Her Fiancé's Father Ch. 10

"I've never understood what Carmen sees in you," said Reginald St James. "It makes my blood boil, the way you chase every tart and strumpet. I've had you watched, I've given her evidence, but she seems besotted with you. She says she doesn't mind your philandering, and she's never complained to me. But let me tell you, Jack, that if she ever does, I'll break you. I'll throw you back into the gutter where she found you."

"I keep her happy, Mr. St James. I've given you two fine grandchildren. And I run your businesses competently -- we make enough money to keep your trusts growing year on year. So you can play your kingmaker games in politics."

"That's only because of Laura du Paige, the Executive VP that I hired to run things while you are fucking the interns, the secretaries and any other trollop that comes your way. But for her, you'd bankrupt us. Don't think I don't know about the amount of money to pay your whores to support all your bastards. Your executive assistant, Farah Hojjat reports everything to me. It adds up to a pretty penny."

"Believe what you will, sir. I think I'm an active CEO and I'll put my track record of business success up against anyone in the Fortune 500. Let's agree to disagree. Carmen and I have been happily married for over two decades. I hope that one day you will come around to accepting that she is a big girl and can look out for her own best interests." He paused and looked around the crowded reception hall. "But don't let me keep you from enjoying the charity ball. I must get back to my hosting duties."

Jack left him with a smile, but inwardly, he was seething. I really want to hurt the guy, he thought. He came upon Carmen working the long punch table, helping an elderly dowager ladle out a drink. His wife was perfectly turned out as usual, in a tight red strapless cocktail dress. The bodice was cut low and the hem was a bit short, almost five inches above the knee. She wore red stockings and strappy pumps with high platform heels that accentuated her height. Her red choker had a heart encrusted with diamonds on it.

Jack walked up and stood beside her and she smiled at him.

"You look stunning, darling," he said. "Like a high class hooker. I especially like that you don't have a bra on."

"You're a bastard, you know that?" she said. "And how do you know? My bodice is ruffled, I could be wearing a strapless one."

He reached around her quickly and squeezed a breast, breathing in her ear, "See, I knew it as soon as I saw you, all the way across the room. Your breasts are firm, but I can still tell when you go bra-less."

A well-dressed couple in evening clothes came up and they were interrupted as Carmen ladled out punch for them.

Isabelle and Martin queued just behind them. Carmen made to get glasses for them, but Isabelle waved them away.

"No, no," she said. "I just wanted to see how you were getting on -- and to see if I could make a bet with you to raise some more money for the charity."

"What do you mean?" asked Carmen.

"I bet you ten thousand dollars that you don't dare take off your panties for the rest of the ball."

Carmen colored, but she did not falter.

"Why for that kind of money, I'll go to the ladies' right now," she said.

"Oh, no, no," said Isabelle. "For that kind of money, you've got to take them off right here."

"You must be joking," Carmen said, laughing uncertainly. Then when Isabelle did not join her, she continued, "You're not joking."

Isabelle shook her head.

"Ok, Miss Smartypants," said Carmen. "Right back at you. I'll double you -- twenty thousand dollars if you take off your panties right here."

Isabelle wore a powder blue, halter neck cocktail dress that reached her knees, with matching blue stockings and pumps. She wore a silk-chiffon scarf that was elegantly knotted at her throat. Her dress had a long slit up the right side, so it was relatively easy for her to reach up in the slit and pull her panties down. She let them slide down around her ankles and then bent gracefully to pick them up. She handed them to Carmen with a flourish.

"Mrs Smartypants to you," Isabelle said, with a grin.

Carmen took the wispy blue silk thong, nonplussed.

"Isabelle, really .... ," Martin spluttered.

Isabelle ignored him, saying, "Twenty thousand dollars, please."

"I'll deposit it in the charity ball account," said Carmen.

"In my name," said Isabelle.

"In your name," snapped Carmen.

"And another ten thousand, since you still have your panties on. In my name."

"No way," said Carmen through her teeth.

"Mother, don't -- " Martin's shocked expostulation went unnoticed as Carmen had already hiked her dress up and pulled her panties down about her knees. It was done so quickly that they did even get a glimpse of her pubis.

"Let me help you," said Jack, bending down and stripping the red satin panties down to her ankles. She stepped out of them with a flourish and as she did so, Jack retrieved Isabelle's thong from her hand. He put first Carmen's and then Isabelle's panties to his nose murmuring, "Both you women smell so sweet."

