Justice

Soon, the next button, a wistful look on her countenance, did she dare unbutton another? Why, good girls just don't do those sorts of things! Her coquettish expression said it all as she pursed her lips in determination.

I mentally begged her to continue. Well, all right! Just this once, but, don't you dare ask for anything else! She responded, as the next button was unleashed. In term of actual exposure, it was so little, but, in passion, so much.

Do you want another? Her lustful stare had me transfixed.

Yes! Yes! Please, yes!

The next button fell. Now, the tops of her breasts were exposed. I caught a momentary glimpse of her bra during her gyrations. I began to take off my coat. She rushed me, stopped me and shook her head no. I wasn't permitted to do anything. Assured of my compliance, she continued her dance. Her arms raised upward as she twirled before me. She moved close to me and gave me a fleeting kiss, then backed away.

The erotic nature of her voiceless pantomime stirred me as the next button fell. Now, the deep cleavage was exposed to me and she moved herself against my face slowly rubbing herself. She brushed my hands away, refusing to give me any control of my domination.

The buttons continued to fall, each bringing a new peak of sensation and frustration to me. Then finally, as though taking pity on me she slid out of her gown. The view was as if Botticelli had reincarnated his Birth of Venus. How could a woman be so innocent and sinful at the same time?

Now, garbed in her bra, panties, garter belt, silk stockings and high heels, my temptress did her version of Salome's Dance of the Seven Veils. Garment after garment was deposited on me. I relished seeing each and every sinful inch of her delightful flesh. I, too, was ready to grant her any wish as she finally landed in my lap. She furiously kissed me as she began to undress me.

First, my jacket, as she playfully rained kisses on my shoulders, arms, and torso; then, a quick unbuckling of my belt and a powerful tugging to pull out my shirttail. She moved her face against my wrist as she undid my cuff button and administered another kiss. Then she repeated the procedure with my other arm.

She moved and grasped my necktie, tugging me towards her for a kiss as she held on to her bridle, controlling me, managing me, dictating her will, then, loosening the tie, unknotting it, and letting it fall limply to the floor.

The collar button, undone by her fingers, unadorned save for the glittering diamond ring and gold band I had placed on her earlier that day. Her face moved to my neck as she kissed, nibbled and lavishly licked her way to the next obstructing button.

Slowly, ever so slowly, she crept down as button after button fell prey to her. Her teeth bit and tugged on my nipples as she rubbed her palms appreciatively on my chest. Then, the shirt discarded, she slid out of my lap to her knees, parted my legs, and moved her face to my lap.

Without the use of her hands, her tongue found the fly of my pants and her teeth nipped on the fastener and unclasped each brass cog in an erotic liberation, all the while fixing me with her sea green eyes. I stood, and the trousers slid down as she attempted to hold my rock hard thighs.

My dick was painfully throbbing in anticipation when it was finally unleashed from the confines of my boxer briefs. She moaned as she gripped it and gently rubbed it against her face.

She held my shaft, kissing it, rubbing it, stroking it. Then, kissing the bulb of my cock, she allowed it to slide into the warmth of her mouth, her tongue rapidly flicking on the head.

I tried to manage what little control I had, but it was too much to bear. With a growl, I knelt down, physically picked her up and held her against me. Her legs instinctively wrapped around me as I wobbled to the bed and fell on the mattress.

She kissed me with a passion that I had never experienced and rolled beneath me on the bed. She cupped my face in her hands and spoke her first words since we had entered the room, "You are mine!" Then she kissed me again, softly, in trust, in fealty, in complete and absolute love.

"I am yours," I gasped, "And you are mine, forever!" I declared.

We kissed again. All the while, we maneuvered our bodies to accommodate each other. She moaned softly as I cupped her tit and with vigor rubbed her pert nipple with my fingers. My lips were applying kisses to her defenseless neck. I moved up to her earlobe and gently bit down, an erogenous zone I had discovered early in our courtship.

She had described the sensation as an electric shock that tended to short circuit her neural network. I was immediately rewarded with a vixen writhing in lust underneath me. A lusty sigh escaped when I brushed her hair away and trailed my face down to her bosom and suckled hard on her exquisite tit.

Her hands planted on the sides of my temples kept my head captive as I lavished attention on her. I had other treasures to delve. Southward, I trailed, rubbing her taut ribs, heaving in desire, to her flat abdomen I nuzzled with my face, to her navel, which I licked and teasingly nipped.

