Innocent Milf Ch. 09

Chapter 9

As we pulled into the parking lot of Cary's apartment, all I could think about was getting home to shower and change into regular clothes not covered in dirt and paint splatters. Well, that and Cary's spectacular kill streak. And her boobs against her sports bra and flat tummy. And my sudden realization that my feelings for her might be real love.

"Awesome day," I said, to cover my stunned distraction.

Cary nodded, beaming. As she stepped out of the car, she jerked to a stop and frowned.

"What is it?" I asked. Had she seen something in my face that gave my inner turmoil away?

"I thought just I saw Eric's car leaving through the back exit," she said. I felt my muscles tense involuntarily--instinctively. Man, I hated that guy.

"You want to get back in the car?" I asked, my protector mode activated. "We can go somewhere else."

"No, wait. Come in," Cary said, as I was about to put the car back in drive. "If I'm right, we're about to see how Eric reacted to my photos. I want you with me if that's the case. I have a little bit of a surprise in store."

Wary, curious, and now mildly horny, I turned off my car and locked it behind me. We walked up the stairs to her apartment. There wasn't much to see through the baggy seat of her surplus army camo trousers, but I watched her butt as we went up anyway. As we ascended, I ran through half a dozen scenarios in my head. What was she planning? What if her dirtbag husband was there, jealous and armed?

As she opened the door to her building and led the way down the hall, it occurred to me that she probably had these concerns every time she came back. It made me both sick at heart for her and impressed by her grit. We reached her apartment, and she made "shush" and "wait there" motions at me.

I leaned back against the wall as she slowly and silently unlocked her door and made her way into the apartment, clearly tiptoeing and working to make as little noise as possible. I kept an eye on her as she progressed, as tense as I had been waiting to "kill" opponents during paintball. In my head, I was already running through various scenarios in which I would leap into action to save her if there was trouble.

She froze, shoulders hunched, and then leaned forward to look at something. I couldn't tell from my position what she was trying to see. Just as I started to move away from the wall, she quietly backed out of the apartment. If I had had hackles, they would have been standing straight up. As it was, I had goosebumps.

Cary slowly and silently pulled her apartment door closed and inspected it. Clearly seeing something important, she waved me over. I tiptoed up and looked at where she was pointing. Up at the corner of her door were two pieces of clear tape. I would have missed them entirely if she hadn't pointed them out to me. Cary peeled them both off, pulled a broken strand of hair from each, and then quickly yanked one of her own hairs from her head, taping it on either side of the door frame.

"Back to the car," she whispered. "We're about to do something naughty that will really get him angry." She looked both excited and nervous.

My dick almost fractured itself by the speed of the boner I got. Luckily, the baggy, tough material of the camo trousers hid it from view. I led the way back to the door. Cary stopped to check her mail and smirked knowingly. We climbed silently into the car, and I found myself breathing normally again. I didn't even realize I had been holding my breath.

"What the fuck?" I asked.

Cary shook her head and showed me an announcement from the superintendent. Painters will be working on balcony railings this afternoon. "Eric," she muttered. "He has a friend who runs a house painting business. I half-expected something like this. I honestly thought he might try to break into my apartment."

"What did you see? Besides the tape on the door?" I asked. "Was he in there?"

"No," Cary shook her head. Now that we were back in my car, she was flushed. "Let's go get Frosties. Remember, you're buying." I backed out of the parking space and started heading towards Wendy's. "Eric has always thought he was terribly clever. When we first got married, he only ever read spy novels. John LeCarre, Len Deighton... you know the type." I nodded as if I did. "Anyway, he picked up some 'tricks' from his spy books that he thought made him very sneaky."

I almost laughed. "The guy who got caught having four affairs and thought that an unlocked storage room fifty feet away was private thinks he's James Bond?"

"In more ways than one," Cary scowled. "He's done the tape on the door trick before, when he was trying to figure out if I was spying on him. It was during his second affair. I think he got his painter friend to let him come work for the day, and has been trying to get a look into my apartment. They must have gone on break, so he left a mini tape recorder running outside of my bedroom window."

"Jesus Christ, what a creep," I muttered in exasperation.

