Innocent Milf Ch. 11

The story so far: Eighteen-year-old Matt Baker lives in a town in Arizona in 1993 when his best friend Jack introduces him to thirty-three-year-old Cary Woodley, an adventurous but naïve artist and mother of two. The three bond over their shared love of early American history and Bowie knife fighting. Cary and Matt grow closer in friendship after an incident at her birthday party at which her manipulative husband arranges to get her drunk and leave her at the mercy of his predatory co-workers. Matt rescues her and Cary begins divorce proceedings.

As Matt's graduation draws closer, he is also drawn deeper into the developing tale of Cary's revenge--namely that she is faking an affair with pictures and a bogus story to make her soon-to-be-ex-husband angry. Matt begins to realize that he has feelings for Cary deeper than simple friendship. While playing paintball with her, he is jealous of the attention the other guys are giving her. And when one of them loses control and kisses her after recording phony sex sounds to fool a recording device left behind by her ex-husband, Matt realizes he can't stay silent any longer. He confesses his feelings, and at his graduation party a week later, Cary (now Bernham) throws caution to the wind. Matt faces down Cary's ex-husband when he arrives at the party, and Cary agrees to go with Matt to his rich friend's graduation party as his plus-one. Their unlikely romance has begun to blossom.

Chapter 11

It was almost ten by the time I got to Ty's party. The police interview had been short and sweet. It essentially amounted to "If nobody was hurt, no trespassing, and no threats, then we have nothing to do here." I thanked them anyway, and then dashed upstairs to take a shower, shave, and get into my tuxedo. Cary had a head start on me, and I didn't want her to be waiting without an invitation once I got there.

The drive from my suburban neighborhood to what passed for the fancy part of town was full of anticipation. Beyond the fact that Ty's parties always rocked, I now had Cary to look forward to as well. Ty had said at our graduation ceremony that morning that there would be some general events and games that everybody was welcome to take part in. But he'd also suggested that there would be special "adult" games starting around ten. I sort of hoped Cary would want to do one or two of those with me.

I gave her car make, model, and license plate to the security guards at the gate to Ty's neighborhood so she could get in, and finally pulled up to the curb, chuckling at what I saw. Somebody had put a cardboard standee of his dad turning out empty pockets, and a banner reading "License to Bill" dangling from it. Several cars had been parked along the street in front of the row of mini-mansions, and I gazed appreciatively at the expensive topiary. It was a perfect tableau for a secret agent's misadventures.

I adjusted my bow tie and jogged up the long walkway to the front door. A sign standing on a narrow brass pole next to the entry read "Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to enter and have fun!" I smiled and let myself in. Ty always went the extra mile. Things were already pretty raucous inside; Ty had clearly invited a bunch of friends other than just his high school buddies. I even thought I recognized a few folks who had been seniors back when I was a freshman.

Cary knew the address, so I didn't worry too much--I just hoped she'd arrive before things started heating up. I wondered for what must have been the fiftieth time what she was planning to wear that she thought would be so much better than her little black cocktail dress. In the great hall several stations had been set up at tables in a circle. One of them had a simple fishbowl with a bunch of keys in it. Another few had signup lists for strip poker and truth or dare, naughty Bond trivia, and so on.

"Mister Baker?" I turned to find myself looking at a man I guessed to be in his thirties, wearing a red vest, red bowtie and black slacks.

"That's me," I said, sounding uncertain.

"Master Salinger has instructed us to look out for you, sir," he said, with a theatrical wink. "Should you wish it, you and your plus-one are invited to the private games." He looked back and forth. "Do you have a plus-one?"

"Oh. Yeah, of course." I sounded like an idiot in my own ears, and forced myself to speak in a steady voice. "She's arriving separately."

The man proffered a clipboard. On it was a signup list, and a small explanatory card clipped above it reading "Consorts and Counterspies: A sexy game of hidden identities and secrets." About a dozen people had signed up for it, including the man of the hour--Ty himself. There were two columns: one for "Guys" and one for "Dolls." I hesitated a moment, then quickly signed my name.

