8 comments/ 89899 views/ 15 favorites Set This House on Fire By: CindysBob "Anything I want?" I asked teasingly. "Anything," Leanne answered with a wry grin, her green eyes widening with mischief. "Anything at all?" "What aren't you understanding here," she laughed, tossing her head back in mock exasperation. "And you don't get to say no?" "I always get to say no," she winked, leaning forward to playfully nip at my neck. "But for today I'll briefly-very briefly-forgo that right." The aspen logs were still popping and hissing in the fireplace, the darkened room alive with fiery flickers. I leaned back on the sofa, running my wineglass under my nose, but did not sip at it. Leanne lolled her head back, her dark brown hair cascading around her shoulders. Thirty-seven years old and still girlish in so many ways, this beautiful wife of mine. "Well?" "I'm thinking, I'm thinking," I chuckled softly, watching her-gauging her. It was nearly midnight, the kids put to bed, the battered ruins of my birthday cake-black chocolate with toasted coconut-tucked neatly away in the refrigerator. "You know you're on the clock, mister," she whispered, drawing her knees against her slim, angular torso. "I hear twelve chimes and the offer is officially rescinded." "You'll do anything I want?" "You only hit forty once," she said flirtatiously, the yellowish orange flames doing a fiery dance across her lovely face. The card was one of those funny Hallmark ones, Leanne's offer-an "extra-special" gift-written across the blank facing in her graceful, curving script: Your darkest wish, your most hidden desire, all for the asking. "I want..." "What?" I laughed nervously. Sixteen years of marriage and she literally had me squirming in my seat. And I knew that she was enjoying the hell out of it. "I want..." "Yes." "I want a painting of you." "...A painting?" "I want you to pose for a painting." "...You're serious?" I knew I'd thrown her-she'd obviously expected something a bit more risque', something with at least a whiff of perversity about it. "A real painting, a real artist doing it," I blurted ahead. "A painting?" she repeated incredulously, starting to shake her head, totally surprised by my request. "I want you to pose naked." "What?" she stammered, cocking her head as if she hadn't heard what she'd in fact heard. "I want you to be nude." "No way," she stammered, bounding up off the sofa, her expression one of genuine mortification. "You said anything." "No way, no way, no way." "Just think about it." "I'm not letting somebody paint me without my clothes on. Are you crazy." "It'd be a professional. We'd get somebody really good." "An' what, hang it out on the living room wall?" I burst out laughing then, her panicked response bordering on the comical. I reached up and took her hand, gently pulling her back down on the couch with me. "It'd be our secret," I said soothingly. "Just for me. I'd put it in the office upstairs." "Yeah, where the kids can see it any time they waltz in." "We'd get one of those cabinets with doors on the wall. A lock on it an' all. Nobody would get to see it but me." "You're serious about this? You've actually thought all this through." "I want a picture of you-a painting of you in the nude. I want it down by the falls, with you out by the water and rocks an' all." "Outside?" "Look, if you don't wanna do it, fine. No problem. You asked me what I wanted more than anything, an' this is it. This would be the best gift I ever got." "You wouldn't care that some-some guy gets to look at me with no clothes on?" "Could be some gal, you never know." "You know what I mean," she answered sharply. "I'm being serious here." "It'll be an artist. It'll be somebody with a good reputation." "And it won't bother you?" she said, boring in on me with an accusatory stare. "I don't know, Lea," I shrugged. "Maybe it will. I'm just telling you that this is what I want. It isn't something I just cooked up in that couple hours since I got your card. I've thought about this for a long time, I just couldn't think of a way to ask if you'd do it." "And I gave you the perfect way," she sighed, sagging her shoulder into my chest. "Yeah, you did," I spoke at her ear. "You think about it, okay. If the answer is no, then that's that. I don't want you doing something you wouldn't be comfortable with." My wife sighed again, nestling her head under my chin, her fingers tracing circles over my thigh. I rubbed the back of her neck, feeling some of the tension melt away. I thought how much I loved her-how in a way I'd loved her from that first moment I laid eyes on her eighteen years before, when she'd driven my younger sister, Katie, home from Villanova. I closed my eyes and had a perfect recall of her on that bitingly cold day right before Thanksgiving, the little Ford Escort she had, their dirty clothes and junk piled up to roof. She was wrestling a box out of the hatch when I came out to help them-her hair knotted back in a ponytail, a shapeless down jacket swallowing her up. She'd looked up at me and smiled, that was all it took. She owned me from that second on. Inside of two months we were dating, the four-hour commute between Villanova and Pitt seeming like nothing-then the engagement, then the wedding, then the kids. Like so many dominos toppling into place, all ending up with this terrific life we'd carved out for ourselves. "It isn't a big thing if you say no," I murmured softly, stroking her silky hair. "Its nothing that important." "No, a deal's a deal," I heard her say back after a minute or so. "So I guess you can start looking for a painter-somebody who'll hopefully make me look halfway good." "He can't miss there," I whispered back, my heart skipping with delight, hearing the antique grandfather clock down the hallway as it started to chime its way towards midnight-a sonorous cadence of doom echoing through the walls of our picture-perfect home. ____________________ "I work exclusively in egg tempera," Kyle Donner explained as he took a seat across from us. "Egg white and pigment, no oils. No acrylics. I guess Andrew Wyeth and Hurd would be the best known of the people who worked in it." He sipped from the plain china mug gripped in both hands-he'd laced his coffee with a generous shot of Jim Beam, planting the square bottle at the center of his bare kitchen table, not bothering to even make an offer of it to either of us. "Tempera takes time, it can't be rushed. I've worked up my own palette, and I tell you that no one out there today can touch what I'm doing." "That's why we're here," I answered, glancing quickly over at Leanne. "I do only a couple portraits a year," he answered with a bored nod, again bringing the cup to his lips for a fast swig. "It's strictly dollars-and-cents work to me, a way to keep up the cash flow between my shows. It'll take at least a week and a half on average to complete, that of course though depends upon weather, seeing as how you want it done outside." He reached down and moved through the snapshots of the waterfall, bending close to re-examine one of them. "It looks like a pretty spot. How's the light?" "Good I guess." "Okay, then on to the particulars. I work on canvas. I do only about four or five hours a day, beyond that things tend to go down hill. I always work alone-just the subject and myself. I'm not there for entertainment. I don't put on a show. I don't want friends or neighbors