Naked Lies (4 page)

"No, you're
not! Look, I don't care if you show Mat. He won't believe..."

"Are you going
to gamble your marriage on a whim?"

"It's not a
whim."

"Don't forget
that I have your panties. How will you explain to your husband that
I have your stained panties?"

"You can't
prove that they're mine."

"True, but
he'll be somewhat suspicious, won't he? I mean, the photographs,
your dirty knickers... You'd be taking quite a risk."

"If you think
you can come round here whenever you want and..."

"I don't
think
, Jane - I
know
. OK, this is the deal. I'll keep your filthy secret, but
you'll do everything I ask in return."

"Never!"

"Think about
it, Jane - think very, very carefully."

"I don't have
to think about it!"

Slamming the
phone down, I wondered what to do as I ambled into the kitchen. I
should have denied all knowledge of the bloody pictures, just
laughed it off. But it was too late for that now, I knew as I sat
at the table, my head slumped in my hands. I'd as good as committed
adultery. I'd stripped before my neighbour, exposed my intimate sex
flesh... It was too late to turn back now.

Agonizing on what to do for the best as I walked aimlessly
through the hall, I noticed an envelope on the doormat. Den? I
pondered tremulously, tearing it open. Unfolding the sheet of
paper, I was shocked to read the cruel words.
You filthy tart
. Surely Den wouldn't
bother to send me a note like that? But who else knew what I'd
done? No one could possibly know, I decided. A wave of devastation
hitting me, I thought I would drown in my river of
tears.

Mat had packed
his case and left by eight the following morning. Alone in my bed,
with my turbulent thoughts, I pictured Den. He would have heard
Mat's car back out of the drive, his cue to call on his victim and
make his lewd demands. But I wouldn't answer the door, I decided.
He could knock and knock, ring and ring until his perverse penis
jangled - but I wouldn't succumb.

I'd not left
the house since Den's visit the previous morning. Feeling
vulnerable, I hadn't even driven into town to buy the velvet dress.
I'd thought Den might be watching my every move, follow me and...
Realizing that I was becoming paranoid, I leaped out of bed.

Trying to plan
my day, I wandered into the bathroom and took a shower. A quiet
day, I decided - housework, reading... Massaging the soap into my
fleshy sex folds, again, images of standing naked in the lounge
before my neighbour filled my mind. It was like a recurring dream,
a nightmare that wouldn't go away. But yesterday was gone - dead.
Although the incredible events were real enough, I vowed never
again to succumb to Den.

Refreshed from
my shower, I wandered downstairs in my dressing gown and filled the
kettle. The kitchen seemed different somehow, probably because I'd
stood in that very room with my naked breasts displayed to Den,
allowed him to suck my nipples into his treacherous mouth. The
lounge had seemed different the night before. Mat sitting in his
chair with his scotch, me on the sofa, I'd recalled Den there,
gazing at my naked body, my pussy. I felt guilty in the extreme.
But it would soon become a distant memory, I consoled myself. What
had happened was history, never to be repeated. Does time heal?

The phone rang
as I poured the coffee, but I ignored it. He wouldn't get to me, no
matter how persistent he was. I wouldn't answer the phone or open
the door. I'd stay in the house, safe and secure behind locked
doors. The nightmare was over.

I mooched back and forth from the kitchen to the lounge making
more coffee, watching TV. Chat shows, phone-ins...everyone had
their problems, it seemed. Should I phone in? Ten o'clock passed,
eleven... I felt hemmed in. The summer sun was hot, beckoning - I
wanted to spend time in the garden, relax on the patio in my
bikini. But
he
was
next door - lurking, spying, waiting.

"This is
ridiculous!" I finally breathed, flinging the back door open. "I'll
not be a prisoner in my own home!" Walking across the lawn, the sun
warming me through my dressing gown, I turned and glanced up at
Den's house. All looked quiet and peaceful. Perhaps he was out? I
pondered. He worked from home as a financial consultant, but he
might have gone out to see a client.

Wandering down
to the end of the garden, I stood beneath the old apple tree,
gazing at the lush grass. As Mat wasn't coming home that night I
wondered whether to go out for a drink with Carole. I had to get
out of the house for a while, escape my surroundings. I'd ring her
later and suggest it.