About to write Cary's name down as well, I found the pencil point hovering. Who knew what sort of horny hijinks we would get up to here--and I wouldn't want this getting back to her kids. Her ex-husband was a vindictive bastard. So "Jane West" took her place in the Dolls column beside my name. I handed the clipboard back to the man in the red vest.

"Oh, awesome! I was hoping you'd sign up for that. Should be good," a voice said from my shoulder. I turned to see Ty, and grinned.

"Happy graduation, man," I said, giving him a high-five. "You look a lot better when you're not wearing that hideous eyesore."

"Orange is a perfectly dignified color for a suit," he sniffed in mock annoyance. He handed me a glass with some amber liquid in it that smelled suspiciously sharp. I took a swig and tried to resist making a face.

Ty laughed good-naturedly. "Yeah, bourbon isn't for everyone; it's sort of an acquired taste."

"And this is cool?" I asked, resisting the urge to look over my shoulder for an adult. A real adult. "Nobody's gonna narc on us, right?" I indicated another guy in a red vest off to the side of the room. "He looks like a chaperone."

He shook his head. "Not a problem, I hired those guys. Actually, my parents insisted that hiring them was part of the deal. You saw them leave once the caps and gowns were off, but they made me promise to have some sort of supervision. The last thing we need is a newly-minted grad burning down the house or starting a fight."

I looked back and forth at the sea of teenage hormones and alcohol. "Or getting assaulted because they're drunk." The memory of Eric's intoxicated ire was still too fresh to forget entirely.

"That too," Ty nodded seriously. "One of the big things I made sure that these guys know is that in addition to ID's being checked at the gates to make sure everybody here is 18 or over, we don't need criminal charges brought down for rape. The only sex happening here will be enthusiastic on both parts."

I thought about Cary. Even though I had written a pseudonym so that her name wouldn't get out, what if one of these guys recognized her? "Are they all local?" I asked, nodding at one of the red-vests.

"Nah. Private firm out of Phoenix." Ty grinned wickedly. "I didn't want any uncles or aunts accidentally recognizing anybody here. And the neighbors won't nose in. One of the benefits of growing up trashy nouveau riche is that even though the neighbors look down on you, they're afraid that if they call the cops about your underage drinking, you'll call the cops about their hookers and blow. Nobody likes or trusts each other, but at least we don't snitch."

"Sounds... awesome," I said. I was pretty sure my expression was the same as having just tried bourbon.

"Eh, fuck 'em," Ty drawled and took a swig of his own bourbon. "You only live once, right? So, who's this girl you've written down? Have I met her?"

"College chick," I answered, trying to sound confident. "You might have seen her once or twice. She's come to a few of our bluegrass shows. She should be here any minute."

"Please tell me it's Jessica Rabbit or her friend Bettie Page over there," Ty replied, pointing towards the door.

I turned, drink in hand, and nearly dropped it. "Bettie Page" was a black-haired knockout I didn't recognize, but just to the left of her, Cary stood uncertainly in the entrance from the foyer looking back and forth. She was wearing a long, sequined red dress split up to her mid-thigh, and white evening gloves up past her elbows--from the way the light sheened off them, they were probably satin. Sequined high heels so spiky I could barely grasp how she walked in them and a sparkling rhinestone choker made her glitter.

It was the outfit she had described in her trumped-up affair story to make Eric jealous. And now she was wearing it for me. She'd said that I would love it, and she was right. My teenage sex drive immediately revved up, and I took a deep breath. This was still new, and she hadn't truly agreed to anything yet. But this was a good sign. A very good sign.

"That's her," I said. The bourbon wasn't the only thing making my voice rough.

I made a beeline for her, hoping to look debonair in my new tuxedo. Two more guys had already spotted her and were moving slowly in her direction, but turned away smoothly as she caught sight of me, smiled, and waved. My stomach did a slow somersault as I saw her glance appraisingly up and down my suit and arch an approving eyebrow.