Still downward, her pelvis gently pulsating in anticipation, the soft downy texture of her pubic hairs, neatly trimmed in a landing strip, brushed by my chin, my lips, my nostrils flaring open as her scent wafted into my conscious, encouraging my already overloaded lust to seek avenues of release. My twitching cock, hard and throbbing, painfully needed to couple within her.

Not just yet.

I sensed the damp lubrication of her heated vulva as I gently licked and blew on her, teasing her ever so closely to an ecstatic salvation, licking and tugging her lovely pink lips, which continued to secrete as she thrashed away. Her thighs locked down on my head, rubbing against me in erratic patterns.

Her sobs escalated in pitch and volume as I relentlessly drove her. "Please, Mike! You're driving me crazy!" she begged. That only encouraged me as I greedily lapped her, driving her to a crescendo until I finally triggered her by clamping her sensitive clit with my teeth.

I held on as she rode through her explosive climax, bucking me to and fro. Her yells and sobs of release echoed in the lavish room until finally, her gyrations ebbed still, as I crawled up to her, her kisses raining on me in appreciation.

I stared down at her as our bodies instantly adjusted into position, her hands groping me as she angled my dick to penetrate her. I slowly slid into her as I felt her shift to accommodate my girth. Onward I plunged. Then I was finally vested in her.

I looked into her wonderful green eyes, counting myself lucky that I would have an entire lifetime to gaze into them. "I love you so much, Lila!" I softly whispered as I gently kissed her. The kiss escalated into a more passionate one.

I felt her thrust against me, urging me to initiate our coupling. Slowly, ever so slowly, I began rocking against her, our bodies subtly shifting to explore different angles and frictions, picking up the pace, alternating long thrusts, then hard ones.

Stopping, gasping for breaths in a kissing break as our sweat-glistening bodies slid against one another through the night. "Oh Jesus, Mike, I'm about to come!" she moaned in my ear. I slid in fully within her and stopped my motion. Experience had shown me that her orgasms tended to be a shorts series of trembling spasms that twitched her legs and shook her body in the full throes of ecstasy. She preferred my weight to pin her down as she rode through a cloud of bliss, and then to slowly build up to the next release.

She held me in her closely, sobbing in my ear, her hand on the back of my head, her other arm braced on my back, fingernails digging in my flesh. Her eruptions subsided as I whispered if she was ready to continue. Her pelvis began to grind into me for a response.

Picking up the pace, we continued to rock our way to pleasure. She moved her hand against my shoulder and firmly pushed against it. Her signal to change positions. Suddenly, I was on bottom and Lila was a cowgirl, riding her stud. Her hands cupped her tits as she bucked me.

I was about to erupt and she knew it. She collapsed on me, begging me to come. Het tits were now sliding on my perspiring chest, my hands firmly framing her ribs as I stroked my way to completion. Then I was there. I felt the amazing sensation of release as I shot stream after stream of semen into her. Her body was caught in another orgasm as we completed our act.

After catching our breaths, we engaged in our post-coital play, kissing and caressing each other. Would we go again? Perhaps, or perhaps not. Hell, we had an entire lifetime to decide.

"I love you, Mr. Mike Crowder!" she wearily exclaimed, worn from an entire adrenaline filled day. "And I love you, Mrs. Lila Crowder!" I softly responded as we entwined hands. I felt the shape of the ring I had placed on her ring finger just hours before.

Her breathing pattern drifting to slumber, I enjoyed the quiet as her heartbeat, warmth, and weight served as a comfort blanket while I slowly drifted to sleep.

I woke as I sensed Lila stretching awake, purring like a kitten as I caught her sleepy- eyed gaze. Morning light was streaming into the honeymoon suite, bathing it in golden splendor. We reached for each other, started and completed Round Two.

After an agreed upon period to tend to ourselves in the bathroom, a spontaneous Round Three resulted in the shower. Which, of course, required Round Four after we donned the complimentary expensive terry cloth robes and fell back on the bed. This required another shower session as we reluctantly fought the urge to make it Round Five.

"Do you feel like going again?" Lila asked.

"With you, any day or anytime, but, I need to recharge my battery, woman. You liked to killed me last night." I laughed.

"I just feel like staying in bed all week," Lila sighed as she rubbed her foot playfully against my calf.

