Lance and Dianna have their dream dinner. A chance encounter sets Dianna straight on the true nature of things - and sets Lance on a course that will change his life.
Betrayed Ch. 03
by Cherysse St. Claire ©
Chapter 3: The Players Take The Field
There are, perhaps, a half-dozen places in the city to get a really good
"big piece of meat" — at least, of the gastronomic variety. Morton's on
North State Street is one of those, and a great place to see and be seen
by everyone who is anyone. We valet-ed the Mercedes, then made our way
inside. There was a moment at the coat check when I thought I would need a
crowbar to pry the fur from Dianna's grasp. I quietly reassured her: a) it
was only for a little while, b) wearing it into the dining area was just
too ostentatious, even for us, and c) it would be there, waiting for her,
upon our departure. She grudgingly assented, like a petulant child.
The hostess checked the reservation list for our name, then excused
herself to check on the availability of our table. After she left, I
leaned over and whispered into Dianna's ear.
"Lisa?" I asked pensively.
Her eyes danced.
"Lisa Layne, to be precise," she returned. I think it's absolutely perfect
for you."
I thought back about all that had transpired in such a short time; the
sex, the lingerie, the breasts, the corseting, the stockings. Now, she had
just committed me to model with her, totally en femme, in front of an
audience.
"Dianna, I don't know if I can...."
She turned fully to face me, pressed her body against mine and kissed my
lips delicately. Meanwhile, hidden from view between our bodies, her hand
massaged my raging hard-on.
"Just tell me to stop and I will," she murmured, fixing my gaze with her
own.
I wasn't certain if she meant stop massaging my cock, stop feminizing me,
or stop seeing me altogether. Was there a difference to her? What had I
gotten myself into? When you got right down to it, was it really all that
bad — or just... different? Who did it actually hurt? My marriage was a
shambles and Susan, my once-in-a-lifetime love, was lost. Then, lightning
had struck twice. This provocative, kinky woman promised a new, different,
and utterly thrilling kind of relationship. Had I really, truly hated any
part of it until now? Was I so willing to throw Dianna away, too?
"I can't," I replied. "I won't."
After I thought about it a moment longer, I continued with more resolve.
"I don't want to."
"You don't want to what, Lover?" she questioned softly.
Just let go....
"I don't want to... stop."
She smiled triumphantly and squeezed my aching cock in appreciation.
"As you wish, My Sweet," she purred.
The patrons and staff at Morton's are no strangers to Grand Entrances.
Still, Dianna turned an entire roomful of heads as we were seated for
dinner. The subdued overhead lighting still managed to ignite her sequined
torso in a subtle flash of lights. Every male eye was riveted to her
exaggerated, undulating, feline strut. She steadfastly avowed that, while
dates had taken her out to dinner many times before, she had never been to
this place, nor caused this much of a reaction before. I found that hard
to believe, coming from a woman as drop-dead gorgeous as my companion.
Still, I couldn't begin to describe how proud I was to have the fabulous
brunette by my side and told her so.
"There you go again, Baby," she murmured, "pushing all the right buttons.
A girl could get used to this."
"I'm counting on it," I smirked, as I seated her, then took my own chair.
She feigned a pique of indignation.
"Do you think you can buy my affections so easily?" she probed pointedly.
I shrugged my shoulders, smiled good-naturedly, and held up both hands,
palms up, in a classic Who, me? gesture. She smiled, winked, then squeezed
one hand in hers.
"Well, it's working," she continued. "Don't stop. I enjoy being pampered
in the manner to which I hope to become accustomed. Seriously, there are
no words to express what this day has meant to me. No one has ever, ever
indulged me this lavishly, whatever their motive. This goes way beyond
Pretty Woman."
"You don't have a fire escape," I pointed out, "and I haven't whisked you
away in a limo yet."
"No?" She countered. "What do you call that little runabout we have been
tooling around in all day? Should I expect to see a 'My other car is a
Gulfstream V' bumper sticker in an attempt to really impress me?"
"Hmmm," I mulled. "Well, if that's what it takes...."
