Paulines Diaries Ch 09

This is my last post until the New Year. I hope you all have a fun filled and sexy Christmas.

Sylvia.

***

July 20th 1971.

The sky is blue today, and the weather is nice and warm. The birds are singing in our garden as I step out of the bath. The warmer weather makes people feel lucky to be alive, to enjoy life, and go on their merry way with a spring in their step. Everything points a good day ahead, for everyone. For me it is a day I hope I don't live to regret, a day when I will offer myself to the young man who would fuck me, without care or concern of it being right or wrong.

My husband lies on our bed in his trousers and open shirt, reading the morning paper which was delivered 10 minutes ago. As I brush my hair I can see him in the mirror. I've never found him in any way attractive. His belly hangs out of his open shirt, above that a mass of grey chest hair, which peeps over his vest. Thank god he is reading the paper, because my face must tell him what I am thinking. He owns me, and I keep telling myself that to help me cope.

Now and then I see women in the street who look at us and then chuckle as they shuffle off, whispering about the odd match we make. He does not care, he loves showing me off. I'm his prize, his trophy wife bought and paid for. He reminds me of that fact when he fucks me sometimes, he even twitches his cock in me at the same time, just to emphasise the point even more.

My husband watches me open a fresh pack of tights. I stop as he says no in a quiet, but commanding tone.

"Wear stockings Pauline."

He smiles at my obedience as I put the tights back in the drawer, and pull out a pack of stockings, I pull the flap up.

"Have they got seams?" he asks, as I hear him turn a page of his paper.

I push the flap back down, and pick another pack out of my drawer. These are expensive, tan, with a seam. I put on a white suspender belt, and then roll the stockings up.

I sit and apply my make up. He is off the bed now, and stood behind me looking down on me. He bends forward kissing my neck, and groaning lustfully in my ear at the same time. I want to push him away, as I feel my annoyance growing. I pick up a light pink lipstick. My husband reaches round me, and takes it from me. His fingers flick through my box of lipsticks, and he plucks out a deep red colour, and hands it to me. I apply two coats, and spin round on the dressing table stool.

He stands right in front of me, and lifts my head up by my chin. He looks at my makeup, my blue eye shadow, and my stuck on black eyelashes. Albert is examining me like he is inspecting a fine painting. His mouth turns up at the edges slightly in a smile, as he admires his bought wife's efforts to please him.

I open the drawer containing my bras. I pick one, only to have it gently pulled from my fingers. He replaces the bra in the drawer and closes it. He takes my hand and leads me to the wardrobe. I watch as he pushes the hangers to one side, until he finds what he is looking for. I put on the white blouse and do the buttons up. He smiles and nods at presumably his choice of blouse for me. He stops me and opens two buttons. My cleavage is in full view now; the blouse is open to the bottom of my breasts. He slips his hand in my blouse, and I can't take it anymore as his thumb flicks over my nipple, so I twist away. He doesn't mind, it amuses him.

The blouse is unremarkable, plain white, and simply made sexy by the amount of cleavage, see through white nylon sleeves, and lower curve of my breasts, plus a hint of dark nipple that it cannot quite stop showing under the fabric.

Red panties which match my lipstick are picked out for me next. They are thin and as I look in the mirror I can see a darker patch, which some would recognise as pubic hair should they see between my legs.

I slip on the skirt he hands me, after his pondering and a few minutes of careful consideration. It's beige in colour, knee length, but with a split right up the front. The split cannot be closed or tugged together. In fact the split gets wider the further down it goes, the gap at the hem between both sides of the split must be around 6 inches.

Looking in the full length mirror there is a hint of red showing through the split in my skirt, and that is with my feet just a few small inches apart. The darker part of my stockings can be seen, and the way they are pulled up, shaping to a point where the clip holds them firmly. A flash of sunlight through the window highlights the curve of the weave, as it is bunched under the clip holding the nylon tight.

I step into red high heeled mules, with a band across the top of my foot. The shoes are open toe, and I can see every one of my red painted toe nails, and where my toes join my foot, under the darker reinforced toe of my stockings. My husband hands me a see-through red nylon scarf. The scarf is so light it is barely the weight of a stocking.

"No not for your head, tie it round your neck."

