Cheater's Anthology

Cheater's Anthology

Cheater's Anthology

The Type Prequel Series

The Type Prequel Series

1/34 - The Stalker Part 3

1/34 - The Stalker Part 3

Late June into Early July, 2012

Having never betrayed Garin, her good husband, or so much as wished to "step-out" once, the present reality was that Lyrou wanted to fuck Richard. Period. For her to hide that impulsive craving from Garin was a given, but for her to internally deny that desire to herself was not anywhere near mentally feasible. It was there, dominating her private thoughts and imagination.

But Richard hadn't texted Lyrou again. She felt a release from the unease of double-checking locks and worrying what he might ask. Oppositely, she felt a vacuum had been left by him, and it was larger than she would have estimated beforehand. Indeed, for such a brief duration knowing Richard, she felt a mawing cavity opening inside. When her phone buzzed she picked it up like an owl swiping up a mouse, quick and quiet, and when she saw it wasn't him a big part of her wished it was. Fine, she thought, it's done. It's just that, well, she wasn't done.

On Saturday June 30th, together with their baby Alan and Lyrou, Garin drove them across the border into Pennsylvania to buy a box of firecrackers, bottle rockets, and Roman candles to smuggle back into New Jersey, and they stopped in a forest preserve, Splitrock Reservoir, for a fishing-picnic and deer-spotting. They met and fished with his friend-since-boyhood Joseph there, who'd been camping and remained after they left. While they talked and celebrated their catches, Lyrou focused on Alan, helping him touch his small hands to the tail-flopping fish. But between that shared smiling and laughing she was there thinking more and more on Richard and if she would dare to see him again.

On Sunday July 1st, Lyrou went shopping for Garin's birthday gift. He had complained more than once on their cross-state trip how he had no privacy in his office downtown and was bothered to lug a briefcase full of documents and his laptop about, so she bought him a very nice spacious safe perfect for his work. She also bought the Independence Day meat he'd grill-up on the charcoal, and his birthday cake ingredients. She was excited that Alan would be old enough for cake, and she'd get a keepsake photo of his first bite. Sitting at their kitchen counter doing his work-after-work, Garin also thanked her for handling the agent and getting their condo sale wrapped up, "You're amazing. Hard to think we'll be out of here and into Edgewater in a couple weeks."

Lyrou, in her chef's apron and oven-mitt, returned his compliment two-fold, "You do everything, Garin, of course. How can you be prevented seeing your mother?"

Garin sympathetic, "You are." Meaning how she had been voluntarily cut from her birth-family, far on the other side of the Atlantic Ocean, to marry and live with him here.

She repeated herself, "You do everything." And gave him a light kiss-kiss, forehead and lips.

In the dark, in bed beside sleeping Garin, Lyrou thought about Richard again. She thought about when he had so abruptly stood, touched her hair, and turned to leave the subway donut shop. Lyrou recalled how she had to stay her own hand springing midway from grabbing him by his wrist to keep him.. if just a minute longer. With nothing but a soft stutter from her Richard had departed, veering left out the exit and seeming to float off into the train station foot traffic. She replayed it in her mind repeatedly, litigating herself, shouldn't she have grabbed his hand and kept him there, or was it for the best she said nothing and let him go? Non, non, non, it was crazy but she wished badly she had stood as he stood and seized his whole arm, self-abasing or not, that she had shamelessly pleaded on him, "Please don't leave now. You're the first one to talk and listen to the real me. I'd believed the real me was lost or never existed, but you reached deep into my core and pulled her out, and showed her to me. You brought me back to myself! I am resuscitated by you, I am alive again because of you!"

She had to see what he told her of his world with her own eyes, and she had to see Richard himself. There in the dark, phone and face under her blanket, she returned to Swashbuckler Productions pornographic homepage, then she clicked the "About" link, scrolled down, and found the address.

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Evening Monday July 2nd, 2012

Garin's boss, Mel, called while Garin was having dinner with Lyrou and Alan in the living room. Lyrou politely paused the baby's animation and listened as Garin spoke. "Absolutely, no... Wayne and I would be the wiser duo tomorrow than Wayne and Terry."

Lyrou knew what it meant, set her plate aside and began packing his carry-on. Garin speaking to Mel, lied, "No! I haven't even taken off my shoes." He stood from the couch, phone pressed to his ear, and gave a corporate chuckle, "I know! Spare the Tare, swear by the Gare. Alright, alright, gotta catch my flight." And he hung up, leaving his plate half-eaten and darting wolf-like into his bedroom to get dressed. He was flown out to O'Hare that night.