dropping in to observe the creative process, sit there watching me like some damned gorilla in the zoo. Anybody shows up, I close the paint case. Understood?" "No one'll bother you," I assured him-hell, I was probably going to have my hands full just getting the "subject" there on a daily basis. "Good," he answered curtly. He pushed his half-rimmed reading glasses down his nose and stared right at my Lea. "Mind standing up, Mrs. Ellison?" I turned and watched Leanne hesitantly get to her feet, averting her eyes from his. She was dressed simply, jeans and a white blouse. "Turn," he ordered, his index finger circling in command. His tone was officious, bordering on the arrogant. Kyle Donner was a very big man, standing well over six foot, his short-cropped hair generously flecked with gray. The professional bio I'd pulled up on him-the one listed with the Chicago Institute of Painting and Sculpture where he held a Fellowship-said he was fifty-two. He had the solid physique of someone who'd labored with his hands. A man who routinely sledge-hammered rock and sank postholes. You could just read the contempt he had for doing portrait work-of having to shop out his talent for some fast cash. By the look of his beautifully preserved fieldstone farmhouse though, he obviously did very well at it. "How do you feel 'bout being naked in front of me?" he spoke up evenly, still doing his cool, detached appraisal of her body once she'd turned completely around. "I'm okay with it, I guess," Lea half stammered. "Mind undressing for me right now?" I looked up at my wife, seeing her cheeks flush to a deep crimson. I wondered at what my own expression betrayed, as his words had set off the most unexpected jolt of excitement within me, a fluttering rush of adrenalin that coursed through my veins like a blazing flow of lava. Lea's mouth moved over silence, she literally couldn't seem to squeeze a single sound out, much less a cognizable word. "You can relax, Mrs. Ellison," he went on after letting her hang there for an excruciatingly long moment, waving away the question like unappreciated cigarette smoke. "That's just little assayer's query I like to run on potential models. The ones who don't blush and turn fifty different shades of red like you just did tend make really lousy nudes." He lifted the coffee to his lips and sipped, never once breaking eye contact with her. I glanced up to see if the tension had eased from her features-it hadn't. "Okay, so here it is. You want a nude done, then you get a nude done," he said slowly, leaning forward in his chair, deliberately picking for his words. "Don't take offense at what I'm going to say, but I paint what I see. How old are you?" "She's..." "I was asking your wife, Mr. Ellison. ...How old?" "Thirty-seven." "Kids?" "I have two," Lea answered, almost glaring back at him now. "Two kids and thirty-seven spell some not so perfect body lines. It's a simple fact of life. You pose for me, I paint you exactly as you are. Now you're very attractive, so don't take me wrong in this. All I'm saying is you ain't perfect, nobody is. Bodily perfection is a lie foisted upon our society by fairy Playboy photographers using a fucking airbrush, excuse my French." "I guess I should be saying thanks," Lea muttered. "No, I don't expect you to be saying anything," he clucked, breaking a smile for the first time. "All I ask is that you show up every morning on time. You don't where makeup. You don't paint your nails or do anything with your hair other than washing and thoroughly combing it. And most of all, you never ask me to see the canvas 'til I'm done." "...Okay," Leanne answered, shooting me a look to see if I agreed. I nodded. "And one more thing," he went on quickly as he slid his calendar across the table and flipped to July-two months away, the kids scheduled to be a Lea's Mom's house for three weeks-marking the dates we'd indicated. "Something you need to understand about the basic nature of posing for a nude portrait." He hung a short pause out there, looking from Leanne's face back to my own, as if waiting for one of us to make a well-advised break for the door. "Nudes are about absolute vulnerability," he said finally. "The best work within the genre always has that type of edge to it. It's the reason we started wearing clothes in the first place, something you can easily make note of even in your most socially primitive societies. Why wear a damned fig leaf when you're out alone in the deep jungle? ...Do you follow what I'm saying?" "I guess," I shrugged, looking over quickly enough to see my wife make a wary nod. "Well, that's what I'm going to be looking for in this work. That was the reason for the rather uncomfortable question I posed back there. If you'd just started stripping down without any hesitation-with your husband parked right there like he is-you would've been at best a mediocrity. Instead, you blushed like holy hell, and that I can tell you is exactly what I wanted to see. It's what told me you'd be well served with this type of pose. Honestly speaking, if it had gone the other way, I would've told you to find someone else to do this commission. You see, I might be willing to occasionally prostitute myself by doing this kind of payola work, but I never, ever, will do work that is beneath me artistically. I would've probably told you to go out and buy a digital camera and a tripod to get the nasty job done yourself." He looked down without waiting for a response, circling the calendar date one more time. "As I said on the phone, it'll be seventy-five hundred now, twenty-five hundred more on finish. Framing is your responsibility, though I like to work with an old Amish guy outside Reading. Terrific craftsman." "We'd like him to do it then," I said quickly. "I'll make the contact, he don't have no telephone. You'll have to drive the canvas down there yourself and pick out what exactly you want in terms of wood and styling." "Okay." "Will the painting be on display?" "Ummm..." "Usually nudes aren't. If you want an encasement made, this guy can do that for you too. I've never had anybody displeased with his work." "That sounds good," I muttered, looking up a Lea and seeing that she was once more nodding along with what he'd said. "As I also mentioned, I will have a series of photographs taken of the finished painting, strictly for my personal portfolio. And other than that, I'll be seeing you in July," Donner finished, gesturing for us to make our exit, never once offering either of us his hand. _____________________ "I'm a wreck," Leanne said to herself as she stood in front of the mirror in our bedroom. "I don't know if I can do this" "Well, its a little late now," I muttered, looking out the window as Donner unloaded an easel and oversized paint kit from the back of his dusty Toyota pickup. He had pulled in late the previous evening-a twenty-four foot Prowler camper in tow-asking for me to lead him up to a nearby State Park where he'd booked a site for the next week. He saw me looking out the window now and offered up a grudging wave. "He's waiting," I went on. "Let him wait," she snapped, her voice fluttering. I came up behind her and caressed her neck. I could feel my heart galloping in my chest at the thought of what would be happening in the next hour or so, as a literal obsession had grown within me over the past few weeks-ever since that afternoon at