"I'm going to make a phone call or two from the phone outside of Wendy's." Cary looked slightly anxious. "And then we're going to go back and make some noise."

My heart was pounding as I ordered us Frosties and fries--for dipping. My feelings for her were a confused muddle--concern and protectiveness and horniness all swirling together. After several moments, Cary returned and sat down with a plop next to me. She took a deep breath. "Okay. Here's the plan. I asked Cameron to meet us here."

"Really?" My eyebrows shot up. "But he's such a douche!"

Cary snorted a short laugh. "Yeah, he is. But that's what we need. Here's what we're going to do. Eric thinks he's going to catch me in the act. The tape was about halfway through, so that means he was there only twenty minutes before. We're going to give him time to go back and flip the tape and start recording on the other side."

"What if he just takes it?" I asked.

"Then he gets a tape with forty minutes of nothing on one side," she shrugged. "But I don't think so. I think he'll come back and try again. He's tenacious. When he wants something... " she trailed off and frowned fiercely. "Anyway, that gives us time to get things worked out." She blushed, took a deep breath, and put her shoulders back. "I want you to come in and make sex noises with me," she said in her most businesslike manner.

I almost choked. It didn't take me entirely by surprise, but hearing her say it out loud got my heart racing again. And it certainly didn't help in trying to sort through my newly-recognized feelings for her. Trying to sound calm, I replied, "Is this what you asked Cameron to do, too?"

"Yes," she answered coolly. "I bet he knows how, and he made his interest pretty clear at the paintball match. I need two voices--remember, my pictures show two guys, and the note said one of them wasn't from the States."

As if I didn't remember every detail of her phony infidelity story. I chuckled despite my nerves. "You remembered that I was taking French at school. You want me to talk dirty and do porn noises in a French accent."

She suddenly wouldn't meet my eyes. "Well are you going to do it, or not?"

Strangely, the idea of putting on a dumb phony accent made me feel less self-conscious about the whole thing. "What are friends for? But are you sure about Cameron? Why not ask Jack?"

Cary shook her head. "I get the feeling that you and Jack are... probably too nice. And I don't want Jack to know about this. He can be awfully judgmental sometimes." She put a hand on my shoulder, and I got goosebumps again. "Since my birthday, things have changed. You know it. I know it. We're best friends now, and Jack seems to be drifting away from me a little bit."

"He's just busy with work and Jenna," I said. "I don't see him as much as I used to, either."

"I'm not upset with him," Cary clarified. "I just... I need you for this one, Matt. Not Jack. And I need somebody who can sound like a bad-boy jerk. I think Cameron will do that. Maybe because he thinks it will lead to more." She rolled her eyes. "It won't."

"Are you sure this won't drive your soon-to-be-ex crazy enough that he'll try to hurt you?" It had been kicking around in my brain ever since she told me about her sexy photos and told me the story to go with them. "I know I've already brought this up. But he's already proved that he's fine with having a bunch of his friends... well, you know. Are you sure he won't cross that line too?"

Cary looked pensive. "I don't think so. Especially not with the kids staying with me half the time. He's always been sort of a sneaky backstabber more than an out-and-out abuser. I think it's more likely that he'll try to use the pictures to hurt me professionally. The joke's on him--nude photography isn't a dealbreaker in the art world."

I took a deep breath and then wolfed down a fistful of fries. "All right, Ms. Director--how do you want me to play this scene?"

She had begun to fade back to a normal skin tone, but the question made her blush all over again. And, of course, that made me flush, too. How was I going to get through this without breaking character and just telling her how I felt? Another part of me asked if it would really be such a big deal if I did tell her.

Cary was still thinking. "Oh, uh... I hadn't really thought of that. I guess just play it by ear?"

"Yeah, you'll need a believable flow of events if you want to sell it. Just like your story that Samantha helped you with. What would really get Mr. Lame-Brain riled up?"