"Matt," she beamed as I drew nearer. She held out her hand and I took it unthinkingly. "Thanks for making me your plus one. This place is great!"

"Glad you like it," Ty piped up beside me. He had apparently been keeping pace. "It's mine for the weekend. My parents knew better than to stick around; they left for Bern right after the graduation ceremony, so if you need to stay the night after drinking, you're more than welcome. We have several hot tubs."

For Cary's part, she played the role of easily-wowed ingénue convincingly. "Wow, for real? Thanks, Mister Salinger. "

"Please, just call me Ty." I tried not to roll my eyes at his smarm.

"Ty, this is my special friend, Jane West," I said. Cary's eyes lit up as she heard the last name. "Jane, this is my rich friend Ty. He's a good wrestler, a middling bassist, and actually a better guy than he is acting like right now."

"Of course, from Matt's band!" Cary bubbled, not missing a beat. "I've seen you a few times. You probably just didn't recognize me. I don't get to dress up so nicely very often."

"More's the pity," Ty said. "Let's get you something to drink."

To his credit, he gave us a few paces' worth of space as he led the way towards the bar. Cary hooked her arm through mine, and I felt a small electric tingle start in my abdomen and work its way up to my throat. She pressed lightly against my side and I could feel the curve of her breast against the back of my arm. This was happening--it was really happening.

"Jane West?" she murmured. "Clever."

"I signed us up for a spy game, and I didn't want your real name floating around in case it somehow got back to your family," I replied softly.

Cary gave my arm a squeeze. "You're so thoughtful." After a moment she made a small sound and squeezed my arm again.

"Problem?"

"No. Your arm--I like it. I can feel the muscles even through your tux. You look fantastic, by the way."

I was grinning like an idiot. "Me? You're the one stealing the whole show. Ty said you looked like Jessica Rabbit."

Cary gave me a blank look. "A rabbit?"

"It's a compliment, trust me."

"You look like a white wine lady to me," Ty said, offering an effervescent crystal wine flute.

"I won't say no," Cary answered, accepting it. Especially with her long satin gloves, every move she made with her hands looked elegant.

"Matt said you were in college," Ty prompted as he led us towards the central area, crowded with other guests. "We have plenty of folks in the same boat here. Just so you don't feel awkward around a bunch of incoming freshmen."

"Graduated from San Diego," Cary replied, raising an eyebrow at me.

"Oh, wow!" Ty smiled. "Congratulations! I'm so glad you could double up and come to my graduation party as well." He nudged me. "Look at you, punching above your weight! I thought you were just bragging. Anyway, feel free to tour the grounds for a bit," Ty said, waving magnanimously around. "Matt's been here before, so he can show you where everything is. We're waiting for one more couple to arrive before we start the game. Meet in the library at a quarter after; it's got a big '3' on the door. I'm so glad you both came."

"A pleasure to meet you," Cary answered as Ty moved away. Turning to me, her eyes were questioning. "In college?"

I shrugged. "Nobody here would have any trouble believing it. And I figured anybody looking to place you here wouldn't be asking about a college girl." A thought occurred to me. "Oh, shit. You don't think I'm embarrassed by--"

Cary smiled warmly. "My age? I'll admit, I was a little concerned that was the reason. I shouldn't have worried: I know you better than that. And the fact that you are trying to protect me... protect my kids... well, I hope you realize how much I appreciate that."

We milled back and forth among the other partygoers for a bit. Most of the girls gushed over Cary's dress. One said she recognized the stockings and the end of the peeping garter as being from Frederick's of Hollywood, since she had the same set. Cary blushed furiously but nodded, causing a ripple of conspiratorial giggles to move through the group. A big football-player type I had never met elbowed me with a wink.

As we got out into the fresh air of the grounds out back, Cary took a deep breath. "So... a couples game? Are we an official couple?"

"Are we not?" I almost stammered. "I thought... I mean..."

