic plastic platforms with a six inch heel," she tells him. I had no idea Susan had shoes like that. I can't believe that she has had this secret fantasy life. I thought I was the only one dreaming about something more than just our marriage. I am excited by it, but also scared suddenly realizing how much Susan has kept hidden from me.

"Oh, that is so sexy my little stripper," he purrs into the phone. "Put them on," he tells her. I hear the closet door open upstairs, and I know that Susan is getting the shoes she has kept hidden from me.

"I'm wearing the shoes for you, Ray" she says into the phone. Her voice is different now, higher, breathier, sexy. I've never heard Susan speak in this voice before.

"Oh, very nice Susan, this is very good, but you know, every stripper has a stage name. Do you have a stage name?"

"Yes," she says in this new, impossibly sexy voice, talking like she is Marilyn Monroe or someone.

"What is it?" he demands.

"My name is Pamela," she tells him. Her voice a high, breathy sing-song that drips with sexual submission, and suddenly I feel like my wife is gone and the sexiest, most available stripper imaginable is waiting for Ray in a private room, except that it is my bedroom and she is my wife of eleven years, Susan. I can't believe he is bringing this out of her, that she must have been thinking of herself secretly as Pamela for years in her most intimate fantasy.

"Now Pamela, I want you to put on your sluttiest lipstick," he tells her.

"Yes," she tells him in that amazing new voice. "I'm going to get made up for you Ray," she says. Even through the phone, I can hear her heels clicking on the bathroom tiles.

"Now, Pamela. . . my sexy little stripper, you are so hot, I want you to feel how hot you are," Ray tells her. "I want you to feel like you are about to go on stage and perform, showing that body, grinding those hips and shaking your tits for all those men. You can feel them looking at you, wanting you, you know you are working them up, making their cocks throb just by walking past them. And then I am going to pick you out and take you back to a private room to really dance for me," he tells her.

"Oh god," she moans.

"Thats it Pamela, this is what you really need," he tells her. "Now, I want you to do something Pamela, and you have to do what I say, ok little stripper?" he says.

"Anything," she coos into the phone.

"Promise me, little stripper, are you ready?" he asks.

"Yes," she says.

"I want you to go down, and bring James up with you, and I want you to ask him to fuck you," he tells her.

"I. . . ." her voice shifts, back into the voice of Susan, "I can't do that. . . this . . .it isn't right," she says.

"Pamela, listen," he says. "He is a man, and he wants this as much or more than you do, trust me you little stripper. Bring him up, and when he is in the room, pick the phone back up," he stops speaking, and there is silence. "Do you want me to hang up, Pamela?" he asks.

"No" she whispers into the phone.

"Then do it, stripper, you silly little dancer" he says. I hear Pamela put the phone down, and upstairs, I can hear our bedroom door open. I quickly hang up the extension in its cradle and turn to my screen, as if I am working. A long moment passes, and then I hear her in her heels descending the stairs, and then she knocks softly on my office door.

"Honey,' she says, I have a little surprise for you," she says. She opens the door, and I can't believe how sexy she is. I've never seen her like this, her mouth is overdrawn with bright red lipstick, even her eyes made up with shadow, the heels force her to carry her shoulders back, her breasts seeming to thrust forward, the white bra and panties making her look like an absolute little fuck toy instead of a modest, professional woman.

"Oh my god!" I say. "Baby, you look amazing, I can't believe it, wow," I look her up and down.

"Come upstairs with me," she says, in almost the Pamela voice. She reaches out to take me by the hand, and she leads me up to our bedroom. I'm shaking as she does it, knowing what is waiting, but I know she must be even more nervous, thinking I don't know.

"Honey," she says. "I don't want you to be mad, but there is someone on the phone, and I think you should say hello," she tells me. She hands me the phone, and I press it to my ear.

"Hello James. I think you remember me?" Ray asks.

"Yes, I remember you very well, Ray," I say.

"Good, now give the phone back to Susan," he tells me. I do, and she presses it to her ear, and then she starts to tell me things.

"Sit on the bed, baby," she says in her high voice. I do, and she starts to grind in front of me, beginning to give me a lapdance, and I can't quite hear what he is saying, but Ray is clearly giving her instructions. She reaches down, unbuckles my belt, undoes the top button of my jeans, and frees my cock, which is throbbing and dripping. "Oh my god, you are so fucking hard," she hisses into the phone. "Do you want to fuck this little stripper," she asks me, as she puts her free hand on my shoulder and straddles me.

"Yes. . . . Yes, I want to fuck you till you cum," I tell her.

"Oh pull my panties aside, and feel how wet my cunt is," she says, and she is so close with the phone I can hear Ray, telling her what to say.

"God, I've never felt you so wet," I tell her.

"I need to be fucked baby, fill me up like a wet little slut," she hisses. As she says it, I grab her hips and push into her, sliding into her hot wet cunt.

"Oh, fuck, you are so hot, ride me, ride me," I say. I can hardly keep from cuming, and I can just hear Ray, murmuring in her ear, telling her what to do.

"That's it, ride my cock and touch your clit," he says, and she does. "Spank it," he commands, and she is slapping her wet cunt as she bounces up and down on me. "Now, Pamela you dirty little rule-breaking fuck-toy, cum like the dirty slut you are" he commands her. "Tell James to slap your tits hard and you work your clit and cum you dirty, slutty little stripper," he says.