Cary thought about it. "Um... I guess, things that he always pushed me to do that I didn't want to. Or wouldn't." She glanced down at the fries and took one as a distraction from her discomfort. Looking over her shoulder, she dropped her voice to nearly whisper, as if the Wendy's employees were listening in. "So... doing things with my mouth, I guess. Oral." If she turned any redder, she would have looked like she had the world's worst sunburn. "And anything... oh, God. I can't. I can't say it."

I wanted to reach over and comfort her, she looked so anxious. Instead I sat back to give us both some space. "Hey, it's okay. We don't have to do this. No need for you to be so uncomfortable. If it's not a fun way to get back at him for being such a snooping creep, there's no need, right? He can just get an empty tape and nothing to show for his trouble. Wouldn't that piss him off, too?"

She shook her head, auburn locks waving. "No. He needs to feel like he's lost all control. Like he never had any to begin with. He needs to know that I'm my own person." She grabbed my wrist, and I started. It was like a floodgate had opened--her eyes were earnest and angry and wounded. "Matt, for so long--you have no idea. Even what I've already told you just scratches the surface. If he thinks he has even an inch of purchase, he'll never leave me alone. I know him. He has to know that he's lost me for good. That in some ways, he never even really had me."

I was holding my breath as Cary held my arm. I looked down at her intense grip, and she let go. "Sorry. I'm sorry. That was a lot."

"You're my best friend," I said. "And I'll do whatever you ask me to. I'll help you do a full audio re-enactment of Debbie Does Dallas if that's what it takes. I just don't like seeing you this wigged out."

Cary snorted and giggled, and the tension lessened a bit. "Ha. Even I've heard of that one," she said. "Okay, let's get started." We spent the next few minutes quietly outlining a sequence of events for the staged audio encounter. I was already visualizing the events in my head as if it really were a porn movie. Except, instead of a black French guy, I was obviously imagining myself as one of the two guys giving to Cary.

"What about sounds?" Cary asked. "I listened to a lot of radio shows as a kid, and there were always sounds effects. It will just sound like us reading a script if we only do the voices."

I nodded, impressed by her thinking. "You're lucky I'm such a nerd for behind-the-scenes specials on TV," I remarked. "Because yours truly knows a thing or two about foley work."

"Foley work?" She frowned, but her question was forestalled as the Wendy's door opened. We both turned to look guiltily, as if caught in the act of planning a real affair. Cameron strode in, his self-assured swagger almost unbearable.

He gave both of us a smirk and sat down backwards in a chair at the edge of the table. "All right, let's get this threesome going!" he said--loudly enough that I could see the guy behind the counter look slowly up at us and then back away in a hurry when he caught me looking back.

"Could you say it a little louder, please?" I muttered. "I'm not sure that the guys at the fry station caught all of that."

"Relax, dude," he answered. "All in good fun. So, you want to stick it to your loser ex-husband who's spying on you, and you need a couple of guy voices for some convincing sound effects. That about right?"

"Just about," Cary answered stiffly.

"We were just discussing how to make those sound effects," I said, trying to sound unbothered and not-at-all aroused.

"No sweat." He leaned back a little. "Did you get enough fries for everybody? No? Bummer. So, look, I've played a few pranks on my roommates at college, and I have some ideas for that."

"Oh yeah?" Cary raised an eyebrow. "Like what?"

"Sit-ups and pushups on the bed. Heavy breathing, rhythmic, makes a creaking noise. Perfect." Cameron looked pleased with himself. I had to admit it sounded pretty plausible. "You want some slapping or wet noises? Just get your hands wet with soapy water and rub them together or clap them lightly."

"That's... actually pretty good," Cary agreed. "I'm kind of surprised that you already had some ideas for this."

"I thought about it on the way over," he answered proudly. "Like I said, we pulled some pranks. Did something almost exactly like this about nine months ago. It made my roommate so mad... anyway. A tape recorder outside your bedroom window? That's fucked up. We got a timetable?"

Cary looked at her watch. "Yes. We should go soon. Can you drive? Eric might recognize Matt's car, and I want him to think that I'm with total strangers."

"Ladies first," Cameron gestured towards the door. Of course, he offered Cary shotgun while I rode in the back. I rolled my eyes but didn't say anything. If I had been in his position, I probably would have offered Cary the seat next to me too. Definitely would have, in fact. And we were all on the same team in Operation: Revenge on Cary's Dirtbag Husband. Plus, I knew if I made a scene or even showed the slightest annoyance, Cameron would jump on it and embarrass me.

