Rae's Awakening Ch. 00-01

Prologue - A Note from the Author

This genesis of Rae's Awakening was a book recommendation my wife received from a friend around a year and a half ago. My wife thought that reading this novel aloud together, a bestseller billed as "kinky" and an "erotic thriller," might be a turn-on.

It wasn't.

The book would've been great except for a couple of things: it wasn't particularly thrilling, and we struggled to find any kink or eroticism. Having enjoyed our fair share of porn on film over the years, we were looking porn on paper. What we found instead was schlocky romance novel faire.

After one particularly cringey sex scene, I said I thought that I could do better. My wife's response: that could be sexy... you should try. Several months and just short of 90,000 words later (which, based on where the writing now stands, feels around half-finished), I have no idea whether I have, in fact, done better, but doubtless I've checked the box for "try."

Because this whole thing started as a shared creative sexual experience between the aforementioned audience of one and me, I thought the best way to make the story's principal protagonist relatable to my wife was to base that character on her. Rae McIntyre and my better half share a preponderance of their DNA, and many of the scenes and events that unfold in the story are rooted in real-life events (some just a little, some a whole lot), albeit with names, places and times changed to preserve everyone's privacy. Parts of the story that aren't grounded in actual events largely take inspiration from fantasies my wife has shared or coyly hinted at without claiming full-blown ownership. She's enjoyed what I've written so far... very, very much, and suggested I find an avenue to share it. I hope you enjoy it too.

Although the 15ish chapters that already exist in draft form are part of a general plot outline, they aren't yet a cohesive, sequenced whole just yet because I began by writing several of the more involved sex scenes that occur at different points in the story (always so much more fun to write those than the more mundane stuff; and as I was explaining, my initial, simple mandate was just to write hotter sex scenes than the novel-that-shall-remain-nameless... but then the project took on a life of its own). I don't know yet whether I will go ahead and post those already completed, disjointed chapters or whether I will wait to post a next chunk of chapters when I bridge the gap between Chapter 1 and the next already-completed chapter (which is somewhere around Chapter 6 or 7). Either way, I will add to Rae's adventures at some point, hopefully in the near future.

The entirety of the story will be posted in the "Loving Wives" corner of Literotica just to keep it together in one place under a fitting topic heading, but future chapters, both written and planned, hit many/most of Literotica's other topic headings. (Both Rae and her inspiration have led very full and interesting sex lives!)

Since I am posting bits and pieces as I progress, I decided not to post the project in novels/novellas. However, if the whole work eventually sees the light of day, it'll decidedly be a novel regardless of where it resides.

Chapter 1 - August 2021

Raelene (please, God, call me Rae) McIntyre walked off the dance floor of the Atlanta dance club, heart pounding faster than the pulsating music and lights. She was thankful that she had opted at the last minute to wear the low heels in lieu of the four-inch stilettos she had packed to pair with the molecule-thin, second-skin micro-minidress she was sporting. Jason, one half of Rae's company, held her sweaty right hand as the pair ascended the shallow steps toward the bar area and tables that ringed the perimeter of the club. The other half of her company, Jason's younger brother Jack, had retreated a few minutes earlier to order another round of drinks for the three of them. Jack promised the drinks would be waiting upstairs in the club at the table occupied by a pair of his friends whose names Rae couldn't recall.

Rae clutched the metal stair railing with her left hand as she climbed, hoping desperately to avoid being flung off the earth as it undulated beneath her. She had consumed four cocktails this evening, the first two strong pours at dinner a couple of hours earlier with her husband, followed by a third sitting alone for a short time at the club's bar. When Jason had caught her eye and smiled before walking over, introducing himself first and then Jack, Rae had been so surprised by the men's attention that she forgot to decline when Jason offered to refresh the cocktail that she had only recently finished. One promise broken, she had thought immediately after proffering an acceptance to Jason's offer far more enthusiastically than she had intended.

