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She stopped reaching for the bag and slowly lowered her hands to her lap and gave me a questioning look. She stared at me patiently while I struggled with myself. She didn't seem the slightest bit upset or even surprised at my obvious anxiety. Finally, under the pressure of her stare I started talking, trying to get her to stop flirting with me: "OK, Mary, uh, look ..." "Yeah?" she queried with a friendly smile. I was getting more and more confused and panicked. All I had to do was to become cool, thank her for the magazine, and then ignore her. But that sort of thing takes composure and at least some strength and confidence. I had none of those right then, and so I just helplessly pleaded, "Like, uh, why, Mary? Uh, why are you doing this?" She looked innocently surprised and asked, "'Why'? I'm not sure I know what you're asking. Why did I get you the magazine?" "Well, uh...yeah...I want to know that, but also ..." it was hard to get to the point -- I didn't know how to say I suspected her of trying to seduce me. What if I was wrong -- what a fool I'd feel like then. So I lamely continued my question: "... I mean, why are you...are you, you know ... being this way with me?" "Well first," she replied cheerfully and without hesitation, "I got you the magazine because I thought you'd like it ..." ('Like hell!' I thought suspiciously. 'You got it to seduce me. And cut out the fake innocence.' But I didn't have enough guts to actually say anything like that to her) "... but I'm still not sure about your other question," she was saying. "Are you asking why I'm being nice to you?" She seemed a little hurt, but I didn't believe it. I wanted to say, "No. I'm asking why you're being such a slut with me. Did Rachael put you up to it? How much is she giving you for this?" But instead, all I could get up enough courage to say was, "Well...yeah ..." I was whining "... I mean, you've never been this...this nice to me before and...and, well, I'm a little surprised and...and, well, I guess I'm just wondering why." Never missing a beat she replied, "I want you to enjoy yourself, Al." She lowered her voice and gave me a provocative look and continued, "I'm just trying to help." I suddenly noticed that despite my panic and anger, she was starting to turn me on. She looked so sexy there right in front of me, and her flirty moves were having their effect. But I forced myself to ignore that and snapped back sarcastically, "Right. And this is just all out of your altruistic love for your fellow man." She was totally unfazed by my anger and her demeanor became more serious, although no less provocative. She calmly answered, "Not really. I'm not a self-sacrificing person and I don't do things that aren't in my own best interest." I had thought so! Her true nature just came through: tough and self-serving. I no longer doubted she was in cahoots with Rachael. "So what _is_ your interest here?" I snapped back. "Surely it's not because you want...you want ..." I started choking on my words, because I couldn't bring myself to say "want my body", even in the negative context I was trying to use it. That's how deep my phobia about making sexual advances is. She kept her serious, provocative gaze on me and interrupted, "It doesn't matter what I want -- what's important right now is what _you_ want." Damn it, she was a pro! I was ambivalent, caught between wanting to get out of there and wanting to stay and get swept up in Mary's apparent seduction. If we started focusing on what _I_ want, she'd use my ambivalence to twist me around her little finger. I felt desperate to get off of the subject of what I want and said, "But Mary, it _does_ matter what you want, because ..." She interrupted again. "No, it doesn't matter. I'm _very_ capable of taking care of myself and of getting what I want. You needn't be concerned about that. All you should think about is what _you_ want ..." I felt weak and powerless, and I didn't know what to do next. I was actually trembling with fear and I'm sure she saw it. My panic increased. Mary had only paused a second and then went on, "... and I know what you want, Al." She stared into my eyes for a moment and she no doubt saw me weaken. I felt a wave of despair as she said, "You want to see some pictures of naked women," and a wave of sexual arousal went through me. Her expression told me that she knew then that I would stay for anything she had to dish out. So much for my vow to resist her. She shifted her position on the couch next to me -- she got up on her knees and then sat on her calves facing me. Her skirt was bunched up a little bit and it rode up an inch or two above her knees. She reached into the bag, bringing out a 'Club' magazine and said, "I thought you'd like this better than 'Penthouse'." She tossed it on my lap, saying, "It's much sexier." I had to admit to myself that she knew what she was talking about. I'd spent many an hour masturbating to the pictures and pornographic stories in 'Club'. This masturbation of mine was quite private and quite intense: I would get lost in hot fantasies, sometimes for hours while teasing and stroking my cock, balls, and body. I felt quite vulnerable and was terrified at the prospect of her finding out how much I loved to play with myself that way. I was glad Mary had tossed the magazine on my lap, since I wanted to make sure she couldn't see the hard-on that was beginning to rise in my pants. On the cover of the magazine was a very sexy, shapely blonde woman wearing only a G-string. Her palms covered the fronts of her bare breasts, but only enough to hide her nipples and not much more. The crotch of the G-string was a small, frilly, black triangle that barely covered her pussy. This photo turned me on quite a bit, and I made a mental note to get a copy of this issue to take back home with me that night. Speaking slowly, softly, and deliberately, Mary said, "She turns you on, doesn't she?" She startled me and I jumped in my seat. Reflexively I said no, but Mary just looked