The Queen of Tease
As always, Susana spent a great deal of time and thought on getting
ready. As always, Neil became impatient as she tried first one outfit,
then another, then different combinations while he lay on the bed
watching her. "I like that," he'd say, or "That's great!" But what did
he know? It was a serious business, setting out to knock 'em dead at the
SmokeHouse, and everything had to be just right.
She tried, and rejected, a couple of trousers-and-coat ensembles, a
see-through skirt and silk blouse, a flowing and filmy cocktail dress.
None of them quite made it. The problem facing the Queen of Tease was,
not only did she have to tease Neil (which was easy), and sundry other
horny guys at the nightclub (which was scarcely any harder), but also
she had to tease herself, had to be sure she was skating as close to
danger as she could without actually inviting trouble she really
couldn't handle.
Finally she decided that tonight was the night to try out the Tearaway
Sheath. This had started out as a fairly shapeless short black dress,
made teaseworthy by a big brass zip running all the way from neck to
hem. Susana had modified the tight bodice, opening it below the armpits
and inserting deep vees of black lace almost to the waist. Then she had
tapered the skirt, so that now it clung tight around her legs just below
mid-thigh. Because of the lace inserts she couldn't wear a bra, and the
side view as she moved offered occasional tantalising glimpses of the
smooth swell of her breasts.
She studied herself in the mirror, then pirouetted for Neil's benefit,
raising her arms so that the skirt rose half a dozen centimetres further
up her smooth brown legs. Neil groaned with lust, and made a show of
adjusting the erection he always got when he watched her getting
dressed.
She checked the mirror again, frowned, and pulled the zip all the way
down. The dress fell open like an unbuttoned coat as she stepped to the
wardrobe and took out a pair of white net stockings and a suspender
belt. She turned her back on Neil, snapped the belt around her waist,
sat on the end of the bed and pulled on the stockings. Then she stood
up, still with her back to Neil, slipped out of her knickers, secured
the suspenders to the tops of the stockings, and re-zipped the dress.
She stepped back to the mirror, pirouetted again, noted with approval
that raising her arms lifted the skirt to within a finger's breadth of
the stocking tops.
Neil got off the bed. "Wait," he said, and walked out of the bedroom,
returned in half a minute with a large brass curtain-ring which he fixed
to the zip handle.
Susana slipped on her black patent spike heels, and surveyed the total
effect in the mirror. Neil picked her knickers off the floor where she
had dropped them, held them out to her. She shook her head, grinned
mischievously, reached out and scratched lightly at the front of his
trousers. He closed his eyes and shivered.
Susana stepped backwards to the bed and sat down on the edge. Watching
herself closely in the mirror to check the extent of the view at each
stage, she crossed and recrossed her legs, then leaned back with her
knees a relaxed 20cm apart. Perfect. At its most revealing, just a hint
of bare brown flesh above the white stocking tops. Unless she chose to
make it obvious, no-one but Neil and herself would know the full extent
of her nakedness under the dress.
She stood up, walked past Neil into the bathroom, checked her makeup and
fixed a spray of frangipani in her hair. Then she chose a perfume that
wouldn't conflict with the fragrance of the flowers, sprayed just a
touch on her neck and shoulders, and gave herself a more liberal squirt
between her legs. She parted her lips, ran her tongue over her teeth,
then walked back into the bedroom. Neil was still standing with her
knickers in his hand. She took them from him, placed them in her
handbag, snapped it shut, and took another long look at herself in the
full-length mirror.
"Okay," she said. "Let's go."
_ _ _
She had timed it perfectly. The SmokeHouse was just starting to fill up,
and there was still a table in the corner by the bar. Susana chose a
chair against the wall from where she could keep an eye on both the bar
and the dance floor. Neil fetched bourbons and Coke, sat beside her in
the corner chair. He raised his glass, looked into her eyes. "Cheers,"
he said.
Under cover of the table, Susana ran her hand up the inside of his thigh
and squeezed. "Love you," she whispered. Says you, he thought, and felt
instantly guilty for it.