Donner's home. When he'd so bluntly asked Lea to undress for him. "You are gonna be so beautiful," I cooed, imagining that moment when my wife would have to disrobe in front of him. Even now, looking back on everything that happened, I still can't truly understand why such a thing would strike such a sexual nerve with me. It hadn't been a fantasy of mine to have my wife exposed like that-the fact being, if anything, that I'd been a bit on the jealous side throughout our marriage, never wanting Lea to dress too provocatively, never wanting her to show too much of her lovely flesh. "Yeah right," I heard her answer. "Thirty-seven and two kids, remember that!" I turned her towards me, gently working the sash of her robe, pulling it wide and draping it over her shoulders. Leanne's body was slim, her stomach smooth with a slight roundness to it. Her small breasts still firm, the triangle of dark pubic hair barely concealing those perfect folds of creamy flesh. I watched as her nipples hardened in the air-conditioned chill. "You are the most..." The blare of a car horn cut off the words-a second went by, then two more blasts. "My trumpet beckons," my wife said grimly as she tied the robe shut and stepped into her Berks. Outside the air was already hot. Donner sat on the porch, a large steel thermos tucked under his arm. "What's this?" he grunted when Lea stepped out onto the porch behind me. "What's what?" "The robe? You going to the spa or something?" "No, I..." "Go back in and dress in your clothes. Like you were going out to the market or something." "I..." "No robe, none of that flip flop nonsense. You aren't going to the beach or heading in for a relaxing session at the spoiled rich-girl mud bath. Just dress like you normally dress," he went on, glancing down at his heavy stainless steel Rolex. "C'mon, time's a wasting." Leanne hesitated, looking as if she was pulling up some argument to hurl at him-as if she was all too close to telling our artist to go fuck himself. For his part he stared her down with a bored expression before finally tapping his fingertip to the watch crystal in an effort to kick her in gear. I watched my wife spin around, hearing her feet angrily pound up the steps. "She's really nervous about this," I spoke up quietly. "Then she shouldn't have signed on for it," he said without even looking up at me. "I think..." "Why don't you head off to work now, Mr. Ellison," he cut me off. "You hanging 'round probably ain't helping her much." "I..." "It'll be best, trust me. First day on one of these deals is usually the hardest for 'em, especially the shy ones like her. So you just go an' leave us to our business here." _______________________ I started my car just as Lea came back out of the house-jeans and a teal green blouse, sneakers on her feet. I watched her from the rearview as she looked around for me, a hurt expression flashing across her face when she realized I was booking on her. "Just watch long enough to make sure it goes okay," I mouthed to myself as I pulled clear of our long driveway, convincing myself of what I'd already decided to do-knowing that Lea's trepidation and the little drama that just played out on my porch had little to actually do with my decision. The cutoff was an old logging road, a narrow slash of rutted red shale about a hundred and fifty feet long-a bit under a quarter mile from our home. I pulled my car down until it was out of sight, taking off my jacket and tie before starting down the fairly steep ravine. I knew the terrain well, having walked it off twice in the past two weeks. Even in dress shoes, I made fast work of the distance I had to cover, quietly working myself into position along a sharp rock outcropping that towered over the falls. I heard Donner's voice as I settled into a shallow yaw carved out eons ago in some glacial slide. Slowly I eased my head up just enough to see them. Leanne was seated on a large rock, watching intently as Donner waded around in the large pool at the base of the falls. He kept looking up amidst the dense canopy of trees, obviously looking for the right spot. "Here," he said, loudly, pointing to a shallow grotto of rock bracketed by churning threads of water. "Come on in." I watched as Leann slowly got to her feet, kicking off the sneaks and bending to roll the jeans up along her legs. "Why don't you try taking 'em off," he grunted, tossing his head in frustration. When she didn't respond immediately, he went on roughly: "C'mon, get your clothes off and get over here." I slid up along the rocks now, my heart racing, the blood literally pounding through my skull. As I said, I'd obsessed nonstop about this exact moment for the last couple weeks, unable any longer to deny how the thought aroused me on some deep primal level. Still I hadn't expected this, not this almost blinding excitement I was now feeling. I realized then that I'd planned on this little excursion all along-probably from the first moment Lea had offered to sit for the fucking painting. Set This House on Fire "C'mon," he groaned, snapping his fingers. "You aren't the first I've seen, and unfortunately for me, you almost certainly aren't going to be the last." Leann hesitated for another moment or so, then turned away from him as she started to unbutton her blouse. I scrunched myself up along the rock as far as I dared, staring down as my wife undid her clothes, draping the blouse back over her shoulders, sliding the jeans down along her long thighs. She stood there like that for a while, clad only in her white panties and brassiere, glancing over her shoulder at Donner as he climbed up on the shallow ledge. Then she was doing it, unclasping the bra at the front, hesitantly slipping it back along her body-folding it atop the rest of her piled clothes. She turned and started across the pool, still in her panties, her arms folded across her chest, hands cupping her small breasts. "Up here," Donner said as she came up along side him. Even at that distance, I could see that she was shivering. Lea started to get her footing on the slick rock face, Donner helpfully reaching out to support her arm when she slipped a bit, seeming to enjoy the way she flinched away from the brush of his hairy knuckles. "Right in there like that," he directed, gesturing for her to adjust herself against the backdrop of stone and foaming water. He stepped back a bit, cocking his head as he took her in, angling off a bit as he splashed through the calf-deep water. "That's it, nice light at least through mid afternoon. Nice, nice..." He waded back to the edge of the pool, squaring himself off on a large flat boulder, hands planted on his hips. "I'll set up right here," he said to himself, once again taking a measure of where he'd left her. "Put your hands up along the stone. Up like this," he shouted to her, miming how he wanted her arms eagled outwards above her shoulders. He waited, staring at her harshly-I could here the hiss of my own labored breathing, a spinning, floating feeling washing down through my limbs. Finally she took her hands away from her breasts, averting her eyes from his, her movements hitched and jerky. "Now see, that wasn't so tough, was it," he laughed from the shore. Lea continued to look downward, her hands finding purchase on the sharp granite jags. "Give me a couple minutes to get my kit set up, and we'll get started. You can lose the britches while