I do as I'm told, and as I take a step the nylon dances over the exposed flesh of my breasts, causing little sensual waves as it tickles.

Albert watches me move across the room. Catching a glimpse of stocking top and bare thigh, as my leg forces its way out of the split in my skirt, and then disappears again as the other leg peeps out.

The feeling of how I'm dressed isn't lost on me, the slight swing of naked breast in my blouse as they sway with each step, and then the tickle of the nylon scarf on my rounded bosom. The way my nipples move under the blouse, rubbing themselves on the material gets them a little more erect. The tug of the suspender straps as my leg reaches out, and the feel of a slight twist of nylon at the top of my thighs, as it is held by the clip stirs all my senses. The slapping sound of my shoes hitting my heels, reaches my ears, and I can even make out where the seam of my stocking presses in between shoe and foot. All these things feel sexy, all these things I savour, and all these things are not just to titillate me. What I find quite incredible is Albert has dressed me like this, but not for him, but for the boy in the garage!

I step out into the daylight with my husband. He opens the door for me and watches me get into my car. A flash of red can't be avoided, and I can't pull my skirt closed as I sit there. My stocking tops are on show, and will remain that way.

I haven't said a single word to my husband, since he started dressing me. As he closes the door of my car he says, "Remember to go to the Ford garage to fill up with petrol. If you go to Rick's garage you'll be seen as a tease, and I will punish you most severely."

I look my husband in the eye and say, "You will not be disappointed."

He smiles and we both know where I am going.

To feel the whip land across my backside, will not disappointed my husband, or me. If those two women, who had seen me on his arm not long ago, knew this was what turned me on, and not the image of my husband which I saw in the mirror not an hour ago, would they understand a little better about why we are husband and wife? No probably not.

I drive with the top down in my little red sports car, knowing I have the documents for Rick to sign sat next to me in my bag, the same bag that I saw them sticking out of this very morning, and they had been put in my bag, by my husband.

Despite my feelings I do not want Rick touching me. This is a wifely duty which not many wives would carry out. This is done to please my husband, and to stop the Taylor Company from purchasing the land. I will be beyond apologetic, should my husband find out the truth. I will tell him how stupid I was for going against him, and I didn't think Rick would find me attractive. This is all going to be my mistake, the stupid wife making a stupid decision, a wife who should have stayed at home cooking and cleaning, and not getting involved in her husband's business affairs.

Even as I drive I tell myself the truth that if had not been the Taylor's company obstructing my husband's plans, I would not be going anywhere near Rick today.

I stop in the road before Rick's garage. Suddenly the fear of what I'm doing hits home. I look at the needle on the fuel dial. I have just over half a tank of petrol. I could drive by, and go home. But I will not let the Taylor's win!

I can hear banging coming from the garage, as I step out of my car. The place is quiet apart from that. As I walk slowly towards the noise, I note for the first time just how rundown the place is. There are about 4 or 5 cars which sit rusting away. An untidy heap of used tires with weeds growing up through them sit in the corner, and they are all long past their best. Outside the repair garage sits an overflowing bin, with more junk lying around it. Even a wooden telegraph pole cannot be bothered to stand up straight. I step round a puddle of old oil, which seems to have come from one of the old cars. Even the warmth of the sun on my cleavage can't make this place any more bearable. I walk towards the banging which stops now and then, my shoes slap on the bottom of my feet, and I step round another puddle, this time muddy brown water, which has dripped from a hose for what would seemed to be, quite some time.

I stand in the open doorway and take a big stuttering breath. The smell of metal, grease, and oil, hits my nose. The large wooden concertina doors are bunched up to one side of the opening. I am not sure what colour they had been painted so long ago; it would seem a red or dark orange colour. The metal handle and surrounding area of the door is covered black oily hand prints. I take another deep breath feeling my heart pounding hard and fast.

Looking in the garage I can see cobwebs hang down covered in dust, a huge dead spider hangs from one, swaying in the slight breeze. The workbench is covered with car parts which I know nothing about, although I do know laying in the corner is a tangled heap of exhaust pipes, some with big holes, some with jagged broken ends, and all in various degrees of corrosion. The place is a dirty mess, and it would seem to have been that way for years.

