Jack Brewster was not in a good mood. He came home from work in a good mood. He was in a good mood through most of his dinner. That all changed when his wife reminded him of their after-dinner engagement.

"Don't forget, honey," Paige Brewster's voice rang out. "We have that gallery opening to go to tonight."

A sodden lump grew in Jack's stomach as he finished his dinner mechanically. He had begun to dread this evening when Paige first told him of it. It wasn't that he didn't like art, he did. It fascinated him how a good artist could transmit any of a whole range of emotions with ink or clay or paint. It wasn't that he didn't like galleries, either. He and Paige had met in an art gallery - The Met, in fact. No... the fact was, he was dreading this opening, at this gallery, this night.

There was something about the artist that Jack just didn't like. Something about the way his voice could be lilting one moment, then rough as a lumberjack the next. Something about the familiar way he treated Paige. She denied ever having any kind of involvement with the artist - said she barely even knew him. But still... there was something about him that Jack didn't trust. Jack tried to account for his feelings about it - he was generally a very organized man. There was no rational reason why Jack didn't like the man, he decided as he straightened up his tie and donned his tuxedo jacket. He just didn't.

All his feelings of misgiving were washed away as Paige made her entrance down the grand staircase of the Brewster foyer. She was the type of woman that could make a potato sack look good. Her slim 5' 5" frame was accentuated by her 35B breasts and her 34 inch hips. She had chosen a relatively modest gown for tonight's opening. It was a black, sleeveless, floor-length number with a neckline that wasn't as plunging as she normally would wear. Nevertheless, it was obvious from the way her firm breasts moved underneath it that she was braless. Coming closer to Jack, she twirled round once, and he realized why she wore no bra. The dress was backless, it's downward sweeping line reaching nearly to her round butt. "Maybe... Just maybe..." Jack thought, "This evening won't turn out to be a shitty one after all."

They passed through the open door to the gallery as if they were walking on air. The ride over had been swift and trouble-free. They approached the bar and Paige ordered a glass of wine. Something in a Cabernet Sauvingon - you never could be sure about vintage at this kind of thing. As Jack began to order, Paige spoke up. "He'll have a whiskey - a double," she said. Turning to her ruggedly handsome husband, she murmured, "Whiskey - a little dark, and a little rough. Just the way a man should be."

Sipping their drinks, they meandered around the rooms, gazing at the pieces of art that hung there. As much as Jack disliked the man, he grudgingly had to admit - he did have talent. They rounded a corner and came to a smaller wing of the gallery. Decorative pieces of furniture placed about gave the illusion of a friendly space. This was where the sales were consummated. Paige drew Jack into a warm embrace. Looking up into his soft brown eyes, she asked, "have I thanked you yet for coming with me to this affair?"

"No," Jack replied. "I don't think you have." Tilting her head back she drew him down for a kiss. Long, and slow, the couple kissed with a different kind of passion than had once consumed them. In the dawning of their relationship, their love had been more lust than love. It burned in their loins like a raging fire, threatening to burst out of control at any moment. Now, they felt the true passion of their relationship blossom. Their lips slowly drew apart. A bright glow shone in Paige's eyes as she gazed up at her man.

"There," she purred. "Consider yourself thanked."

"I don't think so..." Jack's voice was husky as his need for her enveloped him. His strong hand in the small of her bare back, he propelled her toward the nearest couch. He took the remnants of their drinks, and set them on a nearby end table. Taking her hands he sat, holding her before him. "Give me your panties!"

"Jack!" she gasped quietly. "What...?"

"Give them to me now!" he rasped. Biting her lip, she quickly glanced around. Nobody was looking - at the moment. If she was swift enough... She hurriedly drew up the hem in the front of her dress. Luckily, the fabric was generous enough that it still reached to the ground behind her. She grasped her lacy underthings, drawing them quickly down off her hips, down her shapely legs, and to the floor. Stepping backward, she dropped into a deep curtsy and picked them up, rolling them into a ball and handing them over to her husband.

"Good. Now come here, Love." Jack pulled Paige toward him, turning her and guiding her to sit sideways on his lap. Paige gave him a worried look as he began nuzzle the side of her neck. Soon she closed her eyes as his lips toyed with the sensitive areas only he knew so well. Her perfume was intoxicating to him - she always was his drug of choice. As Jack kissed her, he placed his hand on her thigh, caressing softly. Slowly, he eased his hand underneath the voluminous fabric of the gown, until he was caressing bare skin. Paige's eyes leaped open!

"Jack!" she hissed. "What do you think you're doing?"

"I think I've found a way to thank myself..." he murmured.

He caressed Paige's toned thigh, ever so slowly approaching his goal - her hot box. When he did reach it, he found out - to his delight - that it was completely hairless. "Hey, hey, hey..." he said, surprised. "What do we have here?"

Paige giggled. "You weren't supposed to find that out until later on tonight."

