The Latex Queen

By Katt Ford

The four of them were close friends: Jay, his wife Jess, his friend Eddie and Eddie's wife Michelle. But when Eddie and Michelle's marriage hits a rough patch, Jay finds himself in the middle. And it doesn't help matters when Michelle, craving sex in Eddie's absence, uses her fetish for sexy latex outfits to seduce and dominate Jay. An even bigger surprise is in store as Jay finds out his wife Jess is ok with it.

The new situation will take the group on a journey of erotic discovery as Jay learns what it means to serve the Latex Queen.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Katt Ford
• Release date: Feb 22, 2017
• ISBN: 9781370344581

Katt Ford

Katt Ford graduated from college and went straight to a boring job as a receptionist. While killing time behind her desk, she began reading erotic fiction on line. Before long, she decided to try her hand at writing it.Katt is an equal opportunity pervert. She likes stories about strong men and strong women, and the people who love them. Is it better to give or to receive? She still can't decide.Katt lives in Western Canada with her extremely open-minded husband and the best cat in the world.

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Copyright Katt Ford 2016

Smashwords Edition

All characters in this story are over the age of eighteen

www.kattfordwrites.wixsite.com

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The Latex Queen

On Demand

Springing up the concrete steps at the front of the house, Jay rapped on the red painted front door. Birds were chirping in the small trees, waiting for the worms that they knew would emerge under the rainbow-tinged arcs of the lawn sprinklers. Across the subdivision, mowers hummed, the song of the suburban summer. It was a gorgeous day, the few white clouds in the sky pale and diaphanous as old lace, combed across the scorched blue. And Jay was wasting the afternoon here.

As the door swung open, he pushed the thought away, forcing a smile onto his face instead. His eyes met Michelle’s, a paler blue then the sky between the dark bars of her painted lashes. Her blonde hair hung loose around her face, reaching down no further than her shoulders and parted in the middle above her broad forehead. Her nostrils were red at their edges, her lips bare and chapped. She’d been crying, Jay recognized. His heart convulsed. Much as he didn’t want to be here, he knew it was the right thing to do. Michelle was his wife’s friend, but she was his friend too. They’d all been friends, once. Now no one seemed to know where to stand.

Hey, Michelle, Jay smiled, trying to keep his tone upbeat. Jess said you could use a hand packing some things up? Here I am.

Oh. Yeah. Hi, Jay. Come in. Michelle’s tone was flat, a slight throatiness in her normally high voice. From the crying, obviously, Jay thought to himself. He’d never been comfortable with raw displays of emotion. Like most men, he could really only deal with emotion in the context of sports. Relationship drama? It made his skin prickle. Still, he dutifully followed Michelle inside. She wore a plain V neck T shirt in navy blue, one he’d seen before that bared the small mole on her chest. They’d been friends for years. An old pair of jeans. Bare feet. Good outfit for packing up some personal items. Or for sitting around crying on a sunny Saturday. Either way.

Jay closed the door behind him. The house looked bare. He hadn’t been here since the break up. Everything that had been Eddie’s was gone. Granted, in the living room, that hadn’t been much. The longer a guy is married, the less trace there is of him in his house, Jay thought as he considered his own living room. But there had been that box of fancy Cuban cigars on the mantel above the fireplace, and a couple of bottles of tequila in the glass cabinet against the wall beneath a signed NFL helmet. All gone now. It felt strange being here, where they had come so often in happier times. Like stepping into a dead man’s shoes, or something. Cardboard boxes were piled up beside the sofa, salvaged from the local grocery stores to serve as repositories for memories too painful to endure.

Jess would have come too, but she had a thing with her mom. The truth was, Jay couldn’t be any more specific than that. Anything to do with his wife’s mom seemed to have an instant fogging effect on his brain, shutting down the curious part of him immediately. It was always something, with Jess’ mom. There was no way to keep track of the madness.

Yeah, I know. She said, Michelle sniffed. Right. Of course. They all had cellphones. It’s 2016, Jay reminded himself.

Right. So how have you been? Besides - I mean - you know, this.

