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From: greywolf46@juno.com (Grey Wolf)
Subject: {ASSM} The Wild Side (plot) Chapter 1&2
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A word of warning....if you are looking for a “quickie”, don’t bother
with this story.
I write because I enjoy it. I enjoy the characters, the plot, and the
anticipation of what will happen next. I planned to post only part of
this story....then thought “screw it” and posted the whole thing. I
realize it may be too long for some’s taste, but what can I say......I
can’t help myself <grin>. If you want to skip straight to the hotter
stuff, feel free.
I welcome your questions, comments, and suggestions. Hey, even if you
just want to say “Hello” feel free to drop me a line. As usual, email
responses have a better chance of being seen than responses posted to the
newsgroup. Hope you enjoy the story!
Blessings,
Grey Wolf
greywolf46@juno.com
This story is copyright 1998 by Grey Wolf. It may not be reproduced in
any form for commercial purposes, but may be distributed freely provided
that my name and email address remain attached.
This story depicts adult situations and strong erotic themes. If you are
below the legal age to view such material where you live, or you do not
wish to read it, consider yourself warned.
The Wild Side
by Grey Wolf
---------------------------------------
Chapter 1
“Are you even listening to me?” she asked.
“Hmm?” he grunted absently from behind the copy of The Wall
Street Journal.
Bridget glared at the wall of newsprint that shielded her husband
from her across the breakfast table. She drummed her manicured nails on
the tablecloth and waited for him to acknowledge her.
As usual, that moment never came.
“I was SAYING, why don’t we go up to the lake this
weekend. It would do us good to get away for awhile.”
“You know I can’t get away right now,” he said, his voice a blend
of disinterest and mild annoyance. “The Parkinson deal is closing a week
from Monday, and I have to meet with the attorneys all week to finalize
the details.” He turned the page of the newspaper as he spoke, never once
lowering it enough to make eye contact with his wife.
Bridget sighed loudly, and pursed her lip in her best pout. That
maneuver used to be her secret weapon. Men could not resist the “pouty
little girl” look. But since Bill couldn’t see her, she did it more from
a force of habit than anything else. Even when they weren’t separated by
a newspaper, Bill didn’t seem to SEE Bridget at all anymore.
She unconsciously trailed her spoon through the uneaten eggs on
her plate as she thought. It infuriated her to be ignored. She had never
been able to stand that. Her marriage to Bill had been good in the early
years, but for the past few they had become more like roommates, than
lovers.
“So, you are flying off to Tahoe, and just leaving me here alone
again?”
“Business is business, hon,” he answered. “If you’re bored, why
don’t you drive up to the lodge with some of your friends?”
“But I wanted to go with YOU,” she purred. Her slippered foot
slid beneath the table and edged up into the leg hole of Bill’s slacks,
rubbing his ankle.
“Maybe we can go next month,” he said, moving his leg back out of
her reach, “after things calm down a bit.” Bridget fought back tears as
her husband rose from the table, downed the last of his coffee, and
walked to the door.
“Is SHE going to Tahoe?” The words were out before Bridget
realized what she had said, and they hung there in the air like smoke.
Bill physically stiffened for a moment. His back was toward her, but
Bridget knew that his jaw muscles were clenching they way they always did
when he was annoyed.
“I’ll try and give you a call from the hotel tonight,” he said
brusquely, his eyes still avoiding her as he walked out of the breakfast
nook and out to the garage.
Bridget sat alone at the table. The huge house was as quiet as a
church. The branches of the oak trees swayed in the morning breeze as she
looked out the large bay window into the back yard. The crystal clear
water of the pool glinted in the bright sunshine, but Bridget felt as if
a dark cloud had covered everything. No matter what she tried, Bill had
become more and more distant and uninterested in her. 14 years ago, she
had been the happiest girl in the world. William Wentworth III, 10 years
her senior, had literally swept her off her feet when she was a new
assistant with the firm. Romance, adventure, a rich lifestyle.....it had
all seemed like a dream to a young girl right out of college. And now,
she was more alone than she ever could have imagined. All the money and
all the parties in the world could not take the place of the romance and
passion that had drained away from their marriage over the years.