Rae was only a very occasional drinker and slightly built, so the continuum between her being a bit tipsy and totally hammered wasn't an expansive one. Even three weak drinks, if consumed in relatively close proximity to a good meal, typically gave Rae a very healthy buzz but left most of her faculties intact otherwise. Beyond three, though, each sip extracted a boulder-sized chunk out of her inhibition--and her judgment. Now, as she was heading back to her companions' table and the fifth cocktail waiting for her there, Rae had a thought that the evening might progress far differently than she had planned before leaving the hotel a couple of hours earlier. Had she declined the drink Jason had offered, that thought would have started the alarm klaxons in her head blaring and brought the evening's experiment to a screeching halt; but as she presently perceived that brief realization through the murk of her growing inebriation and as she prepared to consume even more, the thought intrigued--and aroused--her.

Until a half hour ago, Rae had been absolutely certain this experiment would fail spectacularly. Two hours earlier, she had appraised herself in the hotel room mirror, having returned from dinner to dress for the rest of her evening out. The whole idea was absurd, and no part of the reflection she saw could possibly save her from flaming embarrassment: not the carefully rolled dirty blonde hair that was just a little bigger than usual; not the meticulously applied makeup that was heavier and bolder than she normally wore it; and not even the royal blue, button-up micro-minidress that she had barely stretched over a minimal surface area of her petite, 5'4" frame. As sexy as the dress might be on someone else, Rae thought, she was sure it wouldn't snatch her a victory from the jaws of the inevitable defeat that was looming, even though she had stopped fastening the buttons a couple of inches below the bottom of her still perky, full B-cup teardrop breasts and even though its hem fell bare centimeters below her freshly waxed labia and mons. And the dress wouldn't save her even despite its being so skin-tight that it refused to suffer even the skimpiest bra or panties beneath it and despite its fabric being so molecule-thin that anyone in close proximity would, without any particular effort, be able to discern each braille bump of Rae's small, round areolae and taut nipples. Rae's self-appraisal in the hotel mirror concluded with a twist of her torso to inspect her ass: it had always been a bit on the larger side in all the best ways, an object of lust for her lovers and the most frequent focal point of attention from strangers. But no, her ass fell short too. Why are you even bothering to do this, Rae reproached herself. You're setting yourself up to be humiliated and disappointed.

Even 10 minutes into the semi-shouted, light-hearted bar conversation over the thumping music with the two men who were chatting her up, Rae remained steadfast in her certainty that the evening would go up in flames at any moment, upon which she would retreat to her hotel, mortified and feeling even worse about herself. Rae could recite her preplanned script well and was surprisingly earnest and convincing with it: I'm Summer Harrison, a recently divorced 43-year-old kindergarten teacher from Greenville, South Carolina... I'm meeting a former student teacher friend of mine to celebrate my newly won singleness by cutting loose for a night of drunken debauchery, but she got caught in a traffic jam behind a multicar pileup on I-75; she's supposed to be here by 10:00 or 10:30. Do you think this dress is too much for someone my age? No? Oh, you're just saying that to be nice! [They all laugh.] Blah, blah, blah, blah, blah! But, she thought, the guys she had just met would, at best, view her as a pathetic novelty, a cougar wannabe prowling in a club a majority of whose patrons were years younger than she.

Rae McIntyre was, after all, a fraud, her self-assembled dossier filled with half- or full-fabrications: Summer and Harrison were her maiden and middle names, respectively; she was a full seven years past her claimed age, a fifth grade teacher in Summerville, South Carolina who had never taught kindergarten at all or any grade anywhere near Greenville; there was no friend she was meeting later that evening; there was no question in her mind that the dress was absolutely too much; and, incidentally, she was married, quite happily so at the moment. She had left the hotel--and her husband with a hug and light kiss so as not to disturb her makeup--earlier in the evening, and he would pick her up from the club she was going to sometime between 10 p. m. and 1 a. m., depending on the results of the experiment.

When the two men eagerly accepted her nervous invitation to dance, Rae still knew--absolutely knew--that they must be trading snickers behind her back. They were, after all, near her in age... but only if you summed their years circling the sun. But as she drained the last drops from her cup and felt more warm, irrational courage course through her, she resolved to play her part in the experiment to its inexorably bitter end. Rae had thought that, an hour hence, maybe less, she would no longer have to endure her husband's apparent lies, although borne of love for sure, telling over and over again that she looked well younger than her 50 years and that she still turned men's heads, even considerably younger men. The failure of the experiment would crystallize each and every one her myriad physical insecurities into adamantine reality. But the alcohol Rae had consumed would allow her to ignore that inevitability for a little while longer, so she had grabbed both men by the arms and headed for the steps down to the dance floor below, doubtless that her companions would soon make it plain they were laughing at her and not with her.

