Trapping Heather

Heather was a looker, as they would say in the old movies. Style, poise, legs that went all the way to heaven.

My friend Josh on the other hand was a pig of sorts. While Heather was the very description of elegance and grace that appeared right at home wearing a thousand dollar suit and holding a glass of five hundred dollar a bottle wine, Josh was the kind you expect to find passed out in front of the TV with a football game on and a couple of emptied six packs scattered on the coffee table.

Josh was a whole lot more like me than Heather. Yet, Heather could let Josh have a bunch of us rowdies over for a party and be a good hostess with all the vulgarity and grossness going on around her.

Not that I am that much of a rowdy. I'm better than those guys. They just remind me of my family roots. And, if you think this is one of those stories where the wife gets drunk and fucks everyone in the crowd you have the wrong fucking idea. Heather is ever the lady. They can cuss around her and be as foul and gross as they want. She won't condemn you or even raise an eyebrow. She just won't participate.

I don't remember how Josh and I became friends, just the day he invited me over to a football came and said there would be some other guys there, too. Beer and snacks were included, but I was advised if I wanted something special I should bring my own. When I hit the door with my six pack of diet coke the party was well underway. Everyone had consumed at least a couple of beers already and I thought I was getting there early.

The beer was the cheap kind they advertise on the front window of the quick mart and the snacks were potato chips and some of those cheap little cakes that seemed to arrive at the store already stale. The pregame wasn't even on the TV yet and the smallish 30 inch screen wasn't really the size a dozen drunks would gather around. But, everything seemed to be already in full party mode. Some of the guys had been there for an hour or more already.

Then Heather came into the room. Some of the men greeted her in catcall voices and others like me just became still at the moment and took in the sights. Now I knew what drew an early crowd to drink cheap beer and eat cheap snacks and watch the game on a too small television. It was her, Heather.

It was like someone invited the Queen. This woman did not belong in this crowd of slobs dressed in their camping shorts and ragged t-shirts bearing college names or pro sports team logos. Heather was wearing an expensive shiny shirt that looked like satin and pants that had to be tailored to look that good on that ass.

That was Heather. Long legs and dynamite ass. Trim waist, pretty face, dark brown hair, blue eyes and a beautiful smile. Maybe the lack of tit made the rest look better, but Heather was one of those girls with a dresser full of A-cup bras. Probably sexy and expensive bras, but still A-Cup. I didn't mind and the rest of the guys didn't seem to mind either. The draw to the party was not the beer, the game, or the television. It was Heather.

My first thought was like yours. She was going to get drunk and fuck everybody. But, Heather didn't drink and there was not even as much as a nipple slip showing all day. That was Heather and every guy there had a huge crush on her. Including the most recent arrival, me.

That was my first party. I never missed a one after that. Never much cared for Josh as a friend and as time went on, liked him even less. Probably mostly jealousy, but the guy is a fucking prick. No matter how early I would head for Josh and Heather's there was always several there ahead of me. I was beginning to think they arrived at dawn or spent the night camped on the front lawn.

I learned about Heather from conversations over heard between some of the guys. Heather's mom and dad were a lot like Josh. Heather's old man beat the shit out of her mother, and did it often. Finally he got sent off to jail for some picky-assed crime and while he was in jail the mom took Heather and ran.

Heather's mom found a job in another city and ended up marrying the boss. At eight years of age Heather had a new Daddy. One that was good to them, bought them nice things, let them live in a nice house, and sent Heather to college.

Out of college the step-dad got Heather a job at a friend's company. Heather did well and rose upward in the company. Then when she moved to a bigger apartment Josh was along helping friends at a moving company unload Heather's stuff into her new place. That's when they met and soon married. Heather married down to a comfort level. Josh was good to her, but really doesn't amount to a shit.

Heather makes six figures a year and Josh works for $12.75 per hour down at the plant. Where they live is more than a compromise. Josh would never fit in at a level where Heather belongs.

The only one on one encounter I had with Heather was one Sunday morning when I had forgotten to put my diet cokes in the fridge and she invited me into the kitchen to get some ice. While she stood facing away from me getting the ice all I could do was stare at her legs and ass. All the while wondering where in the fuck was Prince Charming when a girl needs to be swept away from here.

