Message-ID: <54789asstr$1161839403@assm.asstr.org>
From: Sir Render <i_am_sirrender@nospam.yahoo.com>
User-Agent: Xnews/2006.06.28
NNTP-Posting-Date: Thu, 26 Oct 2006 00:06:13 EDT
Subject: {ASSM} What Some People Will Do - Chapters 22-23 (slow FF-kiss) {SirRender}
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Date: Thu, 26 Oct 2006 01:10:03 -0400
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*****
This is a work of fiction.  All characters are of no age because they 
are not real people.  This story is intended to be read and enjoyed 
by consenting adults only.  Do not read this story if it is illegal 
for you to do so.  The author will not be responsible for your 
actions.  Do not allow anyone under the age of consent to read this 
story.  Again the author will not be responsible for your actions.  
Please do not treat this as a guide for real life; it is only a work 
of fiction.  Do not read this story if descriptions of nudity, sex 
and sexual situations offend you.  Do not repost this story in any 
way which requires payment for access and please do not remove the 
copyright notice when reposting this story.  Thank you.
*****

What Some People Will Do
(C)2000, 2006 by Sir Render (i_am_sirrender@yahoo.com as of October 
2006)

Part 6

Chapter 22

The night had been a blur to Brenda.  After encouraging an eighteen 
year old to ejaculate on her back by wriggling her bare ass against 
his cock and guiding him in fondling her breasts, she had gone into a 
dreamlike state of pent up sexual need and brought herself to three 
incredible orgasms while thinking about another woman.  Somewhere in 
there she had drifted off to sleep and when she awoke her husband Jim 
was sitting on the bed beside her tracing the contours of her breasts 
and belly.  She thought she remembered him kissing her lightly on the 
lips before leading lying down beside her and turning on the 
television at the foot of their queen size bed.  They had then 
watched the premier episode of the new and improved "What Some People 
Will Do" show of which Brenda was the star.

The past month had gone by so fast, with Brenda doing more and more 
crazy things both in private and in public that she could not, now, 
remember which bits had been show on television that night.  All that 
she could remember was being embarrassed by the sight of herself 
going around nude and partially nude in public, playing with herself, 
having a neighborhood kid (of legal age but still eleven years her 
junior) rubbing her naked body while she laid out in the sun.  Then 
there were Jim's arms around her waist, his hands occasionally making 
their way up to cup her firm C cup breasts or down to tickle her 
furry pubic mound.  His lips on the back of her neck, the side of her 
neck, her cheeks, her earlobes and her shoulders were warm and 
reassuring and he whispered to her that he loved her and that she was 
the most beautiful woman in the world.

The pork loin Brenda had marinated the previous afternoon for their 
romantic dinner had to be thrown away because she had never made it 
back into the kitchen to bake it.

Today was Thursday and Brenda was woken bright and early at 9:30 by 
the receptionist down at Channel 69 Studios.  The owner of the studio 
wanted to meet with Brenda as soon as possible, so she rose and made 
her way to the shower.  Even though it was the last place she'd been 
before going to bed, she was all sticky and sweaty and in need of 
another hot shower.  The water felt wonderful running over her head 
and shoulders, down the valley of her cleavage and down her back and 
over her firm, round ass.  She was still somewhat dreamlike as she 
thoroughly bathed herself.  Stepping out and drying herself off with 
a fluffy, white towel, Brenda tried to think what to wear to the 
studio.  What if the show had not gone over well?  Would she be 
fired?  If so, she should certainly not wear anything sexy.  But if 
the show had gone well, it would be an act of good faith to arrive in 
something slinky and revealing.  Besides, they'd probably want her to 
immediately start working on some new material.