After a few minutes of dancing with the brothers, some cracks began to spiderweb through Rae's certitude. Both men immediately were unshy with their hands. First Jason, a wiry six feet, snaked his long arms around Rae's torso to grab a handful of her ass with each of his large hands. Looking down at her face intently, he pulled Rae's body to his, his legs open and knees bent slightly so that their crotches met. Never breaking eye contact, he slid his hands up to her hipbones and, holding Rae firmly in place, began to rotate his hips clockwise in half-time with the thumping bass beat that could be felt as much as heard. His movements caused Rae's already just-long-enough-to-be-legal dress to ride up slightly more with each completed circle of their hips.

Rae became increasingly aware of Jason's manhood pressed against her pubic mound and lower abdomen. His cock apparently was craving Rae's awareness, as she could clearly feel it stiffening between them. Without thinking, Rae's hands, which had been wrapped loosely around his lower back, moved down to Jason's glutes as she tilted her pelvis inward slightly to align her slit more directly with the hardening ridge. Although their eyes were still locked on one another, Rae's were now half-closed as she bit her lower lip.

Their eye contact was broken when she felt younger brother Jack's hands on her ass. Unlike Jason's initial grasp, which found the gossamer material of Rae's dress, Jason's hands met skin, as the dress had ridden up enough to expose the lower half of Rae's ass. With thumbs on the lower hemisphere of her cheeks near her crack and fingers splayed outward, Jack massaged Rae firmly as he nestled his own crotch in Rae's crevasse and sandwiched her against his brother. Rae reflexively closed her eyes and lifted her chin, craning her head backward until it impacted Jack's right collarbone. Mouth open, a small moan trailed out from deep within Rae; neither man could hear the sound she made, but they didn't really need to. Her state was plain enough.

Through several more songs, Rae and the brothers danced, if "dance" it could be called. The men both explored nearly every inch of Summer-the-horny-divorcee-from-Greenville's willing body with their roaming hands. At various points in their dance floor undulations, Rae had straddled a leg of each of the brothers, grinding one while the other effectively dry-fucked her from behind. Eventually Jack peeled off and shouted to the other two that he was returning to their table and would order more drinks. Rae and Jason stayed behind for another few minutes before following. By the time they disengaged, Rae's dress had ridden high enough to expose her ass entirely. Her pussy would have been similarly exposed but for it being pressed firmly against one of the brothers for nearly the entire duration of their dance. As they moved to leave the dance floor, Rae became aware of the state of her dress and her exposure to anyone who might've been paying attention in the mass of sweaty humanity. Sober, the sensation of undress would have registered strongly, but in Rae's present state, her nakedness precipitated exhilaration much more than embarrassment. She pulled the dress back down as much as it allowed.

A thought flashed across Rae's consciousness through the haze of her inebriation: Even though they may have approached me on some sort of half-joking, novelty cougar hunt, both of their dicks seem to be taking me seriously enough. Maybe Scott wasn't totally bullshitting me after all.

Oh shit! Scott...

Rae had to concentrate hard for a minute as she passed through the throng toward the steps, her hand in Jason's. Have I crossed any of the red lines we agreed to? Well, other than the drinking, she thought. She was supposed to have stopped at three for the evening, and she had consumed two glasses of wine with dinner before coming to the club.

She hadn't kissed either of her companions, nor had she let her hands wander over their bodies into any restricted areas as theirs had hers. Have I broken any rules by getting really turned on? The answer, maybe a rationalization, she realized, came to her surprisingly quickly in spite of the vodka that now dripped from her synapses like warm molasses: Not so long as you don't act on it. She knew that possibly the only thing that had prevented her dress from being soaked by the evidence of her arousal was that it had ridden up so high, although maybe pulling it back down again might tell on her quickly.

Rae muted the internal conversation before her first foot hit the steps.

The pair arrived at the small round table near one corner of the rectangular upper floor of the club that Jack's friends had been occupying in their absence. Jack was just arriving with their drinks as his two friends, now accompanied by two females, stood. One of the men put a hand on Jack's shoulder and leaned in to speak--yell--into Jack's' ear as Jack deposited the three drinks on the table among several empty cups. Both men laughed, and they dapped each other up. It became clear that Jack's nameless-to-Rae friends were departing as they helped up their two lately arrived companions; with a small wave, the four started to make their way toward the club's entrance.

