Content Warning: This story contains depictions of sexual acts.  If it 
is either illegal or inappropriate for you to be reading this, please 
stop now.  Or at least before you come to the good parts. 

Author: Miles Naismith
Copyright ( c )  1998 Mnaismith@hotmail.com
NOTE: The rights to this story retained by me have subsequently been 
assigned to Jane Urquhart, a.k.a. janey98@hotmail.com, and any requests
for licenses to use this material should be directed to her.  Miles Naismith,
mnaismith@hotmail.com 

Distribution Rights: May be distributed freely without modification on
Usenet, Usenet II, not-for-profit web sites, not-for-profit ftp sites,
and news archival services which offer free public access to archived
articles. 

Note:  Now that Sandman has broken the code of silence, I thought I 
might tell of my encounter with Janey Urquhart . . . I expect she will 
deny it, since it involves things she says do not interest her.  Unlike 
Sandman, I make no cute declarations of alternate realities or closed 
time loops.  In fact, I may be posting to the wrong group, because it is 
not a story.  More like a news report.  After all, it's all true.  Every 
word.  Trust me.  Have I ever lied to you?
                                               Miles 


     
                         JANEY'S BET
                         Through Miles' Eyes

     We were in the Trident for lunch.  Jackie was even eating an omelet 
with yellow raisins.  It was patently absurd, but who was I to argue 
with Jackie's renewed interest in adventure following her discovery of 
some of the good erotic stories available on the net.  I had thought the 
juvenile, pedophile and misogynistic content of most of the stories (not 
to mention the spam)  would have caused her to turn her nose up in 
disdain, never to look again.  Then she discovered some of the women 
authors. She liked Helen's page of seduction stories and Taria's 
hypnotic storytelling, but, like me, she was smitten by Janey Urquhart.  
Hence the Trident.

     I had business in Boston, and when Jackie suggested leaving the 
kids with the grandparents so that we could have some time to ourselves, 
it sounded like Heaven (not my usual reaction to Boston.)  Little did I 
know that we would be haunting the locations in Janey's stories, but the 
effect on Jackie's libido was quite satisfactory.  Although our sex life 
was satisfying, she hadn't shown this level of giggly excitement and 
playfulness for many years.  

     Analysis and rationality being the stock in trade of my profession, 
I had told her that the rampant paranoia of the times would preclude any 
woman who published erotic stories on the web from actually showing up 
at the locations depicted in the stories. I told her that Janey was 
probably short, dark and big breasted in real life, or, the web being 
what it is, even a man.  In any event, it was certain we would never see 
her.  Jackie's intellect acknowledged this, but her emotions (like mine) 
wanted to believe, and here we were.

     "There she is!"

     I jerked my head up from my food and followed Jackie's eyes.  Sure 
enough, a tall, fit blonde and a busty brunette had just entered.  
Coincidence, I thought, or maybe someone wanting to capitalize on Janey 
being, how did she say it, flavor du jour by impersonating her.  But I 
didn't say it.  No need to burst the bubble.

     "Let's ask them to join us," said my wife, predictably.

     "Jackie, whoever that is is here with a friend.  Let's give them 
their privacy."

     We watched for a few minutes until the brunette left.  The blonde 
ordered, and then headed for the ladies room.  Immediately my wife 
followed.  She returned with a big grin,  "It is her, and she is going 
to join us. 

     When the blonde Artemis walked over to our table, Jackie introduced 
us, "Janey, this is my husband, Miles.  He knows who you are already."

     "You wrote me a fan letter, didn't you?  Not many guys named 
Miles," Janey said smiling.  She was probably smiling at the slackjawed 
look surprise on my face as I realized it really was Janey.  I had 
written a short bit of praise after the January story.  After an 
uncomfortable moment of incompetence, I finally let go of her hand and 
squeaked out, "Yes, that's me.  Please join us."