Dianna affected a glare of pure venom, then smiled and took my hand in
both of hers.
"Stop that!" she asserted. "I meant what I said; the lingerie, corset,
dress, heels, jewels, salon, and that fabulous fur... I adore every
stitch, strand, and pelt — and adore you for treating me like a goddess."
"I'm glad you are enjoying it," I asserted. "You wear it all so well."
Under the table, she casually stroked the inside of my leg with her
sandal-clad foot.
"Speaking of which," she smirked, "I am going quietly crazy thinking of
you sitting there in lingerie, corset, and stockings — just for me. Your
big, beautiful titties thrust out so alluringly."
That embarrassed me. I envisioned every other diner in the room undressing
me with their eyes, reveling in my lurid secret. Dianna read my thoughts.
She smiled, shook her head imperceptively, and squeezed my hand
reassuringly.
"No, they can't see them," she confided, "although I would really like
them to. Even without makeup and a dress, you are stunning. I have this
irresistible urge to reach across the table, unbutton your coat, then
unbutton the top three buttons of your blouse, spread the lapels wide, and
show off your deep, luscious cleavage. I want the whole, wide world to
know you are my little bimbo, and that you are doing all this for me."
"Do you really mean that?" I questioned. "I mean, we have known each other
such a short time...."
"A week, a month, a lifetime," she interjected, "it makes no difference.
Lisa — and I will call you that from now on — I have been with dozens,
hundreds of men. None of them, no matter how important, how wealthy, how
big, do to me, for me, what you do. When it's right, it's right; you just
know it. How do you feel?"
"It's... I don't know what to say," I expressed. This is all so new, so...
vastly different than anything I have ever experienced before. I should
be... ashamed, angry, something."
Dianna surreptitiously placed one hand in my lap and massaged my inner
thigh.
"Uh-huh," she cooed. "Then why is your cock so hard, it is threatening to
rip right through your pants?"
I couldn't argue with that.
"That's just it," I replied, searching for the right words. "It is so
daring, wicked, depraved, and... well, scary. As I said, I couldn't get
you out of my mind all week. Since last night, I have been on an
incredible, non-stop thrill ride. All this emotion, yet I hardly know
anything about you. I feel like I want to... inhale everything I possibly
can, to learn what makes you, you. I mean... who were you, before all
this?"
I instantly regretted my words. Her eyes flashed in anger.
"What difference does that make?" she hissed. "I am not that person
anymore. I never really was. I have spent my entire life wishing,
dreaming, scheming, then busting my butt to become who you see before you.
This is who I am, who I have always been in my heart. If there is anything
you don't like about me, Sugar, get out now. I have done all the changing
I am going to do."
It was time to do industrial-strength damage control. I surreptitiously
reached under the tablecloth, up her skirt, found her engorged clit inside
the calfskin thong, and massaged it gently. As I had hoped, the sensuous
hide, rubbing against her sensitive parts, had an erotic effect. Her
breath caught in her throat and her eyes glazed over.
"I'm deeply sorry, Honey," I apologized. "I meant no disrespect. I feel
like I've known you forever, but it's been barely more than a week. I am
just getting out of a bad relationship. I didn't expect to have everything
I have ever wanted — things I didn't even know I wanted — dropped in my
lap so soon. I am desperately afraid the clock is going to strike Midnight
and I will turn back into a pumpkin."
Dianna considered my words for a moment. Perhaps it was the words
themselves, or my tone of voice. Perhaps it was the earnest look in my
eyes.
Whatever the clue, her visage softened. Her whole body relaxed, allowing
my ministrations to have the desired effect.
"I'm sorry, too," she intoned. "I feel exactly the same way. I am just so
used to tricks throwing my past in my face, as though I was something less
than human. I didn't expect you to be the person you are, either.
Sometimes we just get lucky. Now that we have — both of us — I don't ever
want to be without you again."
I felt a huge weight lift from my shoulders. I smiled and squeezed her
hand.
"I just don't see what you see in me," I lamented, "compared to the other
guys you have known."
