"I'm half a mind to tell that guy there's nothing doing." he growled, finally.
"Oh, that would be foolish now, Vernon. You've already promised him and besides, you've got to have somebody help you get a start."
The sarcasm passed over his head, and he agreed:
"Yes, I guess you're right, Eedy."
Mr. Tucker appeared promptly at nine o'clock, and even had my husband not confessed it, I would have guessed, from the expectant look on the man's face that he had some reason to anticipate a change in my attitude toward him. His eyes fairly devoured me as they traveled up over my legs, skirt, breasts and face.
"Sit down, George, and make yourself comfortable!" I exclaimed merrily.
"How's the little girl to-night?" he asked, as I took his hat.
"Oh, fine George! Just in the right humor for a good time!"
The first step in carrying out the program I had formulated was to see that Mr. Tucker was provided with a generous, and continuous supply of liquor. Calling to Vernon to bring in some wine, I seated myself in a chair directly in front of the man, and immodestly crossed my legs in such a way that my rather short skirt was drawn up over my kness. I knew that some bit of naked leg above my hose must be visible to him, and as I had expected his glance immediately flashed downward and he stared as though mesmerized by the sight.
Joking, laughing hilariously at the slightest pretext, I sipped my own wine. Frequently I refilled my glass but always it was empty, thus I was not in reality consuming any great quantity and the artifice passed unobserved by Mr. Tucker, whose thoughts were evidently more occupied with my legs than with what I was drinking.
Vernon, sitting across the room from us, looked on in silence, his face reflecting surprise at my unusual conviviality. I perceived that he also was glancing surreptitiously at my legs and knew that the careless posture had attracted his attention as well as Mr. Tucker's. The difference was that while Mr. Tucker was enjoying the sight, he was not.
I tilted my chair backward-Against the wall, a movement which further contributed to the elevation of my skirts. Mr. Tucker was probably able to see half up my thigh. The effect upon him was instantaneous. He hastily poured himself a glass of wine, and beneath the cloth of his trouser leg an elongated swelling began to make itself apparent.
Vernon arose from his chair, came toward me, placed his hand on my shoulder and pinching it significally, said:
"Eedy, you're drinking an awful lot. Better not take any more!"
"Let the little girl enjoy herself, Vernie! The wine isn't going to hurt her!" interposed Mr. Tucker, a shade resentfully.
My plan was unfolded with admirable precision. I had counted on my husband's inherent egotism being awakened by my actions toward Mr. Tucker, and I knew that in such a state of mind he would not be very likely to enter into the festive spirit of the occasion, and would in his sullenness refrain from drinking. I wanted to keep a clear head in order to appreciate to the fullest his situation. On the other hand I intended to excite Mr. Tucker and encourage-him to drink until he lost all control of himself,
and under these conditions surrender my body to him in my husband's presence. I knew that to accomplish this I would have to inflame the man to the point of beastliness. Unless I could do this, he would naturally expect to consumate the act in privacy.
He was now almost drunk while Vernon had taken but a single glass, and I, by means of deft manipulation of bottles and glasses had avoided drinking much more, though I pretended to be half tipsy.
"Come on, old dear," I called to Vernon, "put a record on the gramaphone; Georgie and I want to dance!"
With reluctance, still eyeing me reproachfully, he obeyed. Seizing Mr. Tucker by the arm I pulled him from his chair. He was unsteady on his feet, but our gyrations served the purpose of enabling me to rub my leg against the place Where something hard and stiff under the cloth of his trousers was throbbing and pushing.
We sat down, flushed and panting, and I poured him another drink.
"Vernon, you don't care if I sit on Georgie's lap, do you?" I pleaded coaxingly." He's a good old scout and I have to love him a little bit too, you know!"
"Go ahead, if you want to!" he responded gruffly. There was an angry glint in his eye
and I felt a thrill of satisfaction. His punishment had begun,
I seated myself on Mr. Tucker's knee, and placed an arm around his neck.
"Vernon, you don't care if I give Georgie a Jteeny kiss, do you?"
His eyes shot fire.
"Give him a dozen, if you want to!"
I pressed my mouth to Mr. Tucker's, and inserted my tongue between his lips. I felt his body tense, and knew that every carnal instinct in the man was aroused. I touched my tongue to his, moaned, sighed, shivered, and took on as though I was in a state of passionate excitation. He placed a hand greedily over one of my breasts and I felt the fingers of the other squeezing and pinching the flesh of my thigh.
But he was not drunk enough for my purpose. I slipped from his lap, and shaking my finger in his face exclaimed with mock severity:
"Bad man. Putting his hand on Eedy's titty! Mustn't do that. Makes her have naughty feelings!"
I served another drink to * Mr. Tucker. His gaze never left me as he drained it, and in his eyes I read the thoughts which filled his intoxicated brain, and knew that in imagination he was already contemplating my naked body, and mentally possessing me.
Again I sat on his knee and as if by accident permitted my hand to brush against the bulky swelling under his trouser leg.
"George! What have you got in your pocket? Why, it feels as though it was alive!"
"Ha, ha, ha!" roared Mr. Tucker, "She wants to know what I've got in my pocket, Vernie!"
My husband vouschafed no comment, but looked on in frozen silence, then suddenly arose, and walked into the dining room. It was not my intention to permit him to escape a single detail, and so, on the pretext of getting more liquor, I followed him.
"Say!" he whispered savagely, seizing me by the arm, "I've changed my mind! To hell with George! Ljet's get him out oT here, before he gets any drunker!"
"Why, Vernon!" I replied tipsily, "Georgie's an old dear! He's the best friend we've got. I'm going to loosen up with him. Where the hell are we going to get a lot of damn prudishness?"
He tried to hold me, but I slipped from his grasp and flitted back to Mr. Tucker. Raising my dress above my knees, I essayed a half drunken dance.
."Vernon says," I declaimed solemnly, "that you're the best old scout of a friend he ever had. He says: Treat Georgie nice!"
"Sure, Vernie's my friend !" agreed Mr. Tucker thickly.
My husband returned and resumed his seat near the door.
The moment in which Mr. Tucker would be in a condition suitable to my purpose was not far off. He was now almost drunk enough to be indifferent to my husband's presence, and my familiarities with him, the exposure of my limbs, which I continually found opportunities to provide, had fired his passions almost to the limit of his endurance.
I placed another record on the gramaphone and as the disk began to revolve I piroutted about the room elevating my dress high enough to expose the bare flesh of my legs above my stockings. Mr. Tucker applauded wildly urging me on. Faster and faster I whirled until my skirt billowed outward and the short, lace edged panties I had on, were visible. I had dressed myself with just such possibilities in mind, and the panties one of my few remaining piece of finery, were of French manufacture, made of the sheerest of rose tinted silk, very short of leg, edged with narrow bands of black lace, and semi-transparent.