David Martin - Loaned wife

She handed Tom his ten dollars back and then took his beer glass, tilting it tack and chugging almost half of it.

"Bravo," George said appreciatively. His eyes had followed the lifting of her tits within the shirt when she'd lifted the glass. Russ immediately reached over and replaced Tom's glass with his own, nearly full glass in front of her.

She looked from George to Russ and back again and then lifted the glass, emptying it with a few healthy chugs.

Just a faint tinge of froth remained around her lips and she licked it off, enjoying thoroughly the way the men leaned eagerly forward to follow every twitch of her tongue.

She smiled, and then flushed. She felt suddenly warm and was distinctly aware that the crotch of her jeans was becoming soaked with her pussy juices.

Alcohol had always had the effect on her.

"It's your bet, Janet," Tom said. He was going to show her that she couldn't rule him with her cunt. He reached deliberately down into his lap and removed her hand.

When he looked into her eyes, he saw defiance. "I'll make it five bucks," she said and plopped a one on the table.

Tom promptly raised it to six. They all saw him. When it came time for cards, all drew two except Koenig. He took one.

The betting began again. "Eight," Koenig said. "See you," said Russ.

"Janet?"

She looked over at her husband as if he'd just wakened her. "Oh, ten," she said.

Tom made it twelve.

George saw it. Koenig took it to fourteen. Janet to fifteen. Tom saw, George saw.

Koenig took it to seventeen. Russ folded. "This is going out of my league," he said and slipped his cards face down out into the center of the table.

Janet went to eighteen. Tom saw. George saw. "Twenty," Koenig said.

"Twenty-five," Janet snapped. Tom saw.

George folded.

"Hey, Sid, you tying to buy the hand?" Russ growled. He leaned towards Janet, eyes peering hungrily at the collar of the T-shirt, wishing it would move just enough to give him a glimpse.

Janet reached for George's beer. He got his gimps part way down one creamy, golden tanned swell of tit flesh.

"Sid," Russ confided, "tries to bet everyone up till they can't match him."

"Thirty-five," Janet said.

Tom saw. His pile was now gone.

"It's a sure sign that Sid hasn't got a damn thing," Russ continued. He glanced over to catch Sid's reaction. Sid was staring fixedly at Janet as if she were a piece of meat.

"Forty," Sid snapped. Tom groaned and folded his hand.

"Fifty," Janet barked defiantly and threw the last of her money into the pile.

"Fifty-five," Sid said, smiling evilly.

He was waiting for Janet to react. He didn't dare hope of getting the reaction he got.

Janet leaned over to Tom, hand going to his groin again. He thrust it away. She gave him a furious look. If that's the way you want it, she thought, letting it dangle in her mind.

"I'll see you," she said coolly.

Koenig smirked and pulled one of the long, fat cigars out of his pocket, slowly unwrapping it and snipping off the tip with a penknife he produced from the same pocket.

He leaned back in his chair and lit the cigar, turning it slowly as he puffed.

Then he blew a perfect little smoke ring, watched it slowly settle in the motionless air.

"You don't have any stake left," Tom said, not yet understanding.

Janet deliberately put out one hand and removed forty-five dollars from the pile. "I'll see you," she repeated, eyes meeting Koenig's without wavering.

"Wha…" George began.

"Mr. Koenig seemed to think I was worth fifty dollars before," she explained, eyes never leaving Koenig's.

Tom was as expressionless and unmoving as a statue. He was going to let her play the little game out and then make a fool of herself when it comes time to own up.

"Would you like to back down on that, Sid?"

"The only problem I can see," he said calmly, "is how to collect."

"If your hand is good enough," she said.

Koenig just waited. Then he nodded. "When?"

Janet cocked her head prettily, tilting her chin. She arched her eyebrows as if to say, Check back with you.

"Tonight, then," Koenig said. "All right."

"Let's see that hand."

Koenig hesitated an instant, as if to give her a last moment in which to call it off, to take it all back, to make it a kidding little charade. He was a sport, a good sport, and he wasn't a cruel man.

But he hesitated only a moment. For Koenig was also a lusty man, a horny man, a man who hadn't had a woman in more than a month.

And he'd lusted after Janet Jamison for some time.

He turned his cards over. Three kings. A pair of jacks.

Russ whistled, low and long.

Janet paled, then regained her composure. She turned over her own cards. Three Queens. A pair of nines.

She'd lost. Koenig had won, and he thought of having this seductress, hot and curved and fully fleshed, ripely molded breasts and strong hips, tight little waist and wanton thighs, mouth wet and luscious, cunt gaping and receptive. He thought of her feminine wetness closing over his rigid cock and he sighed deeply in anticipation.

Coolly, Janet took the cards and began shuffling for the next hand. Koenig lifted his glass and toasted her quietly.

"All right, now," Tom said hoarsely. "Enough of this fucking around and…"

At that moment, Koenig could have cared less about Tom's objections. Janet was willing. He could see that in her eyes and face and attitude and the way she watched him.

The words to answer Tom were on the tip of his tongue, but Janet spoke first.

She turned her upper body completely towards her husband, making it a taunt and a reminder and a reproach for all the nights when he'd left her alone and frustrated in their marriage bed, waiting vainly for him.

"Why, Tom," she said softly. "Don't tell me you expect me to welsh on a debt."

And she made her tone recall to his mind his own words earlier that evening, when he'd confessed his own growing gambling debts.

Tom looked furiously from Janet to Koenig, and back to her again. He could see on both their faces the animal lust, the need, the imperative to couple.

"You wouldn't dare," he said, though his voice betrayed his certainty that they not only dared, but intended to.

When no one spoke, Tom stood suddenly, his chair toppling behind him.

He stalked out of the room without another word, without looking at any of them. He went on out the door and a moment later they heard the car engine race and then the unmistakable wail of tortured rubber burning as he spun the tires before tearing out of the driveway and off down the street.

A tense, nervous silence settled over the table. Seconds crawled by.

Finally, Russ stood. "Well, I think this would be a good time to call it a might. What say, George?"

George nodded and began gathering what cash he had left. The others stood as well and began clearing the table off.

Janet took a double handful of glasses and began carrying them out into the kitchen. Russ and Sid finished clearing the things off while Janet began filling the sink.

George folded the table and chairs and put them back into the deep closet.

There was certain relaxing in doing the familiar things.

But soon, all was done except for the actual dishwashing. George left after brief good-nights.

Then Russ left his place drying the dishes and went into Sid, who was emptying the ashtrays. "Hey, Sid?"

"Yeah?"

"About ready to call it a night?"

Sid paused and gave Russ a strange look. As if Russ had just announced that he was pregnant. Then he resumed his doings.

"Sid?"

This time, Russ' voice was more urgent.

"What do you want, Russ?" Sid demanded impatiently.

"Sid, you're not really planning to…"