___
He supposed she still DID love him, in spite of everything. Far from
home, condemned by stupid Labor-and-Immigration rules to the
unproductive monotony of life as an expatriate wife, it was hardly
surprising that she had finally fulfilled his decade-old prediction and
taken a lover. She was certainly not alone in that in fact, very few
expatriate couples managed to make it through a three-year contract
period without one or the other kicking over the traces. Many of the
marriages didn't survive. Was his own marriage dying? He hoped not. It
was why he wanted more intimacy, rather than less, between the three of
them . . . why he believed that, as long as Susana insisted she needed
Peter, their best hope was a true menage a trois, a marriage of three,
all of them living together and each of them bearing a part of the
burden of making it work. There should be no suspicion, no jealousy, no
rivalry, and no guilt. When Susana could introduce the pair of them to a
new acquaintance as "my husbands", and neither of them felt threatened
by the other, they might have a real chance.
___
"Hey," said Susana, tugging at Neil's sleeve and jerking him back from
his thoughts, "where are you? I need another drink." He checked his own
glass, found it almost half full, drained it, and looked around for a
waiter. There was none in sight, so he got to his feet, picked up both
glasses, and walked over to the bar.
The place was filling rapidly, and he had to wait for service. When,
finally, he turned from the bar with the fresh drinks, there was a
fellow squatting by Susana's chair, talking earnestly to her. He stood
up as Neil placed the drinks on the table. Tall, well-muscled, black.
"This is my husband," said Susana. They shook hands and exchanged the
obligatory information about themselves: "David. I'm with Telecom."
"Neil. Trade and Industry." David looked at Susana, back to Neil. "I've
just asked your wife to dance," he said. "Do you mind?" Susana was
already getting to her feet. "Go ahead," said Neil, and sat down as they
walked out on to the dance floor.
___
The Queen of Tease had been quietly busy while Neil was sunk in his
private reverie. David was only one of about half a dozen teaseables she
had spotted and encouraged with a flash of thigh or an apparently
unconscious but actually deliberate licking of lips. He had watched her
from the corner of the bar for about five minutes before heading across
to her table almost as soon as Neil got up. "I'm David," he said. "Do
you want to dance?" Susana took a long drag at her cigarette and looked
him up and down. "Not this music," she said.
He squatted beside her, breathed in the fragrance of French perfume, and
jerked his head back over his shoulder towards the bar. "That old guy
your boyfriend?" Susana blew smoke in his face.
"No," she said. "He's my husband." "Oh," he said. "Sorry." It wasn't
clear whether he meant sorry about calling him an old guy, or sorry that
he was her husband. "It's okay," said Susana, uncrossing her legs, then
crossing them again the other way and treating him to a glimpse of inner
thigh in the process. It wasn't clear whether she meant it was okay to
say Neil was an old guy, or okay he wouldn't mind her dancing with
David. Either way, he was encouraged. "Where you from?" he asked, and
they went through the routine question-and-answer bit until Neil came
back to the table.
Now that they were out on the dance floor, she had a chance to really
show her stuff. She strutted, shook, shimmied and waggled her bottom.
David was all eyes, lapping it all up. So, she noticed, was a large part
of the rest of the male population, including Neil over in the corner.
As the dance ended she raised both arms high in the air, felt the skirt
ride up above her stocking tops, noted eyes widening all around her at
the sight of her bare thighs, and shivered with erotic delight at the
thought of her naked pussy barely five centimetres away from full
exposure.
A slow number began and David reached to put his arms around her, but
she ducked aside. "Later," she said, and flashed a smile so full of
promise that he went weak at the knees. She had no intention of
fulfilling the promise, there was too much more to do.
She took his arm, steered him back to the corner of the bar and told him
again: "Later." Then she walked back to the table and sat down with her
ankles crossed and her knees together, tugging the dress down over her
thighs as if she was suddenly aware for the first time that it bordered
on the indecent.
Her crotch was damp with excitement, and she worried briefly about
leaving a wet spot on the back of her skirt. She decided that this much
wouldn't show on the black fabric, but realised that as the evening wore
on and the teasing intensified she would be making frequent trips to the
Ladies to mop herself dry.