I can't see Rick, but I can hear him banging away. A green car sits with its bonnet up, but the noise seems to be coming from underneath. I can't see his head, but I can see his vest as he wipes his dirty hand on it. The vest is, well was white, why wear a white vest whilst doing such a dirty job?

"Hello," I say like some sort of timid mouse, "Hello," I call a little louder.

The click and shrill of a metal tool rings round the garage. I see what it is as a spanner slides across the floor.

"Rick, you got a customer."

I spin round, and there sat on the dirty couch is the red head. I didn't notice her at all! She gets up off the couch and walks round me, with a hand feeding a long string of black liquorice into her grinning mouth. In her other hand is a bottle of beer. She wears a long brown skirt with tassels hanging down, and a yellow vest top without bra underneath.

"Hey Rick baby, it's that bird, the posh one, come in for a service."

She laughs and spins round, holding the beer bottle out like she is dancing and on drugs. She stops and tips her head to one side and laughs. She shakes her head and her red shaggy hair flicks round her face.

"What do you want?"

I turn round and Rick is stood in some sort of pit which comes up to his chest. His cold blue eyes look at my feet and then travel up my legs. He gazes at the top of the split in my skirt, and licks his lips.

"Wow, fancy nylons...I bet they are expensive. Hey Rick, buy some of those for me man."

She laughs and swills some of the beer. Her eyes open wide and she holds the bottle towards me.

"Want some, posh lady?"

She spins round like she is dancing, and laughs again.

"Fuck off somewhere Sheena."

"No, I been here an hour and you said you'd be finished. Come on baby, see to her and let's go to the house."

"I said go!" Rick snaps.

I watch her smile drop, and she pulls back her hand in an exaggerated fashion, and throws the beer bottle over Rick's head. It crash against a wall 5 yards behind him and smashes.

"Fuck you Rick Jennings!" she screams and storms off.

I watch her bare feet pad away, the soles of which are black.

Rick picks up a rag and wipes his oily hands in it.

I feel scared a little, but I take a deep breath wanting to appear in control.

"My husband wants to match the Taylor offer," I say handing out the papers to him.

He doesn't take them he just stands looking at me.

"He sent you?"

I gulp, "N, no, he doesn't know I am here."

"What if I say no?"

I stand there not having thought this would be so difficult. I don't have an answer ready.

"Well, your father shook hands on an agreement."

He tips his head back slightly and takes a breath through his nose. He looks hard and defiant. He is even scarier than before. I am out of my depth in a big way, and with a 19 year old boy.

"That doesn't mean anything. I'll think about it."

I clear my throat, "I would like you to sign this today, now," I say and jerk the papers towards him.

He doesn't move.

"I tell you what, while I'm thinking I could do with a hand, seeing as how you pissed off Sheena."

We stare at each other for a moment. This isn't going like I imagined.

He doesn't wait for an answer he walks past me, and picks up the spanner. He stands holding it out and opens his arms in a questioning gesture. I take a breath and move forward. I take the spanner, and it feels greasy. He stands by the side of the car and waits. I walk over to him and he points down inside the engine.

"Put it on the nut, just hold it on there, and don't drop it on my head."

I gingery go to put the spanner on the nut, trying not to touch anything in the car engine. I feel his hand cover mine, and I wince slightly. He pushes the spanner on the nut. I hold it tight, and he pulls his hand off. I feel his fingers on the sleeve of my blouse, and see a black smudge on my white blouse. He smirks at me. I grind my teeth a little annoyed with him.

I stand there holding the spanner on the nut while he jumps in the pit. He goes under the car, and I feel him put a tool on the other end.

"Brace yourself, and don't let go."

I open my legs a little planting my feet further apart. I see part of his face down below the car. His eyes are looking up through the metal. I know what he is looking at.

"Ready?" he asks.

I stand making myself rigid, I can feel my leg muscles tighten. I curse in my head as my sleeve touches another oily part of the engine.

"Yes," I say.

I feel pressure on the spanner, and I match it trying to stop the nut moving. I grip harder on the side of the car, and force my weight against the way Rick is pulling. It is like some sort of tug of war, and I want to win, I want to hold the nut firm, and show Rick I'm not a weak and useless woman. Finally the pressure eases off as the nut loosens. I feel happy for a second, like I've achieved a miracle in some bizarre way.