     She sat gracefully in the proffered chair, while Jackie caught the 
waiter's eye.  He brought over the omelet with yellow raisins that he 
was carrying.  The three of us talked for nearly an hour, although I was 
bemused enough that I only remember bits and pieces: her two kids, our 
two kids, school, shopping in Boston, but none of what I really wanted 
to discuss.  The end of the conversation was blazed into my memory, 
however, when I realized the Janey had accepted Jackie's dinner 
invitation for her husband and herself two days hence on Friday.

     That night in bed the conversation went: "Do you suppose . . ."  
"Probably not, we're older." "Not that much." "OK for you, you are 
younger than me and still look like early thirties, but I'm fifteen 
years older.  Too much."  "But men age more gracefully." "I'm not going 
to hold my breath.  Besides, they are only stories."  "But what if . . . 
should we?"  "Would you be OK with it?"  "<sigh>Yes . . . I think so . . 
. maybe."  Then we had the best sex we'd had in months.

     I had work to keep me busy during the day on Thursday and Friday, 
and a wild woman on Thursday night after another conversation of half 
finished sentences.  I think Jackie shopped.  Well, I did too.  I 
returned to the Trident and bribed the waiter to bring me a baggie of 
those aphrodisiac raisins for later when we were home.

     Finally the waiting was over, and we rode our cab in nervous 
silence to the club where we had agreed to meet for dinner.  Jackie 
*had* shopped. She wore a new black dress made of some soft clingy 
material that came up to her neck in the front, and had absolutely no 
back.  She certainly was not wearing a bra, and I did not see any panty 
lines either.  Besides the fact that I
thought she looked sexy as hell, the attitude implied by the outfit was 
intoxicating.  I had to concentrate on remembering obscure formulae to 
be able to walk her into the club.

     When the self-described plain Jane was shown to our table, I noted 
envy in every male pair of eyes (and jealousy in some of the females) as 
they followed her path to our table.  The dress was Chinese looking, red 
with dragons and things embroidered on it, with a the typical high 
buttoned neck and an atypical slit up the side to mid-thigh.  Sandman 
had said she had good legs, but his words had not prepared me for the 
reality.  Bob was wearing clothes.  I think. 

     I was a little more graceful with introductions this time, and we 
settled in for a leisurely dinner.  Bob was easy to talk to, and the 
four of us got on well.  A dance band began to play half way through the 
meal, and soon we were dancing with our wives.  After a couple of 
dances, we switched.  When the next slow dance started, I admit I felt a 
little uncomfortable.  I was less than two inches shorter, but cultural 
conditioning is strong.  I had visions of onlookers coming over to ask 
for autographs thinking we were that tax lawyer and his blonde wife on 
L. A. Law.  Janey did not seem perturbed, (more practice in this 
situation, I guess,) but did not protest when I suggested we sit and 
talk for a while.

     Bob and Jackie seemed quite content to remain on the dance floor.  
Janey and I finally got to discuss her writing, my desire to write, and 
eroticism.  It was exhilarating to be able to listen to a woman's point 
of view on these subjects freely expressed.  So many women, including my 
wife, do not seem comfortable revealing what they really think.

     All too soon Bob and Jackie returned and good-naturedly ribbed us 
about being so deep in conversation when we should be partying.  Jackie 
said, "I want to dance fast, and these guys are doing a Lester Lanin 
imitation.  Let's either go to another club or back to condo.  I know 
Jerry has some good CD's there."  

     In short order it was decided that Janey and Bob would drive us 
back to the condo where we were staying.  It belonged to a classmate of 
mine from college who was out of town until Sunday. Bob and Jackie were 
feeling no pain, so Janey ended up designated driver, with me in front 
to give directions.  The car was noisy (that muffler would not have 
passed inspection back home,) but the occasional murmur of conversation 
and the odd giggle penetrated to the front seat. I wondered what would 
happen when we got there.

     We had skipped dessert to dance, so I cobbled together some fruit 
and cheese to accompany the late harvest reisling we liberated from 
Jerry's wine closet.  Jackie put on the music, and soon she and Bob were 
dancing on the balcony, magnificently oblivious to the potential 
audience around them in the other condos.  