Ok, I guess, Michelle offered. It’s….an adjustment. I wouldn’t have bothered you, but there’s some heavy stuff upstairs I need bringing down, and I can’t manage it myself.

Yeah, of course, said Jay. No problem. Where should I start?

Well, there’s some stuff in the spare bedroom upstairs, she said. Her smile was as weak and pale as a winter morning, but it was there nonetheless. Pretty much everything in there can go. Just box it up and bring it down here, and I can go through it.

Ok, sure, said Jay, grabbing a couple of empty boxes from a pile near the door. Quite frankly, moving any amount of possessions seemed preferable to having to console a heartbroken woman. That kind of emotional support just wasn’t Jay’s strong suit. God, he wished his wife was here. A cardboard box in each hand, he climbed the twisting stairs to the spare room.

He couldn’t remember the last time he had been in here. What reason would he ever have to come to this small room next to the larger bedroom? There wasn’t even a bed, just some empty luggage, rarely-used sporting equipment and an ugly old armoire hulking in the corner. This shouldn’t take too long, at least. Carefully, Jay began loading whatever would fit into the boxes. The standard stuff you accumulate over the course of a life. Old photos, forgotten tools, expired warranties for expired appliances, dog-eared books, unseasonal clothes. Amazing how space in your house just fills up with this stuff, Jay thought, reflecting on his own superfluous rooms at home. A hint of sadness accompanied the thought, a kind of there-but-for-the-grace-of-God superstitious terror. The idea of someday packing up his own house in these circumstances was not a thought worth dwelling on.

Jay? Michelle’s voice reached him from the bedroom next door. He hadn’t heard her come upstairs. But with bare feet on carpeted steps, it wasn’t a surprise. Laying down the box he held under his arm in the middle of the floor, he went to see what Michelle wanted.

He found her standing at the foot of her bed, facing her dresser and the two large wardrobes that towered above it. He followed her gaze to the top of one wardrobe, where a large plastic box rested. Michelle pointed up at it.

Could you grab that down for me? she smiled.

Sure, Jay shrugged. Michelle was probably five foot five and slender, whereas Jay was six two and solidly built. Stretching out his arms, he seized the bottom of the box and slid it towards himself. Carefully, he pulled it down to chest height.

Where do you want it? he asked.

Just on the bed is fine, Michelle said. The bed springs bounced as Jay set the box down on the mattress beside her. Immediately, Michelle reached inside, scattering items all over the bed as she rummaged through the container’s contents.

God, you just forget so much stuff that you have, she said, pulling out one handbag after another like handkerchiefs from a magician’s sleeve. Look at all this. That’s one good thing about all this, I guess. It’s forcing me to do this. Should have done it a long time ago.

Yeah, Jay agreed, it’s the same at our place. Just never get around to it, I guess.

Oh. Michelle let out a short laugh, more in surprise than real amusement. Her blue eyes shone as she peered slyly at Jay as he stood beside the open wardrobe. I haven’t seen this in a while. Grinning, she pulled something from the plastic box and held it up to the light. It was bright red, Jay saw, red as a stop sign, and it shone in the light from the window as though it were wet.

What is that? he asked, shading his eyes.

It’s a dress, Michelle smirked.

What is it, rubber? Jay asked.

Kind of, Michelle shrugged. Latex. Like a condom.

A latex dress? I didn’t realize you were that type of girl.

Oh, this thing is so hot. I haven’t worn it in forever. I wonder if it still even fits me, Michelle pondered as she turned the slick fabric this way and that in the light.

When would you ever wear something like that? Jay asked. He did his best to keep his voice nonchalant. It wasn’t exactly a huge shock; based on her occasionally frank discussion of sex, he never had Michelle pegged as a prude. But looking at the skimpy dress was the first step along the road to imagining it on her, and that was not a thought for a happily married man to entertain. Michelle’s eyes sparkled like jewels as she fixed him with a look, her smile devious, as though she could see right through his act to the hidden thoughts he was doing his best to ignore.

Wouldn’t you like to know? she teased. It didn’t leave the house, put it that way.

I bet it didn’t, Jay gulped. Michelle’s eyes were making him nervous, the icy glare almost sinister above her crafty smile. He almost preferred it when she seemed on the edge of tears.

