The Price of the Game. Chapter 1

Written by a female.
Unknown

Pat Smylie touched some raw nerve in Collette Pembertons psyche. His rough Mancunian accent, and the basic manner by which he went about his window cleaning duties, reminded her with a sense of cruel reassurance of the gap in class that separated them. He came in every fortnight, on Wednesdays, and spent the day cleaning the seventy-two windows of Greyspoke manor.

People like him made her skin creep. Shifty eyed, smelly, always so appallingly dressed, and worst of all, unable to show the respect Collette felt accustomed to from the male sex. She felt uncomfortably tainted whenever she came into contact with him. Not for the first time, she thought, as she watched him carrying his ladder to the west wing, she would replace him just as soon as she could find another window cleaner.

Greyspoke manor was her pride and joy, ever since the move eight years ago following her marriage to Michael Pemberton.
Running a large family home, where they entertained family and friends most weekends, with the help of just two staff, is no mean task, Collette thought to herself.
Michael wasn't much help. He spent most nights of the working week at the city apartment, to save on the commuting time, while she kept herself occupied by a demanding round of social commitments. At least he brings home the bacon, she always reminded herself, even if that was her sole consolation on those awkward nights when she hungered for male company.

She checked her watch. Five to three, time to leave if she was to be on time for the afternoon rubber at Lynne's.
'Aletta', she addressed the maid, ' I'm leaving for Bridge, and I'll be back around seven. I'm on my own for dinner tonight, so I'll look after myself.'

Aletta nodded affirmatively, and continued her polishing as Collette left the room. Aletta had mixed feelings about her boss. On the one hand she found her abrasive superiority hard to stomach. This she qualified by the sympathy she felt for the fact that Collette's husband was always away, and this made her frustration evident. She heard the sound of the Mercedes pulling out of the driveway.

As if on cue, the kitchen door opened, and there stood Robert, the gardener, with a broad grin on his face. Aletta had been attracted to Robert when she first started the job, three months previously. His six foot two frame was lean and hard, and his rough features stimulated some primal instinct in her. He'd noticed her attraction immediately, and since then had taken every opportunity, often several time a day, to take her, in a variety of locations and positions. She was powerless to resist. Her petite five foot one frame responded to him in a way which made words superfluous. He had only to command, and she obeyed.

'She's gone' he said, entering the kitchen, and approaching Aletta, who was seated at the wooden kitchen table. Aletta felt her crotch moisten as her adrenalin surged.
His rough hands reached under her arms, and with no apparent effort, lifted her out of her chair, and sat her on the edge of the table. Her breath was racing now, as his hands reached under her skirt, grabbing at her panties, and sliding them down her black stockinged legs. She reached forward to release the pulsing erection which strained visibly against the flies of his jeans. His swollen phallus sprang free from its confines, and she grasped it with both hands, like an addict reaching for a fix.

In the heat of lust which consumed them both, they failed to hear the sound of the Mercedes backing into the driveway, or even the sound of the kitchen door opening.

Collette had reached the corner of the road, before discovering she had forgotten a letter she had intended posting en' route to the Bridge game, and had returned. The sight that greeted her stopped her in her tracks. Aletta was perched on the edge of the kitchen table, her skirt around her waist, as her red tipped fingers wanked the largest penis Collette had ever seen. Robert the gardener, stood with his head back, resting his arms on Aletta's shoulders. Reaching forward, Aletta slipped the end of his engorged phallus into her mouth, lovingly running her tongue over the vermilion helmet, which jumped and started in spasmodic jerks in response to the pleasure she was causing.

Collette stood frozen to the spot.
Her body was responding to this debutante voyeurism in a very physical way. She was aware of a burning sensation in her groin, and her nipples had become painfully erect. The rush of blood to her head made her stagger, and she gripped the door-frame tightly to prevent herself falling to the ground.
Robert changed position. He lifted Aletta off the table, and placed her on her hands and knees before him, exposing her naked buttocks, split down the middle by a black lined gash of pink flesh. Aletta moaned ecstatically as his rigid member penetrated her, the full length of which slid deep inside her tight pussy.

From her vantage point, Collette's could clearly see the lips of Aletta's vagina clinging wetly to Roberts phallus, as he withdrew almost to the tip, before plunging back inside her. Each thrust was met by a cry of increasing intensity from Aletta, as the momentum built up. 'I'm going to come', said Robert, his body tensing as he thrust brutally against Aletta's rear. This triggered an animal moan of unsurpassed intensity as both bodies seemed to blur in Collette's vision.