We talked a little bit more about the plan on the way over, Cary blushing furiously and Cameron looking like this was an absolutely everyday occurrence. Cary had the idea of wearing her hat and sunglasses to "disguise" herself on the way into the apartment complex.

"Just in case Eric is watching," she said. "His mistresses would always try to do something similar. One of them actually wore a giant sunhat and Hollywood mirrored sunglasses for their assignation. It made her stand out more than if she had just dressed normally. Anyway, it will be sure to draw Eric's attention if I look like I'm trying to be incognito."

"Triple word score," Cameron said absently as he pulled into the parking lot.

Cary caught her breath. "There's one of the painter's vans. And yep--it's Van, Go! Housepaints, all right. That's Eric's friend."

Cary pulled on her hat and sunglasses. She looked nervous. "Showtime," she said, a tiny tremor in her voice.

"No time like the present," Cameron responded. I wondered if he always spoke in folksy aphorisms, or if this was his idea of being witty to impress a girl he was clearly interested in.

We got out of the car, all still in our paint-smudged army-surplus fatigues. By agreement, I wore Cameron's brimmed camo bucket hat so that I wouldn't be as recognizable. He had his paintball goggles up on his forehead. Cary did a good imitation--or maybe it wasn't--of looking furtively around as she scurried to the front door of her apartment building.

As we got inside, a pot-bellied man in a Hawaiian shirt and flip-flops waved to her. "Hey, Miss Bernham! Did you get the note? Painters today. They're pretty close to your area right now, so if you're gonna take a shower, be double-sure to pull the drapes."

"Thanks, Rio," Cary said. "I'll be sure to keep an eye out."

"Friends of yours?" the man asked looking doubtfully at me and Cameron. "Some sort of militia meeting?"

"War games," I answered. "Just a little fun with paintball guns."

The guy scratched his belly. "Sounds like that would hurt. I'm too old for that sort of thing, but you kids have fun."

I noticed that when Cary was with me and Jack, people tended think of her as younger. I wondered how old "Rio" thought she was. Cary waved as we ascended the stairs. "My landlord," she explained curtly. I could tell that her hands were shaking a little--whether because of embarrassment or because of the proximity of her shitkicker husband, who could tell.

When we got to her apartment, she hesitated before inserting the key. She breathed once, twice.

"Hey, there's time to change your mind," I reiterated. "It's okay if you're too nervous." Cameron nodded along with me but looked disappointed.

But Cary seemed to take it as a challenge, and she got a familiar competitive glint in her eye. "I'm not nervous," she nearly snapped. "Just... just, let's do this." She might have been psyching herself up to have a real affair for as much as she clearly had the jitters. If she was this much of a wreck now, no wonder she needed several glasses of wine to get in her underwear and get some mock-dirty pictures. "No touching," she admonished before we entered.

We both nodded, and Cameron held up his hands in an "I swear" gesture. The door creaked open, and we walked off the industrial-grade carpet from the hallway and into our temporary "studio." Since helping her move in, I'd been in her apartment a bunch of times, but this time I felt like I was doing something wrong. Like I was invading a private space. I was excited, amused, and anxious on her behalf all at once. And, naturally, I was aroused too.

Cary didn't help matters by going straight to her window and peeling off her jacket in front of it so that she was just wearing her Sonya Blade sports bra. She made a show of stretching: I guessed she was looking at the tape recorder to see if the tape had been flipped and was currently recording. With a languid turn back towards us, she winked, pulled the curtains, and said "Well, boys--let's get started."

"Better wash up," Cameron said loudly, and walked to the bathroom. I pulled off my own jacket so that I was just wearing the black tank top beneath. I was suddenly aware of my dried sweat and disheveled hair. And the fact that Cary had noticed my steadily hardening musculature at paintball. I headed to the kitchenette and washed my hands, and also got some soapy water in a bowl. We both headed back into Cary's room, where she had grabbed some clothing from her closet.