And now, Bill had taken to going on week long business trips
accompanied by his secretary, Brenda. It would have been one thing if the
matter had been handled more discreetly, but Bill’s infidelity was common
knowledge around the influential Brentwood social scene. Bridget
pretended in public not to know about her husband’s extracurricular
activities, but the shame of the public humiliation was almost too much
for her to bare. She had redoubled her efforts to save their marriage
when she first began to suspect her husband of cheating. Bridget had even
suggested that they go and see a marriage counselor about the problem,
but Bill had just grunted and discounted the idea. Instead, he had
suggested that she take a class in folk dancing at the community college
if she was so bored.
Folk Dancing.
“Fucking Bastard,” Bridget muttered through a mist of tears.
“Que?” came a quizzical voice from behind her.
Bridget jumped in her seat at the sound, spilling her orange
juice.
“Shit! Maria, you startled me!” she said turning to look at the
plump little maid that had entered the room.
“I am sorry, Mrs. Wentworth,” answered the Hispanic woman, “but
I didn’t think you were still here. Will you be going out today?”
“Yes. Marjorie and Beth are meeting me for lunch at The Club to
talk over plans for the Arts Festival.”
Maria glanced up at Bridget as she dabbed up the spilled juice
from the white tablecloth. “Are you all right Mrs. Wentworth?” she asked,
a look of concern on her warm face.
Bridget’s deep blue eyes were slightly red from the tears that
she had refused to allow to fully flow. She sniffed and looked away from
the older woman’s stare. “Yes.....I’m fine, just my allergies acting up a
bit,” she lied. She rose from the table and pulled her silk robe more
firmly closed about her body.
“Oh, and Mr. Wentworth will be out of town this weekend again,
....... so I’m driving up to the Lake Lodge this evening. Why don’t you
take the weekend off and go see your grandchildren. There is no need for
you to hang around here with us both gone,” Bridget said as she walked
away toward the hallway.
“You are going by yourself, Mrs. Wentworth?” the old woman asked,
the motherly look of concern still present on her face.
Bridget smiled as she looked back at the dark skinned woman who
had become more like an Aunt than an employee to her. “I’m a big girl,
Maria,” she said. “I can take very good care of myself. You just go and
have a good weekend with the little ones,.... and don’t worry about me.”
----------------------------------------------
Chapter 2
Bridget stood on the flagstone deck of the swimming pool, the
summer sun drying her tan body even in the early morning light. The water
of the pool was clear and bright as it lapped against the sides of the
unusual pool. Bill had paid an exorbitant amount of money for the
installation, but the effect was dramatic. Natural stone and plants
melded around the perimeter of the water, with a cozy whirlpool/jacuzzi
built into the end near a huge boulder strewn waterfall. At night, the
image was particularly impressive, with hidden lights above and below the
water giving a magical, romantic feeling. They used to play together
here quite frequently.
“Used to” being the operative words. Bill and Bridget had not
been swimming, much less “playing” together in the pool for a long time.
In fact, as near a she could remember, it had been over a year since they
had even made love together. And even longer since Bridget had achieved
an orgasm from their unions. Their lovemaking had never been what one
would call “adventurous”. Bill had always preferred straight forward,
quiet, simple sex, and always in the dark. Bridget would have given
anything just to have that little bit of excitement back. The passion and
spark were just not there. Bill was more like a robot when it came to
sex now, and she was sure that the only reason he tried at all was from
some sense of obligation. Which, of course, made it all that much more
unenjoyable for Bridget.
The few close friends that she had confided in about her dilemma
all gave her the same advice.....leave him. Bridget knew that she should,
but the thought of being alone frightened her. Not from a financial
standpoint, but from an emotional one. She needed to be loved.....almost
as much as she needed to love someone. She often fantasized about being
swept away by a hero......like those men in the cheap romance novels.
Someone who would bring the vibrance and the passion back into her life.
“Where’s MY knight in shining armor?” she mused.