     As we looked that direction Janey said, "I haven't seen that 
'hunting' look in Bob's eyes since we were dating.  I don't think he was 
the hunter with Beth.  Looks like Jackie has given him back the thrill 
of the chase."

     "We haven't really agreed on what would happen if you two gave it a 
chance, so there really is a chase, or at least a seduction there.  God, 
I envy him."

     "Shall we let them have each other?"

     "Makes me excited to think about it.  But it kind of leaves you 
with the short end of the stick.  Even a social illiterate like myself 
can see that I don't give you the empty feeling you have described."

     "Miles, you're nice.  I know I will enjoy being with you."

     "Ah, but Janey, this is my favorite fantasy.  I've wondered about 
you since I read the first three paragraphs of your first story.  
Physically you exceed my expectations beyond my imagination.  I know you 
had Sandman rate you at only several in your Trip story, but my eyes 
register at least 832 millihelens when I look at you. I . . ."

     "Pardon me, millihelens?"

     "Oh you know.  If Helen had the face that launched a thousand 
ships, then one ship would require . . ."

     "I see.  Thank you, I think."

     Suddenly Jackie and Bob were there.  I jumped.  I hate it when 
people sneak up on me.  Jackie said, "Miles, Bob and I . . ."

     I smiled and said, "I knew earlier.  I love you."  She flushed and 
smiled, and then they were walking down the hall.  I stared, hypnotized 
and my pants were suddenly very tight.

     "That is the most amazing smile," said Janey, bringing my attention 
back to reality.

     "It is the only reason I had the nerve to ask her out.  She gave it 
to me the first time we met and I did not want to think I'd never see it 
again.  But back to us.  We need to do at least something, I think.  I 
expect Jackie would feel guilty if I didn't participate in this somehow, 
and you seem to feel the same despite the lack of chemistry for you.  
But I don't want my fantasy to be *nice*.  I want it to be special.  
Memorable. Since my pheromones aren't right, maybe we can manufacture 
some excitement situationally.  I've thought about it since Wednesday, 
and I finally concluded we could try an erotic story cliche, 'the bet.'  
Cut the cards, two out of three."

     Janey looked amused.  "A cliche, alright. Doesn't bode well for 
your debut as a writer if your work is derivative.  What would we bet?"

     "Something risky.  And tell it to Shakespeare.  Anyway, when I read 
your stories, my sense was that you saw yourself, or rather your 
character, as always in control.  Even in Janey's February, when Beth 
was directing the action, the sense of control was strong.  The thought 
of giving up control scares me.  Jackie is the same way.  We've never 
tried even light bondage despite our deep trust for each other.  On the 
other hand, putting it at risk is an infernally, and I use the word 
advisedly, seductive fantasy.  Are you willing to take the chance?"

     She sat silently for a moment, staring at me with a measuring 
glance.  "You have obviously been thinking about this.  You must have 
something more detailed in mind."

     "Well, in the unlikely event that I ever got the chance, I planned 
to negotiate.  The only thing I have thought about is my fantasy . . . 
but I do not want to scare you off."

     "No waffling.  Tell me what you want if you win."

     "I am not into pain, giving or receiving.  I'd rule that out.  I do 
not think humiliation is sexy either, but I do lean toward at least some 
outward sign of having given up control.  In my fantasy, I would 
blindfold you, bind your hands, and masterfully drag orgasm after orgasm 
from your body by every means I could think of for the length of time of 
the forfeit.  The 'masterfully' part represents my ego's wishful 
thinking, but that would be my plan.  I expect we would have safe words 
and would agree that the loser could quit at any time, being bound to 
continue only by honor.  What would you want?"

     "Oddly enough, I've thought about a situation similar enough to 
this to be adapted.  I think it was Bronwen who did a story where her 
husband gave her three studs for Mother's day, and she used them to 
clean her house.  If I decide to bet, I would expect you to massage my 
feet, my back and my face after washing me gently during my long hot 
bath, giving me a manicure and pedicure, and generally doing whatever I 
want to pamper me.  If there ends up being sex involved, it would 
probably not involve your pleasure.  In fact, I'd raise your ante to 
include one action payable on demand by the winner at anytime in the 
future, provided its reasonable and agreed in advance. <laughing> Makes 
me think of Rosie O'Donnell in that awful bondage comedy when her reply 
to the slave boy's inquiry as to what he could do for her was 'Paint my 
house.'  You said some outward sign of forfeit -- what would that be."

