Nicki and Darrell were sitting on Darrell's livingroom couch smooching. Sometimes Darrell's kisses were mere pecks; other times full on the lips and passionate; and sometimes his tongue slid deep into Nicki's mouth, working it. As they necked Darrell's left hand slid up and down Nicki's creamy right thigh. During a break Darrell said:
"You know, I don't normally like pantyhose. Reminds me of my wife. But on you they—"
"What reminds you of your wife?" Georgia said from ten feet away, hands on her thick hips, a designer bag slung over a meaty right shoulder.
"No," Darrell hastened to say, twisting his head toward his wife. "I was just saying...His pantyhose...reminds me of you, darling."
"Huh!" Georgia spat doubtfully. "When's the last time you ever stroked my legs like that?"
"Well, I..."
"This one's in pantyhose," she said, commenting on the obvious. "That's a first for you."
"Not really. Isn't she cute though?" Darrell beamed, hoping to turn the conversation.
"He is," Georgia admitted, albeit disdainfully. "Have fun with him. I'm headed out for a few hours."
At the door Georgia turned back to add, "Be safe."
"Always," Darrell confirmed, to the slammed door.
A petrified Nicki pushed a forward curl of blonde from her ruby lips and said, whispered for some reason, as if the fire-breather were still in the room: "I don't think she likes me."
Darrell pulled away saying, "It's not you. It's me."
"You?"
"How would you like it...?" a rising Darrell posed, after collecting their empty drink glasses. "You're married to a guy for 30 years. One day he comes out as bisexual. Actively bisexual. She catches you in the act a couple of times. She wants to keep the marriage together," Darrell continued on from the kitchen, the granite-topped counter, the bottles of booze, "so she agrees to let you have your fun. Condition being," ice cubes in the short, squat glasses, flavored vodka splashing in, "you have to be completely open about it. She has to know who, where, when. And most importantly what," he added, handing Nicki her cold drink.
"She's always here?" Nicki inquired.
"No, she goes out," Darrell replied, having flopped heavily on the couch next to today's date.
"No. I mean...at first."
"Not necessarily. But she heard I was having somebody new over so...," taking a first sip of his second drink, "...I guess she wanted to see for herself."
"Oh. Well I won't feel special then," a bit of an attitude—resentment—flaring in Nicki's masculine voice.
A smiling Darrell gave Nicki's stockinged thigh a pat and said, "You're special to me. Just not exclusive. Not yet."
"You play around a lot."
"I've had my share. People come and go. Lose interest. Move away...Damn!" Darrell said, abruptly changing course. He was looking down at the relatively flattened fly of his trousers. "I was getting hard there a minute ago..."
"So was I," Nicki admitted. Beneath her nude sheer-to-waist pantyhose Nicki wore a brightly variegated Jockey-brand bikini panty. One it would have been hard for Georgia to have missed before she stormed out the door. One of the dominant colors in panty's swirl was teal, and so too was Nicki's (empty) B-cup bra. Couple all that with the platinum-blonde wig, crimson lipstick (now smeared) and teal eyeshadow and...yes, indeed. Nicki was cute!
Now she leaned a bare shoulder into Darrell and said, "I can get you hard again."
"I know you can. You will," he smiled back. "With that sweet mouth of yours? But there's no rush. She won't be back for hours."
"She have a friend, too?" Nicki's smiling eyes narrowing.
"A friend. Like a...girlfriend?"
"No, a..."
"It's harder for women," Darrell declared. As if he were some kind of expert on the subject. "With men you just...post a few dick pics and...But with women it's gotta be this whole routine. They wanna be wooed step by step and all this shit. Plus they have kids, get fat and ugly..."
"I wouldn't say she's fat."
"Stout. There's not exactly a ton of guys out there looking for a fifty-something gal with baggage."
"Baggage?"
"Well, me for starters," Darrell laughed.
"Revenge," Nicki mused, after a pause. With his right hand Darrell had now gone back to stroking Nicki's long, slender thigh.
"Revenge?"
"A revenge fuck."
"Georgia?" Darrell pulling back. "Her? I don't think so. Not her style. Revenge shopping is more like it. You should see her closet."
"I wouldn't mind seeing her underwear drawer." Then, answering Darrell's point-blank stare: "It's a joke. I was joking."
"Well there's probably plenty enough in there for everybody. Victoria's Secret? She practically lives there."
"Yum."
Nicki brushed more blonde from her powdered cheeks and asked: "So what's in it for her?"
"What?"
"You get to cheat on her with other men..."
"It's not cheating if she knows about it," Darrell sternly advised.
"You know what I mean..."
"A bigger allowance," he replied.
"Allowance?"
Darrell spit an ice cube out of his mouth after draining his glass of 80 proof drink. "I increased her monthly allowance by a grand."
"Your wife gets an allowance?"
Darrell nodded. "Why not? She's always gotten an allowance. I was the bread-winner all those years. Still am with my investments. She raised the kids, I gave her a monthly allowance. After my first marriage I vowed never to have a joint anything anymore."
"Oh," Nicki acknowledged, blinking back the disbelief. "I guess that's one way of doing it..."
"And I upped her cut of the inheritance ten percent. You know how it is. Us old guys always kick the bucket first. Our kids get the rest.
"I said to her...," Darrell decided to go on, "...'you're stealing from Peter to pay Paul' but...she said it would all go to them eventually anyway. I see her point."
"I guess," Nicki ventured, "it's the least you can do."
"She deserves it, yes. No question."
And with that Darrell blasted off the couch in awkward pursuit of two refills. "One more drink, hon, then I'll let you go to work on my cock. And I hope you're good at it 'cause these days, even with the little blue pill, I need a lot of work."
"Can't wait!" Nicki smiled, crossing then recrossing her shimmery legs.
"The only thing about pantyhose," a naked and fairly erect Darrell said, "is you have to pull 'em down to get at your ass. Or a pussy. Or in your case," he laughed, "your man-pussy."
"I can take 'em off if you—"
"No, stay put. I kinda like you like this. Stockings and panties down around your knees?"
