The Wives of Beverly Row 4: Lust Has a New Address (4 page)

She cried out. “Kyle,” she gasped. What was he doing? She didn’t know. His hand was playing with her clit. His massive cock was sliding up into her asshole. She was becoming something she’d never even imagined becoming, the kind of girl who did
anything
with her boyfriend, the kind of girl who got fucked in the ass before she’d ever had normal sexual intercourse.

Kyle thrust forward with such force that her hips hit the dashboard. He did it again. She cried out. And then she felt the first pulse of semen leave his cock. It squirted into her anus and she’d never felt anything like that in her life. She’d never felt the exquisite pleasure of a man’s semen squirting into her body. She’d never had sex before. She’d never been used like this by a man. Kyle’s cock pulsed another dose of semen into her anus and Becky gasped in pleasure. She felt like an animal. She felt raw and dirty and so sexual that she couldn’t even think. Kyle’s semen squirted up into her and as it did, his hand continued to play with her clit.

The heat in her body built up to such a pitch that it completely overcame her. She almost blacked out. She gasped, her muscles clenched and flexed, her heart pounded, and the pleasure of orgasm surged through her nerves like a wildfire. She cried out again and again, gasping in pleasure, as Kyle’s semen squirted up into her. Her orgasm raced through every muscle of her body, wave after wave of it in an unending progression of pleasure and ecstatic sensation.

“Oh God,” she cried.

As her orgasm continued to race through her, Kyle pulled his firm, long cock out of her ass and grabbed it with his hand. The last squirt of semen flew from the tip of his cock and landed on Becky’s ass, sliding down the crack between her cheeks in a sticky mess.

“Jesus,” Kyle said.

“What made you try that?” Becky said. She felt nervous. She was worried she was being a slut. She’d been fucked in the ass but he hadn’t ever tried to have sex with her normally. What did it mean?

Kyle just sighed in pleasure.

“Jesus,” he said again.

“Kyle,” Becky said.

“Come on,” Kyle said. “Let’s get you home.”

VI

A
RIEL FOUND HERSELF THINKING ABOUT
Matt’s brother, Jeff, as she made her way through the traffic to Santa Monica. He sure was something to think about. He was handsome, charming, friendly, well-built, pretty much everything she was looking for in a man, at least during this transitional stage in her life. There had been a time when she’d been sensible about the men she allowed herself to be attracted to, or at least, had fooled herself into thinking she was sensible. She’d thought when she married Gabe that she was following her mother’s advice to choose a man who would make a good husband. If she was completely honest with herself, she’d chosen him because he was hot.

Well, it was too late to change the habits of a lifetime now, she told herself. If Jeff asked her out, she’d say yes.

She pulled into the parking lot outside the warehouse Gabe had rented and made her way through the numerous security doors that guarded her workspace. A feeling of calmness overcame her when she got inside. It was cool and airy in there. The air conditioning kept everything at just the right temperature. The lighting was perfect for painting. She liked having a job to do, a project, something to focus her attention on.

She went up to her canvas and examined it. It was perfectly primed, ready for some real paint, and she took a moment to savor everything before she started. The beginning of a painting was the most exciting time for her. Anything was possible. The potential for the work was limitless. Once she started, the picture would begin to take shape and its destiny, its value, would be decided. Right now, while it was still a plain, blank piece of canvas, anything could happen.

She started mixing some colors, dark blue tones, looking for the right tone for the dark sky and ocean. As she was putting the first pigment to the canvas, Gabe came in.

“I thought I’d find you here,” he said cheerfully. He was carrying two cups of Starbucks coffee.

Ariel took a cup from him and had a sip. It tasted perfect. She looked up at him. She was relieved to see that he wasn’t acting coyly around her. He’d asked her out the other evening and she’d turned him down. She wasn’t sure what that might have done to their working relationship. It seemed, so far at least, that he hadn’t taken the rejection to heart.

“About the other night,” he said.

“Oh,” Ariel said. She’d been hoping he wouldn’t bring it up.

“I was out of line.”