     "Well, juvenile as it sounds, in my fantasy it would be removing 
your pubic hair."

     She looked thoughtful.  "You know the penalty would be the same for 
you."

     Suddenly I was not so sure the benefits of winning were worth the 
risk of losing.  The rest of it was easy to take, but no pubic hair?  I 
did not know how I could do my swimming and golf conveniently without 
showering at the club, and the only time work and the kids left for 
regular exercise was lunch time.  What do you tell your friends when 
they see you bald.  For her it would be sexy.  For me it would be 
impossible to explain.

     "Why Miles, you look a little pale.  Not going to chicken out are 
you."  The woman positively smirked.

     Manhood demanded that I overcome my fears.  "You're on.  Let's 
decide the action to be taken later."

     "Whoa there.  I haven't said I'd agree, but I do know my action: 
you must send me a love sonnet and flowers at my office on my birthday.  
From a secret admirer."

     "Janey, I'd probably be willing to do that even without the bet.  
But I read stories too.  Perhaps you remember one called Freebie by 
dierdre?  Where the heroine gives her husband some coupons good for an 
enthusiatic blow job on demand?  One coupon?"

     Now she looked taken aback.  She sat there calculating.  Finally 
she said, in a low voice, "We have to take the babysitter home in three 
hours.  Two hours of control.  Get the cards." 

     A jack to her nine.  One.  A jack to her queen.  Oh shit, I could 
lose. A queen to her three.  My heart beat like a triphammer.  She 
blushed.  My first command:
     
     "Strip for me, please."

     Blushing even more furiously, Janey's hand went to the tiny buttons 
at the neck and along the shoulder of the dress, and then to a hidden 
zipper under her arm.  Red silk and dragons puddled at her feet.  
Watching her breasts push forward as she worked, I noted that this bra 
fastened in the back.  She closed her eyes and pushed down her panties, 
stepping out of them and her shoes at the same time.  I couldn't believe 
it as she stood before me, gloriously nude.  She had described herself 
as slightly overweight, but that was not what I saw.  To be sure, no one 
would mistake her for Kate Moss, for which I thanked God.  Instead she 
had the smooth stretched muscles of a swimmer with just the right amount 
of flesh to make her look rounded and feminine.  Her breasts were just 
right for her; D cups would have seemed incongruous on her athletic 
frame.  In a rare moment of insight, I had pegged her right when we met: 
a blonde Artemis.  

     "Come sit in my lap and give me a kiss."

     Still blushing, she did just that. Her blush reached the tops of 
her gorgeous white breasts.  When she kissed me, she had to bend down.  
I didn't care.  Her lips were warm and soft, but her back was tense.  I 
took pity on her.

     "Janey, say the word and I will relieve you of your obligation.  
You were brave to agree, but I still want it to be exciting, not 
dreadful.  At this point even vanilla sounds unbearably pleasurable."

     "Miles, I'm not sure I like this role, but I made the bet.  Anyway, 
even if I'm a little scared, I also feel this moth to the flame sort of 
attraction.  Tell me the safe word."

     "The safe word that means cease and desist, to end everything, will 
be for you to say your full name.  If I do something you don't like, but 
not bad enough to quit, say 'red light' and I'll consider whether to 
continue.  Now let's go to the guest room.  The computer's there and 
we'll use it to make the coupon."

     I stood her in front of the full length mirror and told her to etch 
a memory of her curly delta into her brain, for it would look quite 
different when she next saw it.  I then went to the computer and fiddled 
with the keyboard, typing randomly.  After an appropriate interval, I 
printed to the color printer a coupon with gold filigreed edges and a 
serious looking font that I had made up the day before.  It said, "I, 
the undersigned Janey Urquhart, do hereby promise to perform on demand 
for the bearer one enthusiastic session of oral sex to climax.  I 
reserve the right to postpone performance if, at the time of the demand, 
performance would result in a public nuisance or might be witnessed by 
minors."  I handed it to Janey with a pen.  She looked at me with wide 
eyes, hesitated, and then signed it.  I put it in my pocket.