Jack came over to Rae and Jason, handing them their drinks. Rae took a much larger swallow than she would have had the drink been her first. "Their girls want to try a new place that just opened up close by," he half-shouted in explanation. "I told them we might catch up later."

Jason nodded. Just as he waved Rae to the chair nearest the wall, she felt a vibration from the smart watch on her wrist. "Just a second... think my friend is texting me," she said with exaggerated mouth movements to make her lips easier to read, pulling her phone out of a cross-body Vuitton clutch.

Rae unlocked the phone whose lock screen showed "9:45" and read the new text as Jason rounded the table to converse with his brother. The message was from Scott, playing the role of her friend. "Sorry we're running so late. Wreck is in sight now and looks like I might be past it soon. How's the club?"

Rae had to think for a moment to remember the coded responses they had devised for their periodic check-ins if she was in the company of others who might be looking on...

Any reference to missing her friend or hoping she'd get there soon meant that Scott actually needed to come into the club to extricate her as quickly as he could get there.

A reference to things being merely "alright" meant that the success of the experiment was still an open question and, subject to further update, Rae could extract herself without assistance and desired to be picked up outside at 11:00.

However, if Rae told "her friend" she was having fun and that her friend could take her time, she would be conveying that she wanted to extend the experiment's otherwise-agreed midnight expiration by an hour. Rae was to send whatever obliquely explanatory information she could with her coded responses.

She typed, "Great! Met a couple of really nice guys and they're taking good care of me until you get here. You can take your time," punctuating the response with a smiling halo emoji before dropping her phone back into the clutch. 1:00 a. m. it is.

Her companions scooted chairs close on either side of her and sat. Jason slid Rae's drink, a vodka Collins, closer to her. She took a gulp and noticed that it was already almost empty. Another warning signed ignored that she had consumed far too much; not a big drinker, she usually nursed cocktails but had plowed through this one her couple of minutes back at the high-top cocktail table. She could no longer tell how strong her drinks were, any burn somewhat dulled by the effects of her prior consumption. Jack had pulled his phone out and appeared to Rae to be texting someone. She turned to Jason and leaned closer to him, saying loudly in his left ear, "Y'all are quite the dancers. I was surprised... pleasantly... when you came over and introduced yourselves tonight. I'm old enough to be your... big sister! Why'd you decide to talk to me when there are so many younger women in here?"

Jason laughed. "That's easy enough. Hey Jack!" he yelled to get his brother's attention, who looked up from his phone. Tell Summer why we introduced ourselves."

Jack shrugged and smiled. "Because you're hot!" he answered like the response was self-evident.

Jason turned back to Rae. "You looked like you were looking for company... but I was actually concerned when we walked up that you wouldn't take us seriously because of our ages." In their initial conversation, Jason had revealed that he was 28, a newly minted CPA, and he was in Atlanta for the weekend, visiting his 23-year-old brother who was in grad school.

"Of course not! I was really self-conscious when I came in.... that makes me feel a lot better!" She laughed as she made the statement, one of the only truths she had told either man that evening. "So you don't mind being with someone ancient, then?"

Jason returned the laugh. "Forty-three is hardly ancient. I tend to think of it simply as 'more worldly'."

"So you enjoy a woman with lots of life... skills," she half-yelled back smiling, an eyebrow raised mock quizzically.

"You could say that," Jason replied, and he pulled Rae's head toward him and kissed her. His other hand grabbed her inner thigh as far up as the spread of her legs would allow, pulling her toward him. Rae's eyes went wide and, despite her intoxication, her immediate thought was to disengage.

But she didn't, and after the brief flicker of conscience subsided, her body relaxed.

Rae was surprised, almost as if observing this scene from outside her own body, when her lips parted to receive Jason's tongue. She was even more surprised when her own tongue actively reciprocated, extending to explore his mouth. Even with taste buds dulled by several mixed drinks, the taste of his bourbon was a sharp contrast to her vodka.

Rae hadn't noticed that her legs had parted to facilitate moving closer to Jason--not until he accepted what he clearly considered an invitation and cupped her pussy with his hand and stroked it firmly without parting her lips.