She glanced across at David, saw he was still watching her, and beamed
brightly at the guy beside him. Then she turned pointedly away,
signalled to Neil to light her a cigarette, and took a large swallow of
her drink. A waiter came by, and she motioned for another round, then
emptied her glass. Her eyes met Neil's as he handed her the cigarette.
He nodded in the direction of David. "Turn him on?" he asked. Susana
made an "O" with her lips, let out a slow stream of smoke. "Think so,"
she said. "Turn you on?" he asked. "Just a bit." She scanned the room,
carefully avoiding the corner where David was standing. The thing now
was safety in numbers.
The waiter returned with their fresh drinks. Susana stirred hers with a
finger, caught the eye of a promising looking fellow on the other side
of the bar, and gazed steadily at him as she popped the wet finger in
her mouth and sucked it provocatively. He grinned, pointed her out to
the guy alongside him, and they both watched as she did it again for
emphasis.
Another slow dance began. The first guy stepped back from the bar and
began to walk around in her direction. Susana grabbed Neil's hand.
"Dance," she said, got up and pulled him to his feet, kept hold of his
hand as she led him out towards the dance floor.
Perfect timing, again. The guy came round the end of the bar just as
they reached it, and propped in confusion as she pressed past him on to
the floor and melted against Neil. She watched him out of the corner of
her eye. He was hesitating, wondering whether to go back to his buddy or
wait near her table and try his luck. He was about to turn back when she
looked straight at him and very deliberately licked her lips. That did
it! He grinned at her again and headed off down the bar to stand against
the end wall beside her table, watching her.
Susana noted that David was still in his original position, still
watching her, too. He and the guy in the corner were not the only ones,
of course. She felt hot eyes on her from every direction, and her
nipples hardened as she imagined the stirrings in a dozen pairs of
trousers in various parts of the room.
Speaking of stirrings, there was a noteworthy and not unexpected lump in
Neil's pants. She stretched up, nibbled his ear, and pressed her stomach
hard against his erection. He cuddled her close with his left arm,
slipped his right hand down from the small of her back and squeezed her
left buttock, then traced the lower line of her suspender belt with his
fingers. Susana wriggled contentedly, taking pleasure in the way his
cock hardened against her as she moved.
The dance ended and she disentangled herself from Neil's arms, was
walking off the floor when she spotted a familiar figure. Ignoring Neil,
she walked up, said "Hello Simon," and pulled him on to the dance floor.
Neil shrugged his shoulders, walked back to the table. He lit a
cigarette and chewed at the ice in his drink, watched hungrily as Susana
dipped and shimmied with Simon on the dance floor. Beside him, the
admirer from the other side of the bar studied him out of the corner of
his eye, then turned his attention back to Susana. At the bar, David put
a hand in his pocket and adjusted his semi-erection as Susana glanced in
his direction, raised her arms and did her skirt-lifting trick. He
grabbed for a fresh beer, drank deeply and wiped his mouth with the back
of his hand.
When the dance ended, Susana brought Simon back to the table. He shook
hands with Neil, offered to buy them drinks, then noticed the guy in the
corner and recognised him as someone from a village not far from his
own. They spoke briefly in their own language, then Simon introduced the
guy as Tom. "Tom," he said, "meet Susana." The Queen of Tease inclined
her head, waved a hand in Neil's direction. "This is my husband," she
said. Tom leaned across and shook hands with Neil. Moments later, he had
pulled a chair around the table and was sitting beside Susana. She
fished out a cigarette and he whipped the matches off the table, struck
one and held it out to her in cupped hands. She leaned forward, held his
wrist as she dipped her head to light the cigarette, then blew out the
match.
Simon pushed his way up to the bar. He must have had influence, because
he was back in less than a minute with a full round of drinks. He
settled into the empty chair on the other side of the table, picked up
his glass and began chatting with Neil about a supposed scandal that had
made headlines that morning.