"I don't believe this," said Martin, clenching his fists in frustration.

"The charity is thirty thousand dollars richer, Martin," said Jack. "How can that be bad?"

Isabelle came forward and enveloped Carmen in a hug. She held her tighter than necessary and rubbed her firm breasts on Carmen's. The birth of her love child with Jack was recent enough that she was still lactating and up close, Carmen got the unmistakable smell of breast milk.

"You're full of naughty surprises Carmen," she whispered in her ear. "I would never have believed that you would take off your panties in public."

"You're the wild one," Carmen whispered back. "The smell of your milk is so exciting!"

"I love seeing you excited," whispered Isabelle. "I'd love to suckle you!"

She brushed her lips on Carmen's and let her the tip of her tongue dart out and tasted her lipstick. Isabelle's nipples hardened and the smell of breast milk grew stronger as some seeped out into her padded bodice. Carmen felt Isabelle's hardened nipples and her own nipples began to harden in response. She allowed her lips to part just a bit and Isabelle's tongue invaded her mouth.

The kiss was over as quickly as it began and Martin could not be sure if he had imagined the whole thing. But they still had their arms around each other. Jack recognized the heat in Isabelle's look and knew that what she wanted from Carmen was a lot more than a kiss. But he was surprised -- and quite turned on -- to see that Carmen was returning Isabelle's look with hooded and glazed eyes, her lips slightly parted. She was clearly enjoying this intimacy. Isabelle was quite happy to hold her mother-in-law tight. Out of their sight behind her back, she squeezed her buttocks through her red cocktail dress.

"You're so beautiful," Isabelle breathed in Carmen's ear. "Just thinking of you without no panties on is making me wet."

Then as Isabelle released her, Jack stepped forward and put a hand on the small of each of their backs.

"The two most beautiful women at the ball and both here without panties," he said in a low voice. "It's enough to give me a hard-on."

Martin's face grew set and he crossed his arms. He gave his father a disgusted look and said, "Trust you to say something filthy like that."

"Filthy is in the eye of the beholder, son," said Jack, knowing Martin hated to be called that. "I enjoy sex and don't care who knows it."

"With anything that wears a skirt," hissed Martin, so angry that he didn't care that his mother and wife could hear him. "Thank God Isabelle can't stand you."

Jack looked from Isabelle to Martin and back again.

"Really?" he said with affected surprise. "She's always been very nice to me. I am so pleased she has joined our family."

"Well, she's just being polite to your face. She's told me numerous times that she finds you repulsive."

"Is this true, Isabelle?" asked Jack.

"Martin, I told you that in confidence," said Isabelle, coloring prettily. "It is really not nice to repeat our private conversations."

"Well, it is time he knew the truth!" said Martin. "He thinks he is God's gift to women."

Jack's hand behind Isabelle's back drifted lower and he cupped a buttock and squeezed, reveling in its firm roundness under the thin cocktail dress. She moved her hips subtly, but seductively, so that his hand slipped into her butt crack. Jack looked down at Isabelle and said, "I am sorry, my dear. I don't know what I have done to offend you and bring on your dislike. Please tell me, so that I can try to become less repulsive to you."

"You ignore me, Jack," she said. "I feel that I am nothing to you, that you don't notice me. That you don't want to spend time with me."

"I will change that," said Jack solemnly. "I will try and make time for us to spend time together. And get to know each other."

With a great effort, Isabelle managed to keep a straight face. Jack dipped his shoulder and found the hem of her dress and darted his hand up her skirt. He slid it in between her upper thighs and pushed in to get his fingers on her crotch. Driving two fingers into her cunt he said to Martin, "From this day forward, I promise to be nicer to your wife. I will try to give her the attention that she deserves. And in response, I hope she will take me to her breast."

Isabelle gasped as Jack's fingers invaded her. She moved her legs slightly apart to give him better access and squeezed her cunt muscles hard. He worked quick circular motions and then ran his forefinger over her clitoris. She gasped again. Her breasts ached and she wished she could have Jack suck on her nipples -- she had suckled him just before the ball began, but she felt heavy with milk again.

"Are you ok, darling?" asked Martin taking a step forward and putting a hand on her shoulder.