     Janey had not been wearing pantyhose, or any hose, so I opened 
Jackie's suitcase and retrieved a pair of her pantyhose.  I stood before 
Janey silently, until she lifted her wrists.  I tied them snug, but not 
too tight, and had her sit on the edge of the bed.  I saw her glance at 
the condoms I had put on the headboard as she sat.  Lucky for me, Jerry 
was a well prepared bachelor.  As I reached back into Jackie's bag for 
her sleep mask, I deliberately fumbled  while Janey tested  her bonds, 
letting her realize that there was plenty of slack to let one hand untie 
the other.  I doubted she realized how hard it is to untie a knot in 
hosiery.  I looped a belt through the pantyhose and the headboard, 
stretching her arms above her head as she lay back on the bed.  She was 
tense once again as I slipped the sleep mask over her eyes.

     "Time to get rid of this," I said, fluffing her soft lower curls.

     "Red light," came the quick response.

     "Sorry, Janey," said I, "I'll quit if you want, but this was 
expressly part of the bet.  You need to say your name to stop now."

     She looked like she considered doing just that, but didn't say 
anything for a long moment.

     "Stay very still please.  And while I work, you might think about 
that coupon.  You may have noticed that it is payable to bearer.  I 
could give it to Jerry . . . or maybe to Beth . . ."

     With some scissors from my overnight kit, I trimmed away the cute 
little ringlets.  I put one curly lock in an envelope with Janey's name 
on it.  Later I slipped it into her purse.  Then I applied some cream my 
wife uses on her legs and bikini line.  She says it is very gentle, and 
the skin stays soft and hairless for about a month.  I was careful to 
keep it away from her lips, but I took every opportunity to tease and 
caress the area around her mons and the insides of her thighs as I 
applied it.  She tried very hard to be still, thinking, I suppose, that 
I was going to shave her, but she quivered at my touch.  She seemed 
surprised when I wiped the stuff off after a few minutes, washed her 
gently with a damp, warm towel, and pronounced her done.

     Pushing her thighs apart gently, I stared at the blindingly white 
skin and beautifully shaped lips which were revealed by my tonsorial 
efforts.  I don't think she really believed it was done until I glided 
my fingers with no resistance over the smooth skin where the curls used 
to be. Her blush reached her nipples this time.  She looked good enough 
to eat, to coin a phrase.

     Remembering her stories, I started licking around the outside of 
her breast, slowly spiraling in to the nipple.  Moving to her other 
breast, I kissed only the nipple in the secret way that Continental 
sophisticates make ladies swoon when they kiss women's hands.  (I once 
shipped with a Belgian lieutenant exchange officer who the Compte de 
something back in his home.)

     With feathery touches and the lightest of kisses, I started working 
up her legs.  I pushed them apart gently as I approached the top.  I 
teased all around her center until she was bucking up, trying to bring 
herself to my mouth.  Placing one thumb lightly on her anus (I loved the 
little flinch), I slid a finger into her and sucked her clitoris into my 
mouth.  Then I did my best to imitate a vibrator with my tongue.

     In a very short while her vaginal muscles spasmed and I heard the 
incoherent sounds of orgasm.  Now I love to come myself, but causing an 
all out orgasm is every bit as much of a trip. These were all out, as 
she kept going.  Finally the orgasms died out and I could tell she was 
so sensitive that she wanted me to take my face away.  Instead I tickled 
her underarms as I kept licking.  She couldn't quite speak through the 
bursts of laughter, but she really jerked and struggled with her bonds.  
I'd have a bruise the next day where one heel caught me.  Then she came 
again, for what seemed to be a literal minute.  I took my hands and face 
away and breathed a sigh of relief.  It would have been too deflating if 
she hadn't responded.  I turned her over on her stomach.  Time for her 
reward.