"Don't worry," Dianna mused, "you will."
"Would you really want me as 'Lisa'?" I inquired.
She squeezed my hand back authoritatively.
"As far as I'm concerned," my companion avowed, "you already are, just as
I have always been the 'me' you see before you. Paul saw that in you, too,
and he is a great judge of femininity - for a man. Kitty has seen to that.
They have a very kinky relationship — just like us. The task before us is
to help the conscious 'you' catch up with the sub-conscious 'you' — that
is, if you are willing."
"How far will we go with this?" I asked nervously.
My lover merely shrugged her shoulders a little and smiled coyly.
"Who knows?" she observed. "I have transformed boys into girls before —
and enjoyed the results along the way. Then, I was doing it to help them
attain their own goals for femininity, just as I had. This is the first
time I have had an emotional stake in the process. There are certain
things you will need to do and learn if you want to model with me. I
already know what to do about that. As for the rest... I honestly don't
know yet how much I — we — will want to do. We will just have to make up
the rules as we go."
Her foot casually stroked my stocking-clad leg under the table in
emphasis.
"I do know," my lover stated with authority, "we have come a long way in a
very short time."
"But what if we go so far that my cock, well...."
I didn't know how to continue that line of thought in words. It was so
extreme. Yet, I knew it was at least a possibility. Dianna's eyes
twinkled.
"Would you like that?" She inquired playfully. "Would you like to be my
soft, submissive little sissy? I can make it happen. I think that would be
sooooooo exciting...."
"No, no, no," I gushed - a little too quickly. "I was just asking 'what
if?' I know I can please you without it, but... well, wouldn't you miss
having a cock fill you?"
My companion turned serious and took a deep breath.
"Listen to me very carefully, Lisa," she intoned. "I don't want there to
be any mistake or misunderstanding between us. If I want cock, I will have
cock. That... won't... change. I am what I am and I will do what I do.
That won't change, either. Cock doesn't define my personal relationships;
it is merely my business. As it happens, it is also a need, like eating
sleeping, and breathing. I can satisfy my needs anywhere. You satisfy my
wants, my desires.
"Your 'equipment', or possible future lack thereof, is inconsequential.
You have already proven beyond doubt you can satisfy me in ways no cock
ever could or ever will. In turn, we have proven I can satisfy your
desires quite nicely. Do not get stuck on stupid about me having sex with
men. They are no threat to you, to us. I may not always be in a position
to tell you about it beforehand. If I'm dating, or see a guy who makes me
ooze, I will have him; that's what I do. I promise I will tell you about
it later — not because I want you to feel jealous or hurt, but because I
want you to be as excited, as turned on by it as I am."
Something she had just said suddenly struck home: Do not get stuck on
stupid about me having sex with men. She hadn't said 'other men', meaning
she no longer pictured me as one — if she ever had. This was all happening
so fast....
"You won't have to date if you are with me," I countered, suddenly feeling
insecure.
"Baby, I don't have to date now," she retorted. "That is the 'man' in you
talking. I could have accepted the offer of any one of a hundred Sugar
Daddies who all wanted me as their 'kept woman'. Every one of them was as
insecure of me as you apparently still are. I will help you get over that.
Right now, you have to trust that this — you — are what I want."
Dinner was exquisite, although I didn't eat much of it. Forget pills,
points, carb-counting and even gastric by-pass. If you really want to lose
weight, try strict corseting. I couldn't hold a tenth of what I normally
eat before I felt sated. The company was sublime, of course. All my
attention was on the ravishing brunette before me, not my plate. All I
could think of was that spectacular body in the firm embrace of the even
more spectacular corset. She was so lush, ripe, nubile, and wanted only
me. Beneath my now-ill-fitting suit, I had been transformed into something
equally lush, ripe, and nubile for her and her alone. Every touch,
gesture, longing gaze punctuated those simple truths.
The look of sheer bliss on Dianna's face as she slipped her arms into the
comforting embrace of her fur coat was a genuine 'Kodak moment'. I bundled
the coat around her, hooked the two inner hook closures, then cinched the
belt. I had not seen such a look of sheer contentment and utter love in a
good, long time. She slipped her arm through mine.