"I see you got started ahead of me," she said in a sultry voice that I hardly recognized as hers. "I better catch up." She rustled some of the clothes around with a few theatrical "mmms" and "oohs," and dropped the clothes on the floor with a flourish and giggled. "There, that's better."

I made a genuinely appreciative noise, trying to get into character and not reveal my actual boner. Cameron took a look at her, cocked his head, and said in a deep voice, "Come on over here, baby." He reached a hand out, as if expecting her to actually walk over. To my surprise, she took a hesitant step, and then stopped.

"Hold on, big guy," she teased. "If that's all I wanted, I could get it at home."

"Yeah, but we already know it's not very good," Cameron answered. "Or you wouldn't have come to us. We'll take care of you the way he can't."

Cary gave me a look, and I realized that I was waiting to see how it turned out--like an idiot. I cleared my throat and made my voice deeper as well. "Bon, chérie. Let us take you first to 'eaven before we shake your world." I raised a smarmy eyebrow, and Cary giggled.

Cameron gave me a sort of "not bad, dude" look, and said, "Sure, girl. We'll make you feel good. Just like before."

"Give me a massage," Cary said, and flopped down on the bed dramatically. Both of us sat down on the bed, being sure to give her a little distance. I noticed that Cameron gave her a little less distance than I did. I rubbed my hands together slowly, and Cary took her cue. "Oooh," she cooed, "that's good. A little lower." I wasn't sure what I was supposed to do, so I kept rubbing my hands together and saying bland endearments in my rudimentary French. After a moment, Cary shrieked in mock delight/outrage. "Not there, you naughty boy! You just wait!"

"But 'eez too inviting," I replied.

Cameron chuckled and said, "My turn. I know just what she likes. Move over, man."

I obligingly rustled on the bed, and Cameron started rubbing his hands up and down his bare arms. Cary made some contented, happy sounds and an "Oh, yes," or two, but nothing like the shriek she'd done for "my" massage. It felt absurdly validating. We went on like that for a few more minutes, until she purred, "Come over here, Philippe."

That's right--"Philippe" was the name of the French guy from her fake affair story. It made it a little easier for me to get into character having already heard her idea of how he would act. I rustled a little bit more on the bed, and she said, "Now I'm ready for that. You know what to do."

I made some "haw haw" sounds, cringed because they sounded so hackneyed, and then made eye contact with Cary and licked the tip of my thumb. She flushed a little--not blushed, but almost instantly made a gasping sound, followed by a little moan that sounded so real that I felt like I was going to strain a ligament in my dick just sitting still. Cameron picked up on the idea and said "How about two at once?" He started flicking his tongue over his thumb as well, and Cary's gasps got more ragged and frequent.

It suddenly occurred to me that life with her shitty husband had probably given her plenty of practice in faking it. I was too turned on to be as bummed out by that as I should have been, but even with half the blood in my body rushing to my groin, I still had enough presence of mind to notice it. I did, however, wonder how much of this was actually making it onto the little portable tape recorder outside, and whether this wasn't a lot of trouble and horniness for what would turn out to be a couple of muffled grunts and groans later on.

At the moment, I found it hard to care. Cary moaned, "I think I need some attention down there, too."

Quick as a flash, Cameron had dipped his fingers into the soapy water and began rubbing them against each other with a pretty convincing squelching sound. Cary sucked in a breath sharply and began to grind her bottom back and forth on the bed, which creaked appropriately. She kept looking back up at me with something unreadable in her expression as she gasped.

"Slow down a little," she said, "no need to rush things." I could easily imagine that she had wanted to say that to her husband on more than one occasion. In fact, it was becoming clearer to me that in a way, this was Cary's fantasy that she was living out in a way; in this scenario, she got to dictate terms, get serviced by attentive lovers who put her needs first, and probably intended to "actually" get an orgasm in this scenario.

I was about to say something else when I noticed two little bumps under Cary's sports bra. Her nipples had gotten harder during this charade, and she was flushed. I could hardly believe it, but it confirmed what I had just been thinking. She was getting turned on by this.

"Should I stop?" I asked in my phony French accent. My voice was rough.