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Morning Tuesday July 3rd, 2012

Alan had daycare twice a week; Tuesdays and Thursdays. Lyrou dropped him off. Walking to her car, she called Garin to check in. He answered groggily, "Ah, babe, I'm.. squeezing in a nap. Please.. love you. Are you OK?"

Turning the ignition, "Oui. Sleep."

"Good." and he hung up.

Lyrou took a bus and then the subway to Bushwick, Brooklyn. She had worried it would take much longer, but she was pleased she had time to stop for an iced coffee and a brunch sandwich to consume on the go. Under the rainbow flags and creative businesses, into the LGBTQ yuppie enclave, she found Swashbuckler Productions. Entering she found the front desk as professional and sterile as any dentist's office. The secretary, "Can I help you?"

"Tell Richard that Lyrou is here, please. He's expecting me." she wondered if it was a lie.

"One moment." Rather than calling the secretary texted, waited a moment for the reply, and then flashing a smile at Lyrou, "3rd floor, he's aware you're coming up." gesturing to the elevator.

Coming out of the elevator she passed through a hallway with several offices; Talent Management, Casting, Production, Development, Editing, Administrative, Wardrobe & Cosmetics, Studio A, Studio B, Studio C, Studio D, Break Room, Legal, and Distribution. She passed several nondescript office workers as if she were in any IT or insurance company. All that really set it apart was the signed movie posters featuring characters in erotic dress and poses, the racially-charged ones catching her scrutiny; Anus Slaves Buck Broken, Black Baddies Be Bouncing, White Twink vs Black Bear, and I Have A Wet Dream. She glitched between shaking her head at the audacity and snickering. Then he appeared, "Hello."

She turned, "Richard."

She saw Richard approaching, but walking beside him carrying a clipboard was a beautiful blonde man, she recognized as the actor who played the husband in the barn film.

They stopped to greet Lyrou, Richard introduced them, "This is Nick. Nick, this is Lyrou."

Nick reached his hand out to take Lyrou's, "So, you're the reason I had my back and shoulders waxed."

"I am?" Lyrou guffawed.

"I kind of like it, going to do it before every shoot from now on." Nick smiled and patted himself on the shoulders.

Lyrou gushed, "I... I liked your performance. Bravo."

With that Nick stood a little prouder, "If she who called the tune is pleased by my pipe-playing, I'm pleased too." And with that Nick continued on his way, turning and pointing at Richard before going as if to gesture they both understood whatever it was they were discussing before Lyrou had appeared.

"It's strange to see him in-person. Like passing a celebrity." Lyrou watched him go.

Richard "They're all fucked-out. Nick and his girlfriend filmed about 5 movies each in 3 days. But I got another, Harper, she's coming in later tonight, she did 6 in 2 days."

Lyrou, sorry for them, "Why such a workload?"

"They're only available when they're available. They have private lives and real jobs to get back to. This is their film fast, get paid fast, get home fast parallel profession."

Lyrou saw on an adjacent wall framed photos she hadn't noticed until Nick had passed by them. She came nearer to look; two gentlemen embracing and kissing in a wedding, photos of them together boating, photos of them together in the studio, and also a photo of one in a US navy uniform. "Mike and Luke?"

Richard nodded, "Come with me." and he turned, leading her into the casting office.

An older woman working at her desk stopped to look up as they came in, "Hi Rich."

"Rach, this is Lyrou." Richard held his hand out in presenting her, as if she was a newly arrived part he'd ordered.

Rachel stood and approached, "Lyrou, pleasure to meet you. Will you be casting today?"

Lyrou's stomach knotted and her heart sank, "Casting?"

Richard lied, "That's today." Turning to Lyrou, "Normally you'd need to sign a stack of consents and releases, but I'll do your casting today and I trust our verbal agreement."

Rachel raised her eyebrows at the risk, Richard reassured her, "I know her, Rach."

Rachel raised her hands as if washing them of any culpability, and returned to her desk, "Then good luck, Lyrou."

Lyrou's nerves spiked with a lightness in her feet and a sweat gleam forming on her neck, she went along with it, "Oui? Oh, merci. Thank you."

Richard led Lyrou farther back into the Casting Office into a separate space, closing the door behind them. "You have the honor of being cast in the very same room I, when I first arrived in NYC, was cast in."