This sensation did register with Rae and the significance of what she was now doing seized her consciousness. She pulled away from his kiss, moving to rest her head on his left shoulder and breathing as if she had just run a sprint. Her right hand, which had traveled to the back of Jason's head when they had begun to kiss, now dropped to his right shoulder so that it would be positioned to push him away (although she didn't). She moved her mouth to Jason's ear. "We need to stop before I do something I regret... I'm getting REALLY turned on," she panted. Jason moved his exploring hand back to its original resting place on her inner thigh.

From his shoulder, Rae couldn't see Jason's sardonic smile. "Getting? There's evidence on my pants that you blew past 'getting' around 15 minutes ago."

Jason tilted his head so that it exposed the flesh of Rae's neck, which he began to kiss. Rae's head tilted back. Jason couldn't hear it over the pulsating music, but he felt a trailing moan that resonated in Rae's throat.

Jason paused from tasting Rae's neck. "You really want me to stop?"

Once again, Rae surprised herself. "Keep going," she gasped. Red lines, ground rules and commitments had receded into the deepest recesses of her consciousness.

"No, not before you tell me exactly what you want."

In that moment, Rae became acutely aware again of Jason's hand lingering just inches from the part of her body that was struggling furiously with the rest of her for control. It won. Rae sighed and exhaled into Jason's ear.

"I want you to touch my pussy again."

Jason took his hands and brought Rae closer to him, lifting her left leg over his right and snaking his right arm between Rae's chair and her lower back. With Rae's legs now fully open under the table, Jason moved his left hand once more to Rae's pussy. This time, he slid his middle finger between her lips, stroking firmly down over the hard knot that had already developed at the top of her slit until his fingertip reached her entrance. With this one brief motion, Jason's finger was already coated, dripping with Rae's secretions. He slid his finger inside of her to half its length, then pulled it out and reversed his initial motion, traveling back up until the tip of his finger rested at Rae's engorged clitoris. He used her secretions to lubricate it. Then, up and down he began to stroke, alternating between slow and firm strokes and lighter, quicker caresses. With every few return trips, he would linger on Rae's whore-knot, rubbing it ungently in circles. It grew larger and harder with each revolution.

Hardly any time passed at all before Rae's whole body convulsed. She came, now heedless of the swirling mass of humanity around her and without a single concern that one or all of them might have witnessed her orgasm. Jason looked across to his brother, who was watching the scene unfold, eyebrows raised, fascinated. "Move in closer," he yelled over Rae. "You've never felt a pussy so wet."

Jack moved in, and Rae felt both men's hands on her. She put one arm around Jack, and she moved her other into position so that she could grab Jason's crotch. He was rock-hard and, as nearly as Rae could feel through the material of his slacks, ample. She ached to free it from its fabric restraint.

Rae climaxed several more times as the brothers explored her body outside and in. Another effect of the alcohol, Rae had lost much of the shocking sensitivity that the immediate aftermath of her orgasms usually brought; at the hands of the brothers, each orgasm made her crave another.

When Jason had first started pleasuring her, Rae fought against her natural reactions, instinctively embarrassed by the thought of putting her passion on full display for the club's patrons or staff to witness.

But when Rae's first orgasm erupted, she noticed that no scratch of a needle on a record interrupted the thrumming house music, and the house lights didn't immediately blaze forth to expose her brazenness. The swirl of activity all around continued unabated, and Rae felt self-consciousness melt and run off of her.

So when Rae's pleasure began to re-intensify with the men's continued attentions, far from wanting to remain unnoticed, she began to hope that there might be voyeurs nearby. She became more demonstrative both in her own affections and in her arousal and no longer made even the slightest effort to maintain discretion. It would be a shame if nobody close by were able to share in her pleasure vicariously.

Twenty or thirty minutes of this most public display of "affection" left every inch of Rae's body on fire, and she pulled both men's heads close to her face so she could be heard over the din.

"Let's find a more out-of-the-way corner somewhere in here," she said. "I need to suck you both dry." It was very clear that she meant it.

The brothers looked at one another and reached a silent accord. Jack disengaged and quickly stood from the table to do as Rae had bidden. Jason waved at a server to close out their tab.