Although
feeling a little easier, I locked the back door as I wandered into
the house to dress. The day was already becoming very hot and I'd
have preferred to have left it open. But there was no point in
inviting trouble.

Climbing the
stairs, I slipped my gown off, tossing it over the banister as I
crossed the landing to my bedroom. Perhaps I'd take a trip into
town and buy the dress, I mused, standing before the full-length
mirror and scrutinizing my naked body. Coffee at the shop in the
High Street, a browse around the bookshop, and then...

"Very nice!"
Den grinned, leaning in the doorway.

I screamed,
adrenalin pumping through my veins as I turned to face him. "You
bastard!" I yelled.

"That's a nice
greeting, I must say!"

"What the hell
are you doing in my bedroom? You nearly gave me a bloody heart
attack!"

"I noticed you
down the garden so I thought I'd come in and wait for you."

Instinctively
covering my breasts with my folded arms, I stared at him in horror.
Even my own bedroom was no sanctuary from his prying eyes! How dare
he sneak into my boudoir and gawp at me! I was stunned at the
audacity. Trembling, I wondered at his next move in the escalating
nightmare, what he'd demand of me. But he just stood there,
watching me, no doubt enjoying every minute of my plight.

"I lied," I
said at length. For some incomprehensible reason, I imagined his
penis inside me, thrusting deep into my vagina, sperming inside me.
My mind was leaving me. "It's not me in the photographs, I was
joking."

"I don't think
Mat will look upon your confession as a joke."

"It's your
word against mine. You can't prove..."

"I had a small
tape recorder in my pocket, Jane. Your confession, the university,
the photographer... It's all on tape."

"I lied."

"You can't
change your story now!" he laughed. "How will you explain to Mat
that you were lying? By the way, I went to see a friend of mine
last night. He's an amateur photographer, I got him to take some
shots of the magazines. I have some really nice glossy prints of
you now."

"Den, this is
silly," I smiled, forcing a laugh as I grabbed a towel from the bed
and held it in front of my naked body. "Look, I was joking about
the magazine. I suppose I just wanted to see how far you'd go, that
was all. It was only a joke."

"Stripping off
and showing me your cunt... I don't suppose Mat would think it a
joke."

"It's not me
in that bloody magazine! Agreed, the likeness is pretty good, but
it's not me."

"I know, we'll
let Mat listen to your confession and look at the magazine. He can
decide whether you were lying or joking."

"No, no don't
do that! Look, you had your fun yesterday, we both had our little
joke, so let's..."

"Turn round,
Jane. I want you to stand with your feet apart and bend over."

"No!"

"I want to see
your cunt lips bulging between your sexy thighs."

A strange
feeling welled inside me. Fear, anticipation, expectation...
Arousal? Whatever it was, I didn't understand it. An icy chill ran
down my spine as I imagined my naked body bent over, my legs
straight, my hands on the floor, my vaginal lips parted between my
open thighs - Den's gleaming eyes transfixed there.

Another
unfamiliar feeling gripped me as the towel fell away from my firm
breasts, revealing my alert nipples. What was it? Did the danger
excite me? My stomach somersaulted, churning as I stared at my
blackmailer. This had all been a grave mistake, I reflected. Why
hadn't I denied the photographs, put it down to an uncanny
resemblance and left it at that? If only I'd known that he was
recording me, my stupid confession.

"This turns
you on, doesn't it?" he smirked.

"No!"

"It does,
Jane. The thought of showing me your cunt turns you on."

"You turn me
off! And what was the point in sending me that stupid note?"

"What
note?"

"The note
saying..."

"I haven't
sent you any notes."

Covering my
breasts, my full melons, with the towel, I tried to compose myself.
I was sure Den hadn't sent the note. He was getting what he wanted,
so why would he bother? The situation was ridiculous, horrendous.
Here I was standing naked in my bedroom with my neighbour demanding
to see my pussy! How the hell had I ever got myself into this
mess?

"Come on,
Jane," he persisted. "Show me your juicy cunt."