"This should put some sparkle in your soda." Heather gave me a sly smile.

I made eye contact and it seemed we locked on to each other for an awkwardly long time.

"Well, I guess I'd better get back in there. The game is going to start in another hour or so."

"Sarcasm, I like sarcasm. That's what keeps me going some days. Helped out a lot right now."

"Glad to be of service. What's the deal?"

"Josh needs friends. The parties are his way of keeping them. I know why these guys are here."

"You do? Why is that?"

"Let's just say Josh put on a few parties and the people kept showing up along with a new one every now and then. Like yourself, with you not missing a game the last month or so. Josh got to drinking too much and one weekend I decided to go shopping at the mall. The next week about half the guys didn't show. Josh was crushed. The next week he was down to two guys and one of them went home before the game was over."

"Yeah, I can see that. It's not about the game."

"The next week I let Josh know I would be there. Josh told his friends and the crowd was back. Even a couple of guys I'd never seen before. I know they stare at me when I am not looking. I know what they are thinking and I know what they hope would happen."

"I think it's more than hope. I think it's prayer. But, I guess it isn't going to happen."

"God, no! If you were a girl is there anyone in there you would want drunkenly ramming their dick up inside you?"

"Whoa! That's different."

"Sometime the lady forgets and bad things fall out of her mouth. Let's try to keep my potty mouth between us. I don't want any of those bastards thinking I would approve."

"Why are you here? You seem to be above everyone in this group."

"Same reason they are, except I don't expect you to take on everyone in the room."

"That was honest enough. So, what's your potty mouth phrase of the day?"

"So much comes to mind and I only get one phrase? I guess if I get one of these a week I'd say my phrase would be I want to eat your pussy."

I waited for the answer, or the slap, or the get the hell out of my house. Instead, it was the awkward meeting of the eyes we experienced a little earlier.

"You are a fucking dreamer, aren't you?"

I grabbed my ice and started the hell out of there.

"I can't wait to see what you come up with next week."

No Shit? Did she mean that or don't I know how to be beat down and insulted? All during the game I tried to think of what I would say the following weekend and what I should have said this one.

It got to be a game. I think we both wanted to flirt a little bit. I tried the girlfriend approach. Where I act more like a girlfriend and asks a silly question like the one I came up with the next week. Same situation ... ice for my diet soda, when Heather turned around she asked if I was staring at her ass. I said yes. She said good.

"Now then, what's your potty mouth saying for the week?"

"If you were going to let someone in this bunch do it, say they were all cleaned up and sober, who would be the one you would want to eat your pussy?"

"Hmmmm ... What's that new guy's name, or the guy that always sits on the arm of the couch. The guy in the wife-beater sleeveless undershirt leaves me breathless. I hope you don't think I am mocking you?"

"You don't have an answer?"

"I have answer. I'm just not going to tell you."

The next week I was wondering how she felt about her A-Cup tits. I really would have loved to see them. She surprised me with her answer when I asked her if there was anything about herself she would change if she could.

"I'd guess I'd change my ears."

Ears? I couldn't even tell you if she had ears. Then she showed them to me. She wanted them not to stick out so much. I didn't see it. When I asked if there was anything else she said no.

"Now your turn. Why aren't you married?"

"I divorced my wife."

"Why?"

"I wouldn't be a gentlemen if I said."

"I heard she was a slut and fucked some of your friends and a black guy."

"Okay, that covers it."

"I always wondered what that would be like."

"You mean cheat?" I was all excited.

"No, I mean fucking a black guy."

"Can't help you there. Would you really?"

"No, I said I wondered about it. I couldn't actually do it."

This out of character shit went on with Heather every time I went over there. I guess I was her outlet. But, I wasn't getting any pussy out of it.

Then came a Saturday when I stopped by the quick mart and there was Josh in the parking lot with the beer truck driver. The driver was wheeling eight cases of beer over to Josh's car rather that hauling it inside first.

I went inside to get a soda and a snack. Josh followed soon after. He walked over to pay and greeted the cashier.

Hi, Darlin'. Came in to settle up. Eight cases.

"Okay Joshie!"

