Simon Jillson: Driven To Depravity

"Shit!" Judy said loudly after hanging up the receiver. She had completely forgotten to arrange with Shein about showing the house, she had been so flustered when she had left him. Now she was going to have to call him. The last thing she wanted to do was talk with him.

Grimly, she picked up the receiver and dialed the Shein's number.

"Mr. Shein, this is Mrs. Penncroft," she announced, deliberately being formal and distant.

"No, I am not calling to arrange another morning workout," she informed him icily. "I'm calling to arrange to show your house to a buyer I have in mind. When would be convenient?"

Judy flushed pink, then her knuckles whitened as her grip on the phone tightened. "Mr. Shein, I have already given you that particular form of kickback. I would appreciate it if, from now on, you would keep our relationship on a suitable businesslike basis. Now, when may I show the buyer the house?"

Judy started to make a note on her desk calendar, then changed her mind. She didn't want to leave written evidence of what she was doing right out on her desk top. After carefully writing on a note pad, she tore the sheet of paper off.

"Thank you, Mr. Shein. You'll leave the key where? Thank you."

Judy sighed with relief after hanging up, then quickly dialed again.

"Mr. McCarter? Judy Penncroft again. The seller will be out of town tomorrow afternoon and the house will be empty. May I pick you up at your office about one o'clock…? Very good, I'll see you tomorrow at one."

After hanging up, Judy fiddled nervously with the note. Then she folded it carefully in half and put it in her purse. Then she slumped down in the chair, totally exhausted. She had known when she had set out that morning it was going to be a difficult day. But it had become even more nerve-wracking than expected.

As Judy slumped at her desk, her elbows pushing the blotter slowly across the polished wood, she became aware of the thick odor of sex that was drifting up from her crotch. Instead of finding the aroma exciting the way she usually did, it made her feel sick. She got up and went into the small washroom, and carefully locked the door. She hauled her soggy panties down and off. Tossing the scrap of nylon in the sink, she turned on the hot water. While they were soaking she dampened a paper towel and hauled her skirt up to expose her pussy. The hair was matted and stringy with partially dried cum. Brisk scrubbing separated the twisted coils of curly pubic hair and left it bushy and resilient.

The rubbing and stroking triggered a perverse wave of sexual excitement. She remembered the feel of Steven Shein's stocky, sturdy cock in her vagina and bit her lip. She hated to admit, even to herself, that she had enjoyed the encounter.

After wiping the pale smooth flesh on the insides of her thighs clear of cum, Judy wadded up the paper towel. The lid of the trash container banged and clattered. After rinsing out her panties, Judy hung them over the light to dry and went back out to the empty office. If someone did happen to come in, which wasn't likely, she could make a quick dash for the washroom and retrieve her panties.

Pacing the office only increased Judy's awareness of her pantiless state. Cool air touched her swollen tissues, reminding her of the caress of the cool water during her nude swim that morning. She became aware of the exciting silken friction between her thighs, and remembered the hard, scratchy feel of Steven Shein between those same soft thighs.

Judy tried to control the surge of sexual excitement her memories brought. She stared out at the sunlit street. It had been a fluke, and it wasn't going to happen again. She had never been unfaithful to Mark before, and she wouldn't ever be again. Even as ill as he was, he was all the man she needed, she told herself.

But God, Shein's massive cock had felt good pistoning in and out of her hot hole. It had been big, and delicious, and exciting.

If Mark ever heard about what she had done, it would kill him.

Disgusted with herself for dwelling on what had happened, and enjoying the reliving of it, Judy turned away from the window and went to get her panties. It was going to be a strain to go home and face Mark and act as if nothing had happened, but she had to do exactly that. After the fourth senseless circuit of the office to straighten something that didn't need straightening, Judy took a firm grip on herself and made it out the door.

Perversely, this time the old car started on the first try. Leaving the usual stinging blue cloud of oil behind her, Judy headed for home.

"Judy? How'd it go?"

Even though she had been expecting her husband's question, Judy hesitated for a split second. She had never lied to Mark before. "Oh, all right. I got the listing, just as I expected."

But not the way I expected, she added silently to herself.

She suddenly noticed the faint gleam of sweat on her husband's face. So soon? Was it starting again so soon? "How are you, darling?" she asked softly, bending over to give him a kiss. She caught his faint, distinctive odor – the smell of a body slowly going sour.

"Can't kick," he replied, half seriously.

Judy frowned. "Your knees again?"

Mark grinned tightly, humorlessly. "My knees, my ankles, my hips, my shoulders, my elbows. Hell, even my toes hurt."

Judy settled down in his lap and cuddled him tenderly. "Oh, Mark," she said miserably. "Maybe we should call and reschedule your appointment?"

"And lop another half a week off my life?"

Judy winced. "With the listing I got today, if I line up the buyer, too, that'll do it."

"Think it'll all pan out?"

"It has to," she said quickly.

"I don't know how you think you're going to do it," he commented innocently.

Judy lurched guiltily, then snuggled against him, ignoring the clammy coldness of his skin. "Just be the best damn real estate agent in town."

"And how many hours of work is that going to take?" he asked. "Judy, I want you with me as much as possible. We don't have much time together left."

Judy stiffened, angry. His defeatist attitude rankled. He was talking as if she was sure to lose him.

"Mark, I'm working so we'll have each other forever," she argued.

"The vows said 'Til death us do part,' nothing more," he reminded her.

"Death separates everyone sooner or later. In our case it's going to be sooner."

"No sooner than necessary." She glared at him. "What's gotten into you?

You've never been a quitter."

"I'm not quitting, I'm being quit," Mark replied sourly. "I'm not pulling the plug, God and that damned Committee are pulling the plug."

Judy surged up out of his lap, furious. "Nobody's pulling the plug on you," she snapped. "I don't know why God has done what He's done, that's His business. As for The Committee, they made what seems to them to be the best decision." She was pacing furiously back and forth in front of him. "As for us, we are not giving up. I am not giving up, and you are not giving up. I am not going to let you give up. We are going to fight and keep fighting until we get a dialysis machine!"

And what I went through for you today is not going to be for nothing, she thought bitterly.

Mark slumped wearily. The sweat was thicker on his forehead. It was forming shining beads. "Okay, okay, I'm sorry," he apologized weakly.

"I guess the damn, damn itching is getting to me."

Judy felt a surge of sympathy for him, but no regret for her outburst.

She knew it was getting harder and harder for him to fight, and she had to keep him going, any way she could. Of all the symptoms of his disease, the worst was the itching. He described it as a creepy, crawling sensation just under his skin, as if the flesh was softening and melting away.