"Ready?" I asked.
"More than words can ever express," she replied. "I need you now!"
We were standing at the valet station, waiting for the valet to bring the
car around. Just then, a brand-new Corvette Z06 pulled up in front of us.
One valet hurried around the front end to stand by the door as it popped
open. The driver exited the coupe and stood to his full height, dwarfing
both Dianna and myself. When he turned, neither of us had any doubt of his
identity. It was Jeff Spencer. The valet captain opened the passenger door
and held his hand out to help the occupant to her feet. Of course, it was
Susan.
The four of us stood still, silently staring. Jeff saw Dianna right away,
then glanced at me. His next glance was at the back of Susan's head. Even
I could read the trace of apprehension in his eyes. Susan's eyes locked on
mine immediately, then shifted to my companion. She took it all in; the
looks, hair, makeup, crimson talons, jewels, and that exquisite Silver Fox
coat. Her jaw clenched so tightly, I could hear her teeth grinding
together. Her pupils contracted to pinpoints. Pure, intense hate radiated
from every pore. Dianna missed none of it. Instinctively, she pulled me
closer to her — marking her territory. Her demeanor was pure Attitude, as
only a T-girl can do.
"Get out of my face, Bitch," she hissed. "You can have your bionic pony
boy. This one is all mine."
"Like Hell he is!" Susan spat furiously.
At that moment, the Benz pulled up behind the 'Vette. I wordlessly pivoted
on my heel, turning my back on my cheating spouse, and led Dianna to the
passenger side.
"Lance! Lance! Turn around when I am speaking to you, you bastard!"
That was all I needed to hear. She cheated on me and was calling me names,
giving me attitude? Fuck that! I tipped the valet, slipped behind the
wheel, slammed the door and pulled out, completely dissing the cunt and
her stupefied stallion. After seeing the expression on his face, I doubted
sincerely Jeff would tell Susan anything probative about Dianna. How could
he, without giving himself away?
Dianna sat trembling; whether from fear or rage, I couldn't tell. We were
silent until we crossed Division.
"Let me guess," Dianna threw out into the air. "That was..."
"...my soon-to-be-ex," I finished. "I moved out Monday and filed the next
day. Now, I won't have the slightest hesitation to end it altogether."
"She cheated on you with... Jeff Spencer," my lover stated carefully.
"Yes," I confirmed.
"How long?" she inquired.
"I'm not sure," I replied. "A few months, at least; perhaps longer. I had
my suspicions, but found out for certain ten days ago."
"Before you met me," Dianna emphasized.
"Before I met you," I concurred.
"But you left her after we were together."
"Yes."
"Did you leave her because of me?"
"I left her because of her. You were the catalyst."
"Explain."
"For eight years, my sun rose and set on my wife. She was my world; I
never considered another woman. When I found out what she was doing behind
my back, I was crushed. I had to just get out, get away. I had heard about
Ringers through a third party. I can't explain why I showed up Friday
night; I just did. I can't explain where I found the nerve to approach
you; I just did. No one was more surprised than me we ended up back at
your place. I honestly did not intend to have sex with you or anyone else
that night.
"When I left your apartment, I felt hurt, humiliated, used, just as Susan
had done. I didn't go home at all last weekend. I couldn't face anyone.
But the damnedest thing happened. I could not get you out of my mind. You
haunted my dreams and my waking thoughts. I know; it's crazy. I don't want
to come across as some kind of obsessed stalker, either. The best way I
can put it is this: you liberated me from my emotional dependency on
Susan. You made me realize I didn't have to stay in an abusive
relationship, that I could have feelings for someone else — and she could
have feelings for me."
"You could have feelings — for someone you perceived to have abused you,"
she rebutted. "Isn't that what they call Masochism?"
"My perception was based on the values of the culture in which I live.
