“After Hours” was a short story that perplexed me. I could never understand why it was so popular. In my opinion, it was such a simple, safe story; nothing challenging or even thought-provoking about it. It was not my usual fare. It was written expressly for a small woman-owned publishing house out of northern California.
However, it got picked up in London the following year as a “Best of the Year” story, and then the year after that, it got picked up by an Italian publisher as a “Best of the Year” story again and translated into Italian.
After the “Best of’s…” it found its way into a couple more American anthologies. I finally quit letting people publish it because I thought it was getting overexposed in the market.
However, many years later, here it is again! Straight from the vault, for your reading pleasure. (Approx. 12 pages; contains sexually explicit material.)
“After Hours” originally appeared in:
- Naughty Spanking Stories from A to Z, Volume 2; edited by Rachel Kramer Bussel; published by Pretty Things Press, 2006;
- The Mammoth Book of Best New Erotica, Volume 7; edited by Maxim Jakubowski; published by Robinson, UK, 2007;
- in Italian translation as “Dopocena” in Best Erotica 2008: Il meglio della narrative erotica dell’anno; edited by Berbera & Hyde; published by Piccola Biblioteca Oscar Mondadori, Milan, Italy, 2008.
Whenever I’m out with Jack I feel like I’m nothing but white trash. I revel in that feeling, though, and only he brings it out of me. He’s known me too long and too well.
“Here, have a cigarette,” he offers.
I take it even though I no longer smoke. It’s an unfiltered Camel, no less. “Jesus, are you trying to kill me, or what?” I lean my head closer to him and let him light the cigarette with his Zippo. I inhale. It’s harsh and I feel like choking, but something about it is reminiscent of sex with him and I like it. I keep puffing on it and I get the feeling I’ll probably smoke all night.
“Should we bring along a bottle of something?” he asks. “It would probably be polite.”
“If you want to,” I say. “But if we buy something too expensive then I always end up wanting to hoard it just for us.”
“Then let’s pick up a bottle of something cheap for show, and a fifth of something special to keep between ourselves.”
“That sounds like a perfect idea. Make people think we’re more generous than we really are.”
When we arrive at the party, it’s already in full swing. We know just about everybody there and I’m getting a little bored with it–everything always being so predictably chic. What happened to those years when everything about going to parties seemed new and maybe even a little enticingly strange? Even when you did know everybody there?
“Remember when a Friday in New York was wildly exciting?” I ask him under my breath.
He looks at me and smiles wryly. “No. I can’t remember back that far.”
Jack and I are fuck buddies. We circle into each other’s orbits when we’re between significant others. Neither one of us bold enough to take that step into marriage like almost everyone we know has already done–some of them, more than once. Beneath our respectable careers, our healthy incomes, our trendy fashions, we’re both still hopelessly immature when it comes to making serious commitments that involve the destinies of other people.
“Alison, hello there!”
It’s my boss coming toward us, Susan Krieger, well-known architect. The female half of the very wealthy couple who’s throwing this shindig. She looks astonishingly attractive. I always forget how good she’s capable of looking when she’s not seriously harried from too much work.
“Hi, Susan. You remember Jack? He used to work with us at the firm? In drafting?”
“Of course, Jack. How are you? So nice of you to come.”
Susan is only slightly older than we are, but her fully-loaded husband, Derek Krieger, has a good twenty-five years on most of us. And has more money than any of us can possibly imagine. He founded the Krieger Designs architectural firm in the late 60s and has been at the top of his game since the bulk of us were still in college. He’s not exactly handsome but for a straight guy, he’s always put an extraordinary amount of effort into maintaining his outward appearance. I guess he’s what you’d call striking.
“God, she’s a bitch,” Jack says in my ear as Susan is walking away from us.
“She’s okay. She’s just one of those power gals.”
“Who probably likes to be down on her knees when nobody’s looking. Or getting stuffed in both ends at once by a couple of grease-monkeys in some parking garage.”
“Jesus, Jack. Where did that come from?”
“I don’t know. Come on, let’s go fill up some glasses and stash our booze somewhere safe.”