"No, no, it's nothing," she said hastily. "I felt a gnat or some insect on my thigh. But it's gone now."

Jack knew exactly how to get Isabelle's motor running and in less than a minute she was very moist. She was having difficulty keeping a normal face, so he stopped moving his fingers and just let them stay there, encased in the warm wetness of her pussy.

"The more time you spend with Isabelle, the more chance she will have to see what a beast you are," said Martin spitefully. "She will never like you."

"Martin, don't speak to your father like that!" said Carmen sharply.

Martin looked sulky and said, "It's all true and you know it."

Jack withdrew his fingers from Isabelle's cunt, put them in his mouth and licked them off.

"Well Martin, you may be right. I may never get Isabelle to like me. But I intend to try."

Seeking to diffuse the situation, Isabelle took Martin's arm saying, "Come on, darling, I can't wait to dance with you commando."

Martin allowed himself to be drawn away reluctantly.

"Your father was at me again this evening," Jack said, as soon as Martin and Isabelle were out of earshot.

"Oh Jack, you've got to learn to ignore him ...," Carmen began. Then she gasped "Oohh!!" Jack's hand went up her behind under her dress and his fingers slipped in between the cheeks of her firm buttocks.

"He's always complaining about how I'm no good for you. Maybe I should prove him right!"

With that he pushed his middle finger into her ass up to the first knuckle.

"OOHH!!" Carmen's gasp was almost a squeal this time, but she put her hand on her mouth to muffle it. "Jack, don't! Someone will see!"

"Not if you control yourself sweetie," he said grimly.

He pushed deeper, up to the second knuckle. She tried to move away, but he put his other hand under the front of her dress and began kneading her mount. His finger and thumb expertly manipulated her clit and she very rapidly grew wet.

"Oh my God, Jack!" she hissed. "This is just crazy!"

"You like it, don't you?"

"No, no , ..."

"Well, you sound like you're getting excited. And your cunt sure feels that way."

He rubbed some of the wetness from her cunt on the fingers of his other hand. Then he let his forefinger join his middle finger in invading her ass. Continually lubricating these two fingers with her own womanly secretions, he got both digits two knuckles deep in her ass.

She was breathing very hard now and a sheen of sweat began to show on her face. Then another couple came up to ask for some punch.

"Do help these nice people, Carmen," said Jack, withdrawing his hand from her cunt and licking his fingers. At the same time he rocked his two fingers in her ass back and forth.

She smiled at the couple weakly, ladled out two cups of punch, and with great effort managed to avoid spilling any.

"Are you OK?" asked the woman as she took the cup.

"Yes, yes," said Carmen, through little pants. "I ran up to get here and I'm a little out of breath."

"Alright then," the woman said uncertainly. The couple departed, but the woman looked back over her shoulder a few times with a worried look.

"Jack, really, you've got to stop ..."

But he continued to rock his fingers back and forth and the flow of juices from her cunt increased. He used his third finger to continually lubricate his probing digits.

"Why?" he asked. She was getting too excited to think coherently and could not think of a reason.

Then her father came up on the other side of the punch table. She looked at him in dismay, trying to stop panting, but unable to do so.

"So good to see you again, Mr. St James," said Jack genially. His left hand was on the punch table, but his right was out of sight behind her back. "Carmen and I were just talking about you."

With that he increased the pace of his anal thrusts. She gripped the edge of the punch table with both hands and squeezed hard to try to get her mind off his anal invasion. But her excitement kept rising. A droplet of sweat slipped down the side of her face.

"Carmen! Are you OK? You're panting and hot!" her father said.

"I'm, ..., I'm fine, dad," she faltered. "I've been running around trying to keep things on ... track ... at the ball. Just a bit out of ... breath. I'll be fine ... in a couple ... of minutes."

Then to her horror, she felt the twitching in her cunt and recognized the onset of an orgasm.

"Dad, ..., you've got to go, ... I'll see you on the stage ... in a couple ..."

"I can't go and leave you like this!" her father exclaimed. "Come with me, Dr. Reynolds is here, you must see him."

She could not hold back any longer. Her self-control gave way and she began to come. She put hand over her mouth and tried to disguise her cries and upper body spasms as a fit of coughing.

Jack finally withdrew his invading fingers and stepped aside saying, "Just take it easy for a couple of minutes, sweetheart. I'm sure you will be fine when you get your breath back."