"No," she gasped. "Get over here." She motioned for me to move, and I took the cue. I flipped around on the bed and started doing pushups. Cary bucked and squealed in false ecstasy--although I questioned how staged it was at this point. After a moment, Cameron jumped up from his spot and walked closer.

"See how you like something in your mouth," he said. I noticed that he stole a quick glance at her chest and her visibly hard nipples as well.

Cary gave him an arched eyebrow, but stuck her thumb in her mouth and made a muffled mock-indignant squawk. Cameron sort of bucked his hips back and forth suggestively, and Cary slid her thumb back and forth in her mouth, both squealing from "Philippe's" pumping and from the fellatio she was supposedly giving the other guy. It had not escaped my attention that Cameron's character did not have a name yet, unless he was supposed to be "Drew."

I found that I was imagining this scene vividly again as I did pushups, and my erection was making me glad that this was on the springy surface of the bed. From the way Cary was rocking back and forth and giving me occasional glances, I suspected that she was also imagining the scene in some detail. It was one of the things that made her a good painter. I wondered if she was imagining me as one of the lovers rather than her 'Drew' and 'Philippe' characters.

She pulled her thumb from her mouth and gasped. Cameron took the cue and stopped bucking back and forth. Cary gasped a few more times, sounding really labored. She glanced between me and Cameron, and her gaze settled on me. She almost looked like she was trying to silently ask me something. "I'm close," she said, voice urgent and gravelly. "Don't stop."

"Where do you want it?" Cameron asked.

The question appeared to take Cary genuinely by surprise, but after a second, she rallied. "C-cum on my tits," she stuttered. It was clear she'd never said those words before for as deeply as she was blushing now. "Oh, God, I'm close. Keep going." She shook back and forth. I had tired of pushups and was simply bouncing on the bed by now. "Oh, oooh... ooooh G-god!"

Cameron flicked some water on her and grunted loudly. I did the same, feeling like an idiot.

A wail escaped Cary that I was sure the apartments on either side could hear. Her husband wouldn't be the only one thinking that she was getting her brains fucked out by two guys. She physically shuddered on the bed. One of her hands twisted in her auburn hair, and the other was squeezing her left breast. My eyes nearly popped out of my skull.

Without warning, Cameron grabbed her by the shoulders and gave a hard, deep kiss. Cary's eyes widened and she made an indignant shriek--the real version of the noise she had made when having an imaginary dick shoved in her mouth. I was halfway towards the pair of them--

Snap

The unmistakable sound of a tape reaching its limit broke us out of the moment. Cary pulled back and shoved Cameron hard by the shoulders. "No. I told you, nothing is happening," she snapped. "I think you should leave." I was by her side, and had taken her by the shoulders, pulling her back as I glared. She wasn't moving away from my touch.

Cameron bit his lip and looked abashed--it was easy in that moment to see that he was only a year or two older than me. When he looked up, it was clear he was trying to look like he wasn't angry. "Hey, you can't blame a guy for trying," he said carefully. "I mean, that was getting pretty hot."

Cary looked at him with steely eyes. I tugged my trousers to try and hide my situation, and opened the room door for him. Cameron looked back and forth between us and shook his head. "Okay, I get it," he muttered. "I fucked up."

As he exited the apartment into the hallway, he turned back towards me. "Look, no hard feelings? I just caught up in the moment. I mean, she was flirting with everybody at paintball. Did you see her just now? She looked like she wanted it." I had no answer to that--she had looked horny as hell.

"Just... just get going, all right?" I made my voice level.

"You're just jealous because you didn't have the guts to kiss her first," he accused.

"Goddamn right I'm jealous," I snapped, the flood of feelings from the day washing over me. I forced myself to breathe deep. "Who wouldn't be? But she said no touching." I shook my head, still seething internally. It was too similar to the incident at her birthday party for me to be calm. "You have no idea what she's had to put up with," I said. "She trusted you to help on this, and she gave us only one rule."

"Easy for you to say," he groused. "She was giving you the 'fuck me' eyes the whole time. She's been doing it since this morning. She likes you."