Dianna, I don't want to sound facetious, but you are unlike any woman I
have ever known before. Expressing my desire for you in a physical sense,
and accepting yours for me, requires an adjustment for me. That is all it
is; just an adjustment. For you, what we did together — what we did again
last night — is no different than what lovers of any gender have been
doing as long as there have been lovers. This is all new to me; it took me
until last night to figure it out. That is why I surrendered to you again.
Once I was able to let go of my knee-jerk hetero preconceptions, I
realized that you were expressing your love for me, giving me pleasure,
just as I had pleasured you. That you came with me made it so much
sweeter."
"Thank you," Dianna expressed quietly. "That was beautifully put. You
know, you could have been right the first time. I could just be abusing
you."
"I had a choice to make," I observed. "I chose to believe otherwise. I
will live with the consequences."
"Can you?" She asked pointedly. "There will certainly be consequences of
loving me. We have already spoken of them. You know what I like. You know
what I am like. We — I — need to be clear on this before we go any
further. Can you be in a relationship with me, knowing what it might...
probably will be like?"
I shrugged my shoulders a little in the darkness. I don't know if she even
saw the gesture.
"I really don't know. There are no guarantees for any relationship
anymore. No one knows that better than me."
The exquisite brunette was silent for a few minutes, digesting this new
data. I was afraid she was going to draw the connection between Jeff and
herself and ask for more detail about why I had shown up at Ringers in the
first place. I wasn't ready to deal with that yet. Fortunately, she did
not voice the words.
"It doesn't appear she is over you yet," my lover postulated.
For the first time, I detected a note of uncertainty in her voice. I
abruptly pulled over to the curb and slammed on the brakes. In a fit of
bravura unlike anything I had been feeling for over a week, I grabbed
Dianna's arms and turned her to face me.
"I am over her," I avowed with determination. "Tonight confirmed that. She
and I had been together since Senior year in high school. I was never,
ever unfaithful to her. She repaid my fidelity by shacking up with the
boyfriend she dumped for me. She told me she wanted to be with me because
I was a 'winner' and he wasn't. I guess she decided he was the bigger
winner after all."
"He's big, all right," Dianna agreed. "I don't necessarily call him a
'winner', though."
My lover held me tightly, resting her head against my chest. My faux
titties pressed into the side of her head. She was quiet again, organizing
her thoughts.
"I won't be faithful to you, either," she stated quietly. "I told you that
already."
I anticipated that, and was ready.
"You are better than faithful," I countered. "You have been honest with me
up front. I can now deal with your sexual appetites because we talked it
over, explained our feelings for each other, and I can cope with it. They
call it 'informed consent'. Susan wasn't honest with me, probably hasn't
been from the start. I know she's fucking Jeff Spencer. Who knows how many
there have been before him I don't know about? There is no way to know,
and now and I don't care to. It's over. I have the better woman right
here."
I felt her body swell at the sound of those words; hopefully, with pride.
She sat upright and looked me in the eyes resolutely.
"You would choose me over an exquisite GG like that?" my lover queried.
"Regardless of what you think she's done? I'm a ho' - with a dick instead
of a pussy. What if she feels the same way about cock I do? What if she is
still madly in love with you, but just didn't say the words?"
"There is no 'think' about it," I avowed. "I have seen the proof with my
own eyes. If she is still madly in love with me but needed outside cock,
why didn't she say the words? You did. Words count, Dianna. We are not
mind-readers. Sometimes, words are all we have to know what someone is
truly feeling. If she didn't say the words, she couldn't have given much
consideration to my feelings. That isn't love; that is pure, selfish
hedonism. Would I choose you over her? I already have. Funny; until
tonight, I never realized just how ugly she really is — where it matters
most."
Dianna's eyes were brimming with tears.
"So, you really believe I have been honest with you, unlike... Susan, was
it?"
"Yes, it is 'Susan' and yes, I believe you."
She turned away from me to stare out the passenger window. Perhaps she
didn't want me to see her cry.
"I hope you will remember that," she offered in a small voice. "Turn
right."
"But home is left," I corrected.
"We're not going home yet," she asserted. "Turn right."