I'm panting a little from the exertion, and I realise I've probably used muscles that I haven't before. Even my legs ache because I locked them hard to stop myself for moving.

His eyes are looking up between my spread legs. I know he is seeing everything, and for me to seduce him, I let him look. We look at each other, and then he looks back between my legs, at my red panties with the dark patch where my pussy hair is.

"Okay, grab the nut and we're done," he says after a few long seconds of silence.

I pull the spanner and the nut up and straighten up. As whatever was attached to the other end Rick slips on the side of the pit. My little feeling of achieving something in a man's world is lost, as I see a long black smudge on my sleeve. I get a tissue from my bag and stand there trying to wipe the smudge off. I just succeed in spreading it further.

I look up and Rick is grinning at my feeble attempt to clean my sleeve.

"I'll sign it."

I almost smile, but I make do with a nod thanking him, and go to pick the papers out of my bag.

"Not yet though," he says, deliberately to infuriate me.

I leave the papers in my bag, I want to tell him to get on with it, but when I look at him his eyes are full of lust. I gulp slightly.

"You're what, half his age?"

I stand there looking at him wondering why he would ask that. I don't answer.

"I bet you fell in love with his bank account, didn't you?"

He tips his head back again like he did earlier. It is some sort of arrogant superior gesture. He moves forward, and I back against the front of the car.

"I'll sign it, but I want something from you."

My bum hits the car again, and I wish I could stop the heavy panting. My rising breasts draw his eyes for a few seconds. I go to take a sideways step, but he grabs my wrist. He holds me firmly like that while I twist and try to get away. I realise now just how weak I am.

"What's it like lying on your back while he fucks you with his little worm? Do you tell yourself to keep thinking of the money, and pray he doesn't take long? Do you hold his head in your neck, so he can't see the disgust on your screwed up face?"

I want to tell him it isn't like that, and he is just a stupid boy. I want to tell him my husband's cock is big, and satisfy's me every time, but I don't. I let him think he is right on every point he made. I let my defiant look drop, and he smiles briefly.

"You come here, hoping I'll give you what your husband can't."

Is that really what he thinks? I can see in his eyes now, Rick is jealous of my husband. It has just dawned on me that this is what it is all about. A thought flashes through my mind. I want Rick to know I'm happy, no very happy with my husband. I want him to know how lucky I feel being married to Albert, and I want for nothing. I want the jealousy in Rick's eyes to sting in his heart. If Albert walked in here right now, I would go and put my arm through his, and show Rick just what Albert meant to me. Rick would be so mortified he would have tears running down his face, as I'd stand and let Albert kiss my cheek, with his hand on my ass, while all the time I'd look defiantly at the boy who wanted me.

He puts his hands around my backside and pulls me hard against him. Our pelvis crush together and he holds on tight watching my face. He grinds into me and I screw my face up. I call him disgusting, and push my hands against his chest. He holds on tight knowing I can't force him off.

"I'll sign the garage over to you, after I've had what I want," he growls.

He spins me round and shoves me over car, holding me down with one hand on my back. I can feel my breasts squashed against the car engine, and I can smell the oil, and metal. I feel his hand grab my skirt, and I reach behind me trying to stop him from pulling my skirt up. He grunts and pulls hard, my skirt is up over my ass in seconds, and bunched round my waist before I know it.

For a moment our struggle stops. I just know he is looking at my ass.

"You'll get what you want, after I've got what I want," he hisses.

For once he struggles uselessly to get my panties off. He gets agitated, and grunts. He tells me to open my legs. I defy him by keeping my legs tight together.

His hand goes down the top of my panties, a finger searches deep between my buttocks. His dirty, greasy, oily stained finger finds my anus, and I renew my desperate struggling.

Females are at a loss fighting off men, especially one dressed in delicate clothes. High heels don't help either, tottering around trying to keep balance and fend off the attacker, well, it's a losing position all round.

He changes his approach, and pulls his hand out. I feel my panties being ripped from me. For a moment he stops, and I stay there waiting for whatever comes next. His hand goes over the curvy of my ass. I struggle again, as his hand goes between my legs from behind, and I feel fingers digging in my private place. His other had shoves me, and I stop struggling as Rick removes his fingers from between my legs.