Just a moment later, Jack returned. "I thought we might duck into a stall in one of the restrooms but they're packed and there's a line outside. There's no place in here we can go. My place is only a few blocks away... maybe 10 minutes walking. Why don't you text your friend and tell her you're going to go over there with us but that you'll meet her back over here in a little bit?"

Sober, rational Rae would've been repulsed by the idea of engaging in any sexual activity in a high-traffic public restroom, but this version of herself, one that hadn't surfaced in decades, gave that no consideration and only concerned herself with quenching the overwhelming sexual thirst she had worked up in the past hour. She once again attempted to rationalize that her worst transgression of the evening thus far had been in returning her companions' kisses; for everything else, she was just a passive receiver and hadn't done much of anything to the brothers... not really, anyway.

But even in her alcohol-fueled stupor, Rae recognized the rationalization for what it was. Even if she stopped right now and said goodnight to the brothers, she had crossed lines; maybe forgivable lines, but lines nonetheless. And a brief, alcohol and arousal-fueled encounter blowing two strange men in a dark corner of the club like some wanton teenager would be far more egregious for this wife of nearly three decades and mother of a teenage girl she was.

But it would be something else entirely if she left the club with Jason and Jack, if she didn't come to her senses during a several-block walk to Jack's place. If she accepted the men's proposal, Rae inevitably was going to spend the next two hours fucking both of the brothers. Those "crimes" would be entirely premeditated.

Despite all that, her conscience raised only the briefest and most cursory protest. Due consideration of her marital vows and any breaches of the evening's ground rules would have to be deferred until tomorrow when she sobered up... and when she wasn't so fucking turned on. She took Jason by the hand and motioned to Jack. "Let's go. I'll just tell my friend that I'll be back by 12:30 or a little after."

Rae looked at her watch: 10:20. She hoped she would have enough time to fully partake of both brothers and still make it back to the club in time to make it appear that she had never left. She briefly considered, as well as she was able, whether there was a way to ask for another hour before Scott came to pick her up. No, too risky. She would have to be outside the club a few minutes before 1:00... and alone.

As they were making their way through the crowd toward the door, Jack stopped them and pointed up. "Summer, I think they're calling you."

Not thinking--or not able to think--Rae almost corrected Jack's use of her middle name. Hearing "Summer Harrison" coming over the PA atop the slightly turned-down music didn't immediately register with her either.

She listened more carefully and heard the DJ say, "Summer Harrison, please come to the DJ booth. Summer Harrison, please come to the DJ booth. You dropped your driver's license. We have it... come get it!"

As the DJ stopped speaking and music returned to its full volume, Rae still had to bite her tongue to avoid "But that's not me" spilling out. Her vodka-soaked brain was in active rebellion against her constructed identity. But she managed to regain her senses, remembering the masquerade in which she was presently taking part and instead yelled to the brothers, "I'll go grab it and be right back. Wait for me up front by the door."

Still not able to put the large puzzle pieces together, Rae made her way to the stairs and toward the DJ booth at the other side of the dance floor.

Scott was standing there. But why? Oh, fuck...

Rae approached him warily, wondering if all hell might be about to break loose. But instead, he leaned down and spoke into her ear. "When you didn't text me back, I got worried. Looks like I got here just in time."

That last sentence could mean multiple things, but Rae didn't dare request a clarification or verbalize the questions that were now ricocheting inside her skull. How long have you been here? What did you see?

Rae thought she might become ill, but she managed to respond. "I did text you back... I said I had met a couple of nice guys and that things were going well, so you could take your time getting here, just like I was supposed to." You weren't supposed to be here for another two and a half hours!!

Scott's skeptical look remained, so Rae fumbled in her clutch to produce the bona fides of her claim, immaterial though they were now that her husband was standing in front of her. When she unlocked her phone, there the message was, just as she remembered typing it.

But apparently she hadn't hit SEND on the damned text.

OH FUCK... FUCK! She shook her head and held the phone up for a half-second as if to protest but then shook her head again and just dropped it back in her clutch.

Scott stared at her for a few seconds more, and then half-yelled to be heard over the music, "C'mon, let's get you out of here." He started away.

Rae's eyes went wide, and she grabbed Scott's arm and pulled his head close to hers before he could move away from the DJ booth. "Those guys that I was... they're waiting up front for me."

Scott raised an eyebrow but didn't immediately ask any questions. "There's probably a back door near the bar area. Let's go." He took Rae's hand and led her to the steps farthest away from the club's entrance.