Then she remembered the woman she'd encountered at the gas station 
the previous afternoon.  Wynona.  She had made a lunch date with 
Wynona.  Should she keep it?  Would Wynona keep it?  She thought 
probably not, but a part of her mind which had never been active 
before told her she could not risk not going.  She remembered again 
how light and delicate the younger woman's touch had been when she 
caught Brenda from falling in the gas station's driveway.  Absent-
absentmindedly Brenda's hands moved to her breasts and began ever-so-
lightly circling her nipples.  After several minutes she caught sight 
of herself in the bathroom mirror and noticed how stiff and pointy 
her nipples had become.  She hadn't been aroused like that since her 
first time with one of the defensive men of her high school football 
team.  That had turned into one fiasco after another throughout the 
rest of their short fling but she knew that Wynona was nothing like 
that brute.  This was an entirely different kind of arousal; one of 
silky, electric feminine desire.

She made up her mind to dress for Wynona and to hell with what the 
studio expected her to wear today.

Rummaging in her dresser, Brenda found a top she hadn't worn in 
several years.  It was gray and somewhat thick fabric with a plunging 
v-neck which looked like one side sloped down and around to tie in 
the back.  It was, in fact, a pull-over top but she liked the 
appearance that it might come undone any minute and expose her body.  
She then found a knee length skirt with one slit almost up to her hip 
on one side.  It also gave the appearance that she might come out of 
it at a moment's notice but with the same security which only she 
would know that it was in fact a very sturdy, completely sewn-
together piece.  She pondered not wearing any panties but thought 
better of it and put on a pair of lacy pink ones which didn't even 
come to the tops of her hips.

Twelve minutes spent in front of the bathroom mirror plucking 
eyebrows and applying foundation and various other bits of makeup and 
she looked like a downright stunner.

Last came her favorite pair of black sandals with three inch heels 
and straps around her ankles.

The drive to the studio took only a few minutes as traffic was light 
this time of day.  Upon arriving in the waiting area she was 
immediately escorted into the station owner's office.  Arnold 
Griffith greeter her with a wide smile and a hearty handshake.  
"Please be seated, Mrs. Young."  A few moments later Thomas 
Hardcastle, the producer and director of her show, entered and took a 
seat beside her.

"Have you seen the first episode?" Mr. Griffith asked of Brenda.

"Yes, my husband and I watched it last night."  A lump began to rise 
in her throat.  This would be it; the make or break moment for the 
show, her career and her eighty thousand dollar salary.

"Well, what did you think?"

"What I thought isn't important," she said, trying to dodge the small 
talk and get to the reason for being brought into the owner's office 
the morning after the show.

"Your opinion does matter," Thomas said.  "It's your show."

Mr. Griffith laughed and sat back in his leather chair.  "I think 
Brenda is probably just a little nervous.  Alright then, let me tell 
you what your viewers thought of the show."  He picked up a sheet of 
paper from his desk and read, "the station received three dozen phone 
calls last night and I personally got half a dozen calls at home from 
our advertisers and cable carriers.  One of them was from an angry 
woman complaining that her husband was glued to the television 
watching you and not paying attention to her.  But all of the others 
were people asking for more information about the show.  They want to 
know about you.  They almost all want to know if you'll do a scene 
with them."  He chuckled at that.

"Uh... no," Brenda said with a look of disdain.

"They want to know where you'll be doing your next shoots and if they 
can come watch.  They want to see you on TV every night.  They want 
to see you in costumes; in the nude, in public, in your home, in the 
shower, in the pool, in cars, buses and trains.  They want to see you 
with men, they want to see you with women and they want to see you 
with strangers.

Brenda and Thomas shared a knowing glance on that last bit, since she 
had been involved with several people other than her husband during 
the past week or filming.

"We also got favorable ratings with our research group and in pay-
per-view sales.  However..."  The air was still for several seconds 
as Brenda waited to hear the rest.  Finally ending her torment, Mr. 
Griffith continued, "ratings could have been better.  When you 
appeared the second time on our reality show test run, we got 
phenomenal ratings.  Last night was not as high."