I'm doing it." He started to walk away, but pulled up short, once more turning back to my wife. "And next time we come out here, you undress in front of me," he said firmly. "No more of the theatrics like you pulled over there. You stand directly in front of me and take off everything. Then you wade out to your spot. "When we stop for lunch-you stay naked. If we take a break, you stay naked. You start naked, and the clothes stay in their pile till I close the paint case. No exceptions at all, none. Understood?" I hunched down, still watching, waiting for Lea to explode. "Understood, Mrs. Ellison?" I knew my wife, knew how she could surprise you with her temper when it came. It just took a lot to fire her up, and Donner-totally misjudging her badly-was throwing buckets of gasoline her way. "Understoo..." "Yes," Lea's voice rose up to me, flustered and clearly intimidated. "Good. Now like I said, lose the britches." ____________________ That first morning had ended for me then, immediately after that exchange-I'd squirmed out of my nook, and had quietly made it back to my car, busting the speed limit till I got to my insurance agency. My voice was trembling when I muttered a harried greeting to Alice, my secretary-she was telling me that I had dirt on the back of my trousers as I disappeared into my office. I closed the door and went right to my bathroom, locking the door behind me, shaking as I hurriedly undid my pants. My erection sprung up like a lunatic freshly escaped from the asylum. I glanced up at my reflection in the mirror, barely recognizing myself as I stood there, furiously masturbating to the recollection of Leanne pulling down her panties while he stared at her, the way she'd held herself there with this man seeing everything there was to see. And then, just as quickly, I was coming-spasms of pleasure like I hadn't felt in years as I ejaculated, threads of opaque semen flaying wildly over my cupped palm. I'd fallen to my knees there in the bathroom, a sudden wave of shame coming over me as the orgasm ebbed-I knew on an instinctual level how wrong it was for me to me excited like this, to have voyeured my own wife like that, to have wanted this stranger to see her stripped raw. I closed my eyes and could hear him snapping out his curt directives to her, the meek, almost beaten way she'd answered. I vowed never to do it again-promising myself that I'd go home that night and tell Lea that she could back out if she didn't want to do it. That he could have the money we'd paid so far. Fuck him and his whole superior fucking attitude. Inside of an hour I was back in the bathroom, my cock once more in my hand, the mental film of her undressing going through its second reel. That night I asked Lea how it had gone with Donner. My wife was subdued, distracted in her manner. "It went," she'd answered with her back to me, busily fumbling with the dishes. I knew not to push-in bed that night, her body language was still off. Not cold by any means, but still subdued, as if the day's events had unnerved her deeply. She held herself rigid when I touched her, relaxing only when it registered that I was just maneuvering to hold her-I'd jerked off three times by that point, something I hadn't managed since my early twenties. I doubted I could come across again, no matter how juiced up I might be. Feeling her snuggle into me set off a wave of love for this woman. "If you don't feel comfortable with it, we'll tell him to take off," I heard myself whisper in her ear. Lea lay there saying nothing, staring off into the darkness. "It wasn't bad," she said finally. "...I promised you a picture, and that's what I'm gonna give you." She didn't say anything else to me, the still of the night holding us till she drifted off to sleep. The next day came, and despite the many pledges I'd made to myself, I was out there moving through the woods again, settling into my spot early, watching the two of them working up the lower trail. That morning Donner hadn't even spoken to me when I'd left the house, instead just offering a terse nod as I passed him on the way to my car. Now I watched him setting the easel up, opening the large wooden paint kit, staring hard at Lea as she milled nervously at the waters edge. "Okay, I'm ready," he said, gesturing in an unmistakable way for her to disrobe. The sight was mesmerizing-my wife standing only ten feet in front of him, angling off to the side a bit as she began to pull the white tee shirt she was wearing up over her head. "Nobody's standing over there," he noted as she reached down to undo her jeans, rolling his hand to get her to turn directly towards him. I slid my hand down the face of my trousers, rubbing the bulge of my imprisoned erection. She slowly turned and reluctantly began to pull the jeans down-that she would actually do this, just stand there and strip for him like that shocked and thrilled me. I stayed in my position until she got completely naked, almost blacking out when she slid free of her bra, drinking in the scene as she waded out into the pool and took up her spot of the rocks. That night and the next were repeats of the last-as were my days, only on that third day I managed to get myself off but twice-with my holding my wife tight, and her saying nothing of what had been happening out by the falls. The fourth day started out the same as the others, with me stretched flat against the rocks and Leanne taking her clothes off in front of Donner, an act that she accomplished now with only a minimum of unease. I watched as she got herself positioned on the small ledge, her dark hair cascading down along her shoulders. "What you say you come down now, Pal," Donner suddenly barked. I pressed myself against the rocks, staring straight up at the sky-fucking caught. "C'mon, I saw you up there yesterday. I ain't totally fucking blind. ...C'mon. You fucking run, and so help me I'll chase you right down." I imagined Lea's face when she saw me, the hurt look that I'd be out here spying on her, as if I didn't trust her. "C'mon, goddamnit. I'm not waiting all day!" I knew I couldn't stay there like that, cowering, waiting for this asshole to come charging up after me. I started to lift myself up, but froze in place-two men were edging their way down the opposite trail. Young guys, maybe early twenties, both of them looking sheepish, their feet dragging with each step. "Lets fucking go, guys," Donner growled, stepping out in front of the easel, his thick arms hanging out loosely at his sides. Leann was standing out from the rock, then, as if suddenly remembering her nudity, she scrunched down and attempted to cover herself with her hands. "You know 'em?" he shouted out to her as they came closer. Lea didn't answer, but I recognized one of them. Billy DeMarco, a kid from town. I wrote insurance policies for his Mom and Dad, read about the little fuck in the sports page-he'd been a big track and field jock at the local high school and was now a first year student down at Temple or La Salle or some other shittin' college. His buddy looked vaguely familiar as well, a tall, rangy kid with long shoulder-length hair, maybe a little older than Billy, rougher-looking, definitely out of his teens. "I asked if you know 'em?" Donner repeated, looking at Lea once more, shaking his head when he saw her pathetically huddled in a ball. "You guys been enjoyin' the show at least," he asked