It was so unexpected, I just stood there flummoxed.

"Whatever, man. Plenty of fish in the sea, and like Gretzky says: you miss all the shots you don't take. Glad I could do her a solid. I really do hope she comes back to paintball. You can still come too." He waved without looking back as he departed towards the stairs. "Do both of you a favor and nail that milf soon, bro. She sure needs it, and it's obvious she wants it from you."

I closed the door and turned around to check on Cary. She was standing right behind me, still flushed. She was looking at the floor.

"Oh, fuck," I blurted. "How much--"

"Everything." Cary said quietly. "Thank you for standing up for me. You always do that." She paused. "Are you really jealous of him? You don't have to be."

I steadied my breathing, which appeared to be all over the place. "That was--I mean..." I blew out a breath. "Yeah, I guess. I've been sort of like that all day. Sorry." I shook my head. "Not sorry. But... I get that it's not my business."

"What's a 'milf?'" she asked.

"Oh, uh... it's an acronym," I managed. From how hot my ears felt, I was pretty sure I was blushing too.

"For what?" I was afraid she'd ask that.

"Um. 'Mom I'd Like to... Fuck,'" I answered.

"I guess that's flattering in its own crude way," she said. There was a long silence. "We--we should go check on the tape."

She walked slowly back into her room and peeked out from between her curtains. There was no sign of painters outside. Cary sighed, opened her window, and picked up the tape recorder. She rewound it a few seconds and then hit play.

Her moans and the squelches of Cameron's fingers were remarkably clear, as were the rhythmic creaking bedsprings from my pushups. You'd have to know ahead of time that it was staged to not jump to the conclusion that this tape had an audio recording of Cary getting banged by her two imaginary lovers.

"Cum on my tits!" her recorded voice begged. It was followed by grunts and her pseudo-orgasmic shuddering cry.

Cary was red as a beet. "This was a mistake," she said shakily.

"Are you kidding? For what you wanted, this turned out great," I argued. "Your doofus husband will believe this is the real deal, no question."

"Not that," she said.

"What, Cameron?" I asked. "Yeah, the dude was a prick. Exactly what you expected."

"I should have just asked you." She looked at me with that same intense, unreadable expression. "I should have just asked you." She grabbed my hand and held it, and we both stood silently for a minute, hoping for our breathing to return to normal. My pulse was thundering in my ears.

"Listen," I said after a moment. "You asked a while back what sort of girl would be right for me."

Her breath hitched. I could see she was holding it.

It was stupid--real stupid. But I was turned on and still thinking about how she must have felt trapped in a marriage with that creep. And I was feeling protective. "I think I know who would be right for me," I breathed. "I think we both know, and have been afraid to think about it."

Tears sprang up in her eyes, and I was afraid I had made her angry. But she smiled and shook her head. Then nodded. Then shook her head again. She still hadn't let go of my hand, and she was shaking. We stood silently for a long time, afraid to move in case it broke the spell. After what seemed like forever, she drew a shivering breath.

"What he said. He wasn't wrong," she almost whispered. "But we... we can't..."

"We can do anything we want," I said. "But it has to be 'we.' I already know what I want. Who." Adrenaline had made me brave as well as stupid.

"Um... oh my God. This is--you should get back... in case Eric--"

"Yeah, uh. Yeah. Sorry." I shook my head like a dummy. It felt like somebody had thrown lukewarm water on me. Not enough to dispel the boner, but enough to clear my head a little. "Look, we should talk more when we're settled down. I don't want to ask you to do anything you'd regret. Come to my graduation party, okay? It won't be any fun without you there, no matter what you decide."

I walked out the door as I heard her take another sobbing breath, and heard her voice just as I closed it behind me. "Matt. Thank you."

I was halfway down the stairs when I realized that my car was still at Wendy's a mile away. At least it would give me time for my erection to subside, and to think about what I'd just set into motion. I'd done it--I'd told her that I had feelings for her. Sort of. And she hadn't thrown me out angrily. In fact, it looked like she felt the same way, and was trying to figure out how to process it. I had no idea where things would go from here, but I did know one thing.

My graduation was going to be unforgettable.