As the waves of the orgasm began to subside, she leaned on the table and was able to marshal her thoughts.

"I don't need Dr. Reynolds, Dad," she said firmly. "I'm fine, just run off my feet. I need to get to the stage and organize the raffle draw. I'll see you there. Jack, handle the punch table for a while till I get someone to relieve you."

With that she left them and walked quickly away.

"I told you, Mr. St James," said Jack with a smile. "Carmen and I are very happy together."

His father-in-law shook his head.

"I don't believe her for a moment," he said. "She was quite ill right now, that was obvious. And it's equally clear that you don't give a damn about her welfare." He pointed a finger at Jack. "I'm watching you, Jack. If I find that you're hurting her, you'll regret that you were even born."

They both watched her swinging ass as she walked across the floor. Just knowing that it was bare under her dress made Jack tumescent. He knew that her feminine juices were leaking down her thighs and wetting her stocking tops and he found this intensely stimulating. He put his hands in his pockets to conceal his growing erection.

"Hmmphff!" said Mr. St James, stamping off.

__________________

As promised, Carmen had sent someone to relieve Jack at the punch table and he now leaned on the bar with Comte Charles de la Roque, Isabelle's father. The count was a tall, distinguished looking man with a distinctly Gallic air. While he was neither as good-looking nor as athletic as Jack, he had the air of confidence and hauteur that came from titled old money. They were both sipping champagne, looking out on to the crowd at the ball.

"There are so many beautiful women here, mon ami," Charles said. "And nowadays the moneyed women dress like whores and make the blood pound in my temples. I know Louise and Carmen are here, but I hope you will give me a few introductions. If what I hear is true, there must be several women here tonight who have been in your bed."

"A few, perhaps," admitted Jack.

"It would be an interesting experiment, no? If one of them shares my bed, she could compare the two of us."

"Imagine that," said Jack.

"What do you think of that pair over there at the end of the bar?"

"They're much too young," said Jack briefly. "Fresh little hotties like that are too used to getting attention. They are sure to play hard to get and make you work too hard. See, there are already four or five guys talking to them. And even if you manage to get them into bed, they tend to be self-absorbed and that doesn't make for a good fuck."

"Well, who'd be the best bedmate at this reception tonight?" asked Charles.

"Are you sure you want me to answer that?"

"Of course, why would I ask if I didn't?"

"You may not like my answer."

"Try me."

"OK, but don't say I didn't warn you," Jack said, his gaze drifting over towards his choice. "It's Louise, Comtesse de la Roque. Your wife."

Charles took a step back, surprised. Then he shook his head.

"I had heard that you knew women, Jack. But this makes me wonder." He pronounced it 'Jacques'.

"Just look at Louise," said Jack nodding his head towards Charles's wife, away across the large hall. "She's gorgeous -- she was on the cover of Vogue, for Christ's sake. She works out, plays a great game of tennis. And she's got sexual experience. She's got a hot body, but old enough to know that her youth is behind her. So she is beginning to worry and that will make her less self-absorbed -- she'll be great in bed. Can you fault my analysis?"

"Great theorizing, Jack," said Charles. "But unfortunately, punctured by the facts. I know Louise. We've been married over twenty years."

"The two don't go together," said Jack.

"What do you mean?"

"Just because you have been married twenty some years, doesn't mean that you know her."

"Now you're being ridiculous. I live with Louise. I sleep with Louise. I know her mind and I know her body, both intimately."

"OK, let me ask you this. Does she have a tattoo?"

"Of course not!"

"Well, you're wrong, she does. At least two, in fact. She has a little heart on her right ankle. And a tiny tramp stamp on her butt, a pair of angel wings."

Charles stared at Jack for a moment.

"How do you know this?"

"Because I watch women. The more important question is -- how could you not know this? We were at the beach last weekend, do you even remember what she wore?"

Charles tried hard to remember and it showed as his brow furrowed.

"A swimsuit?" he said finally, his tone uncertain.

"A yellow halter-top, tie-on bikini. The panties were the size of my palm and if her hip ties had been any lower, she would have been arrested for public indecency. When she came out of the water her cunt was perfectly outlined, you could tell that she has a clean-shaven pussy. She got hit by a wave and one of her nipples slipped out for a while."

"You must have been staring at her the whole time!"