The windows were wide, with a picturesque view down Knickerbocker Avenue; its pedestrians, bars and foliage. There were couches in each corner of the room, and a great round white pouf. And then facing the window side was a video camera on a tripod. He took up his position behind the camera, "Shoes off, stand on the large Ottoman, face me."

She did as he asked, slipping her shoes off, then stepping up onto the centerpiece furniture. She faced the camera, arms at her sides and he took a few snaps. She had to ask, "What does casting entail?"

Nodding to himself, "It entails tail. Profile now." And she turned, allowing for a view of her bust and butt, their degree of projection.

"Turn and look outside." And so he took video of her from behind, the span of her hips, the narrowness of her waist. "Good. I need you in those same poses from those same angles, but nude."

She looked over her shoulder at him, "Nude? I don't know, I'm..."

"Nobody can see you through the windows." he promised.

She looked out at, not believing a focused eye would miss a naked woman here, "No, they must be able to see in here, can't they?"

Richard shook his head slowly, "All they see out there is a reflection of what we see from in here; lights, buildings, sky."

Turning back to him fast, her hair flipping, "You can see me through your LCD display." she was hesitant.

"Camera shy?" he taunted.

"I guess I'm not cut out for this line of work." she shrugged.

"How about this? I turn it off." And he pretended too obviously that he pressed the power button, while leaving it on. "Now it's my eyes only."

Playing along, "Are you sure you turned off the video camera?"

In a don't-you-believe-me voice, "It's definitely off. If it were on it would answer my voice command. Camera, pan up! Camera, pan left!" Gesturing that the camera, clearly still recording, hadn't moved at his request, "See? Off."

Lyrou exhaled through her nose, rolling her eyes in submission to the camera remaining on, "OK. I believe you. If you say it's off, then it must be off." And she peeled her blouse off, tossing it down onto a couch. She now stood in her black bra and black jeans.

Richard beheld, looking up at her, "Everything."

She unbuttoned her jeans and crouched to pull them off, then tossed them onto the couch with her blouse, "Isn't this enough?" and she stood straight.

Richard shook his head, "The underwear models don't dare step into my casting studio. Lose the bra and we might have an idea if you have a future in the wank bank fantasies of millions of men."

The fun of it dropped to give way to something more serious. She wasn't naked yet. Technically, she hadn't crossed that line. "How could you do this to women?"

He stopped a moment bewildered, his fingertip to his lip, "Do what? Why how?"

"This. My husband could never do this to me or any woman." she spoke nobly of her Garin.

Clasping his hands together in a muffled clap, "Women possess a different umwelt for me than for him. You do." he reasoned.

She wanted Richard to see her. Her hands on her hips, she looked this way and that, then gaze down, her hands slid up and behind her back to unhook her bra. She arched her shoulders together and caught her straps by her fingertips, pulling them down, catching her falling bra by squeezing her armpits tight. She looked at Richard as he kept unbroken eye contact, waiting to see her, his camera waiting to see her. She relaxed her rigid body and allowed her bra to slip down and off her arms, then concealing her breasts beneath her crossed forearms.

"Your bottoms, Lyrou." he reminded her, "All must go."

Covering her breasts with one arm, the opposite reached for her panties and by her thumb she snagged them. Crouching, she managed to pull them off, around her folded knees, and then off her ankles one by one. She stood, covering her lower part with her flat open hand, palm against her pubic hair. "That's it. I did it."

Richard approached. Gently taking her wrist in his big hand he pulled her coverage away and aside, he spied her revealed wiry black tuft, soft mons, and feminine cleft. Then by the same hand, he took her by her elbow and removed her arm from covering her breasts. She quivered with embarrassment, and collapsed into him to hide her nakedness from the video camera. He took her down from the Ottoman into his embrace, and buried his open mouth into her neck. She went slack and surrendered her body to him, her feet dangling a full foot from the floor. She thought of her feelings now, if they were like his when he was new at this, "Does this resemble your first casting, Richard?"

Laying her down upon a couch and stroking her hair, "I can make it so. Let's see? What did I do to impress them? Ah, I remember."

He drove his right hand between her thighs and pressed his middle and ring fingers together into her womanhood. She yelped "Ah!" And without hesitation he vigorously, almost violently, fingered her. The pressure was too much, but she was helpless to it. She grabbed onto the cushions, she grabbed onto him, she grabbed onto herself, and then with perfect timing he removed his hand and she gushed. Covering her face by hand and hair, she locked her knees together and experienced the after-climax, "That's too rough."