The Queen of Tease was in her element. She leaned back, crossed her legs
lazily and smiled happily to herself as Tom's eyes dropped to her knees,
travelled up her thigh to where the band at the top of her stocking was
just visible below the hem of her dress. He hitched his chair closer,
leaned forward and began to tell her how he knew Simon. She wasn't
really listening, but looked as though she was. She watched his face,
nodded at what seemed appropriate moments, and toyed absently with the
brass ring attached to the zipper of her dress. Apparently unaware of
what she was doing, she drew the zipper down about 10cm, then a further
5cm, then pulled it all the way up again. Tom shifted in his chair and
chatted on, his eyes now fixed on the brass ring. and his thoughts fixed
on the fact, realised for the first time, that the zipper ran all the
way down the front of the dress and came apart at the bottom. Susana let
him ramble on for a minute or so, then stubbed out her cigarette. "Let's
dance," she said.
It was an island beat, and she made the most of it, shaking her hips and
undulating her arms, breaking up with delighted laughter at Tom's
untutored interpretation of the man's part. "Get down," she said, and he
spread his knees and crouched, stepping around her with his gaze riveted
to her gyrating bottom. She stepped closer, bumped him in the crotch
with her hip and knocked him off balance, grabbed his hand to prevent
him sprawling on the floor and fell into a giggling fit.
As the number ended, she pulled down the zipper a few centimetres, held
the dress out from her chest and blew down it to cool off. Tom made as
if to walk back to the table, but she pulled him back and pressed up
against him as another slow dance began.
He was stocky, powerful, and smelled faintly of Brut. Susana snuggled in
tight, and her own fragrance drifted up to his nostrils, stimulating
pleasure centres in his brain and obliterating the humiliation of being
almost knocked on his arse. His cock struggled to find space to stand
up, jabbed into Susana's stomach, and she rubbed herself against it. His
right hand drifted down her left side, explored her hip. He was puzzled
by the suspender belt, shocked and delighted when he realised in a flash
of inspiration both what it was and that it was her only undergarment.
He pressed fiercely against her and she pressed back, feeling herself
once again growing wet between the legs.
Tom lowered his mouth to her ear, muttered: "You are making me crazy. I
want you." Susana squeezed his buns and giggled. "Horny beast," she
said. She wriggled her stomach against his by now rampant erection, then
slapped him on the bottom. "Dance properly," she said, and stepped
smartly backwards, her eyes sparkling with merriment.
Tom hunched forward in a futile attempt to hide the bulge in his
trousers, now revealed for all to see, and pulled her back against him.
"Bitch," he hissed, and she giggled again. He spent the rest of the
dance trying to bring himself back under control to the point where,
when the number ended, he was able to walk with her back to the table
without making an exhibition of himself.
Susana picked up her bag and excused herself, made for the Ladies. Tom
went to the bar, bought another round of drinks. As he sat down, he
spoke to Simon in dialect, apparently recounting his recent experience
on the dance floor.
Simon grinned, launched into a detailed explanation, also in dialect, of
what Susana was all about. He'd been through it all previously, knew her
for an incurable tease, took pleasure in just being around her without
trying to get into her pants, always assuming she was wearing any. She
had a husband, and a boyfriend, and as far as he could make out she
wasn't interested in any more on the side, just in the thrill of the
chase. Tom looked at Neil, wondered how the poor bastard put up with it,
and pulled at his beer.
Susana finished in the Ladies, was walking back to the table when David
grabbed her arm. He'd been knocking back one beer after another and was
more than a little pissed. He'd also been watching every stage of her
performance, and his eyes were bright with lust. "Dance with me," he
said, his voice thick with booze and passion.
Susana considered a refusal, decided that might be unwise, and told him
to wait while she took her bag to the table. He followed her over,
watched impatiently as she passed her bag to Neil and downed one of the
three drinks on the table in front of her chair. He moved off only when
he was sure she was following, and waited for her on the edge of the
dance floor.
He grabbed her hand as she came up, tried to pull her to him. That was
bad form, for a start. This was a fast dance. Susana twisted out of his
grasp, moved to the centre of the floor, stayed just out of his reach as
they danced. Warning bells rang in her head, and she toned down her act,
dancing as demurely as the dress allowed and trying not to inflame him
any further.
The number was half-way through when she glanced up and saw Peter making
his way around the end of the bar. Her face lit up and she called his
name. He stopped, scanned the dance floor until he spotted her, and
stood waiting. Sweating with relief, she muttered "Thanks" to David as
the music ended and began to walk off the floor. David grabbed her arm.