"Part of it," Thomas put in, "is that we only had a week to get 
everything up and running for this show, so we had very little time 
to promote it.  Ratings will probably pick up next week now that 
people know the show is on.  But I've been reviewing the tapes we've 
made with you over the last week and a lot of it is very much the 
same kind of thing.  We would like -- and this is purely at your 
discretion per your contract -- we would like you to try and push the 
boundary a little more each week.  We'd like to see you doing more 
things; more daring things; more sexual things."

"And our audience seems to concur," Arnold Griffith said, pushing his 
sheet of paper in front of Brenda.  "They went wild when they saw you 
giving your husband a blow job on the street corner in your first 
appearance.  There was nothing like that in last night's show.  Now 
in your contract you did say that you are up for performing acts of 
sex on camera.  But we'd like to take that slow."

"But not too slow," Thomas added.

"Right.  Sooner or later the FCC is going to decide to regulate what 
we're doing.  For now we're okay because we're just a small cable 
company with pay-per-view status.  But eventually someone's going to 
cry foul and demand that we censor or tone down our programming.  
Before that happens, we'd like to get as many devoted viewers as 
possible and the only way to do that is to turn up the heat more and 
more each week.  Maybe start with oral sex with your husband but 
within a week or two move onto showing full intercourse.  And later 
add another person or make it a group.  Your viewers are already 
asking for it and we're in a position that, for now, we can oblige 
them.  But I don't want to give them everything at once.  We need to 
make them wait for the best stuff to build suspense and brand 
loyalty."

"I understand," Brenda stated.  "I have some ideas I'd like to work 
on but I need time to plan them; to weigh the risks."

"Good!" exclaimed Arnold.  "One other thing; we would like to start 
to bring back some of the sense of randomness and unpredictability of 
the pilot shows.  We're going to take a survey of watchers; have them 
write in suggestions for things they'd like to see you do, and we'll 
put them in a hat or something and draw one each week.  You'll have 
some control over it; you will get to see all the dares before they 
go into the hat.  Any which are clearly outside of your contractual 
agreement will be tossed, and you'll be allowed to reject any one we 
pull from the hat.  But there will be consequences for turning down a 
dare which is within your contract terms.  If you do turn one down, 
you have to perform two others that week."

"I-- well I suppose that would be alright.  As long as, like you 
said, they're all within what I've agreed to do."

"If you'd like," Thomas said, "I can help you lay out your plans.  I 
have three years in the business and I know the logistics of what we 
can and cannot do."

"And also," said Arnold, "if you're up for it we'd like to do some 
indoors shooting with you today, here in our studio."

Brenda glanced at her watch.  Thomas continued Arnold's thoughts.  
"We'd like to get some, uh-- I'm trying to put this delicately..."

"Don't bother," said Brenda.  "Just say it.  It's nothing I haven't 
heard -- or done, I'll bet."

"Well, we'd like to get some scenes of you, ahem, playing with 
yourself.  Masturbating.  We want to expand out from doing scenes 
inside your own home.  Too dangerous to keep going back to the same 
place.  Someone will, I guarantee you, start to put the pieces 
together and find out where you live.  We'd like to avoid that.  So 
we want to do some filming here on our sets."

"I'd love to guys, but I have a lunch date I have to keep today.  
Maybe tomorrow."

The men looked almost depressed to hear that she was not going to 
strip naked and play with herself for them.

"It's just such short notice.  I hadn't planned on doing any work 
today.  I do need a day off every now and then and I already have 
plans.  But I'll be twice as into it tomorrow."  She made a wide, 
cheery smile.

Arnold rose and offered his hand, which Brenda shook.  "We'll see you 
tomorrow, then.  Enjoy your lunch."

"Thanks," Brenda said as she rose and made her way out of the large 
office.
Brenda's lunch date was at her favorite burger joint all the way 
across town.  It was the same one where she had recently driven 
through naked and been virtually chewed out by the girl working the 
window.  She really liked their burgers so she decided she would not 
be repeating that incident and hopefully no one there would remember 
her face.