Easing the door closed behind her, Collette leaned against the kitchen wall, her eyes closed tightly as she replayed the scene she had just witnessed.
From the mass of wild emotions she felt, one reality glared. She wanted Robert.
For the first time in her life, class, style, background, and indeed all the criteria by which she normally judged men, were rendered meaningless. She had been in control for too long, and her body was making this decision for her. As she leaned against the wall, she became conscious that her hand had found its way into her knickers, which were wet with the evidence of her arousal. She imagined that it was Roberts hands rubbing the slippery wetness around her swollen clitoris, and it took mere seconds before the friction brought her to her own orgasm, so powerful that she felt her legs buckling beneath her, and had to sit against the wall, her hand cupped over her dripping snatch, as wave after wave of orgiastic sensation swept her away. Visions of Roberts cock spurting inside Aletta's swollen pudenda obliterated all thoughts beyond the insatiable urge emanating from her own aching pussy.

Pat Smylie hated his job. Before his arrest for the credit card fraud which led to the six grim months in Pentonville, he had been doing quite well with his wheeling and dealing. Since being released, his 'window cleaning business' could be considered a reasonable success, but did not offer the kind of prospects his ambitions required.

Whilst working on an inside window in the west wing, which faced the kitchen doorway, he saw Collette exit the kitchen. His attention focused on the sight before him when he saw her hand release her belt, and move between her legs. He watched for several minutes, until he saw her collapse against the wall, quite oblivious to his gaze. He felt his erection growing as he watched her reach what was quite obviously an intense orgasm. Within minutes she regained her composure, tightened her belt, and walked around the house to the front door. Pat continued his cleaning, adjusting his coveralls to accommodate the erection which wouldn't go away. He re-lived what he had just witnessed in his mind.

So the bitch was human after all. Unable to resist his curiosity, he swiftly made his way to the attic room. He knew from previous experience that the side window of the attic afforded a clear view through the skylight of Collette's bedroom. On several occasions in the past he had lingered there, hoping for some glimpse of her in a state of undress, but this had never happened. Here was the jackpot he had hoped for.

As he gazed through the skylight he saw Collette standing facing the wall mirror.
She stood side on to his view, but her nudity was apparent, as was her action. Her right hand was tracing circles around each nipple in turn, occasionally pulling the rosy tips between thumb and forefinger. Her other hand was between her legs, massaging between the tufts of dark hair. She was watching herself intently in the mirror. She raised her one leg to afford a better view, as she slipped her forefinger between the swollen lips of her cunny.

Pat stood transfixed at the sight before him. Despite his absorption in what he was witnessing, his calculating mind was working overtime. 'If only I had a camera with me', he speculated, I might be onto something here.

Collette's head was now rocking backward and forward, her eyes closed, as her body shuddered with the orgasm which overcame her. This lasted some minutes, until she collapsed onto the bed, her hand still covering her neatly trimmed pubis.
Pat moved away from the window, resolving never again to come to work without a camera.

Collette had not felt more relaxed in a long time.
As she lay back on her bed she felt quite elated by the intensity of her orgasm. She had fantasized that it was Roberts hands between her legs, and his mouth against her breasts. As she felt the waves of orgasm arriving, she imagined the feeling of his come, shooting up her eager cunnilon. Michael had not slept with her for over a month now. Since their marriage she had discovered that sex with Michael was more a chore than a pleasure. Even on their wedding night he had done little more than grope her breasts for a few minutes by way of foreplay, after which he pushed his modest member into her, where less than a minute later he was a spent force. She had tried various ways to excite him. Expensive lingerie, which she revealed by way a slow strip-tease, produced disappointing results. Even her efforts at oral sex failed to hold his attention for long. He was entirely preoccupied by his business, and apparently viewed sex as an unwelcome distraction.

Lying back on her bed, her hand still pressed firmly against her wet pubis, Collette realised that the scene of animal sex that she had witnessed in the kitchen had awoken a sexual desire that she had only suspected in brief moments with the shower nozzle, existed. Silently she resolved to seduce Robert. The memory of his massive swollen phallus, pumping into Aletta's tight wet pussy, made her long to feel him come inside her.

What Collette wanted, she usually got.

*******

Michael Pembertons office at City Mercantile reflected his stature within the company.

He had personally chosen the eighteenth century Oak desk for which he had bid twenty two thousand pounds at Sothebys, and on which stood a gold framed ten by twelve colour portrait of Collette.

He hardly noticed the picture any more, just as he hardly noticed her presence in his life. Business was booming. His commission on his last contract alone was in excess of a quarter of a million pounds. The account in Gibraltar would be close on a million once this deposit went through. Michael sat back in his chair, surveying the luxurious expanse before him, hands behind his head.

He felt aroused on this Tuesday morning.
The closure of successful deals did that to him. He reached for the intercom connecting him to his secretaries adjoining office.