Joshie? What the fuck was Joshie? He really seemed to hit it off with this little gum popping bimbo with her tight jeans and low cut top. They looked like a couple that should be fucking in a grainy porn tube movie on the internet. Josh was just a pack of cigarettes and a tattoo away from being a perfect match for her.

Disgusted I paid up and headed for my car while Josh said a couple of more stupid things to her.

"Hey, wait up. I need to talk to you."

"Oh, I'm not going to say anything about your little friend in the tit-top in there."

"No, that's not it. I understand your wife cheated on you and you really fucked her over for it. Left her stuck with some black guy that dumped her ass along with a half black kid."

"Gee, thanks for bringing that up." I wanted to knock him on his ass. Not for asking, but flirting with a big titted tramp when he had Heather at home.

"No, you talk to Heather in the kitchen every week end now. Do you think she would cheat on me?"

"I could think of a million reasons why she should, asshole. But, hey, I'll be honest. I'd love to fuck your wife. I flirt a little with her, but she just isn't interested."

"Maybe you aren't her type, Dumbass. Do you think there is any chance she would cheat?"

"I sure hope so. What the fuck is the purpose of this conversation."

"I just want to know if she would cheat. If she would, then I wouldn't mind nailing little Shelly in the store back there."

Honest to fucking Christ here. I have to kill this son of a bitch. "Josh, I said I don't think so."

"What about one of those fancy suit guys at work? It sounds like you have some experience in finding things out about women."

"Josh, she knows who I am. What am I supposed to do? Fuck her by email?"

"Uhhh, Hell yes. You could try that. Get her to fuck you by email. Make like you are one of those fancy suits at work. See if she will fuck the rich guy. Hell, you and me ain't got shit."

"You ain't got shit. I have some shit. Some of my own shit. Not shit my wife buys for me."

"Ouch, Dude. You don't have to get mean about it. Will you help me or not?"

I needed a plan fast. I could completely fuck up my invite to the weekend party that gets me in touch with Heather. Maybe I can pretend in an email to be some exotic stranger and then show up and fuck her somewhere in a fancy hotel. Shit, I know better than that. Talk about a dreamer.

"Let me see what I can do. How do I get her email?"

"Here's her card. Now don't be thinking you can fuck her. I just want to know if she would. You know, like it would be okay to do Shelly back there at the quick mart. You know, big tits. Man you ought to see her in a tube top."

I snatched the card from his hand and almost ran to get away from the miserable prick.

Now I had myself wondering what Heather would do. I went home to my computer. First I would need an email address without my name in it. Good old gmail is perfect. Great spam filters and hard to figure who is the sender. I opted for one of those combo names like tiger8742. That's not really it. The one I used has been cancelled. So, don't try to fuck with me.

I sent an email. "Just a note to say hello. I stole your email from somewhere. I see you around from time to time. Maybe more often than that. Just wanted you to know how super I think you are." I signed it Tiger.

There was an answer really quick like. "Why did you steal my email and who did you steal it from? Do I know you?"

"Yes, Heather. You know me. Maybe not so well, but you would recognize me if you saw me and knew it was me."

"Doubt that. You sound like a pervert. If you are really a Tiger how do you work your paws over the little keys?"

Maybe I do have her interested.

"Do you have a private email I could use to write to you?"

"I'll have to get one. The last thing I need is some dumbass writing to me at my work address."

"Well, hurry up and get one."

"Can't believe I did this. I see you liked gmail so how about tigress8742? (Don't try that one either.)

I sent off a quick one. "Can't believe you really would get a new email just for me."

"I can't believe you would think I would play your silly game. Who are you and what do you want? You better not be some creep from work."

"Already have told you that I just wanted to say I think you are super. Are things going well for you and are you happy? You don't really know me. I just see you around. I'd ask to meet for coffee, but I think you could use a little mystery in your life for a while. Can I be your secret admirer?"

"I have a meeting. When you feel like telling me who you are I'll get back to you. Bye. Heather."

The rest of the week I sent little notes. Josh was calling to tell me what she was wearing and asking what was going on. I'd tell Heather she looked nice in such and such blouse of whatever making her think I was in the area of her work each day. She seemed to be enjoying the interest I was showing.