Brenda had butterflies in her stomach as she got out of her car in 
the parking lot and made her way, slowly, into the fast food 
restaurant.  Her mind kept telling her that Wynona would not show up; 
that she should just leave.  That was mixed with fears that she would 
be recognized as the skank who drove through with her boobs exposed 
and that management would ask her to leave.

Looking around the sparsely populated dining area, her first fear 
seemed to be correct.  The purple haired Wynona was nowhere to be 
seen.  Brenda figured she was already here so she'd might as well get 
a burger, fries and a diet soda.  She could enjoy her meal with or 
without her guest.

Just as she was getting to the front of the lunch hour line, the side 
door of the restaurant opened and, amid a flash of suddenly brilliant 
sunlight which was normally subdued by the tinted windows of the 
door, she beheld a crop of dyed purple hair and below it a very 
pretty face.  And below that she caught site of what appeared to be a 
cape flapping in the wind behind her.

The young woman stepped inside and glanced around uncertainly.  
Finally seeing Brenda at the front of the line, Wynona smiled, waved 
and called, "Hey there girl!  I wasn't sure you were going to show 
up."  She shuffled quickly up to where Brenda stood and took a place 
in line right behind her, ignoring the three people already in line 
behind Brenda.

The two hugged like old friends and chatted excitedly about how each 
thought the other was going to flake and how happy they both were to 
see each other.

After getting their food, a plain hamburger, fries and diet soda for 
Brenda and a side salad and lemonade for Wynona, they made their way 
to the most remote corner of the dining area to talk.

"I like your outfit today," Wynona commented.  "Much less 
revealing."  She grinned and Brenda thought she saw a wicked gleam in 
her eyes.

"And I love what you're wearing.  It's not every day you see someone 
wearing a cape."

"Oh it's just my thing right now.  The whole gothic look.  You know."

"Hm, I guess I don't.  I vaguely remember some of the people I went 
to high school with dressing kind of like that.  The same lacy, 
frilly black clothes and stiletto boots, but never a cape."

"Well, when I'm wearing a skirt as short as this," Wynona said 
tugging the bottom of her skirt down to the halfway point of her 
thighs, "it helps to have something comfortable and clean to sit on 
and hide my fat legs."

"Oh you are not fat!" Brenda chided.  "You're half as big as I am.  I 
mean look at me, I'm eating a whole greasy burger and French fries."

"No no, I'm afraid I've seen your figure and you're certainly not 
fat.  Why do you think I only eat salad?  Once I put on the weight, I 
can never get it to come off."

They chatted all through lunch about how fat they both thought they 
were and how pretty the other was and how they wished they could have 
the other's legs, or boobs or hair or nose or whatever else came up.

Finally, when they'd been finished with their food for at least ten 
minutes, Wynona looks Brenda straight in the eyes and asked, "So 
what's the story behind your little public display yesterday?"

Brenda's faced turned bright red and she looked away.  Glancing 
around to be sure no one else was close enough to hear her speak, she 
leaned across the table and whispered, "It's a dare thing.  I, uh-- 
well I get paid to do these kinky dares and I have my own TV show on 
cable."

"Really?  What's it called?"

"Originally it was 'What Some People Will Do' and I was picked as the 
contestant.  I won a trip to Tahiti for me and my husband.  Then they 
decided to turn it into a regular show and I guess they chose to just 
use the same name even though it's really different."

"How is it different?"

"Well, I'm not trying to win prizes now.  I just do the things and I 
get paid a salary like I was on any other TV show."

"I see.  It sounds quite interesting.  Brenda, if you don't mind I'd 
like to write up a column about you and what you do."

"A column?  What do you mean?  Like in a newspaper?"

"Yes, well a magazine actually.  I write for a couple of different 
magazines."