Sure enough, there appeared to be an unalarmed push-bar back door to the club in the hallway left of the bar where the restrooms were located. The couple pushed their way through the throng waiting for their turns to the door waiting at the end of the short hallway. Rae noticed that Jack's description of the restroom traffic was accurate; there was a mob in the hallway and, from glances through both held-open doors as she passed, the crowds in each restroom seemed scarcely sparser.

As Scott pushed the door open and Rae felt the outside air hit her face, she caught up to a thought that was worse even than what Scott might have actually just witnessed: if it had been a slower night, Scott may have entered the club just in time either to witness the brothers leading her into the restroom or actually found her blowing one of them and readying the other for service. She shuddered.

Scott stopped as the door swung shut behind them. He was surveying their surroundings. A small service drive separated the club from a building to their left. A high screened fence enclosed the rear of the club on two sides to leave an area just large enough for the dumpster at the back of the lot and for a commercial garbage truck to drive in, empty it and back straight out again. A light wind was blowing in toward them, carrying the stench of stale beer and rotting food.

"Only one way back to the street," Scott said, "and it passes close to the entrance. The car is to the left from this alley a couple of blocks down the street at a parking garage, but we'll turn right at the street and go around the block to keep from walking directly in front of the doors in case either of your 'friends' happens to be looking out the door rather than in."

Although Scott had not displayed any overt anger or aggression since arriving, something about his slight emphasis on "friends" drew Rae's stomach into a knot. He took off at a brisk pace up the service drive, holding her left hand.

They hadn't made it to the street when Rae said, "Could you please slow down a little? Hard keeping up."

Hearing Rae's slushy voice for the first time now that the decibel level had dropped, he stopped, frowning, and stared at her. "How much did you have to drink in there?"

"Just a little more" was the response from Rae that was accompanied by her holding up her right thumb and index finger about an inch apart in front of one squinting eye. Scott's frown deepened, but he didn't question any further and resumed walking with Rae in tow, only slightly lessening his pace. Somehow, although Rae was handicapped by having to walk on ground that swayed this way and that while Scott trod on solid, level and unmoving ground, she managed to keep up. After four right turns and around 20 minutes, they arrived at the parking garage. During the walk over, Rae had taken stock of her emotions. Undoubtedly, she was greatly relieved that she had been exfiltrated from the club without having to provide any awkward explanation to the brothers or having a conflict erupt between them and her husband... and because Scott's intervention had taken the flamethrower out of her hands that she might otherwise have used to incinerate their marriage.

But as she arrived at their vehicle and Scott opened the door for her to climb inside, Rae realized she was experiencing another, very incongruous, emotion: annoyance... perhaps anger, even.

Tonight was the first time in more than 30 years since she and Scott had become exclusive that Rae had engaged physically with another man--or even really thought about doing so. The idea of taking each man in her mouth--and having both of them deep inside her--had been... no, still was, more intoxicating by far than the alcohol she had consumed. As her ass came to rest on the leather seat of their SUV, she felt another reminder of the drunken lust that had mastered her tonight, lust that had still not receded: her minidress was pasted coldly to her ass and little bit of legs it covered, its material having been soaked through by her secretions, and her pussy and inner thighs remained a sopping, sticky mess. Her body had prepared itself exquisitely for the brothers' impending use of it; that Rae had not taken them into her had left her needful and frustrated.

This was not a need that Scott would be able to fill tonight; that reality had nothing to do with Scott's ability to satisfy her, which he seldom if ever failed to do. This evening, upon meeting the brothers, Rae had cultivated a ravenous appetite for a very specific meal. Even replacing that expected meal with her favorite dish would be a disappointment until the immediate, intense cravings subsided.

Scott got behind the wheel, started the SUV and pulled out of the garage. It was several minutes before he spoke.

"Hopefully you'll believe me now when I tell you that I don't just say you're sexy as hell because you're my wife and I'm somehow obligated to say that. I say that because you ARE sexy as hell, and I'm far from the only one who notices it," he said quietly. "And I also hope that you got everything out of this experiment that you wanted to, because judging from what I saw when I came in...."