Should I try it on? she asked, her voice quiet and crackling with some new energy.

No, Jay blustered, let’s…let’s get back to it, you know? Packing? Michelle’s smile deepened, the delicate bones of her cheeks standing out under her flashing eyes.

What’s the matter, Jay? she purred. The dress creaked quietly as she lowered her arm, the red rubber pooling like oil on the bed. Afraid you might like it?

What? No, Jay stammered. I just - you know - I mean… he trailed off ineffectually. Michelle raised her eyebrows quizzically, letting the silence build between them. Finally, she shrugged.

Whatever, she smiled. Thanks for getting the box down. Leaving the dress to one side, she turned her attention back to the plastic container. It was as though the charged moment between them had never happened, as though Jay had imagined the whole thing, or completely misread her intentions. It wouldn’t be the first time, he reflected ruefully. Stammering out some generic response, he retreated to the spare room as though he had been dismissed.

In the small room, Jay reapplied himself to sorting through Michelle’s possessions. It wasn’t as though he hadn’t noticed her tight little body before. They’d rented a cabin one Christmas, all four of them in happier times, and he’d seen Michelle rock a bikini like nobody’s business. Jesus, don’t think of that now! Concentrate. Packing boxes, that’s what you’re here for. There was that dress she wore at a birthday party for Eddie, and he knew Jess had caught him looking, but she hadn’t said anything…..Stop it! The look in Michelle’s eyes just now…a shiver ran down Jay’s spine as he carried on methodically filling the box in front of him. He didn’t turn around when he heard Michelle pass by the open door on her way downstairs, humming happily to herself. Good. Nothing up here but dusty old boxes. Nothing interesting. Nothing sexy. Nothing to get excited about.

Soon, both boxes were full. Piling one on top of the other, Jay lifted them with a grunt and started down the winding stairs. When he got to the living room, he stopped.

Michelle was staring right at him. There was that look again, that half-sinister smile under eyes that glittered like broken glass. She was wearing the dress, the red latex tight against every curve of her body as though she had been poured into it. The long muscle of her thigh swelled out from beneath the short skirt that barely covered her crossed legs. She had boots to match, he noticed, shiny red knee-high boots that laced all the way up the front with tall, chunky heels that made her legs seem even longer. A cut-out section in the front of the dress revealed the breathtaking swell of her cleavage, her breasts seeming to struggle against the unforgiving garment with every breath. Her arms were crossed too, folded across her stomach between the twin counterbalancing swell of breasts and hips. Jay felt his cock swelling with a sudden rush of blood, his erection uncontrollable at the sight before his eyes. Stumbling, he moved across the living room to set the boxes down. Michelle’s glowing eyes followed him the whole way.

What do you think? Her voice, quiet though it was, cut the heavy air like a scalpel. Jay sighed as he stood, standing awkwardly and praying his erection couldn’t be seen through his jeans at this distance.

It, er…it looks…you look very nice, he managed.

As Michelle uncrossed her legs, Jay struggled to keep his eyes away from the visible triangle of darkness under her skirt that seemed to draw them in like a magnet to iron filings. The dress creaked, clinging jealously around her as she stood. The skirt pulled tight around her thighs as she stood with her feet apart, her hands on her hips emphasizing the precarious narrowness of her waist and making her breasts stand out proudly from her slender body. The look in her eyes challenged him to meet her gaze, and he did his best to ignore the incredible body she had put so clearly on display.

Nice? she said slowly. You think I look nice?

Well, I mean - maybe nice is the wrong - you look-

I look hot.

Yes, Jay admitted, yes you do. You look very hot.

Thank you, Michelle grinned, white teeth flashing suddenly in her smile. Her boots thumped on the floor as she approached him, the skintight dress groaning with every step, and Jay groaned too, inwardly, a groan of desire and frustration at the vision of sex incarnate in front of him. Michelle was his friend, his wife’s friend. Why was she tormenting him like this?

I used to wear this for Eddie, Michelle said, her voice even quieter now that they stood close. He could smell the faint scent of her perfume