sarcastically as he turned back to face the young men. "You know, only namby-pamby perverts get off on the peeping gig." "Just out in the woods for a walk, man," Billy answered nervously, keeping a wary distance from Donner. "And what do you see in your travels? Hallelujah, if it isn't a nice, attractive woman posing au natural by a waterfall. ...You boys know who she is?" Nothing at all, save for the furtive glance that flashed between the boys. "C'mon," Donner demanded loudly, snapping his fingers. "A fucking answer?" "I know who she is," the older boy spoke up. "She lives up in the yellow house up there." "She's Mr. Ellison's wife," Billy DeMarko put in. "Mr. Ellison's wife," Donner repeated, casting an accusatory glare at my wife, as if she had somehow invited this disruption. "That's just fucking grand, isn't it?" "Make them go," Leanne whimpered, still hunkered down as low as she could get. "Hold on a second there. I'm just wondering if they told anybody 'bout their little discovery, you know, any of their college pals or anything. ...Well?" "No," Billy answered quickly, the other kid shaking his head in unison with him. "No one. No one at all?" "Uh,uh, nobody." Donner paused for a long moment, his face darkening as he nodded at some unspoken thought. "Get them out of here," Leann stammered. "Actually, I'm inclined to let 'em stay." "What," Leanne shrieked, almost coming up out of her crouch. "I want them outta here. Tell them to..." "Now, just a minute," Donner shouted right back at her. "They get the send off, there's nothing to keep 'em from talking this up all over the place. That plus the fact that they'd be camped up on the rocks with binoculars and a digital camera inside an hour. If I let 'em stay, then they will keep it under their hat. Right guys?" The kids were looking at each other, stunned by the turn things had taken-then they were nodding like maniacs. "I want them outta..." "They're staying, that's that. You guys blab about this to anyone and I'll put my boot up your ass so hard you won't know what hit you. That's a promise you can fucking count on. Now go over there and sit down and shut up." "I'm not..." "Mrs. Ellison, you're a sharp gal. You can figure it out. You want 'em out talking about this little scene of nature, or you wanna to purchase their silence. That's what it comes down to, isn't it. Now if you think about it in those terms, it ain't too much of an imposition. Hell, they already saw everything there is to see from up in the bleachers. Just look at this as their movin' down to a box seat right behind home plate. "Its strictly your call." I edged up to where I could see them all, the boys hovering close by on the water's edge, Donner looking defiant in front of his easel, Lea still trying to cover her body, sobbing now, seemingly bewildered by all that had just transpired. "Well?" Lea muttered something. "Can't hear you, Mrs. Ellison." "I said let 'em stay," she said, wiping her cheeks angrily with the heel of her hand. "Okay, then lets get back to it. ...Up on your feet." After another second or so she did as he asked, her legs visibly shaking, her arms still wrapped around herself to some extent, trying as best she could to avoid the raptor-like stares of her new audience. ________________________ That evening, Leanne was even more pent up than the previous nights, her face taut. Her eyes reddened from crying. I pretended not to notice, asking my usual perfunctory questions about how it had gone that day, nodding when she answered with terse, emotionally drained monosyllables. I sensed that she was really at the end of her rope, ready to put a finish to the whole painting shebang. For my part, the thought of the two kids joining the audience had sent me into a new, unexpected realm of carnal perversion. I'd almost piled my car up on the drive into the office that morning, so powerful was its affect on me. In bed I reached for her, startled by the electrifying silkiness of her skin-I hadn't had her since this all started, four days now. I started muzzling her neck, my hand caressing her thighs through the seashell patterned cotton pajamas she wore. "No..." "Lea, I'm..." "No, please..." Her voice was crackling. I brushed her face and felt the wetness on her cheek. "You're crying," I spoke up, reaching over to switch on the lamp. "I'm sorry." Her face was streaked with tears, her lower lips quivering. She wrapped her arms around me, desperately clinging to me, exhausted sobs wracking up her spine. "What do you mean you're sorry? You don't have nothing to be sorry for. ...Lea, what's the matter?" "I can't keep doing this. I can't." "The painting?" I asked-big surprise there, remembering Billy DeMarko and his buddy sitting on the rocks, smacking their lips as they mentally violated her in every way imaginable. Our asshole painter talking to her like she was so much of nothing. And of course me, sneaking around up there on the ledges, my dick in my hand, stroking off to the unimaginable glory of it all. "He..." The words faltered, lost amid more sobs. "He what?" She was shaking her head, her face buried into the crook of my neck. "What did he do?" I pressed, feeling trapped into this charade of ignorance. "Nothing." "C'mon, tell me. What did he..." "Make love to me," she spoke up hoarsely, pulling away to meet my eyes. "Just please make love to me." "I..." "Shhhh," she murmured, her forefinger to my lips as she pressed me backwards, edging her legs up to straddle my chest. "Lea..." "Shhhh," shaking her head insistently, the finger dancing over my lips again, leaning in to offer me an airy kiss me, to nuzzle me with her nose as was her wont. She straightened her back, pulling her pajama top up over her head as I blindly fumbled with the drawstring to the bottoms. There was a distinct air of wantonness to her now, as if some circuit had tripped in her head-from tearful psychosis to this. She was kicking the bottoms off now, thrashing the sheets off the mattress, her body marvelous in the bedside lamplight as she tugged my boxers down my thighs. "No, let me," she said as I attempted to roll her onto her back, her hand gently pressing me back against the mattress, leaning in to offer her smallish tits to me, letting me suck as much of each into my mouth as possible, tossing her hair as she bent to kiss a wet path down the centerline of my stomach-drawing a peaked nipple along the length of my cock, never taking her eyes off me, not even as she dipped her head to take it in her mouth. I hiked up on my elbows to watch her work, her head rolling from side to side, falling into an off-speed rhythm as she moved up and down the shaft, a wild abandon as she sucked me hard, swirling her tongue along the deliciously sensitive underside. "Don't come yet," she said after a few more minutes of this-I was ready to fill her mouth, to shove her head down on it. She pressed me backwards again, hiking her body up over my chest, taking a handhold of hair as she positioned herself atop my face. I licked into her, feeling her settle her weight on me, grinding in rhythm with my tongue, groaning as I quickly found her clitoris, going rigid as I sucked hard on that delicate bud-it was only seconds before I felt that familiar rigidity in her hamstrings, her belly fluttering, heaving. "Oh, God...Oh yes...yes..." She was humping like a machine, frenzied as she ground her pelvis downward, her