He wanted me to look as sweet and as innocent as possible. He refused to even discuss his plans. He just told me to be ready to go at nine o'clock tomorrow morning.I was awake most of the night, dreading whatever was to happen to me the next day. I knew that Ted enjoyed seeing just how much he could put me through. I didn't doubt for a moment that he enjoyed tormenting me even more than he enjoyed the sex. I suspect that he must really hate women. I guess that's fair. In my case the feeling is mutual.But I knew that I had no choice but to do what he said. I just prayed that he would keep his word. My husband would be home Saturday. Ted promised he would not bother me when my husband was in town.I was up early on Friday morning. I couldn't eat. I just had some coffee for breakfast. I was too nervous for solid food. Then a shower and find something to wear. I decided on a simple print dress, modest and attractive. It seemed like what Ted might have had in mind. I chose a demure bra and. I wanted Chris to watch and was getting off on displaying my breasts for him. Richard's hands ran over my nipples and gently tugged at them – causing my first soft moan of the evening to escape. With heavy-lidded eyes from the work of Richard's knowing fingers, mine met Chris's and conveyed a silent invitation. He got up and kneeled on the floor in front of me, so close, I could feel the heat from his breath. There was that smile again, transporting me back to another time – the night of my first French kiss. The room was dimly lit and Simon and Garfunkel's Sound of Silence set the intimate backdrop for the party. About a dozen 13-year olds huddled in the protection of the basement shadows for one of our Friday night 'get-togethers'. Everyone had paired off with this week's crush with hopeful intent. Some were kissing, others slow-dancing, pressing their young bodies into each other – innocently allowing velvet earth quakes to shimmer through their flesh. Chris and I were sitting in.
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