Cary laughed--a clear, relaxed sound that instantly eased the knot between my shoulder blades that had begun to develop. "God, it feels so good to be with somebody who worries about what I think! Don't worry--if me getting tarted up like this doesn't send you a loud enough message, maybe I can clear it up later on."

I adjusted my tuxedo trousers at her tone of voice and the implied promise of what was to come. "Jesus," I laughed. "If this absolute knockout look is 'tarted up,' I don't think the any guy could survive the heart strain of seeing you dressed 'classy.'"

She gestured around with her mostly-drained wine flute. "Half the girls at this party look they could be models. If it weren't for you next to me, I'd feel a hundred years old." My silence must have exuded puzzlement, because she smiled up at me. "It means you make me feel young." The hint of a purr in her voice increased that itch in my belly.

We had circled back around to the center tables and Cary glanced over the options for games. An eager, secretive smile curved her ruby-glossed lips. "We can do whichever one you want," I blurted. "I just signed us up for that Consorts and Counterspies game because it seemed like fun. Secret spy missions and stuff."

"It's the one I would have chosen," she grinned. "Strip poker? I'm terrible at cards, and I don't need hundreds of strange teenagers seeing me in my unmentionables. Not when I chose them specifically for you. And a key party? I didn't think those actually existed--and I sure don't have any intention of sleeping with a stranger. Bond Trivia? I've seen two James Bond movies, and all I remember about them is that there was a lot of shooting and that the women looked cold a lot of the time."

"Good, then." I found that I was simultaneously blissfully floating in a haze and also nervous about how Cary would take things. Despite being nearly frantic to get Cary alone in a corner and start pulling her clothes off, I knew that taking things slower would be best. After all, her asshole ex had been super pushy, and I was determined not to fall into the stereotype of a horny teenage dude who only thought about one thing.

We found a seat on a bench at the edge of the room, and Cary scooted so that she was pressed against me. Still feeling like I was dreaming, I draped an arm over her. I turned towards her and saw that her gaze was fixed on me. I marveled at the clear gray color of her eyes.

"Hmmm. You keep looking at me, but you're the one who looks so stunning," I remarked.

Cary smiled shyly. "I just... just drinking it in. It doesn't seem real yet. Sorry if I keep giving you... what did Cameron call it the other day?" I shook my head with a puzzled smile and took a sip of the bourbon. "Um. 'Fuck me eyes?' That's what he said, right?" Her voice held a teasing note.

I sputtered and nearly coughed out the bourbon, but laughed through it. "Ha. Is that what that look is? Because we can get out of here right now. I bet nobody is at home yet. I just figured that this was only our first date, so..."

Gray eyes sparkled as Cary wriggled. "We're both adults, and we've had several months of first dates at this point." She smiled. "We just... didn't know that's what they were at the time."

"I love the way you think," I said, my concerns about being too eager starting to melt away.

"So... tell me about James Bond," Cary tugged at her long white satin gloves. "What is it that guys like so much about the movies?"

"Adventure, I guess." I thought. "Fancy cars, cool spy gadgets. Pretty girls, big explosions. Action sequences. Cheesy one-liners. I think it's probably different for everybody. I liked the music. Every movie has its own theme song besides the classic James Bond Theme."

"Hmmmm." Cary rolled the thought around in her head. "So, if you're my James Bond for the night, am I your Bond girl?"

I grinned. "More than that. Seems to me that you're a sexy superspy in your own right. We're a team on a secret mission." I cast her a sidelong look. "As long as I still get the girl at the end."

Cary poked me playfully. "Let's see how suave you can be, mister secret agent. Keep calling me a rabbit and see where that gets you."

I laughed out loud. "You seriously don't know who Jessica Rabbit is? Did you never see that movie?"

Cary shook her head, flummoxed. I offered my hand and lifted to her feet. It seemed a shame not to kiss her now that we were facing each other, so I did. Then I explained Who Framed Roger Rabbit as we strolled arm-in-arm through the crowd. I couldn't help but notice the gazes some of the other partygoers--especially the guys--as we passed.