"That sounds like fun," Brenda chimed.  "What do you write?"

"Well for one mag I'm the advice columnist."  Wynona now looked 
around to be sure no one was listening.  "Guys write in asking for 
advice on how to get a woman in bed or how to wow their girlfriend or 
their wife when the spark has gone out of their relationship.  In 
another mag I write erotic stories and occasionally news.  I'd like 
to write you up in the news.  I want the exclusive Brenda Young 
Story."

"Well," Brenda said breathlessly, "I think it's a pretty big story.  
Why don't you come back to my house and we can discuss it in 
private?"

"When would you like to do it?"

"Right now!" Brenda exclaimed, noting the double entendre in her own 
mind.


Chapter 23

Brenda drove slowly so that Wynona could follow her back to her home.  
She was grateful for the solitude of her own car with no one else in 
it filming her for once.  As she drove, she sat low in her seat for 
extra privacy and fished one heavy breast out through the low v-neck 
of her top.  With thumb and forefinger she rolled her nipple to 
erection and beyond.  Some previously unknown part of her mind was 
going crazy with desire for Wynona Hoover whom she'd really only just 
met and knew next to nothing about.  Her pussy was getting damp 
thinking about the fact that they would be alone in her home for 
maybe two or three hours before her husband Jim would arrive home 
from work... and Wynona wanted to know all about her and her 
involvement in sexually perverse activities.  And better yet, Wynona 
wrote for a handful of adult magazines; she would probably not feel 
too strange if Brenda casually got undressed in front of her and made 
occasional physical contact during their discussion.

Suffice it to say that Brenda was not in the least bit interested in 
being interviewed for a nudie magazine; she was purely interested in 
the interviewer.

Brenda pulled into her garage and watched in the rear view mirror as 
Wynona parked on the street in front of her house.  Brenda let 
herself in through the inside door from the garage and made her way 
to the front to let Wynona in.  Along the way she unstrapped and 
removed her heeled sandals and pulled her top up over her head.  She 
stopped in mid-motion, though, as she suddenly became afraid of 
coming on too strong.  Wynona would surely sense her desire and might 
be offended if Brenda met her at the door suddenly naked just seconds 
after getting inside the house.

So she pulled her shirt back down, adjusted her breasts within the 
pocket-like folds to either side of the plunging neckline and 
straightened her hair.  She took a deep breath and let it out slowly 
as she unlocked her front door and greeted Wynona with a wide smile.

"Thank you," Wynona said, returning the smile as she stepped in past 
Brenda and removed her black cape which Brenda took and hung on the 
coat rack behind the door.  "I don't usually get invited to peoples' 
homes to conduct interviews.  It's usually done over the phone or 
maybe in an office."

"I prefer the personal touch," Brenda stated truthfully.  "Can I get 
you something to drink?"

"Oh, no thank you.  I just had that big lemonade.  In fact, can I 
trouble you for the use of your bathroom?"

"Absolutely!" Brenda exclaimed, then winced at her own exuberance.  
"It's right up the stairs, then turn right and in through the master 
bedroom."

"Thank you."  Wynona hurried up the stairs leaving Brenda standing in 
her living room watching up after her.  She actually found herself 
having to concentrate on not following Wynona up.

"What is wrong with me?" Brenda scolded herself under her breath.  
"Come on Brenda, pull yourself together.  She's a woman, for crying 
out loud.  And you're happily married."  Then she thought, "I wonder 
if Wynona is married."

When her guest returned down the stairs, much more slowly and even 
paced now, Brenda was lounging on the cushy sofa.  All the curtains 
were closed but the blinds behind them pulled up to allow most of the 
sunlight in while still blocking casual sight from the street.

"So what do you want to know about me?" Brenda asked as Wynona took a 
seat at the far end of the sofa.

"Let's start with who you are.  Where were you born?  How old are 
you?  Don't worry," she laughed, "I won't print your age.  I'd just 
like to know for personal reference."  Brenda smiled back at her.