'Sylvie, a coffee please'. He didn't really feel like coffee, but welcomed the distraction of having Sylvie come into his office.
For some time now he had entertained the notion of having a fling with her. Her officious disposition and generally untouchable appearance was becoming increasingly irresistible. Perhaps it was the combination of the horn rimmed glasses and the tight formal office wear which accentuated the disproportionately large character of her breasts in relation to her otherwise petite frame. The door opened, and she entered with the coffee. For a moment Michael imagined her standing naked before him. Her nipples rising erect at the tips of her milky white breasts. Her pussy dripping wet with desire. The thought caused an unfamiliar stirring in his loins. 'Thank you Sylvie'. She smiled toward him, and closed the door quietly behind her. 'Yes' he mused, soon he would have to do something about this, and returned to the document facing him.

*******

The Mercedes 500 SL pulled away from the entrance to Greyspoke Manor, leaving Collette standing at the open door, waving goodbye to her friends, Clare and Susanne after their regular Wednesday coffee morning. Across the gravel driveway, Robert stood raking the recently mown lawn. On an impulse, Collette called him over. 'Robert, Are you any good at carpentry,' she asked. 'I need you to replace some shelving in the house please'. 'I'll have a look' he replied. He followed her up the stairs to her bedroom. She led him to her walk in cupboard, and pointed out a row of shelves. 'These just don't look right', she observed, 'I'd like to replace the lot with a colour that matches the door. Do you think you could do this?'.

Robert paused to consider her request. Basically this was a simple job, measuring shelves, getting hold of the right wood, and replacing the old with the new.

' I think I can manage', he replied. 'When do you want it done?' 'Start right away if you would, I'd like it finished by next week.'

As Robert left her room to fetch his measuring implements, Collette ruminated over her options.
By her calculations this job should keep him in her bedroom for at least a week. Enough time to spur him on beyond the borders of his self control. Just the thought of it was enough to start her pussy juicing up.

Closing the bedroom door, she quickly stripped off her clothes, and sat naked on the edge of the bed, facing the wall mirror opposite. Opening her legs, she watched the reflection intently while one hand parted her moist labia, and a finger found her clit. In just a matter of minutes, the waves of orgasm overcame her, as with two fingers slipped knuckle deep inside her pussy, and the image of Roberts dick filling her mind, she collapsed backward onto the bed, still feverish with desire.

Inside the loft conversion which he had adapted as a darkroom, Pat Smylie had just finished packing his camera bag prior to leaving for Greyspoke manor.
He had mounted the zoom lens on his Canon, as well as packing a small instamatic, in case time was prohibitive.

'Tea's on the table luv'.
Her voice wafted through.
He grimaced. Seven years of marriage to this, and no prospects of escape from either her, or the Council estate which had been their home since the marriage. Pat looked at the camera, willing some cosmic energy to rescue him from this life of poverty which he did not deserve.

******************************

Lying back in her bubblebath, Collette heard the tap on her bedroom door.

'Excuse me, Ma'm', Robert called through.
'Yes Robert', she called back, 'Just let yourself in and get on with it'.
She felt a tingle of anticipation. Here she was, lying naked and vulnerable, with just an unlocked door between them. She had pondered over whether to leave the bathroom door slightly ajar, but had decided against it, as it might arouse his suspicions prematurely. She could hear him moving about, and her desire grew more intense. Slowly and sensuously she washed her body. Starting with each toe in turn, working her way up her legs, gently parting her labia and soaping away the dewy evidence of her arousal. Onwards she went, curling her fingers about her hips, smoothing the soap along her flat stomach, and finally reaching her breasts, to which she paid special attention, massaging the soap around and around her nipples, until both stood erect. Little pink warriors in a sea of white foam. Finally she washed her hair, lying back in the bath to submerge herself completely, thrilling at the thought that while she lay under the water with her eyes closed, Robert might quite conceivably have entered the room, and be standing over her, ready to take her.

Next, she began the task of shaving her legs, energetically rubbing in the aromatic oil she favoured for this purpose. Once she had completed the depilation of both legs, she turned her attention to her bikini line. Collette took great personal pride in the appearance of her cuntlet.
She had long outgrown her girlish embarrassment at realising that her pubic mound extended more fully than those of her schoolfriends. Her labial lips, which would swell up to the thickness of her middle finger when aroused were now a source of keen erotic pleasure, and she would often shave the entire area up to her clitoris to enable her to enjoy the feeling of smooth skin, to which she would apply a liberal sprinkling of oil to facilitate her indulgence in lengthy masturbation sessions. The remainder of her silky black pubes were cut back into a trim heart shape from the apex of her clitoral hood.

As she ran the razor along the delicate flesh of her pubis, she felt the small darts of sexual tension pierce the vessel of her sexuality, and form a coat of sweet dew along the inside of her labia, which by now were beginning to pout in anticipation.