“You weren’t out of line,” Ariel said. “You just wanted to go out for a drink. It’s no big deal.”

He looked at her and nodded. He looked shy, preoccupied maybe. She tried to read him. She’d have thought that after sixteen years of being married to Gabe, she would have been better at reading the look on his face but he was still a complete mystery to her.

“Well,” he said, “I wanted to ask you out again,” he said, grinning.

“What?” Ariel said. “Gabe, you asked me to paint this picture for you. You can’t just use that to get me to go out with you.”

“I know,” Gabe said, holding up his hands, “I know that, Ariel. Believe me, I didn’t plan this.”

“What is it then? You know how things were when we were married. It was hell.”

“It wasn’t
that
bad,” Gabe said.

“Yes it was. It was for me. You cheated on me constantly.”

Gabe took a drink from his coffee. Ariel shook her head. He was acting so strange. She had no idea what had gotten into him lately.

“I’m not asking you to marry me again,” he said. “I’m just asking you to have a drink with me.”

Ariel looked at him for a good minute. She didn’t harbor ill feelings toward him like so many exes did. She was still fond of Gabe. They’d practically grown up together. He’d been the world’s crappiest husband, that much was true, he’d cheated, he’d lied, he’d even stolen money from her, but somehow, they’d managed to maintain a friendship that few people could manage even during the good years of a marriage.

“Gabe,” she said, sounding as exasperated as she felt, “do you want me to paint this thing for you or do you want a girlfriend? Because if it’s the latter, that’s not what I signed up for.”

“I know,” Gabe said. “I know, Ariel. I’m sorry. It’s inappropriate. You’re here to paint and I can respect that.”

“Can you?”

“I’ll try,” he said. “I promise.”

“Thank you.”

He nodded, but then he spoke again. He never did know when to shut up. “It’s just so difficult when you come in here looking as beautiful as you do, you’re so youthful and happy and full of life, you’re so pretty, Ariel. You’re irresistible.”

“Gabe!” she said.

“Alright, I’ll drop it.” He made a zipping gesture over his mouth.

She looked at the canvas. It was impossible to concentrate while he was there, flirting with her, but she had to admit, she was making real progress on the painting. The color tones she’d been going for were working out beautifully. There were weeks of work ahead of her, but for an initial layer of paint, what she had looked surprisingly good to her. It made her confident that she’d be able to pull off the forgery the way Gabe was hoping.

Gabe had left her to get some work done. He was over at a desk at the far end of the warehouse, typing on a laptop. She continued working for a couple of hours, layering paint slowly, gradually getting it the way she wanted. When she felt she was done she put her brush down and called over to him.

“Gabe, do you mind if I ask you one question?”

“Sure,” he said, getting up from the computer.

“Why are you so interested in me all of a sudden?”

“What do you mean? I’ve always been interested in you. You were the one who called things off.”

“You know what I mean,” she said. “When we were married, you had eyes for every other girl but me. Now you’re practically begging me to go out with you.”

“I didn’t think I was
begging.
”

“You were begging.”

Gabe smiled. He shrugged. She couldn’t deny that he still had a lot of charm when he was acting like this. “You want me to be completely honest?” he said.

“No,” she said sarcastically, “lie to me like you did when I was your wife.”

Gabe shook his head. “Was I really that bad? I’m sorry, Ariel.”

Ariel looked at him. “You were going to tell me the truth.”

“Alright,” he said. He wiped his hands on his jeans before he spoke. Ariel wondered if his palms were sweating. “Before, when you were my wife, I was
allowed
to have you. Other girls were forbidden.”

“And now?”

“And now, I’m allowed to have whatever girl I want. I’m allowed to go out with anyone. There’s no challenge to it. No risk. Now,
you’re
the one who’s forbidden. And there’s something about that that just drives me crazy.”

“I’m
forbidden
?”

“Yes, you’re the
forbidden fruit,
the one girl I’m not allowed have. And you’re irresistible, Ariel.”