at me like she knew I was lying. Her gaze was strong and unwavering and I broke down and stammered, "Well, yeah, I like her." "So lets have a sexual fantasy with her, Al." I was flabbergasted and I looked up at her with pleading confusion in my eyes. "Come on, Al," she shrugged with mock nonchalance, "it'll be fun." I was terrified. "Well...I, uh...I don't know...maybe I shouldn't ..." She ignored my protests. "I love sexual fantasy," she said cheerfully and with more wholesome-sounding naivete than I could believe. "Come on, Al, let's have one now. Rachael won't be done for at least 15 minutes." "I don't know...how can you be sure that she ..." "I know, Al," she interrupted. "Rachael won't be free until at least 6:30." I noticed it was then 6:15. Mary's certainty about this reinforced my suspicion that Rachael and she were in this together. No doubt they arranged for me to be alone with Mary until 6:30. Despite these thoughts, I still found myself wanting to be seduced. This scared me, as a part of me feared what I was letting myself in for. The conflict was beginning to drive me crazy. "I don't know, Mary," I sighed. "I mean...it's nice of you to offer... _very_ nice of you, as a matter of fact ... it's just that...well... right here...is...it's so ... so public, and...uh ..." I looked down and let my words trail off. I was paralyzed with indecision and fear. After letting me sit there like that for a moment, Mary suddenly said, "Al ..." the fake wholesome sweetness was completely gone from her voice and she spoke with strength and more than a little sexual power. I looked up and when our eyes met she continued "... I can tell you like to have sexual fantasies when looking at magazines like this ..." I sighed defeatedly. I didn't want her to know that. "... and I think you'd even like it better with me helping you." She waited for my reply, but all I did was sigh and gesture helplessly. Finally, she went on, her voice low, sultry, and almost threatening: "You want to...much, much more than you're letting on, Al. We both know you'd love it." "Well...I guess so," I murmurred. "I _know_ so, Al." She paused, boring into me with her gaze. I squirmed uncomfortably, but finally decided to acquiece to her. What harm would there be in looking at the magazine, I thought to myself as I hesitantly nodded my acceptance. "So look at her, Al," Mary said, the matter now settled. She pointed to the sexy woman on the cover of the magazine, still on my lap. "I can tell you like her." Her manner was slow and deliberate, and she never lowered her eyes from mine. "But don't you want to see her naked?" I smiled sheepishly and nodded. She saw my reaction but she pretended not to have noticed it, and she continued, a bit more insistently, "Wouldn't you like to see her naked breasts, Al? Don't you want to see her nipples?" She emphasized the word "nipples" and pushed her chest out slightly. The motion was subtle, but she did it slowly without lowering her gaze from mine, which made it impossible to ignore. I couldn't help but lower my eyes to Mary's chest, and I then noticed that her nipples were erect. I caught myself and quickly looked back into her eyes, hoping in vain that she didn't see me gaze at her breasts. But she was just staring at me with a knowing, confident look that made me gasp. I suddenly panicked and looked away, down at the magazine, back at her, off into space, and back at her again. As soon as our eyes finally met again, she said, always slowly and deliberately, "And don't you want to see her pussy, Al?" She paused, staring, and then continued, "Wouldn't you like to look up between her legs and see her crotch -- her naked cunt?" With those words Mary again made a slow, subtle motion, this time shifting her weight slightly so that her legs spread apart a little bit. I found myself looking towards her well-covered crotch as her hemline rode up maybe a half inch higher on her thighs. But I couldn't see up her skirt, much as I wanted to. Again I went into a panic as I realized that she knew I was staring. I was getting quite scared, but also rather aroused. After our eyes met again, she said, always slowly and deliberately, "I know you want to see her, Al. Here ..." she picked up the magazine, revealing the bulge in my pants. She made a point of looking down at it and then slowly raised her intent gaze back to my eyes. She said nothing about my erection, but her gestures were enough to let me know she was aware of it. She continued, "... let me show you where she's posing nude." She thumbed through the magazine until she found what she was looking for, and then she laid it back down on my lap. The model was in a bedroom setting, totally naked, bending over the top of the dresser with her ass pointed out at the camera. There was a mirror behind the dresser which showed the model's naked breasts. She was looking in the mirror right into the camera with a nasty, lewd expression on her face. One of her hands was on her ass cheek, pulling it open. Never ceasing to speak slowly and deliberately, Mary said, "Look at her nipples." She paused a moment and continued, "And what an ass she has! Do you like her ass, Al?" Mary looked at me, waiting for a reply. I was practically paralyzed with terror, but I swallowed thickly and managed to force myself to say, "Yes, I like...it." I couldn't bring myself to say the words "her ass". "What a hot fantasy woman for you, Al! Imagine being there with her... staring at her naked body. She doesn't mind ... she wants you to stare. She's posing for you...right there in front of you...naked, spreading her ass for you. See how she's looking at you? She knows how much she's turning you on. She's telling you something, Al. Do you know what she's saying?" "Uh...no, um...I...I, uh ..." I stammered, nearly unable to speak but realizing that I was starting to enjoy what Mary was doing to me -- in spite of my nervousness. "She's telling you she wants you to take out that big, long cock of yours and jack off for her." I sighed nervously.
Continued in part 3...