We steer clear of the bar in the living room that’s been set up for party guests and we duck into the well-appointed kitchen instead. We help ourselves to a couple of their good quality drinking glasses. We press them under the ice dispenser in the front of their over-sized stainless steel refrigerator. The ice tumbles down into our waiting glasses with a crashing noise. At that moment, Derek Krieger comes into his own kitchen.
“Alison, Jack.” He takes in the full scope of what we’re doing with a stern expression. It’s clear he hasn’t forgotten Jack, his incorrigible ex-employee, in the slightest. “Feel free to help yourselves there.”
He grabs a bottle of wine from the kitchen counter and leaves.
“I feel like we just got caught by the school principal or something. And we got a last minute reprieve.”
Jack chuckles. “Fuck him.”
We fill our glasses with our own Ciroc and then stash the vodka deep in the Krieger’s freezer. Then we return to the party and act as if we were part of it. But really we retain our own little world where we watch everyone else over the rims of our vodka glasses. We gossip between ourselves, we denigrate our friends, we mock the few party guests we don’t know, and eventually we start to kiss discreetly and get horny. We go out onto the Krieger’s balcony overlooking Central Park and light up a couple of Camels.
“You want to leave?” Jack asks. “We could go over to my place and fuck like bunnies.”
That sounds like an excellent idea. “Okay,” I say. “Let’s finish these and then go.”
Jack moves up close to me. “How long has it been since your pussy got good and fucked, Alison?”
“Too long,” I answer quickly, practically chewing on the end of my cigarette. I follow each puff closely with a healthy gulp of vodka. Clearly I’m craving something in my mouth. Why does he always get me so horny when we’re in public?
“How would you feel about getting stuffed at both ends by a couple of grease-monkeys?”
I smile at him over the rim of my glass. “You’re such a sicko, Jack.”
He smiles back at me, his coal-black eyes searing into me without flinching. “I still think about you an awful lot, Alison. The thought of you always comes to me when I’m jerking off, when I need a pretty girl in my head to get very agreeable.”
“How agreeable do I get?”
“You do just about anything, honey.”
I’m hot now. My panties are starting to get wet. The nicotine and vodka are buzzing cozily through my veins. I’m curious about my exploits. “So tell me some of the things you make me do?”
The balcony door opens and more smokers come out to join us.
“Hi, Tina. You remember Jack?”
“Of course I do. How’ve you been, Jack?”
I quickly put out my cigarette, hoping Jack will do the same so that we can leave. He does.
I want an answer to my question. I’m feeling seriously horny. “Tell me, Jack, I want to know.”
“Let’s go get another drink,” he says.
I’m all for it but I thought we were leaving. I follow him to the kitchen anyway. Before we even refill our glasses, we’re kissing. Slobbering all over each other. He pulls me up close to him. I hold onto his neck. His hands are under my skirt, up inside my panties, grabbing fistfuls of my ass while we kiss. He has a rock-hard erection pressing up against me.
When we break for air, I try again. “Tell me some of those things you make me do, Jack. I want to know how agreeable you think I am.”
“Oh, just the usual,” he says between kisses. “Mostly.”
“What does that mean?”
“You know, you let me put my cock anywhere. Anywhere, anyplace, anytime I want it. You just come in very handy, that’s all. Come on. Come with me.”
“No,” I protest on instinct, following him anyway. He leads me down the hall to the bedrooms and ducks inside one of them. “No, Jack, I’m serious. I’m not doing this in my boss’s apartment.”
“No one is going to know, Alison, come on.”
He pulls open a closet door. “Come on, come in here. Just a quickie until we get home.”
I both hate and love this about him. He’s irresistible when I’m horny. I follow him into the dark closet and we close the door.
In an instant he’s tugging at my panties. “No, don’t,” I’m saying. “Keep them up. I don’t want to be without my panties.” But he tugs them all the way down, clear down to my ankles.
“Step out of them, Alison,” he insists in an urgent whisper. “Come on, take them all the way off.”
For some reason, I do it. I guess he’s right about my being so agreeable. It’s dark but he manages to extricate them from my high heels.
“Give them to me,” I say.
“I’ll just stick them in my pocket.”
“No.” But before I can protest further, he’s pulled me up close to him again; his hands are up under my skirt, getting free rein of my naked ass.