     I poured some massage oil in the hollow of her back.  With long 
deep strokes I began to massage her the way Jackie liked it, mentally 
cursing Jerry for choosing this awful strawberry fragrance.  After all, 
how was a manly dominant supposed to keep his submissive in the proper 
frame of mind when she smelled like dessert.  She stayed tense for a 
while, then finally relaxed into the mattress.  She actually moaned a 
small moan of pleasure when I started on her feet.  I don't know what 
she had done all day, but she seemed to enjoy the foot massage as much 
as her orgasm.  After a few minutes, I began to work my way back up her 
legs, spreading them again as I did the inside thighs.  Loading up with 
oil, I worked her buttocks, and then slid down the enticing valley.  I 
poured a little of the oil between her cheeks, and caught it at her bare 
mons, sliding it back the length of that valley to her cute little 
pucker.  I kept up my attentions until her hips began bucking and those 
vaginal muscles tried to squeeze my fingers again.

     Now it was my turn.  I raised her hips until she was on her knees 
at the edge of the bed.  I walked to the headboard and ripped the foil 
on a condom next to her ear so she would know of its use.  Then I slowly 
rubbed my erection up the length of her valley, resting it gently atop 
her anus. 

     "You know the plot practically cries out for this," I said.

     "Oh God no!  I *don't do* that.  It's not a story! Don't, please!"

     I pressed ever so slightly, then quickly moved down and slid into 
her wet vagina in one slick, well oiled stroke.  I swear she came on 
that first stroke, perhaps from relief.  I am embarrassed to say that I 
did too, but I was so excited at having Janey that I stayed rock hard 
and continued to stroke.  When she came again, so did I.  I let her fall 
forward in exhaustion.  Only later did I realize that she had not used 
the safe word when I had been placed higher up.  Oh well.

     Time to raise the stakes.  "Hey, that sounds like someone at the 
door.  Maybe Jerry's back.  I'd better go see."

     Turning over she pleaded, "Don't leave me tied up."

     "I'll be right back.  Just rest a second.  We still have twenty 
minutes, and maybe I'll bring back a friend."  I quickly walked out.  I 
hadn't heard the door, but I wanted to plant the seed.  What I had heard 
was Jackie and Bob going to it in the living room.  Bob had Jackie bent 
over the breakfast bar as he rocked in and out.  I tapped his shoulder 
and asked him to follow me.  I told him it would be worth it, but to 
keep silent.

     As we walked into the room, Janey whispered "Miles?"  I nodded at 
her crotch, and Bob's eyes widened.  He walked quietly over and began to 
push Janey's legs apart, one hand at each knee.  Soon he was inches away 
from her bare mound, and then he was eating her.

     I bent over her head and kissed her lips.  It took her a moment to 
register, then, in a panicky voice "MILES?"  "You're ok, relax and enjoy 
it." "But who . . ." "Jerry, Bob, Jackie, does it really matter just 
now?"  She moaned.

     Again I ripped the foil of a condom by her ear.  She stiffened, but 
did not say the safe word.  I threw the unused condom over my shoulder 
as Bob moved up to mount her.  As he slowly entered her, I pushed back 
her blindfold and walked out to the living room.  I heard her ask him to 
untie her; he answered "Not just yet, naughty wench."  Then just the
sounds of sex.

     I walked to my wife, preceded by a painfully hard penis, and pushed 
her over to breakfast bar, just as Bob had done.  "Noisy, aren't they?" 
I asked as I plunged into Jackie.  "Took your . . . Viagra, . . .  did 
you . . . old man?"she grunted.

     While Bob and Jackie shared a lengthy good bye kiss a short while 
later, Janey bent down to my ear, still smelling of strawberries, and 
whispered, "Well Miles, it certainly wasn't * nice*."  A perfunctory  
kiss and then they were away.  I wondered what Bob would do when he 
found the coupon I had put in his wallet while he was still in with 
Janey.  My email address is at the top of this story.  I hope he will 
write and tell me.