She turned slightly and caught her reflection in the tinted
windows of the house. She studied her profile in the glass, as if it
would somehow reveal an answer to her problems. She was tall, about
5’10”, with long black hair that curled in soft ringlets when she wore it
down and loose. Years of aerobics and tennis had done more than just
fill the empty moments of her life; her body was the type achieved by
most only through the magic of cosmetic surgery. At 36 years old,
Bridget looked closer to 26. Her skin was smooth and her flesh firm, as
the tiny black bikini displayed freely. Her breasts were not huge, but
they were well formed and didn’t droop. As she looked at herself,
Bridget arched her leg and pointed her toe to accentuate her favorite
feature,...her legs. Long and curved, she had always enjoyed the fact
that men noticed her legs. She had a closet full to the brim with
various styles of pumps and heels to insure that her legs were displayed
to the best advantage whenever she went out.
Bridget slid the Raybans down to the tip of her nose, revealing a
startlingly beautiful pair of blue eyes. “Well.....the package seems to
be holding up all right,” she muttered, “So maybe I DO need to find a
more appreciative customer.” She glanced at the sun as it rose in the
late morning sky.
“Gotta hurry if I’m gonna make it in time for the “hen
scratching”.”
That was the term the close-knit group of women at the Brentwood
Country Club used to describe their meetings. Most of them considered
themselves “business widows”, whose husbands were so preoccupied with
making money that they paid little attention to their wives activities.
Their outings were harmless enough. Shopping and Shows, mostly.
Occasionally, they would flirt with strangers in the private bar at
Brentwood, but it never went farther than that. Today was Friday, and
Bridget was going to be late for the usual lunch meeting at The Club if
she didn’t hurry.
Walking to the French doors off the pool deck area, Bridget
opened them and stepped into the master bedroom of the palatial home.
The room was dark and cool in contrast to the bright warmth of the patio.
Thick white carpet cushioned her feet as she walked noiselessly to the
walk-in closet beside the bed.
“Hmmmmm....What to wear?” she thought to herself. She leafed
through the racks of outfits lining the walls of the closet. She would
probably be leaving for the lodge right after lunch, so she should
probably just dress in slacks and a blouse, with some comfortable shoes.
But she didn’t feel like being practical today. She pulled out a long
slinky black strapless dress, with a long slit up the side. Then
hesitated and put it back. “That’s a little TOO much,” she giggled aloud.
“Ahhh...that’s it.” Bridget selected a light summery dress with a
subdued floral pattern. The collar was high and wrapped around her neck
with an opening that framed the hollow at the base of her throat and the
upper swell of her breasts. The waistline was perfect for showing off her
hour-glass figure with the hem of the dress reaching about to her knees.
Just enough to showcase her legs with the addition of the pair of white
leather pumps that she pulled from the shelf as she left the closet.
Tossing the dress and shoes on top of the bed, Bridget padded
over to the dark oak dresser. She slid the top drawer open and studied
the lingerie before her, absently chewing her lower lip as she made her
selection.
“What difference does it make what underwear I pick?” she thought
to herself. “Nobody is going to see it anyway.” She reached for a pair of
cotton briefs and a standard white bra, but her slender hand hesitated in
mid motion.
“No,” she whispered aloud, “my Knight will find me someday. And
it wouldn’t do at all for me to greet Him wearing Grandma Undies.” She
smiled to herself as she ran her hands over the delicate black satin and
lace bra and thong set that lay in one corner of the large drawer.
Any man she met at The Club during lunch would be off limits.
Even if she gathered the courage to act on her passionate urges, she
would not be as crass as Bill had been. Once at the Lake Lodge, she
probably wouldn’t see another soul......so the odds of her finding her
“hero” were virtually null. Still, even the thought of a possible
romantic, sensual encounter was enough to warm her in places that had
long been neglected. She removed the flimsy items, pushed the drawer
half closed, and then opened it again. Reaching to the back of the
drawer, Bridget probed until she found the garter belt and a pair of
sheer stockings.
“Might as well go for broke,” she giggled.
_____________________________________________________________________
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