I’m moaning deliriously into his kisses. As my eyes adjust to the darkness of the closet, I realize there are slats in the closet door, louvers, allowing air and some light to trickle in. I realize we’d better be extra quiet, though, because of those louvers.
“What are you doing?” I whisper suddenly.
“What do you think I’m doing, Alison? I’m going to fuck you.”
“Jesus, are you serious?”
His cock is out and I can feel him trying to find my hole. He does. “God, you’re wet,” he whispers. “You little tramp.”
I try to angle myself in a way that lets his cock get up me easily. I know I’m wet. I’m incredibly aroused. But this position isn’t really working.
“Why don’t you turn around?” he suggests quietly. “I’ll try you from behind.”
I turn around, leaning a little against the louvered door. His cock finds its way up my hole again and this position is definitely better. It feels incredible. I can’t resist emitting a little moan.
Until the light in the room flashes on. Jesus. We are both instantly motionless, not making a sound. Someone is in the bedroom with us. No, it’s two someones, and they’re closing the door.
I can hear Jack quietly panicking in my ear. “Oh shit,” he says.
His cock is still nestled deep in my hole, his arms around my waist, holding me tight, but we don’t move. “It’s Krieger,” he barely mouths in my ear.
And sure enough Derek Krieger has come within view of the slats in the closet door.
Oh shit, I’m thinking, not Derek. I’m feeling like he really is my school principal. That I’m in some serious trouble now.
Then a female comes into view. This is definitely not Susan Krieger.
Oh my god, I’m thinking.
At the same moment, Jack mouths in my ear, “Christ, it’s Veronica.”
Veronica is Jack’s ex-lover. Another architectural drafter at the firm. She’s even younger than me. One of those lithe, helpless-seeming blondes from Connecticut.
“You’re late,” Derek is saying to her. He sounds angry.
“I couldn’t get a cab…”
“Bullshit,” Derek replies, cutting her off.
I’m stunned by his abrupt tone. What does he care if Veronica is late to his party? It’s not as if any of us are on the clock. It’s only a party, for Christ’s sake.
Veronica is plaintive. “I’m sorry, Mr. Krieger.”
Mr. Krieger? Nobody calls him Mr. Krieger–he’s Derek.
“I absolutely couldn’t help it. I couldn’t get a cab.”
“You should have thought ahead, young lady, left earlier.”
Derek’s using quite an intimidating tone. Something here doesn’t seem right. Then suddenly Jack’s hand dips down furtively between my legs. His fingers deftly feel between my slick lips, looking for my clit. I can’t believe he’s trying to arouse me now, here, with this going on. But I’m too nervous to pull away, to make a sound. I’m still impaled on his cock.
In my ear, Jack says almost inaudibly, “I think he’s going to spank her.”
I’m incredulous. “What?” I try to say.
“I know Veronica,” he tries to explain. “Krieger’s going to spank her.”
Well, I’m stunned again. But now I’m a lot more interested. These two are having some twisted affair! I’m trying to get a better view through the slats in the door without moving at all. If Veronica is going to get spanked by Mr. Krieger, I definitely want to see.
Jack’s cock is reviving inside me and his fingers have zeroed in on my clit. I can’t believe any of this is happening. I’m so glad we decided to come to this party.
“But I gave you specific instructions,” Derek is going on.
“I know, but…”
“And I expected you to follow them.”
“I know.” Veronica is practically whining.
“I’m too busy to be wasting my breath on someone as incompetent as you are. You’re over an hour late.”
“I know, but I…”
“Save it, Veronica. Save it for someone who has time to give a shit about your next lie.”
“Oh yes,” Jack agrees quietly. “I know that feeling. I hope she gets it good, the little liar–with her panties pulled down.”
Her panties pulled down? That hadn’t occurred to me. I’m really on fire, overwhelmed by all the stimuli. But Jack’s commentary is making me feel too crazy. I don’t want to get caught here; I want the show to continue. I want to keep watching.
“Come here, Veronica.”
He’s good, I’m thinking. Very stern. I’m actually a little scared for her.
He has sat down on the edge of the bed. She moves only slightly.
“Right here,” he says. “You can see where I’m pointing, can’t you?”
“You’re not having any trouble hearing me?”