When we met in the kitchen that weekend she made her potty remark and I made one in reference to her ass looking good. Then she said, "I want to ask what you would do if you were me."

"Oh, that's easy. I rub the hell out of my nipples and then finger fuck myself until I passed out."

"No, I'm serious. God, why did I decide I needed a friend like you anyway?"

Nice to be listed as a friend. "Sorry, shoot. I guess I don't get a potty mouth chance next weekend."

"Someone started emailing me at work. He has been real sweet. I'm afraid I have been answering him in private email and worry that I am making a fool of myself. He won't tell me who he is or even give me a clue."

"Are you enjoying it? Who do you think it is?"

"I'm pretty sure it isn't any of that bunch in my game room or my husband. All the words seem to be spelled correctly."

"Why don't you ask him what you would have to do to find out who he is and see what he says."

On Monday I got an email asking that question. I guess Heather will play the game.

"Heather, I don't think you are ready to know. Right now I am this great mysterious person. You could be disappointed in me and I need this as much as you do. I really enjoy our emails. I'm going to messenger over you a gift this afternoon. Will you be in?"

"I'll be in. What could you possibly send me?"

"There will be a note in the package. Open it where no one can see."

"Hate to say this, but I can't wait."

Great now I have to buy a gift, write a note, and take the package downtown to a messenger service.

That afternoon the package was delivered to Heather by courier. My note said, "I want you to wear these and think of me tomorrow. Wear the little pin on your blouse as a sign you are wearing the panties. As people comment on your pin you will have to wonder if that person is me."

I went Victoria's and spent $30 on one pair of fancy panties. Then I bought an enameled pin in the shape of a butterfly. My answer came fast in an email.

"I can't do that. That's a really personal gift. I don't think I can wear them."

"Sure you can. Nobody knows but us. Think about it. Put them on when you get dressed in the morning. Don't forget to wear the pin."

"I'll think about it."

The next morning about half way to noon I get an email from Heather. "You win. I'm wearing them ... and the pin. This is weird. Have you seen me yet?"

"No, not yet. Had a lot of comments? What kind of weird. Good weird or bad weird?"

"Good! I've had a lot of comments. Glad none of them was you, although there was this one guy ... just teasing. As far as weird goes, I guess it's a good kind of weird. Knowing you bought them and I have them on, you know, down there is getting to me from time to time when I have a chance to think about it."

I had to call Josh to see what she was wearing. Josh told me and commented that she even put on some new panties he had never seen her wear before. I worked the clothes remark into my email later so she would think I saw her. I told him not much was happening.

"When you saw me did you speak to me about the pin?"

"No, too far away. You looked hot. Kind of had a glow."

"Don't know about hot, but the glow is your fault. Wearing these panties gets me kind of aroused as much as I hate to say it. What's your next bright idea?"

"Tomorrow don't wear underwear at all, but wear the pin again."

"I've tried that before. My hair down there tickles my thighs."

"Make believe it's me blowing on them."

"God, but you are awful? No panties at all you say? I'll really have to think about that."

"I said no underwear. That means no bra either."

"I can't do that. If you can see me you know I am all nipple."

"Wear something thick. It will feel good rubbing across them."

"You're insane. Don't you think it time to tell me who you are?"

"Having too much fun. Aren't you?"

"Yes, but not knowing is killing me."

"Don't forget. Tomorrow. No underwear."

The morning email came early. "I can't believe I let you convince me to do this. My nipples are rubbing my shirt, which makes them hard, and the rubbing get all the more frustrating. Then my hair is tickling the tops of my thighs, which makes me think of what you said about you blowing down there. I've been here an hour and I'm a total wreck. I should have brought underwear with me to put on. What was I thinking?"

"Too late now. Have you considered touching yourself?"

"Thought about hitting the restroom and relieving some pressure. Damn you, I haven't done that in years."

"No. Do it at your desk. Go ahead. Touch yourself. You know you want to."

"I can't do that. I have two dozen people working for me all around."

"They won't figure it out. You don't get loud when you cum, do you."

"No, I don't get loud, but I just can't do it."

"Did you wear slacks of skirt?"