A voice on a loudspeaker announced that games would start soon. An electric thrill filled the air--a feeling that only a hundred horny teens and twentysomethings (and one stunning milf) about to go play naughty games could generate. I could feel my heart beating faster. As we moved towards the hallway where Room 3 was, a couple drew closer to us. The girl was in a white strappy gown whose bust seemed made of wide satin ribbons, and she was already flushed and giggling.

"Oh, man. Please tell me you two are going to strip poker," the guy leered as he caught sight of us. The girl tugged suggestively at the bustline of her dress with a wink at Cary. Cary pulled me a little closer and shook her head mutely. I slipped a protective arm around her waist as we passed them.

As the hall's entrance loomed into view, a tall guy in a tuxedo exited a side room and looked the both of us over. "Hey, gorgeous," he said to Cary, his words slightly slurred. "Let me know if you're in the key party later. I might stick around after all."

"Spoken for" Cary answered, trailing a finger up to my bowtie.

"Jeez," I muttered. "I should have brought a big stick to beat the other guys away from you."

Cary chuckled. "You have absolutely nothing to worry about. Besides, don't think I haven't noticed the girls looking at you." I frowned. I hadn't noticed any such thing.

The doors lining the hallway all had numbered pieces of paper taped to them. Behind a few of them could be heard giggling or occasional heavy breathing. Once we reached door #3, I cleared my throat loudly enough to be heard inside, knocked, and opened the door. Inside were seven other couples. Most of them looked to be about my age, although a few could have been about to graduate college as Cary had insinuated she was.

The buzz of conversation lulled as the assembly looked us over. Friendly waves and a few fixed glances at both of us let us know we were welcome. One of the girls sauntered towards us, while her date's gaze lingered all over Cary's body. "I'm Carla. You're Sascha's friend Matt, right? I've heard about you." She was dressed in a black-sequined evening gown not dissimilar to Cary's, and her golden hair was done up in glamorous curls. She was wearing a string of what looked like real pearls around her neck, with a single long tendril snaking down between her breasts.

Momentarily at a loss for words at being recognized by a stranger, I felt Cary squeeze my arm again. "That's me," I answered. "The Bluegrass guy--in a band with Ty. Good to meet you, Carla. This is Jane, my--my girlfriend. Who's your friend?" I shot a glance towards her date, who was pulling off the tux way better than I was. He was clearly enjoying Cary's whole look. He tore his eyes away from her and shook my hand. "Miles. You're the guy who does knife stuff?"

Cary nodded in answer for us. "We both do."

"Hot," he replied without the slightest hesitation. "We'll keep an eye out for you two." We chatted about this and that for a few moments, and discovered that Miles had moved here from Tampa a few years ago and met Ty at skeet shooting. After a few moments, he asked, "So, do you play?"

Thinking of our bluegrass band and my mandolin, I nodded. I wasn't much of a singer, although I could do backup vocals at a pinch. "Sure. I would say more often than not."

"Both of you play, I hope." Carla smiled teasingly. "I bet everybody wants to play with Jane."

Cary shrugged. "Last week," she said. "But it was my first time."

I felt like an idiot. Of course they would already know that I played an instrument. After all, I'd already mentioned that Ty and I were in the band together. They hadn't been asking about music at all: Cary had put the pieces together about skeet shooting faster than I had. They must be talking about paintball. Who knew so many people were into that?

Trying not to look like I didn't belong in front of these rich kids and trying to catch up with the conversation, I squeezed Cary. "She's being modest," I grinned. "She took down seven dudes in a row."

Miles's eyebrows went up. "Wow! That's pretty wild for a first time out."

Cary rolled her eyes and smiled at me. "I just got lucky, that's all--and by that point, they really were asking for it." As Miles and Carla's eyes widened, Cary shrugged. "It wasn't even as messy as I was afraid of."

Carla burst out laughing. "I can tell we'll have to keep an eye on you two during the games tonight."