"Den, please!"
I cried. But there was no compassion, no sympathy reflected in the
dark pools of his eyes.

"It's entirely
up to you. Show me your cunt or I'll show Mat the photographs and
let him hear the tape recording."

Dropping the towel to the floor, I stood before him, allowing
him to scrutinize my naked body, my curves, my hillocks. My heart
missing a beat as he ordered me to lie on the bed, I didn't know
what to do. I was trapped - trapped in my own bedroom with my
perverse blackmailer. What choice did I have?
None at all
, my whispering thoughts
told me.

Perched on the
edge of the summery counterpane, I reclined tentatively, closing my
legs as I sensed his gaze between my thighs. My mind torn, I didn't
know whether to flee the house and put an end to the degradation or
remain lying on the bed of perfidy, of humiliation, that was of my
own making. I felt crude, dirty - treacherous.

"You have a
nice cunt," he praised me. "A long slit, full, fleshy lips. A very
nice cunt. Are you juiced up?"

My eyes
closed, I imagined the view he had of my swollen vaginal lips, my
sex crack. My juices trickling from my hot duct as I involuntarily
parted my twitching thighs, I suddenly wondered what I was doing. I
didn't want Mat seeing the photographs or listening to the tape,
but how far would I be prepared to go to save my marriage... to
destroy it?

Hearing
movements, I shuddered as I thought Den was going to touch me.
Sitting bolt upright, I gazed at him wide-eyed, my face flushing as
I noticed the bulge in his tight jeans - his penis bulge. This was
a dangerous game, I knew as I grabbed the towel and shielded my
naked body. But it was no game!

"I'd like you
to stand with your back to me and bend over," he instructed as if
telling me to put the kettle on.

"Den,
I..."

"Do it, Jane!
Do it, or Mat will see the magazines and hear your confession."

There was
aggression in his voice, anger. I felt frightened. The master and
the slave, the blackmailer and the victim. Never in my wildest
dreams had I imagined that I'd find myself in such a degrading
situation. What choice was there? Dropping the towel to the floor,
I turned and stood with my feet wide apart. Tentatively leaning
over, I knew my vaginal lips were on display, nestling between my
parted thighs, crudely exposed. Further I bent until my hands
rested on the floor and I was looking up at my smug blackmailer
between my long legs.

"A very nice
cunt," he murmured appreciatively, dropping to his knees.

"You can only
look," I quavered as he moved closer to my most private place.
"Touch but not look," I murmured, my head muddled.

"Touch but not
look?" he chuckled.

"I
mean..."

"God, you're
wet," he gasped. "Very wet!"

Why was I
doing this? I wondered, trying to block out my shame by squeezing
my eyes shut. Just like the photograph in the magazine, I'd crudely
exposed my vaginal lips, my inner sex folds. There could be no
turning back now. My wanton behaviour, the disgusting adulterous
act I'd performed, could never be erased.

My debased
neighbour's finger speculatively stroking my wet sex valley, I
grabbed the towel and leaped up. "No!" I screamed, swinging round
to face him. "No!"

"Come on,
Jane. Bend over again and let me..."

"No,
never!"

"In that case,
I'll just have to show Mat..."

"I don't care
what you do, I'm not going to..."

"I think Mat
will care what you did all those years ago."

"It's not me
in that bloody magazine! I only said it was because I was
afraid."

"Afraid?"

"I thought you
were going to... Mat's the suspicious type, deadly jealous - if he
saw that picture, he'd believe it was me."

"But it is
you, Jane! You said so yourself."

"It's not!
Christ, why don't you believe me?"

"First you
deny it, then you say you did it for the money, now you deny it
again. It's you, there's no doubt about it."

"All right,
show Mat, see if I bloody care!"

I sank sobbing
with relief onto the bed as Den coolly left the room. I had to
admit he was right. First I'd denied the tart was me, then I'd
confessed to it, then... No matter what I said now, he firmly
believed it was me, and that was that. After hearing my so-called
confession, Mat would believe the worst, I knew only too well! I
had to put a stop to the farce, confront Mat, tell him about Den,
his blackmailing - and hope for the best.