"I'll bet that I'm older than you are."

"You don't look it," Wynona countered.

"No no.  None of that.  I'm twenty-nine and I look every bit of it.  
Now hold old are you?"

"Twenty-four."

"Really?  You look younger.  I would have guessed maybe twenty-one or 
twenty-two."

"Thanks.  But enough compliments.  I would ask you to be completely 
honest, but please don't feel you need to answer any questions that 
make you uncomfortable."

"Hm, my contract at the studio says pretty much the same thing.  
Well, I was born in Nebraska but spent most of my life in Ohio.  I've 
lived here since I married Jim five years ago."

"So you are currently married?"

"Yes.  Happily.  What about you?"

"Are you interviewing me as well?" Wynona asked with a smile.

"I just like to know who I'm talking to.  I figure that anything you 
want me to answer is fair game for you as well."

"Hm, I accept your challenge.  Okay, so did you go to college?"

"No."

"What jobs have you held before starting in your current television 
work?  And how long have you been doing this?"

"My job is keeping this house clean and cooking meals and washing 
laundry and dishes.  I suppose that's changed a bit now since I make 
more than my husband, who has a college degree."

"How does he feel about that?"

"I'm not really sure.  This whole situation has been a real change 
for both of us and I'm not really sure what he's thinking anymore.  I 
used to be able to read him like a book, and he me.  Things have just 
gotten so strange and hectic lately that we haven't seen each other 
as much.  He supports me, though.  By that I mean that he didn't have 
a fit when I took this job a couple of weeks ago and he has certainly 
been more affectionate and dynamic in bed."

Wynona blushed slightly.  "I know our readers will want to know this, 
but don't feel compelled to answer.  What is your favorite sexual 
position?"

"It depends on my mood.  Right now I'd say sixty-nine.  What about 
you?"

"I uh..." Wynona stalled.

"Nuhuhuh, anything you ask of me is fair game.  If I answer it, I 
think you ought to answer it, too."

Wynona blushed a deeper shade of red.  In almost a whisper she said, 
"I've never told this to anyone, not even my college roommate whom I 
was very close to.  I like it on all fours.  I like my man to plow 
into me from behind with my face buried in the pillow to muffle my 
screams."

"Wow!  You're quite a little fireball, aren't you?" Brenda asked in 
surprise.  The younger woman had seemed so innocent and almost shy 
before.

"Yeah, well, if he's doing it right it can feel really good."

"Oh, I know it.  When Jim and I went on our trip to Tahiti I don't 
think we ever left the hotel room.  We tried every position we could 
think of."

"Well, ahem, moving along.  Again I know our readers will want to 
know but don't feel like you have to answer this; have you ever had 
sex with another woman?"

Brenda's eyes went wide.  Was Wynona reading her mind?  Had she 
perhaps smelled Brenda's growing arousal and decided to take the 
initiative?  No, surely not.  She was still blushing from her 
admission to liking it doggy style.  Surely she would not be so 
forward as to be making advances at her.

Finally finding her voice after several seconds of uneasy shifting, 
Brenda said that she had never been with another woman.  "However," 
she laughed nervously, "my contract with the studio leaves it open as 
an option.  You know -- god, is it warm in here?  I'm burning up.  
Are you sure you don't want something to drink?"

"No, I'm good thanks."

"Drat!" thought Brenda.  "I'm getting all hot under the collar 
thinking about her touch or strapping on a dildo and taking her 
doggie style and she's not even interested."

"But if you're feeling warm you can feel free to... to take off your 
top or whatever will make you comfortable.  I mean, this is your home 
and you should feel free to be comfortable and if you like being 
naked then be naked and I don't mind.  It won't bother me.  I work 
for adult magazines.  I see this stuff all the time."