"Yeah. That's superb," Miles agreed, with a glance at Carla. "That's great to know. We'll spread the word." They sauntered off, looking glamorous. Carla gave me a backwards glance and winked again.

I gave Cary a confused look, but as I was about to ask what that had all been about, Ty entered the room. His girlfriend Nancy trailed tipsily alongside him. She took a look around the library and her eyes lit up as she located friends. Squeals of delight erupted as she waded into a circle of girls in brightly colored and low-cut cocktail dresses.

"All right, let's get started," Ty announced. "We've got a pair of secret dossiers to locate. We're all secret agents. Two of us had secret nuclear codes, but nobody knows who. Orders have come down from our respective governments, and it's our job to get both halves of the secret code by any means necessary. Fellas, you come over here with me for additional briefing. Ladies, with Nancy."

Ty adjusted his already-loosened bowtie as he began. "This is an exclusive multi-stage game. Invitation-only. Players only. Most of us already know each other, but there's always some new folks. So here we go--this big super-game is actually a combination of all the other games, and the goal is to get the secret nuclear codes. If you do that, you win the prize--in this case, the prize is a 1987 Aston Martin V8 Vantage Volante--Bond's car!"

I was impressed, but clearly not as wowed as a lot of the others. I had never been a real car guy, except knowing a few things about how to change my own oil and how to listen for trouble in the engine while I was driving. Otherwise, my old Escort had always been more than enough for me. Still, giving away James Bond's car for a party game really reminded me how rich Ty's dad actually was.

A few shrieks and some "oohs" and "aahs" drifted over from the group of girls. I was surprised that so many of them were excited about the chance to compete for a car--assuming that Nancy had just told them the same thing. I saw that Cary had gone a little pale, and frowned. Then it hit me, as Ty's voice continued on: a combination of the other games? Did that mean a mini key party, strip poker, blindman's bluff, and trivia?

"You're all expected to act like secret agents," Ty continued as I resurfaced from my own thoughts. "So try to keep things low-key. Who here has seen Gotcha?" Several hands went up. "Okay, so think of it a little like that--dart guns, sexy fun, but try not to bog things down with constant screwing, okay? Plenty of time for that afterwards. Besides, you guys want to win that car, right? Nothing past third base until the end of the game. Got it?"

Most of us nodded, but I was growing a little uneasy; did that mean that Cary would be expected to play the role of Bond girl... for anybody? I glanced over at her--she caught my eye and her jaw was set, but she didn't look anxious. In fact, as I watched it appeared that she was speaking to a couple of the other girls.

The other girls--I kept thinking of her as my age because she acted like it so often. But it suddenly occurred to me that Cary might have a huge advantage here; she was an adult and had been through more shit than most of the people in this room combined. If anybody could keep her cool, navigate the social labyrinth, and corral some teammates, it would be her.

I just wasn't sure I was ready to share my time with her so early into our fledgling... whatever this was. Relationship seemed too presumptuous a word, even if that was what I hoped for.

As if reading my mind, Ty cleared his throat. "Most of you knew the plan before signing up--others might be a little surprised. So go talk with your ladies and decide whether this is for you or not. There's a lot of logistics to making this work, so I'm gonna be pretty pissed if anybody backs out after we've started. You can always pass on a particular challenge, but for each challenge you pass up, you permanently give up a piece of clothing for the evening. Consider this your last chance to bail. If you're in, come back over here for your assignments."

Ty nodded, and we all swarmed back towards the ladies. Cary reached for my hand and pulled me over into the corner.

"Oh my God, I'm so sorry," I blurted. "I didn't realize that this was going to be all of the other games at once. We can get out of here if you want."

The ghost of a puzzled frown crossed Cary's face. "You want to go?"

"Don't you?" incredulity tinged my voice. "You were just saying that none of those other games sounded fun. In fact, it seemed pretty clear that you weren't into any of them at all."

Cary nodded. "Yeah, in isolation. But as part of a spy game? Knowing that they'll be shorter and have a defined end point? Nancy told us that none of this goes all the way to sex--just some flirty femme fatale games. And did you hear what the prize was?"