"I didn't...," Rae interrupted, starting to protest. But then she sighed, concluding that some measure of confession was necessary. "I mean, they kissed me... well, we did... kiss... some. And they touched me. But I didn't... it was right out in the middle of the club, so...." She trailed off.

"... Sooo," Scott picked up from Rae's mutterings, "then y'all just randomly decided to leave your table and hang out by the entrance after you ran down to the DJ booth to grab your license? Makes perfect sense." After another minute's silence, he continued. "You got drunk and took this way farther than we agreed. But as long as you didn't fuck them or blow them, I don't need... don't WANT to know what happened, so long as it never happens again."

"I didn't." ... by sheer fortune, she didn't add. "And it won't."

The couple remained silent for the remainder of their short drive back to the hotel. Scott held Rae's hand, helping her from the valet drop-off, through the lobby and to the elevator, this walk at a less hurried pace than their exit from the vicinity of the club.

Conversation in the room was similarly subdued. Scott mentioned an early-morning meeting with clients and quickly undressed and got in bed as Rae went into the bathroom to remove her makeup and brush her teeth. Although her sexual bloodlust had ebbed some from its peak at the club, she was still very much on edge.

Rae considered taking a long shower and pleasuring herself, either with the suction toy she carried on every trip or "the old-fashioned way" that she had been using since she was a pre-teen, just to take more of the edge off her rawness. But even as she turned on the shower to let it warm, some of the less enjoyable effects of her alcohol consumption began to bubble up, both literally and metaphorically. Rae's stomach churned, and she burped, feeling the burn of acid and alcohol in her esophagus. That sensation accompanied a pressure that had started to build behind her right eye. She turned the shower off, left the bathroom and got in bed with Scott. He was snoring softly.

Rae awoke less than two hours later, nauseated and with a violent headache. She was salivating profusely and knew she had scant seconds to get back to the toilet if she wanted to avoid another awkward scene with her husband and a lengthy clean up. She untangled herself quickly from the covers and tried to spring up, but the Earth chose this inopportune moment to shift on its axis. If Rae had not been in close proximity to a wall, she would've pitched face-first onto the carpet-covered concrete floor, but instead three points of her body, two raised hands and forehead, contacted the wall with a loud thud. Stifling a curse at the pain, she held onto the wall until she made it around the corner and into the bathroom. She groped for the door and swung it shut, making it to the toilet just before she heaved, projecting most of the alcohol she had consumed and her half-digested dinner into the bowl. What hadn't hit the mark Rae spent the next 10 minutes cleaning with a hand towel the best she could while the world turned over and over and a jackhammer keeping time with her heartbeat was working away inside her skull. At least the nausea is a little better now.

With the bathroom some semblance of usable a short time later, Rae brushed her teeth again, took some Tylenol, and went back into bed. Scott had not moved from the spot he had occupied the first time Rae had joined him and there had been no change in his breathing. At least my second performance of the night hadn't disturbed him, she thought.

Although Rae was still very drunk, the alcohol's effects had lessened some and her hormones had returned to a level that allowed her to focus on something, anything other than the basest need to get off as quickly and as much as she could. The increased clarity certainly didn't improve her chances of getting back to sleep. Why the hell did I DO that, she thought. Rae had said to Scott on numerous occasions in their decades together that she loved him so much that she wasn't even capable of cheating on him. He had always laughed at that, gently suggesting to her that she was human and therefore absolutely capable of infidelity in a weak moment, and especially so if she considered herself above such temptation. Still, their marriage had always been rock-solid, and she had never experienced a day of true dissatisfaction in it, sexual or otherwise. Her utter loss of control tonight, even though it seemed perfectly natural to her in the moment, was shocking to her now, even in half-drunk and head-pounding hindsight.

After tossing and turning for what felt like hours, Rae finally drifted off again.

The days and weeks after Rae's night out in Atlanta weren't remarkably different from the ones that preceded it. Although Scott seemed to Rae a little quieter and more serious than normal on the flight back and for a day or two afterward, he hadn't brought the night up again. Perhaps his silence was in consideration of the reality that, but for his encouragement, Rae wouldn't have been in the club at all. Regardless of the reasons, life went on, and after a couple of days, Scott seemed totally back to normal.

But Rae wasn't. Alcohol hadn't been the only intoxicant she had consumed that night, and a little part of her kept nagging at the remainder. That part wanted to feel those feelings again.