"Well, that's the whole point of a honeymoon, darling," I replied. "But if we did that, then we'd waste those tickets to Paris and lose the opportunity to rut in the City of Light." I roguishly commented.

"Rut?" Lila wrinkled her pert nose at me. "I see the bloom has already gone off our romance. Now, it's just a matter of you knocking off a piece whenever you feel like it!" Lila teased.

"And think, honey, of how inspired I'll be at seeing the phallic symbolism of the Eiffel Tower. 24/7 nonstop rutting!" I replied.

"You wish!" Lila laughed.

"Oh, Mike, you've made my dream come true. Married to my best friend, flying out tomorrow for our honeymoon to Paris, coming back to start our careers. You've made me the happiest woman in the world!" She ended the comment by flourishing her ring finger letting the diamond sparkle in the light.

I just watched her, caught in the throes of happiness. My heart swelled as I counted my blessings that I had convinced this exquisite beautiful woman to become my wife.

"If you're really that happy, then why don't you give me a kiss?" I suggested.

"I can do that!" Lila reacted by sidling into my arms and gave me a kiss. She stopped and moved away; all I could see was the adoration on her face and it shook me to my core. I sighed and kissed her back. We continued to spend the morning engaged in lighthearted pillow talk.

"Just promise me that when we get to Paris, you'll repeat your performance from last night. I don't know who taught you those steps, but you damn near gave me a heart attack!" I laughed and gave her a quick peck on her lips.

"Oh that! That was just me improvising from my old dance routine from Fitzgerald's. Of course, you inspired me to ramp it up to that level!" Lila chortled and hugged me.

"Dance routine? What dance routine?" I asked.

"My dance routine, silly!" Lila responded with a laugh.

"I don't understand. What's this about a dance routine?"

"The dance routine I used to do at Fitzgerald's, Mike." Lila said with a patient exasperation, as though explaining it to me as a child.

"What are you talking about, Lila? Fitzgerald's doesn't have dancers. They never have, as far as I know." I furrowed my brow. Something wasn't adding up. Something wasn't adding up one damn bit.

"Just what kind of dancing were you doing, Lila?"

My questioning started shaking Lila up.

"My dancing, Mike. I told you a long time ago when we were in college. Remember? I told you that I worked at Fitzgerald's when you asked me out, and I asked you if that was a problem. You said it wouldn't be. Then after our first date, I told you that I had quit my job at Fitzgerald's. Remember?"

"Why would I care that you were a waitress at Fitzgerald's, Lila? You aren't making any sense."

"Mike, you do remember-"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, I remember you telling me that you worked at Fitzgerald's, Lila. So, you worked in a bar? Big deal! What I don't understand is what you're saying about a dance routine. I can't tell you the number of times I got dispatched to Fitzgerald's whenever they or my dad's bar was running low on supplies and trading out. But, I have never seen dancers there!" I insisted.

"Mike, when were you ever at Fitzgerald's? They get all their supplies from their franchise warehouse!"

"Jesus Christ, Lila, I've been going up to that place on 10^th Avenue practically my whole life. The owner is a friend of my dad, and I'm telling you, there has never been any kind of dancing at that place! Now tell me, what the hell you mean by dance routine?" I demanded.

Lila turned pale. She stammered, "Mike, I told you before you asked me out where I worked. I asked if you were okay with that. Remember how I insisted on that? Then right after our first date, you asked me out again. That's when I gave my notice, Mike!"

"Why are you repeating yourself, Lila? Just tell me what I want to know," I spoke with exasperation.

Tears began welling up on Lila's deep green eyes, eyes that had held me in thrall ever since I first saw Lila, eyes that had expressed so many emotions. But now, for the first time, I witnessed them showing remorse and apprehension.

In a defensive mantra, Lila continued, "Mike, remember, we were in college. I was working my way through school. When I first agreed to go out with you, I told you where I worked! You said you didn't care. When you asked me for our second date, I quit Fitzgerald's and I told you that I had quit. You've never shown any problem about that until now, and I don't understand now why you are picking this fight!"

"You don't understand? Lila, you're telling me that you learned some dance routine while you were a waitress at a bar that doesn't have a dance floor. As I said, I used to go there all the time making liquor deliveries, and there haven't ever been any dancers at Fitzgerald's. Now, if you want, we'll get a taxi and go over to 10^th Avenue and I'll show you!"