Jack softly stroked her pussy, finding it wet. Paige opened her legs, giving him greater access while still hiding his activities under her gown.

"It's later, babe," Jack whispered. His questing fingers found her opening. He eased one inside her, slowly opening her up. His finger buried inside her, he brushed his thumb across her nubbin, eliciting a sound from his beautiful wife.

"Mmmmmmmmm..." she moaned softly. "If you don't stop... ohhhhh... You're gonna have to find a broom closet and fuck me proper, Mister..."

"Sorry, Love," he whispered in her ear. "A broom closet is out of the question." Again Paige's eyes fluttered wide open.

"Ohhhhh..." she groaned. "But you... I... we... we can't... not here..." her weak attempts at negation were lost as her voice broke into a gasp of lust. Jack lifted her up, just far enough to ease her gown out from under her pert derriere. Now he could feel her heat against his throbbing tool, and wanted nothing more than to bury himself in her to his fullest. Using her gown as a drape, he skillfully eased the front of his tuxedo trousers open and reached in, extracting his hard cock. He repositioned her deftly so that his cock was now riding up between her legs, rubbing against her.

Jack's lips brushed her ear softly. "Everyone is in the other room now, listening to some speech or other, Love. I want you. Now. I need you, and I'm going to have you!"

"Damn you, Jack..." she moaned. Rising up, she allowed him to position his manhood at the entrance to her hot tunnel. She sank down, impaling herself on his spear. She exhaled completely. She couldn't ever remember being this wet. Part of her wanted to fuck him with wild abandon and bring their orgasms in a rush, while another part of her wanted to savor the intensity of this moment, holding onto it for as long as possible. Jack decided for her.

Reaching back under her gown, he began to rub her engorged clitoris in those tiny circles he knew she loved so well. She couldn't stifle her moan as a wave of pleasure coursed through her. She began to make love to her man, the best way she knew how. His cock felt so good inside her that all she could think about was the feeling of him filling her up, over and over. A sudden burst of applause brought her back to her senses. Crowd sounds moving toward their little hideaway made her panic. She tried to stand, but Jack's strong arms kept her right where she was.

"Oh, no, my little puppy," he laughed quietly. "You're going to finish what you started!"

Paige whimpered as Jack's hand went to work on her highly sensitive pussy. He could feel her muscles trembling as she fought her natural impulses. The "fight or flight" response was in full sway as adrenaline flooded her body, heightening her senses and bringing every nerve to life. Jack eased his hand from it's comfortable place, brushing it up under her gown toward her heaving breasts. Her nipples felt as if they were on fire, and Jack's questing fingers only served to heighten that sensation. Suddenly, he gripped one distended nipple between his thumb and forefinger and squeezed... hard. She gasped. He felt her pussy clench around his engorged cock. Letting up for a moment, he resumed teasing her flesh, only to return to her other breast and give it the same treatment.

"Oh, God," Paige whispered, burying her face in his shoulder. People were entering their room now, wandering around looking at the works of art hanging there. Her pussy was contracting around him involuntarily. "Oh, God," Paige thought to herself. "How can they not see what we're doing? How can they not smell... Ohhhhhhh!" a sudden wave of pleasure made her breath catch in her breast. Jack resumed stroking her sensitive clitoris, ever so gently. His cock was filling her completely, his fingers and thumb playing her like a master musician. She couldn't stop her trembling any more than she could keep her pussy from contracting against his hardness. She felt Jack's breath against her, hard and smelling of deep, dark whiskey. She could tell he wanted to thrust into her badly, yet he kept himself still. She heard him growl, it rose from way down where his basest instincts lived.

His cock throbbed inside her. He could feel the tingling begin. He rubbed her clit harder, almost desperately. Her hands clutched his lapels fiercely, needing something to hold. Her lips met his in a hot kiss, their tongues dueled for mastery. Suddenly, almost alarmingly, she came. Her muscles clenched around him, pulsing wildly. The tingling he felt in his cock became an electric current, passing through his core. Through the rapturous pain, she felt his cock pulse. His cum jetted into her in massive jolts, filling her. His hips twitched as he held her tightly to him. Blood roared in his ears. He became temporarily blind and deaf. For a brief moment, his entire existence boiled down to one instinctive impulse - to launch his seed into his wife. Gradually, his vision returned. His breathing slowed, and he became aware of the fact that Paige's teeth were clenched firmly onto his shoulder. He held her like that as his cock softened, and her breathing slowed.

"Paige! Dahling!" A voice rang out from the entrance to their little trysting spot.

For once, both Paige and Jack held the exact same thought. "It's the artist!"

He lightly skipped over to them, calling out in a sing-song kind of way. "I've been looking for you, you naughty kids! You missed my whole speech and everything! Whatever have you been up to? Did you at least look at my works? What do you think of the opening? C'mon, c'mon... I want to know everything!"

"Yes," Paige's mouth was dry. She cleared her throat. "We saw everything. And as for the opening..." she smiled at her husband.

"It was delightful..."