squared pubic bone crushing against my upper lip. "Oh God...God...He makes me...oh God...He makes me...make me undress in front of him," she moaned in a contorted voice, looking down at me, her eyeballs rolling over to white, still grinding herself onto my mouth. "He makes me stand right in front of him... ...oh...oh. God! God! Oh...uh. Uh, uh...harder, harder...makes me strip for him...ahhhhhh...." She was dissolving with each orgasm, one right after another, rapid-fire. Her back arching, fingernails digging into my scalp, riding her full weight down onto me. One, then another, then another, hair-trigger quick, rasping cries of pleasure filtered through clenched teeth coloring the air-as if uttering those simple words aloud had pushed her into some darkened arena of the mind, a dangerous erotic territory where she'd never dared venture before. She tried to lift off me, but I rolled over with her, roughly jerking her down along the mattress, gripping into her hips with my fingers. "Tell me what he makes you do," I wheezed, no camouflage for the excitement I was feeling, burying my mouth onto her before she could answer, running tight circles on her swollen clit with my tongue. She was going off again, her legs crushing in on my skull, both hands clamping me to her, the ferociously shrill shrieks devolving into whimpered yelps, her hands finally pushing me away. I knelt up in the bed, completely taken aback by the intensity of it all. Lea was trying to roll away, her arm folded across her eyes, still gasping for air. I didn't hesitate. I yanked her down another foot or so, put my straining cock to her vagina, toying at her vulva, penetrating her maybe an inch or so. "Wait, I..." No waiting. I sank it into her with one smooth thrust, her back arching maybe six-inches up off the mattress, the breath catching in her throat. "I'm so turned on by you doing this," I muttered breathlessly. "I think about you doing it out there, taking off your clothes, being..." "I strip for him...every day...right in front..." I was pumping her without any conscious thought, thrusting again and again, turned on like a kid getting his first backseat hand-job. I was grappling with her, staring into her face and I drove into her turgid flesh, the orgasm sweeping up before I realized it, unstoppable, knowing she could feel me spurting deep inside of her, the lamp blindingly painful as my pupils dilated. Set This House on Fire Then I was spent, lying atop her in a wasted heap, eyes squeezed shut, a clammy sheen of perspiration uniting our bodies, our ragged, intermingled breathing the only sound reaching my ears. "God, I love you," she murmured after what seemed like several minutes, but was probably much less. "I was so afraid to tell you what was..." "I was thinking about you being naked out there every day since this started?" "And you're really okay with it." "It's a huge turn on," I said, opening my eyes at last, seeing her clear complexion mottled from the vicious fucking I'd just given her, her eyes glassy and still unfocused. "I never expected to get this way over it." "I was so scared you'd be mad," she responded in a little girl's voice. "He makes you undress in front of him?" I asked, smiling, letting her know that she didn't have to hold back with me on anything-thrilled to hear her describing what I'd already observed, wondering if she was going to mention the two boys. She nodded demurely, embarrassed at she was clearly feeling. "How do you feel about doing it," I went on, my heart picking up its pace. "I...I like doing it. I didn't at first, but I...but when I think about it afterwards..." "You like doing it," I teased, my cock responding to the words like a trained dog. Again that nod, that shyness, then a thin peel of giggles as she nodded some more. "And you..." "He said he's going to tell me to undress up here at the house tomorrow-while you're still here." I lifted up on my hands and knees, totally caught off guard by this. "In front of me?" I said, my penis instantly stiffening. "That's why I was so scared tonight. He just says these things and expects..." "And are you going to do it?" "...What do you think I should do?" I looked down at my thoroughly rejuvenated dick-it was in Cialis four-hour hard-on mode-moving her small hand to it, eliciting another giddy raft of giggles from her. "You guess," I grinned, mounting her again, feeling that drenched warmth enveloping me. _______________________ "You're running late today?" Donner asked as I came out on the porch. The temp was already in the seventies, dripping humidity. The man had his shirt off, his upper torso thick as a tree trunk, heavily muscled in the way of a man who used his physical bulk for a living-like an inside lineman for the NFL, or maybe a leg-breaker for the Jersey mob. His skin was very pale, broad pinkish nipples the only break in the dense steel-gray fur that matted his body. "Just a little," I answered, still physically sore from last night, my lower back throbbing, my mouth numb from when Leann had borne down on me. I was wondering if the arrogant prick was really going to pull his little stunt, or whether it had been some mind game he was running on her. "How's the painting coming." "It's comin'." "Least it's cool down there by the falls," I answered stupidly, not sure of what I should be saying to this guy. I knew one thing-I wanted him to do it, I wanted him to make her get naked while I was right there. I didn't know how he'd pull it-would he dare, would he take that chance on me freaking out, was I that easy of a read for him-but, I was praying he did. "It's hot everywhere," Donner muttered back dully. "So..." The screen door creaked as Leanne came out on the porch. She was dressed simply, khaki pants and a worn blouse. "Morning," Donner said, slowly lumbering to his feet. Lea nodded, looking to me, then down at her feet. "I guess I'm out of here," I spoke up. "I told your wife that I want her to walk down through the woods naked today," Donner stated flatly, crossing his arms across his hairy chest. "I want her to feel that instinctual sense of danger that comes with being exposed like that." "I..." "I know she's nervous 'bout it. Isn't that right Mrs. Ellison?" My wife didn't answer, but her face said that she was mortified-this wasn't bedroom talk between us anymore, it was reality, just like the fact that she hadn't mentioned Billy DeMarko and his pal being out there with her yesterday. "If she's nervous..." "I want her to take off her clothes right now, walk down there on the path alone. You mind telling her its okay?" "I..." "Go on, tell 'er." "I..." "Take off your clothes, Mrs. Ellison," he ordered quietly, taking a small step forward, almost as if he was going to do the job himself if she didn't get going. "Do it now." Lea froze there, looking up at me-the three of us exchanging stares like we were in a Sergio Leone movie. "You gotta trust me on this. Part of you wants to take that walk. You know it and I know it." Lea looked at me again, and I felt myself give a jerky nod. The blood was rushing through my head, a queasy flutter slithering through my stomach. Then, with a weak sigh, she was actually doing it. Averting her eyes from me as she began to disrobe on our porch, the shirt and pants, then the brassiere and panties-standing there with only her sneakers on, angled away from me, as if more embarrassed to have me