Simon Jillson - Driven To Depravity

The mobility in the area was high, surveys showing that few people lived in the same house for more than two years, especially in high income neighborhoods. There was a ceaseless shifting from house to house as the young, driving executives moved up the ladder of the growing businesses in the area, or were transferred away.

Judy had been sure no one else knew Steven Shein was considering selling. His wealth was inherited, not dependent on the ups and downs of large corporations the same way executives' fates were.

Shein had told her, though, that he was in need of cash. Maybe some of his investments had gone sour or something? If that was the case, others might know of his need for money. Adding that to the incredible increase in the value of his house gave one obvious conclusion.

Judy sighed. Her mind was beginning to work smoothly as the caffeine and sugar entered her bloodstream. How the rumor had gotten out was unimportant. It was out. Judy had done her best to squelch it in her own agency, and had probably succeeded. She knew they trusted her. But the rumor was undoubtedly making the rounds of the other agencies.

Her agreement with Shein was an exclusive one, but it was far from iron-clad. He might try to break it if he thought he could get a better deal from someone else.

The trouble with using sex in business, Judy reflected, was that there was nothing at all binding about it.

But that wasn't what was nagging at Judy. There was something else, something different, trivial now, but potentially disastrous.

Andrew McCarter and his mortgage? No, definitely not that.

What was it she had forgotten? She couldn't think if it was something she had to do something about or not. She knew it was trivial and stupid, which made her aggravation at forgetting it even greater. It wasn't something about Mark, it had to do with Steven Shein and his house, and it also had something to do with Andrew McCarter.

Judy wracked her brain desperately and came up with a complete blank.

When the telephone rang, it jarred her so she slopped coffee onto the table. When Mark was at the hospital, Judy fretted. She dashed for the phone, terrified that something had gone wrong during his treatment.

"Hello?" Judy answered fearfully.

"Is this Mrs. Judy Penncroft?" The voice was feminine, soft, rather deep, and cultured.

"Speaking." It didn't sound like a nurse at the hospital.

"This is Paula Shein, Mrs. Steven Shein."

Judy gulped, surprised. This was one call she hadn't anticipated at all. "Yes, Mrs. Shein, what can I do for you?" Judy tried to sound genuinely happy to be hearing from the woman.

"I understand from my husband that you are trying to sell our house."

"Yes, I am," Judy acknowledged. God, what if Mrs. Shein didn't want to sell?

"I'd like to discuss the matter with you, if you don't mind."

Judy settled herself in a chair, bracing herself for the worst.

"Certainly, Mrs. Shein. What would you like to know?"

"I'd rather not discuss it over the telephone," Mrs. Shein said calmly.

"Would you be able to meet with me sometime today?"

Judy thought for a second, then nodded, "Yes, I believe so. I have to pick up my husband at the hospital late this afternoon, but I have nothing else scheduled."

"Fine. Why don't you come here to the house about noon? We can have some lunch and discuss things."

"All right, fine," Judy agreed. "I'll be there about noon."

"Thank you, Mrs. Penncroft."

"Thank you, Mrs. Shein," Judy replied politely, then hung up.

Throughout the entire conversation, Paula Shein had given no hint of what she wanted to talk about. Mentally, Judy replayed the brief conversation, trying to get some clue as to whether this was a real problem or not.

Finally, having come up with nothing, Judy glanced at the clock. She was relieved to find she still had plent of time. Somehow she had to get rid of the evidence of the sleepless, exhausting night. Mrs. Steven Shein sounded like class and polish, and Judy wanted to make the best impression possible.

Judy stripped off her clothes while the water was warming up. Then she stepped into the cloud of steam and under the pounding spray. The exhausted aching in her shoulders and neck faded quickly under the hot blast. Turning, she let the jets of water hit her face and felt them sluice the sleep out of her eyes. When she backed up the streams moved down and tingled over her chest. When the jets hit her nipples the little buds burned and tingled and stiffened.

Finally Judy picked up the soap and worked lather into the short, black hair of her head. After rinsing it away, she did her face with a washrag. Then, her hands still soapy, she lathered her torso and arms.

Her flesh felt warm and resilient to the touch. As always, there was a warming pleasure from the way her breasts felt in her hands, firm and feminine, her nipples rubbery and alert. And there was pleasure, too, in the way her hands felt to her breasts, making blood surge to those graceful pink-capped hills.

Fighting the urge to linger, Judy slid her soapy hands down over her stomach, arching her back to thrust her belly forward. She looked down over the lathery plain of sleek shining skin and could see soggy twists of pubic hair just peeping out under her belly.

When she worked a thick gob of lather into her pubic area, a softening wave of heat swept through her body. Carefully, Judy worked the soap deep into her dark bush, soaped far downward, pressing and squeezing the yielding labia, spreading them to wash between them into the pink folds of her pussy. A soapy finger brushed her clitoris and it seemed to jerk in surprise, then stiffen and beg for more attention. Instead, Judy spread her legs and reached far back to wash the crack of her ass thoroughly. The pressure of her fingers around her anus triggered another wave of pleasure and a strange memory…

As she had crouched atop Andrew McCarter, his big cock sunk in her pussy, he had touched her back there. His strong hands had clutched at her buttocks, drawing them apart. There had been such unexpected pleasure in his touch.

Judy stopped playing with her ass and her pussy, and pulled her hands away with a grimace of disgust. What kind of person was she becoming?

She had nothing against masturbating, she had done it ever since she had discovered the pleasure to be gotten from it – in fact, until she had married Mark. And even then she had fondled herself to an orgasm from time to time. But here and now wasn't the place nor the time. And after what she had done with Shein and McCarter it even seemed insane.

Why did everything seem to remind her of her infidelities? Maybe, when this was all over, she would be able to put her hideous whoring out of her mind forever.

After rinsing thoroughly, Judy shut off the shower and grabbed a towel.

She rubbed her skin until it glowed pink, then went into the bedroom to pick out something to wear.

And she caught sight of herself in the full-length mirror, as always.

She froze at the sight of her body. She was invariably pleased with her youthful trimness. It had been longer than she cared to think since she had engaged in any really energetic gymnastics, but the trimness and firmness and healthy muscles still existed.

Finally, she forced her eyes away from her reflection and got out a pair of clean panties to wear. She reflected as she put on a blouse and skirt that it was fortunate she didn't need to wear a bra. They couldn't have afforded to buy her one anyway.

Going out into the bright sunlight, Judy slipped her dark glasses on.

The soiled, dirty feeling of exhaustion had been washed away by her shower. Now she just felt languidly tired, reluctant to move, unable to hurry. She made it to the car and got in. The engine turned over with its usual sick grinding sound, then sputtered to life. Before pulling away from the curb, Judy tapped the gas gauge. She was relieved to see the needle wiggle in response. That meant there was at last a quarter of a tank left.