"A car," I waved it away. "I have a car. And I don't want to lose you to some dumb misunderstanding or hurt feelings or whatever weirdness this might cause. Even if it is mostly under-the-bleachers stuff."

Her smile could have melted ice. It certainly made my heart speed up and my dick stand at attention. "You're sweet. But no--it might be a car for you guys, but for the ladies, it's something different. If you don't know, maybe we're not supposed to say. Let's just say it's worth a few awkward hours in a rich kid's house."

"You said you were terrible at poker," I reminded her. "And not needing a bunch of people to see you in your underwear."

Cary's face had taken on what I thought of as her 'competitive' expression. "Then I'll just have to learn fast and win," she replied. "Besides, this isn't 'a bunch' of people. It's a few. And I get the idea that this is supposed to be pretty discreet."

I was starting to get excited; even though Cary was all I wanted, the idea of getting into sexy hijinks with a bunch of newly-minted coeds with no strings attached and no hurt feelings was hard for my 18-year-old libido (and confidence) to ignore. I tried once more. "The penalty for passing up a challenge is giving up an article of clothing for the rest of the evening! Half of these guys have been giving you eyes since you walked in the door. They're sure to try something."

"That seems to be half of the point of the game," Cary answered drily. "After Eric's constant manipulations and a decade of doing things on his terms, being in control seems pretty liberating. You can bet I won't be giving up on anything that gets thrown at me. And if I can't have fun and deflect a few college guys groping me by this point in my life..." she left the sentence hanging.

I smirked. "Hey--I'm a college guy looking to grope you."

That made her blush. "You're different. You're my Matt. And nothing here is going to change that. Let's cut loose for a few hours. We make a good team, and I bet we could actually win."

I took a deep breath. The idea of somebody else fondling Cary made my blood simmer, but it was her call--I didn't own her. And it was hard to deny that if this night ended the way I hoped it would, we would probably both be so horny after this game that we wouldn't be able to walk straight following the aftermath. She had dealt with far worse from her ex-husband.

"All right Miss West," I said, squeezing her hand and cupping her cheek. "I trust you, and I hope you trust me. Let's have fun."

She breathed a little quicker as I touched her, and she gave me a quick kiss. I was so surprised, I almost forgot to return it. I still wasn't completely used to the idea that we could kiss one another. "You're batting a thousand, tiger," she purred into my ear. Then she released my hand and walked back to the "Dolls" half of the room.

I almost ran into Miles. He was looking frankly at Cary's retreating form, eyes clearly following the sway of her hips. Her tall heels certainly made her walk differently--she still moved like Cary, but sexier somehow. I found myself smiling goofily, and then realized that I was still facing Miles. He smiled at me. "Dude, she is going to fuck your brains out after this. You're gonna have a great night."

I was a little taken aback by his openness about the topic, but shrugged it off with a little effort. Maybe that was just how college guys talked. I breathed out and met his gaze. "That's the plan, muchacho. I bet you and Carla have a wild night planned, yeah?"

He smirked. "You know it, brother. That's sorta the theme, right? Work hard, play harder."

Roy and Stacy had linked arms and were walking sheepishly out of the room, waving at Ty. That left sixteen of us total. I found myself looking more at the guys in the room, trying to assess which of them seemed likeliest to try something over-the-line with Cary. I wasn't exactly jealous, but I could feel the same mildly possessive attitude creeping up on me that I had felt when Cam had been flirting with her.

You don't have the right, I reminded myself. We're just getting started, and if she needs to go wild for a bit to get over her divorce and the past twelve years of her life, who am I to get in the way? She said she wants me. A few gropes and kisses aren't going to change that.

As Ty waved us seven other guys into a half circle, I forcibly relaxed my shoulders and grinned. Sexy fun for a few hours, maybe win a car, and then... Cary. She hadn't worn that red dress for nothing, and I intended to show her just how much I appreciated it.