Richard wiped his hand off across her thigh, "You've seen nothing."

Hearing him unbuckling and unzipping, she snapped to and found him standing before her bare from the waist down, his erection ready. He pressed his glans to her lips, but she pressed them together and ever so subtly turned her face away. His hand atop her head, he most gently turned her head back to him, to confront what he had for her. Again, he pressed into her lips, the salt of him, the warmth, she let her mouth pop open and he entered. He was endowed such that only the first fraction of his length could be submerged, and her tongue was squeezed down and into the hollows of her cheeks by the thick mass of him.

Removing himself from her, lubed by her saliva, she breathed, and taking her by her shoulders he handled and turned her over onto her belly, her face in the couch cushions and her knees on the soft fur rug. Richard sighed in awe, seizing her ass cheeks in either hand, and taking heed at the womanly, matronly dimensions of her. "You're what brings down great men, none can decline this." And he breathed through his teeth, running his hands over her backside and hips. Then wrapping his long-fingered grip about her waist, he pulled her back into him, and he entered her.

Now in this second, Lyrou thought, she had just now stepped over the demarcation line. Everything up to this point was a mere precursor to the true violation, but here was the act itself. She became hyperconscious of the camera on them, this crossing-over was filmed as on stage. That one camera felt like a hundred men watching her, a thousand, non... as uncountably many men out there in the world as might click on a video of her being fucked. Fucked like a gonzesse X, like a starlette du sexe, a shameless, moaning, wet and bare paid body taking a cock! She lowered her head and looked past her swinging breasts and took in sight of his cock and balls slamming into her. Then arching her back and raising her head, she twisted to look back at him, to his flexing abs, his shoulders and then his carved arms, his ancient blue pillager tattoos, his lips. "Kiss me Richard!"

He laughed loud and deep, not breaking in his thrusts and gyrations. In his great, lofty dimensions he leaned forward atop her, directed her chin with his finger and thumb, and kissed her as she wished. Richard adjusted Lyrou into 3 positions that kept her most intimate part exposed to the camera, cinematic; open legged spoon, Swiss ball blitz, and with his exceptional height stood and hoisted her up into the iron chef. Face in his neck, she looked down his 6'7" frame over his shoulder to view his butt as he bounced her against him, his wide hands full of her ass cheeks. It was in that position she felt the most consistent clitoral rubbing against him, and his dick angled into and pressed her g-spot best. She wrapped her arms around him, her cleavage in his face, closed her eyes and came. Mumbling into his ear, "I'm sorry."

Bending down, he set her on the round Ottoman, "For what?"

"I should have screamed. For the.." she flick-pointed to the camera.

Richard shook his head, "You're still thinking about what men want to see and hear."

He stood positioned to get a blowjob, she began to stroke him with her right, her left reaching behind to squeeze on his butt and thigh, "Not men, really, just you."

"I want to see your eyes looking up at me with my dick stuffed in your mouth." He looked to the camera, it had a perfect side-shot of Lyrou leaning in, mouth parting, allowing him onto her lips, and then looking up at him as she pressed him to the back of her tongue.

Feeling performative now, Lyrou made the moaning, slurping, and breathing sounds she'd seen the actresses express binge watching the Swashbuckler Productions site. Richard took her enthusiasm as her invitation to ask what he'd almost kept to himself, "Are you going to kiss your husband with this mouth?"

Lyrou stopped a moment, looked up at him, and seeing his grin, she did her best to top him, "If you cum in my mouth, today I'll go home and when my husband comes through the front door.. and before whatever he's doing, before I say a word, I'll kiss him."

She gave his glans a kiss, she continued, "I'll give him a long French kiss, comme il se doit, and he won't know where my mouth has just been, that inside had been this dick."

Richard added, "He'll know right then how lucky he is to have you." And he pulled her head onto him, two fistfuls of her hair, taking control and using her mouth aggressively. His glans pressed into her cheeks, mashed and slid against her tongue, and feeling herself being used so, Lyrou strummed her fingers against her clit. As she climaxed Richard burst hot and wet into the roof of her mouth, withdrew and left a white spattering on her lower lip and chin. She looked this way and that for a place to spit, and finding none, cupped her hands together and spit into her palms.