"I… want… a… girl… just… like… the girl… that married… dear old… Dad!… You ain't seen nothing yet!"
Sylvie almost fell off the chair. That tape had been destroyed long ago! She had been present when her husband burned it! Yet here it was … back to haunt her! The unmistakable sounds of Sylvie's voice lewdly enticing her husband's youngest brother in a hotel room, inviting him to look at her nakedness, filled the small bedroom. Erick had spliced the secretly-made tape later on so that Sylvie's later attempts to stop the course of events that she had started were completely erased. There followed only the intensely wet sounds and blissful gurglings of human copulation. Sylvie once more heard herself screaming as Erick's hard pounding cock brought a release to all her built-up tensions. Over and over again she cried out as her orgasms accumulated and grew stronger and stronger. "Oh fuck me fuck me harder harder!"
Sylvie wanted to stand up and rip the tape to shreds. Anger replaced her original fear, and she glared at Frank's happily listening face.
"That could be anyone… anyone at all! You must be crazy to think you can make anyone believe…"
"Oh, Mrs. Cassidy," Frank declared, "I hope you're not upset by this.
Actually I did think you might prefer to own this part of my little book yourself. It is, after all, so… how shall I put it… intimate!"
Sylvie stood and began to blurt out exactly what she thought of Frank and of the tape.
"Blackmail!!!" she cried. "You can't blackmail the cassidys! Why, my husband has already given you more money than you could possibly know what to do with!!!"
Frank was continuing as though he hadn't heard her. It was distasteful to him that he had annoyed her so, but then he thought that she might calm down a bit later when he had finished what he had to say.
"… and as for this tape being anybody, I'm sure you've heard of voice prints by now. They are relatively new, but already very conclusive when it comes to identifying voices I'm surprised that you don't know that, Mrs. Cassidy."
Sylvie sat back down as though the breath had been knocked out of her.
Was it her imagination, or did Frank seem to be looking at her in a new way? She was sure he was looking at her breasts, and she could feel her nipples contracting fearfully at the thought. She kept her legs pressed tightly together as she sat primly on the edge of the sofa. It was hard to play the part of an indignant wife when that tape was still playing, with her own voice on it raised like a common harlot, wailing and moaning and obviously enjoying ill "Perhaps you'd like to have a brandy while you listen to the rest."
Frank was suggesting, and Sylvie seemed to hear him through a fog. She nodded yes, just to get him out of the room, and as soon as he had left she leapt up and began to try to push buttons and pull levers to get the tape off of the recorder.
Unhurriedly, Frank returned carrying two brandy snifters and a bottle of aged cognac.
"I hope you didn't hurt your fingers, Mrs. Cassidy." he said.
"Actually, you may have that tape if you like. I have another copy." He held the brandy glass within reach. "Do drink this. I'm sure it will make you feel better!"
He himself took a deep sip from his own glass, letting his eyes wander over the slim, well-rounded body on the sofa across from him. He could remember every detail of its nakedness, every quiver of her taut little pussy around his sturdily-built cock. It made him just a little bit angry to see the contempt that Mrs. Cassidy seemed to have for him. It showed in her eyes, and then there was that thing that she had just said about money. As though he wouldn't have any idea what to do with a great sum of money if he had it! He didn't feel as sorry for her as before thinking of that, and of her unfriendly attitude toward him when he had helped her out that night, when she thought she might die if she did not have his own stiff cock lunging high into her rich little furlined pussy!
"What do you want from me!!!" Sylvie finally shouted out. The tape was going on and on, and the terrible compromising lewdness of her own voice was beginning to drive her crazy. Worse than that, the distinct noises… the all too explicit sounds of her own husband's brother Erick's hard cock rising steadily harder and harder into her moistly churning cunt. Oh God, it was too much to bear!!
"Why, I certainly don't care to take any of the Cassidy's money, Mrs.
Cassidy. The entire family has been good to me in that way. There's something else I'd like to have."
There was a long silence while Frank seemed to mull these words over in his mind, Sylvie downed the whole of her brandy, thankful for the burning warmth it created in her mouth and throat and then in her jittery stomach. She dared not speak. Her tongue felt thick and fuzzy in her mouth, and she longed for more brandy. Frank leaned forward as if anticipating her thoughts, and she wondered if she had been looking longingly at the bottle. He filled her glass again, this time to the very brim, and her hand trembled so as she lifted it to her parched lips that several drops fell across the front of her pink dress.
As she brushed her fingers across the wet spots, she could see the voluptuously large mounds of her breasts, and the all too well-defined protrusions of her nipples. She shivered as the brandy coursed down her throat this time, and then knew that all hope was lost when Frank began to clear his throat. She had hoped that the silence might go on forever, that he might never speak again the words which would tell her what she already knew. Yet, that was impossible of course… and he had already spoken before the words became clear in her head.
"I'm an old man, Mrs. Cassidy. When I left your employ because of my health, it occurred to me that I might never ever again know the kind of delights that you had bestowed upon me that one night! You were… uh… magnificent, if I may say so!" Frank's face was radiant as Sylvie looked at him, her own face ashen and her features strained by the events of the past few hours. "Since I know that you are prone to enjoy such things… and, I might add, you seemed to find me quite acceptable that night… I thought perhaps…"
"Never!" Sylvie cried out. But she was thinking of her husband Tim hard at work back at his office. She was thinking of his push for the nomination… of his bid for the presidency. The situation was more delicate and dangerous than she had thought, and it was all her fault!
Frank seemed disappointed, but undaunted by her reply, and she was alarmed when he went on talking as though she hadn't spoken. His mind has gone! she thought. He's crazy!
"I was drugged that night, Frank!" she cried. "You've got to understand that that had nothing to do with me… not the real me!" Sylvie realized that she was only partially telling the truth. It was true that she was drugged the night she had yelled down for Prank to come and help her; but as for the night with her husband's youngest brother-that spoiled brat Erick-she had not been drugged at all, not even drunk. But how could she explain that she had really been temporarily deranged. It didn't sound right, no matter what! If she complained to be temporarily unbalanced, that was as derogatory a thing for a senator's wife to be as being under the influence of a potent aphrodisiac. Erick had driven her to it with his lies and his taunting, and her own physical frustration had been brought on by her husband's lack of attentions. They were so happy together now, though, that she had trouble remembering how dreadful it had been when he had been so uninterested in her wifely charms!
"Perhaps you were drugged, Mrs. Cassidy," Frank was replying, "but I don't know if the columnist will understand that."
Sylvie sucked in her breath, her face flushed.
Frank reached forward to flick a switch that started the by-nowcompleted tape into rewind. Then he started it up again. Sylvie reached forward and grabbed the brandy bottle, pouring herself a stiff glassful. She took half the glass in one quick swallow, coughing slightly from the burning sensation in her throat.