That answer was barely audible. And Veronica doesn’t seem to be moving.
“Derek,” she pleads suddenly. “Don’t make me do this. Your wife is practically in the next room. All those people.”
“What did you call me?”
“I’m sorry–Mr. Krieger!”
Boy, he sounds menacing. Sitting on the edge of the bed like he is, I can easily see his face now and he looks deadly serious. I wonder if Veronica is really scared? She sounds it. I think I would be, too.
Jack is breathing heavy against the side of my neck, his cock working slowly inside me, methodically. He’s soaking up every nuance of this scene, just like I am. I wonder how that must feel? Watching an ex-lover about to get disciplined? I wonder if they were into this spanking stuff when they were living together? Funny how much you don’t suspect about people…
“Veronica, I’m waiting. The longer you put this off, the more you run the risk that my wife will come looking for me. Then how will we explain it? Not just to her, but to a roomful of party guests?”
The sound of Derek’s commanding voice is electrifying my clit, while Jack is giving it just the right pressure at the same time. This spanking stuff is amazing. I need to have a serious talk with Jack about all this when we finally get out of this place.
A quick breath of lust is caught in Jack’s throat. Immediately I see what it is he’s lusting over. Veronica’s hands are up under her skirt. She’s pulling her panties down. She’s really doing it. She’s moved in front of Mr. Krieger. We can see everything. With her skirt held high, Veronica lays herself across Mr. Krieger’s lap.
I’m thinking, that’s some ass she’s got there, white and so perfectly round. I’m also thinking, I never once dreamed I’d see Veronica’s ass–for any reason at all, let alone because of this.
Jack’s cock is swelling up inside my cunt. He’s giving it to me slow but very hard. I clutch at his arms, needing to hang onto something. The lust is galloping through me now. I want to cry out.
The spanking is swift and sound. Veronica tries hard not to emit even a tiny peep. I know she’s afraid of being discovered. Maybe that’s part of her thrill, who knows? But how she manages to endure those well-aimed, decisive smacks on her bare ass without once giving out with a cry or a shout is beyond me. Mr. Krieger is not playing. His strokes are severe. Veronica’s ass is already bright red.
I’m too enchanted to breathe. Jack’s steady fingers have tripped the tremors of orgasm in me and I have to endure the onslaught of pleasure in my clitoris without so much as making a move. He must know I’m coming. He’s holding me very tight.
The spanking is over before I’m even through coming. Veronica is off Derek’s lap, pulling her panties back in place. Derek is standing now, too. They kiss. They moan.
“Okay, kiddo,” Derek says, giving her one last playful swat on the behind. “Let’s get going.”
They leave and suddenly the room is black again.
“My god,” I say at last. “That was amazing.”
Jack repositions himself to fuck me like crazy now. It feels so good but it doesn’t take long for him to come.
“Come on,” he says, pulling out of me and zipping up. “Let’s get out of here. Let’s go back to my place.”
“My panties, Jack. Give me my panties.”
“I’ll give them to you when we get home.”
He lets himself out of the closet and all I can do is follow. It isn’t the first time I’ve gone off with him without my panties. I just straighten my skirt and hope for the best.
We’re down the hall in a flash. In the foyer, however, Jack remembers the Ciroc. It cost us nearly sixty bucks. “Go get the vodka,” he says. “I’ll wait here.”
I dash back to the kitchen, oblivious to everything around me. All I want now is my vodka and to get to Jack’s bed as quickly as humanly possible.
In the kitchen, I run smack into Derek, alone. I’m thoroughly startled and painfully conscious of not wearing any panties. I’m not quite sure how to explain why I’m taking an expensive bottle of vodka out of his freezer.
“I put it there,” I try lamely, smiling at Derek. Now I see him differently. Now he makes me incredibly nervous.
He looks at me and says nothing.
“It’s my vodka,” I keep explaining, feeling sweaty between my legs. “I’m going now.”
He just stands there, offering nothing. Silence. Just staring at me.
“Thanks for the party, Mr. Krieger.” Jesus, why did I call him that?
He raises an eyebrow. His eyes pierce me with the faintest hint of a questioning smile. “You’re welcome, Alison. See you Monday.”
© 2005 Marilyn Jaye Lewis