In the adjoining room which seperated the bedroom from the bathroom, Robert felt somewhat uneasy as he set about his task.
He could hear the sound of the occasional splash in the bathroom, and the thought of his not unattractive employer lying naked just a few feet away had the uncomfortable effect of giving him an erection. As he was on his knees, measuring a low shelf, and battling to keep his mind on the job, the bathroom door opened and Collette stood facing him. She was wearing an ivory silk dressing gown with matching high heeled bedroom slippers. The top was tied loosely, revealing a generous expanse of cleavage which revealed what Robert had long suspected. That the Madam had a large pair on her.

'Excuse me Robert', she said, moving towards him, 'I need some clean underwear'.

She pulled open a drawer, and began sifting through it. Robert kept his eyes ahead, apparently intent on his task, although he was in a position which ensured she remained within his field of vision.

She pulled a flesh coloured basque out of the drawer, and let it hang in front of her, as if undecided, then turning to reveal an expanse of thigh, swept passed him into the bedroom, leaving a lingering smell of expensive perfume.

The erection in Roberts trousers was becoming uncomfortable.
With fingers that were becoming increasingly unsteady, he continued unscrewing the shelf he was working on.

Collette was already high on the feeling of adventure. The sheer recklessness of what she was doing sent adrenalin coursing through her veins. She stood in the centre of her room, letting the dressing gown fall to the floor around her ankles. She stretched both arms out, revelling in her nudity, and the thrill of knowing that Robert had only to move six feet to one side, to be afforded a direct view into her bedroom. Stepping away from the puddle of silk at her feet, she slipped into the tight fitting basque. It served to accentuate the already impressive geography of her cleavage. The French style crotch hung loosely between her legs, and she revelled in the feeling of sheer eroticism as the silken material rubbed against the smooth skin of her depilated pudenda. Having left him to simmer for a few minutes, Collette now re-entered the dressing room, where Robert was still on his knees facing the cupboard shelving. Purposefully, as if unaware that she had company, she strode to the underwear drawer, opened it, and selected a pair of black silk stockings.

Robert felt his breathing quicken as he saw her in the Basque. This was a class of woman quite alien to all his previous experience, despite the fact that heÕd had plenty of that. She seemed quite oblivious to his presence, as she turned and exited the room once more. The temptation to look was overwhelming, and taking the minor precaution of pretending to lay a shelf out on the floor, he positioned himself within view of the bedroom.
She had her back to him, and her one leg on the bed, as she rolled a stocking over her foot and up her leg, fastening it onto the suspender clips which hung from her basque. She shifted her weight as she moved to don the second stocking, leaning forward in the process, affording him a clear sight of that smooth flesh between her legs. He felt rivetted to the spot. The sight of her hairless cunny caused him to groan out loud. She turned abruptly to face him.

'Robert, what are you doing?' she exclaimed in a domineering tone of voice.

'YouÕre supposed to be fixing shelves, not watching me dress'.

Even as she spoke she was still running the stocking up her leg.

'What would happen if my husband were to walk in now, he would probably think you were about to rape me. That's not what youÕre thinking now is it?'.

He stood transfixed, unable to reply save for a groan of confusion. 'What do you think of my body Robert', she asked, moving slowly toward him, ' Would you like to see me naked?'. 'Yes', he stammered, scarcely able to believe what was happening as she stopped barely two feet in front of him.

'Can you keep a secret Robert', she asked in a low husky voice, looking directly into his eyes.
'Yes' he replied.

'Then get down on your knees and kiss me here'.

She snapped the press studs on the crotch of her basque to reveal the pouting lips of her vagina, already swollen in anticipation. With a moan of animal desire, Robert fell to his knees before her, his mouth covering her pubis, as his tongue sought to draw the nectar of her arousal from deep within her. The electricity of the moment was too much for her, and almost at the instant that his tongue pressured against her clitoris she felt a wave of orgasm overtake her. Her knees went weak, and only the support of his hands around her buttocks kept her vertical as his tongue relentlessly persued its noble mission. She moaned loudly in the throes of her climax, pushing on the back of his head with both her hands. 'Lick me you dirty fucker, harder, deeper, make me come'. Moving his hands up her back, and without displacing his mouth from her cunny, he effortlessly lifted her body weight, and carried her to the bed, where he laid her gently onto the silken bedspread. His hands fumbled urgently at his flies, and released his throbbing phallus. Within seconds he had entered her, thrusting the full length of his manhood deep inside her waiting cuntlet.

She met each thrust with a thrust of her own, lost in what seemed to be a continuos stream of orgasm, clenching her vaginal muscles on each downstroke, willing him to come. Aroused as he was, this didn't take long. With a groan of ecstasy she felt his cock shudder as the warm jets of semen flooded her quim. Still he kept thrusting, driving her further and further, past any sexual feeling she had experienced before.
Shooting his sperm deep into her waiting womb.