"Mike, what are you talking about, '10^th Avenue'? Everybody knows Fitzgerald's is in the Riverfront District!"

That took a while to sink in. The Riverfront District was the city's pride and joy. Millions of dollars had been invested to revamp and claim the entire area to becoming a booming commercial endeavor. There was no way the owner of Fitzgerald's could ever afford the rent in that area.

I shut my eyes before I asked my next question. "Lila, who is the owner of Fitzgerald's?"

"I never met him, but I was told it was a Mr. Hunter, who lived in Dallas. The manager when I worked there was James Allen."

I winced at her response, as it confirmed she didn't know the Fitzgerald's I was familiar with. I certainly never met Mr. Hunter or James Allen.

I started grasping the horrible possibility that we had mistakenly assumed only the existence of our perceptions. In as neutral tone as I could muster, I said, "Lila, you worked at Fitzgerald's Gentlemen Club for how long?"

"I worked there for three years; I stopped when we started dating, Mike!" She cried.

Fitzgerald's Gentlemen Club: a nirvana of hedonistic excess. During a drunken romp in the city my freshman year, my college buddies and I tried to gain access to this swanky place, only to be stopped by the bouncers. We could only watch as wealthy business execs drove up in their BMWs and Porsches and tossed their keys to valets.

A club only afforded to those with a black American Express Card. A club that welcomed its patrons with open arms...and legs. A club that guaranteed satisfied customers walking out with the most exquisite arm-candy beside them. A club that only employed the crème de la crème of exotic beautiful ladies, like Lila. My Lila. I opened my eyes and saw that the tears that had welled in her eyes were now free flowing down her cheeks.

"So, you were a stripper?" My voice sounded incredibly small and far off.

"I was a dancer," Lila sobbed. I really couldn't grasp the sematic Lila insisted on using, but the confirmation was enough.

"So, for three years before I met you, you let all those creeps ogle you, and touch you-"

"They never touched me!" Lila cried, interrupting me.

"...And fuck you..." I finished.

"They never fucked me!" she protested vehemently.

"For Christ sakes, Lila, you expect me to believe that you dated those entitled assholes for three years and you didn't fuck a single one of them?" I yelled in exasperation.

"I never dated a single one, Mike! They were only a means to pay for my education!"

"What the fuck heading did your business transactions fall under, Lila? You're going to sit there and tell me none of those guys didn't stuff your G-string with dollar bills? That you didn't give those guys lap dances? That you didn't engage with some steamy action in the VIP Lounge?" I spat out in frustrated angst.

"So, you used Clinton's definition and decided giving a blowjob isn't sex? Or maybe a handjob? Or, if you just laid there and took it, it was nothing more than a biological function?"

My comments were serving to upset and piss off my new bride. I could see the warning signs of her furrowing her brow and rubbing her palms hard against her thighs.

"Mike," her voice quivered in anger as she spoke softly and quietly in an attempt to defuse this situation. "The girls... the dancers set the ground rules for any customer's interactions. While, it is true that many did those things, I never did. I had plenty of offers and opportunities but I never participated. All I ever did was dance and yes, they touched me giving their tips but that was the extent of it. I never socialized or fraternized with any of the customers, even though management strongly urged me to do so."

She paused. "If you'd like, I'll call up all of the girls I worked with. You can ask them anything. They'll tell you the same thing. I. Just. Danced!"

The emphasis on her last paused comment gave me something to consider. Given our history, given that she never lied to me, given that I so desperately wanted to believe her.

And yet...

I got off the bed, rummaged for my clothes and began dressing. Lila watched in silence as I began walking to the door.

"Where are you going, Mike?" she asked, as I stopped in the threshold of the doorway I had gleefully carried her across last night.

"I have to go think about this, Lila, and I honestly don't know how I want to handle this."

The implication of my statement staggered her. She blinked rapidly, gulping air, and hanging her head down, her hair shading her face from my view. I began to turn to walk out.

"Mike," her soft raspy whisper caught me before I left. "There's one last thing I need to disclose since that seems to be all you're interested in."

"What is it Lila?" I thought I was prepared as I braced for her last blow.

"I'm pregnant."

**************

That, sport fans, is how I wound up at the family bar trying to decide how the hell I was ever going to manage getting out from under this. God, this was going to kill my Mom and Dad. Ever since I brought Lila home to meet them, it was like they adopted her as a long awaited daughter.