Brenda thought Wynona sounded just a little bit flustered.  Maybe the 
pretty younger woman was interested after all.  She decided to play 
her hand.

"Sure, well alright.  If it doesn't bother you it doesn't bother 
me."  Brenda slowly lifted the hem of her gray shirt up past her 
toned belly and paused.  "If you get hot, you can feel free, too.  My 
husband won't be home for at least another hour so there's no one 
here but us girls."  With that she lifted her shirt up past her 
breasts, blocking her face with the thick fabric while giving Wynona 
a good, long look at her mammaries.  Then she pulled the shirt 
completely over her head and laid it on the coffee table next to the 
remote control for the television.

"Say, you know what?  My husband I think recorded my premier last 
night.  Do you want to see it?  I mean, it should answer quite a few 
of your questions about, you know, what kinds of things I do in my 
new job and maybe it will help to inspire you in writing one of your 
erotic stories."

"Sure, why not?" Wynona said cheerfully, not looking at Brenda's 
heavy, yearning breasts.

As with the night before, Brenda was in a haze during the whole half 
hour show and paid not one bit of attention to the images of herself 
on the screen.  She was watching for Wynona's reactions.  What she 
saw were looks she would describe as intrigue, shock, surprise and 
possibly a hint of arousal, though maybe that was her own feeling 
being projected onto Wynona.

When the cable box DVR had finished playing the episode, Wynona sat 
back on the sofa.  She did not notice that Brenda had scooted a full 
cushion closer and was now sitting right beside her, proud breasts 
bared with one arm resting on her own leg and the other across the 
back of the sofa behind her guests head.

Wynona breathed a profound, "Wow."

"I wish my boss had the same reaction," Brenda sighed.

"Did the station not like it?"

"They think I should take it another step or two further and be more 
daring and sexual."

"You could, but my god that was really something.  If you don't mind, 
I think I will have a drink."

Brenda smiled and as she rose she made sure to run her forearm 
lightly across Wynona's right ear and cheek and that her left leg, 
bare below the knee, made momentary contact with Wynona's equally 
bare leg.

Returning a moment later with two glasses of white wine, Brenda 
commented, "So yeah, they want me to do more but I think I need some 
guidance.  I don't want to always be doing the things the camera guys 
suggest.  I've been thinking of finding another woman to share some 
of the creative responsibility and maybe appear with me in an episode 
every now and then.  Nothing overtly sexual, of course.  But to just 
be there taking some of the focus off me; maybe helping me get 
dressed and undressed for different scenes and directing some of the 
action."

Wynona sipped her wine.  "Would this woman," she began quietly, "be 
expected to touch, fondle or have sex with you?"

Brenda nodded silently and took a swig of her wine.

The next few minutes passed in silence as both women tried not to 
look directly at one another.  The sound of a car in the driveway 
brought both of them out of their trances.

"Oh, that will be my husband home from work.  I usually greet him at 
the door with a blow job, but I think tonight I'll be different.  
Make him appreciate it more when I do give it to him."

She reached out to retrieve her shirt from the coffee table and began 
to pull it on.  While it was still around her head she thought she 
heard Wynona say, "I'd be interested."  But then the young woman was 
on her feet and moving to the door.  "I don't want to be a bother 
when you husband comes in.  I'd like to see you again -- to talk to 
you again.  Here's my number and email address in case you want to 
meet me for lunch.  I'll treat next time."  She handed Brenda a 
business card from her small purse.  As Jim Young entered the house, 
Wynona leaned in to Brenda and gave her a quick kiss on her left 
cheek, then a peck on the lips.  "I'll be seeing you."

END OF PART 6
You can read more of Sir Render's original adult stories at 
http://sirrender.syntheticdimension.net/

NOTE:  As of October 2006 I am working on new chapters to add to 
"What Some People Will Do".  I am looking for new ideas and 
directions for the story and have put a feedback form on my website 
if you would like to make suggestions.  Thank you!  Sir Render

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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