seeing her than fucking Donner. He took his time looking at her, something close to a smirk twisting his mouth, catching my reaction with his peripheral vision, letting the seconds painfully tick away. "Now take your hike," he said at last, a tilt of his head pointing the way. I watched as she hesitantly edged down the steps, glancing around as if to make sure no one could see her, this despite the fact that our house was pretty far up from the main road. She was covering herself as best she could, crossing the lawn with a hitched, unnatural gait. "The Lady of Godiva," Donner muttered absently as she put distance between us. "...It's a lotta baloney about how none of the townspeople looked at her. Every guy in Coventry scoped her tits out, you can bet your last shilling on that." He turned to me and winked. "Hope you didn't mind my doing that, but I thought you might enjoy it better close up. Hell, those rocks you've been hangin' out on must be about seventy-five yards away." The words hit me like a sledgehammer in the chest-the bastard had seen me up there, he knew I was there looking and he- "Don't be that embarrassed, Mr. Ellison," he went on quickly. "I think its only natural for a husband to be curious as to what's going on, you know, with his wife being bare-assed naked out there with a strange man. ...So, have you been enjoying it?" I didn't respond, he had caught me so flatfooted that I was unable to even nod-which of course would have been my only honest answer. "I saw it in your eyes way back when we first set this up, back when I asked your wife to strip down for me. You were totally jazzed on it, no mistakin' it. I knew you'd be out there somewhere, just had to keep an eye peeled." He offered up a sly, devilish smirk as he stepped off the porch. "Hope you didn't mind about my letting those pain-in-the-ass punks hang with us yesterday. I honestly did think it was the right call to make. You two don't need 'em talking up what a terrific looker your wife is, an' me letting 'em up close like that'll probably keep their tongues from waggin'." "Don't tell her," I heard myself mutter, my mouth gone so dry that the words almost didn't get out. "Don't tell her that I was..." "Our little secret, Mr. Ellison," he cut in, offering me another wink. "Our little secret." That day and the one that followed were memorable only for the fact that Donner had cooked up a new torment to impose on my Leanne-he wanted her wet now for what he was supposedly doing on the canvas, a task accomplished by having the two boys, who were by now fixtures on the rocks, wade out and drench her every ten minutes or so. Their youthful verve and a five-gallon bucket ensured that she spent those hours soaked and shivering, huddling away as they flung the icy water on her. And each night it was more of the same with us, a passion flaring that exceeded anything either of us had ever experienced-exhaustive lovemaking sessions that made even our earliest couplings seem pathetically vanilla by comparison. Lying there on the sweat damped sheets, I'd listen to this woman I'd known and loved for almost two decades discuss the deeply unsettling, almost aphrodisiacal, emotions that the painting sessions had aroused. I'd hear her muse that she must sound like a total slut for admitting to having enjoyed what she was doing, with my wishing she'd talk about the two kids out there, thinking that I had to be really bent to be jacked on this scenario like I was. I listened to her talk on those nights, not comprehending how far the very fabric of our lives had really been stretched. Not sensing what dangerous chasms were tearing open beneath smooth surface that had been our lives. I pulled her close and felt her fall asleep in my arms that last night, trying to forget what I'd glimpsed in Donner's eyes out on our porch-only recognizing later that it was the glint of pure sadism. I didn't understand yet that he was our guide to a darker realm, a perfect teacher who'd arrived at our door to educate us both as to things we'd be better off not knowing. I found myself shivering and carefully pulled a sheet over us. I held my wife and tried not to think what the next dawn would bring. ______________________ I was out there earlier than usual-having pulled clear of the drive before Donner even arrived. I glanced at my watch and realized he was actually running late. Out on the rocks, I edged into my usual spot, wondering aloud to myself why in the hell I was doing this shit, what type of sick compulsion had entwined my mind. I cautiously peeked over the ledge-the two kids were down there already, shirtless and waiting, eating a quick breakfast out of a McDonalds bag. After a couple minutes, they got up and started in the direction of our house, obviously impatient for their skin show to get started. I closed my eyes for a minute, my mind drifting to the things I'd been leaving slip in the office, the mountain of paperwork that my secretary was steadily building on my desk, the pink phone slips that were neatly stacked beside my computer. The minutes ticked by like this, with my working mundane things through my head, planning on what I'd do first when I got in there that afternoon. "Hey, Chief, how you doing?" I rolled around to the sound, catching the blur of Kyle Donner, large and sweaty, bending down beside me. "What the..." He smiled as he casually dropped a knee onto the small of my back, one enormous hand easily pinning my shoulders, pressing my face down into the crust of rotting leaves. "Hey, get the..." I was thrashing, struggling as he applied more weight to control me, rearing up with all of my strength when I saw the hypodermic needle in his free hand. "Easy there, Chief, easy." "Get the fuck off me. Get the...don't, don't do that...don't..." He shifted to free both his hands, rapidly pinching off a vein in my right forearm and spiking it with one fluid motion. "Easy..." His thumb worked the plunger, the milky liquid disappearing into my bloodstream-the strangest feeling as my strength ebbed, as my body ceased to respond to the messages within my skull. I was being rolled over, looking up at the sky thorough the canopy of leaves. I blinked, but anything else seemed beyond my capabilities. Donner's reddened face was bent down close to me, dewy beads of perspiration on his thick gray chest hair. "Curare," he said, as if his explanation was the most natural in the world. "Just enough of a dose to leave you relatively immobile for the next two or three hours. Feels weird, huh?" I was staring at him, able to shift my field of vision if I concentrated on it, my breathing shallow but regular. I could focus on objects with effort. Only my extremities were paralyzed, literally frozen. "I got what you might call a new set of activities lined up for this morning, and I couldn't be sure how you'd react to 'em," he went on in a professorial tone, smiling conspiratorially, capping a wink on his words as one would an exclamation point. "You can tell me later on if it was to your taste, okay?" Then he was flipping me over onto my side, positioning me so I was looking directly down the slope, the entire glen in my plane of sight. "Kids are bringing her down today," he continued as he positioned a couple of pine branches around me, bending down to rub a clump of moist dirt over my face. "Blink twice if you can see everything good." Then I was