"Slow dance," he said. "Not now," she said, and twisted away from him.
Now he was cross. He grabbed again, spun her around. "Come here," he
said, and tugged at the brass ring on the front of her dress. Zzzip. The
dress peeled open down to her navel. Someone gasped, and Susana sensed
that suddenly everyone in the place was looking at her. David let go of
the ring, stared stupidly at her as she zipped herself together. Then
Peter was behind him, one powerful arm around his throat, the other
dragging his arm high up behind his back. "She's mine," Peter hissed.
"Touch her again and you're dead." He tightened his grip for emphasis.
David struggled briefly, thought better of it, and went limp. Peter let
him go, and he tottered off towards the toilet.
Susana reached behind Peter's neck, pulled his face down to hers and
kissed him. "Thanks," she said. He grunted. "Time you learned to stay
out of trouble," he said. But then he smiled, and she led him to the
table. Tom stood up as they approached, looked questioningly at Peter.
"This is my OTHER husband," said Susana. "Peter, this is Tom." They
shook hands. Tom looked at Neil, raised his eyebrows at Simon, excused
himself and went off in search of easier game.
Several times during the rest of the evening Susana sighted David
dancing with another woman. He glanced in her direction a couple of
times, but he didn't bother her again.
The drinks kept coming. Another drink, another dance. Sometimes there
were three rounds at a time on the table. The Queen of Tease glowed,
drank a little more, glowed a little brighter. She danced with Simon,
with Peter, with Neil, with Peter again, with another friend of Simon's
who was scarcely as tall as her but who, she discovered by rubbing
against him on the dance floor, had a truly gigantic dick. She had to
dry herself off again in the Ladies after that dance. When she came out,
she made Peter a present of her knickers, passing them to him under
cover of the table.
While he pondered the significance of that, she picked Neil for another
fast dance, scared him by taking the skirt-raising trick to new heights,
and chided him for being a spoilsport when he pointed out that she was
only about two centimetres away from being arrested for indecent
exposure. She was briefly cross with Peter when he made a similar
comment and suggested she ought at least to put her knickers on. To
punish the pair of them she had another slow dance with Simon's
well-hung friend, and teased him so thoroughly that he ran away when the
dance ended and didn't come back.
She had another drink, made eyes at a stranger at the bar until he asked
her to dance, then kept him on the floor until he begged for mercy and
staggered away sweating and exhausted. He didn't come back, either.
She danced with Simon again, came back to find a newcomer at their
table, with a couple of girls. She sat in Peter's lap and played with
his shirt buttons until he pushed her off and dragged her out on to the
floor for another steamy and wet-making slow dance.
The girls were gone when they got back to the table. Susana reclaimed
her chair, opened her handbag and took out her perfume. She sprayed
scent down her arms, looked up to discover another stranger eyeing her
from the bar. She smiled sweetly at him, spread her knees and gave
herself a quick squirt between the legs, grinned as he turned back to
the bar clutching at his cock.
She put the perfume back in her bag, tossed down another drink, and
ordered Neil up for another dance. The lights came up as the number
ended, and she hurried back to the table, pulled Peter to his feet for
the last dance of the night.
There was still a tableful of drinks when it was over, and by the time
they had polished them off the place was almost deserted. Neil and Peter
were both standing, waiting by the door, as she finished her last glass.
She got up a little unsteadily, linked her arm through Peter's, and they
walked out to the car.
Susana wanted to drive, but was over-ruled two votes to one. She gave in
gracefully, got into the back seat as Neil slipped behind the wheel and
Peter settled in beside him. They drove home in silence.
Susana clung to Peter's arm as they walked up the steps to the
apartment. Once inside, she headed for the bathroom, came out to find
Peter in the armchair and Neil on the sofa, both of them watching soccer
on the TV. She walked between them, put a hand out to either side and
ruffled their hair. "Hello, my husbands," she said. Then she stepped in
front of Peter, blocking his view, and struck a modelling pose. "It's
time to party," she said.
She grabbed the brass ring, pulled the zipper all the way down and
shrugged off the dress, then dropped slowly to her knees between Peter's
legs and reached for his belt.
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