VII

T
RUDY DIDN’T KNOW WHAT TO
do with herself. She was feeling restless. It had been a few days since she’d last
enjoyed
Kyle’s company and she was beginning to get a lustful feeling in her blood. She knew the feeling well. She thought about going on the internet and allowing someone to jerk off while watching her strip, but she didn’t feel like that would satisfy her sufficiently. She wanted more. She wanted Kyle.

She picked up her phone and sent him a text.

—What are you doing?

She waited for a reply. None came. He was probably busy. She hoped he wasn’t with that young girlfriend of his. Trudy knew he was fond of that girl, she knew she had to be careful messing around with him in case Becky found out. She also knew that she had to be careful in case Veronica found out. Hell, who was she kidding? Sooner or later, everyone would find out, then there would be hell to pay. But in the meantime, it felt so good to have Kyle’s eighteen year old cock pump semen into her pussy.

She was a lost cause, she knew she was, but she wasn’t going to change her ways now. She sent Kyle another message.

—I need you.

Still no answer. She decided to take a shower. By the time she got out, Kyle would have responded and she’d be ready for him to come over. She took off her clothes and had a long, hot shower. She shaved while she was in there. She used body lotion. She washed her hair. She had to smile at the thought that she was actually getting ready for her lover to come over. She’d really allowed things to get out of hand with this one. She almost felt giddy with anticipation.

When she got out of the bathroom she picked up her phone and looked at the screen. Nothing. He hadn’t even responded. She felt foolish now, having gotten ready.

What was she going to do? She looked at her watch. It was almost eleven at night. Maybe he was asleep? He
was
still in high school after all.

She got up and looked out the window. It was a beautiful night. It was a night full of possibilities. She went to her wardrobe and pulled out a sexy, short black dress. She pulled it on over her naked body. She hadn’t even put on a bra or underwear. The dress looked great. It fit like a glove. She felt sexual and erotic in it.

She went over to the vanity and put on her make up. Then she picked a pair of red Louboutin shoes to complete the look. She picked up her phone. Still no answer, no messages, nothing. She dialed the number of the cab company and ordered a taxi. She didn’t know where she was going to go but one thing was for certain, she wasn’t going to waste this beautiful night alone in her house.

When the cab arrived she told the driver to take her down to Santa Monica Boulevard. She didn’t have an address so she asked him to drive along the street till she found somewhere good to get out. She chose an intersection that seemed to be teeming with people out for a good time. West Hollywood had some of the best nightlife in the city and she knew it wouldn’t take her long to find some action.

She paid the cab driver and started walking along the street. She tried to look confident and purposeful, like she knew where the hell she was going. She felt self-conscious. She had no clue what she was doing. She could have been comfortably tucked away at home, watching television right now. Instead, she was walking along the streets of Hollywood, alone, at midnight.

She decided that the first place she saw, she would go into. It didn’t matter if it was a bar, a diner, a night club. If she didn’t go into the first spot she passed, she’d start to chicken out and never get the courage to go anywhere. She didn’t want to end up home alone. She wanted to have some fun. She waited at a crosswalk while convertibles full of teenagers out for the night passed her by.

Some boys waiting to cross the street were standing near her. One of them whistled at her. She looked up at him. There were three of them, they must have been about twenty. They looked sporty, like jocks. Not the most intelligent or discerning young men in the world, but they had good bodies and by the looks of things, they’d already had a few beers. They were exactly what she was looking for. She refused to give in to shyness or embarrassment.

“Are you just going to stand there and whistle,” she said, as boldly and confidently as she could, “or are you going to offer to buy a girl a drink.”

The boy who had whistled was wearing an A’s ball cap. His two friends started laughing at him now. He’d been expecting Trudy to ignore him and now that she was addressing him directly he didn’t seem as brave as he had.

“A drink?” he said. “Why, what do you like to drink?”

Trudy walked over to them. The three of them made space and looked at her like they’d never seen a beautiful woman before in their lives.

She leaned close to the boy in the A’s cap and whispered in his ear, “I’d drink whatever you gave me.”

Now his friends really went wild. They were loving this. She was giving them something to really talk about. She looked at them more closely. Judging by their clothing, their stubble, everything, they probably weren’t in high school.