staring, knowing what was going to happen, but fixed there like an abutment to the earth. My hearing seemed sharper, my vision more acute. I blinked stupidly, once then twice, not even questioning why I'd done so. "I apologize for the fact that the curare'll keep your pecker from working properly, but you can always remedy that later on," Donner smirked as he got to his feet started his slow lumber down the incline, looking back and waving at me as he got to the bottom. The seconds ticked by with excruciating slowness-Donner milling about, taking a cup of coffee from his thermos, pausing to piss in the clear waters of the glen-then I saw them coming in from the opposite trail, Leann striding slightly ahead of the two boys, fully dressed. "I don't want them coming to my house," she blurted while she was still thirty yards away from him, the anger evident in her voice. Donner turned his back to her without answering, an obvious dismissal. "Did you hear what I said," she snapped, coming right up on him, her small hand jabbing at his chest as he finally pivoted to face her. "...And I don't want them here anymore, either!" "You need to relax, Mrs. Ellison." "I'm done taking your..." "Maybe I can think of something that'll help take that edge off, huh?" From up where I lay, I saw the small hitch in her body, the almost imperceptible step backwards. "Huh?" he repeated, as Billy DeMarko and his friend came up behind her, their obvious arousal making them seem younger than their ages. "I just don't want them up at my house anymore," she repeated warily. "Why can't they come to your house, Mrs. Ellison? Heck, you've been getting off on having 'em ogle you for the past couple days now. Least you can do is be a little hospitable." Leanne stared at him for what seemed like a long time, her cheeks flushing. "Fuck you, Mr. Donner," she said coldly. Kyle Donner laughed in her face, shaking his massive head as he started to speak. "I think you owe an apology to 'em," he said. "They got feelings just like you and me. Big Tom there is already signed up with the Army and'll probably end up over in Iraq in six months or so. He deserves a little more respect than he's been getting, I think. Hell, you get them all juiced up and..." "I'm going back to the house," Lea muttered, and started to turn away. "Hey, don't you fucking turn away on me," he fairly yelled. "I promised these fine young men a party out here today, and you're it." My wife swung around at the words, a visible flinch-Donner was nodding as he continued. "You heard me right, Mrs. Ellison. And to be even clearer, they're gonna party on that pretty body of yours, though I certainly intend on having a taste too." He was circling to her right, the two boys flanking her-Leanne was shaking her head as the words sank in, already looking for an angle to make her break. "What did you expect, huh?" he went on, his voice growing louder and more threatening. "Prancing around naked for these two young lads, getting yourself off on it like some goddamned nymphomaniac. ...It won't look too good to your rich shitting friends you doing something like that, corrupting these men who are only a couple months past their eighteenth birthdays, barely legal just like in that glorified muff mag of the same name. Hell, it'll be the talk of the fucking country club, or your ladies card club, or whatever the fuck you spoiled bitches do to keep your noses stuck so high in the air." "Mr. Donner..." "You're forgetting that I'm your hired help, Mrs. Ellison. You don't have do use that Mister shit on me. ...Tell me, when you fantasize about catching a gang-bang out here, is it one of those classy little ménage's, or is it some rough dirty pounding that leaves you good an' sore?" He stepped closer, his hand reaching out to brush a strand of hair from across her forehead. "Well, it really don't matter anyway, 'cause me and the boys already elected for rough an' dirty." Lea broke to the right, a wild dash up the slope towards me-track star Billy easily overtaking her after twenty or so yards, grabbing her from behind, tumbling in with her to the forest floor, rolling with her as she tried to claw at him, to get a knee in on him, a thin animal keening as Donner and the other boy came trotting up. "Hold her," Donner said, towering above her as DeMarko and his friend grappled for her arms, pinning them out above her head, the dead leaves thrashing beneath her as she continued to kick. "Don't do this, don't you do this..." Donner was out of breath from his little dash up the hill. He dropped to one knee, getting a handhold on her flaying legs to keep her from kicking, hitching his body in so that he was almost straddling her waist. "I sure like it when a gal's got some fight in her," he wheezed, reaching up and tearing her sleeveless blouse open with one viscous rip, cupping one of her delicate, lace-clad breasts with his huge hand. "Don't...don't," Leanna wept, cringing under the touch, flipping her face to the side when he worked the front clasp on the brassiere and flipped it aside. "Strippin' you down like this is half the fun," he went on, ignoring her pleas, his opened palm sliding along her bared belly until he was at the top button of her jeans. He flicked it open, a wink as he deliberately drew the zipper down. "...Well, maybe, not exactly half the fun, but least twenty-five percent of it." I watched him bend and coarsely probe her navel with his thick tongue. I blinked, blinked again, listening to my own breath and the sobbing pleas of my wife, feeling absolute murderous rage at them, at what they were doing to her-and utter disbelief at what they were about to do. "Finish undressing herfor me, boys," he said as he got up, pausing to look up in my direction as DeMarko and his friend enthusiastically started tugging away her clothing, a sneaker landing maybe twenty feet away, her bra tossed up so that it was hanging from an overhead branch. I could feel his eyes as he pulled down his pants, a monstrous erection springing up to freedom. He stroked it, glancing down as the boys literally shredded her panties, tussling in to nuzzle her and suck on her nipples. Then one more look at me-his penis was at least nine or ten inches long, thick around as my forearm with a peculiarly obscene bow to it. He stroked it again, and then climbed back atop my still struggling wife, forcefully separating her legs as the boys once more pinned her arms above her head, Billy DeMarko stretching in to plant a hard kiss on her mouth. "Wait your damn turn," Donner chortled, playfully shoving him off her. He forced himself closer, wedging himself up between her thighs, obviously in great humor at her determined, if futile, resistance. "No, don't, don't...please you...don't..." "Hell of a speech there, Mrs. Ellison," he said smartly, positioning his erection atop her dark pubic mound-stroking it through the fine hair, a reddish, grotesquely gorged pole of flesh that reached up past her bellybutton. He roughly grabbed a fistful of her hair and drew her head up so that she had to see it lying there. "Please, don't...don't. ...I won't tell anybody. I won't..." Donner drew back and penetrated her with one savage thrust, his cock fully buried into her vagina, her long slender body ridden up through the brown leaves. I heard her gasp with shock at the entry, a bleating cry escaping her lips, her legs still flaying in the air.