The Favour 
by Elizabeth Coldwell

Deirdre Holloway was sunbathing in that minuscule bikini again. Gary could see her through the gaps in the fence as he pushed the mower slowly back and forth along the lawn. When he’d first gone through the tasks that needed doing in the overgrown garden, fixing the fence was high on the list – until he’d realised just how much time his fit, fortysomething neighbour spent working on her tan.

Still, that’s the luxury you have when your husband walks out on you for a younger model and you manage to sting him for a healthy divorce settlement, Gary thought enviously. Not like his own extra leisure hours, forced on him when the firm cut the days he worked to four a week to save money. Though on an afternoon as hot as this, who wanted to be cooped up in a stuffy, windowless cubicle when you could be out in the sun, admiring the smooth, glistening lines of Deidre’s oiled, honey-tanned back and the way the thong back of her bikini bottoms fitted so snugly into the crack of her –

‘Hello, Gary.’ Deidre’s voice cut into his reverie and he stumbled, stubbing his toe on the unforgiving metal of the lawnmower. He glanced up to see her peering over the fence at him. ‘Hot enough for you?’

‘Er, hi.’ He did his best to regain his composure, hoping she wouldn’t realise he’d been lusting over her.

She beckoned him close to the fence with a crooked finger. ‘I hoped I’d find you out here. I wanted to ask you a favour.’

‘Sure.’ Gary wiped his sweat-slick hands on his T-shirt. Perhaps she’d noticed the improvements he’d made to his garden over the past few weeks and wanted him to do something similar for her. She didn’t strike him as the type of woman who cut her own grass, after all.

‘I’m having the girls over tonight. We’re in a little book club. I thought it would be a good idea if I read a bit more. Improved myself, you know …’

Gary was polite enough not to point out that Deirdre had improved herself quite a lot already. He supposed her dramatic weight loss could be put down to the stress of her divorce, but the caramel highlights in her blonde hair were a recent addition, and she’d definitely had a little discreet surgical work done, smoothing her skin and plumping her lips. Not that he was complaining about the effect.

Aware his mind was wandering again, he dragged his attention back to what Deirdre was saying.

‘Anyway, we started off just discussing the book in question over a couple of glasses of fizz and a few nibbles, but over the last few weeks, the girls have been providing rather more in the way of entertainment. Julia hired a harpist, to sit in the corner and play while we talked. Kay got in a mixologist, to make us all some fancy cocktails. And Pauline treated us to a fish pedicure.’

‘A what?’

‘You put your feet in a tank of little black fish, and they nibble all the dead skin off your toes. It’s surprisingly enjoyable. But I do feel there’s a little oneupmanship going on here. So I thought I’d have a waiter on hand for my evening.’

Gary wondered how a waiter could be classed as an improvement on what had gone before, but let Deirdre continue.

‘Unfortunately, I’ve just had a message to say the lad I’d hired is ill, and I know it’s really short notice but – would you be prepared to help me out? I’d only need you for a couple of hours, and I’d be able to pay you a hundred pounds.’

Even if he’d had plans for the evening, Gary would have cancelled them on hearing the fee. And if Deidre’s friends were even half as attractive as she was, this could be fun. He’d heard stories about cougars, women in their forties and beyond who were looking for sex with much younger men. Perhaps tonight it would be his turn to meet one. ‘OK, I’ll do it.’

‘Good, I’ll expect you at 7.30.’

With that, Deirdre went back to her sun lounger, leaving Gary to his half-mown lawn and his increasingly filthy thoughts of what might be to come.

Gary knocked confidently on Deidre’s door. She hadn’t told him what she expected him to wear, so he’d hunted through his wardrobe and found a white shirt, black trousers and a red waistcoat he’d worn as the best man at his friend Lee’s wedding. Smart but discreet. He’d shaved, moisturised and applied a splash of subtle, musky cologne. Hopefully, Deirdre and her guests would be pleased with the effect.

When Deirdre ushered him inside, he realised she was the most covered up he’d seen her in a long time. He’d grown used to her strolling around her garden in her skimpy swimwear, but tonight she was in an elegant black dress, sheer flesh-toned stockings and plain black leather pumps. From the flash of red sole as she led him through into the hall, the designer’s trademark, he knew those shoes had cost more than he earned in a week.

He noticed Deirdre looking at him quizzically and asked, ‘Do I look smart enough? I mean, I wasn’t sure what to wear, so I –’

A curious, almost predatory smile crossed her face. ‘Dear me, Gary, when we talked this afternoon I think I must have neglected to mention that I was hiring you to wait on us naked.’

He’d have laughed, if her expression hadn’t told him she was deadly serious. Still, it made sense. If she wanted to compete with all the fancy entertainment her friends had been providing at their book club evenings, what better than a waiter prancing round in nothing but bow tie and boxers? Though if he’d known Deirdre expected him to strip down to his underwear, he’d have chosen something a little less revealing than the tight white briefs he currently had on.

‘OK,’ he replied, determined not to be fazed by Deidre’s demands, ‘I’ll just go and undress. Is the bathroom upstairs?’

‘Oh, you won’t be using the bathroom. I want you to strip here, in the hall, and I want you to do it right this minute.’

Gary almost protested, then decided against it. If this was how Deirdre got her kicks, watching a young man undress, then fair enough. It didn’t stop him feeling a little self-conscious as he shrugged out of his waistcoat, shirt and trousers, particularly when it became apparent, as he stood before her in his briefs, that he was getting hard.

‘Right. Now what do you need me to do?’

He thought Deirdre would show him to the kitchen, filling him in on where the drinks and canapés were stored. To his surprise, she snapped, ‘When I say naked, I mean everything. Shoes, underwear – the lot. And take your pants off slowly. I want to enjoy the sight of you baring yourself completely in front of me.’

This was the moment when Gary should have snatched up the clothes he’d placed in a neat pile on the chair by the telephone table and told Deirdre he was sorry, but he couldn’t do as she asked. But it wasn’t the thought of the money she’d promised him that made him stay. Instead, something within him responded to her dominant aura.

With trembling fingers, he unfastened his boots, pulling them off along with his socks. Only his briefs remained, guarding the last of his modesty. Deidre’s eyes were fixed on them, silently demanding their removal.

As she’d requested, he eased them down gradually, the process only making him more acutely aware of how he was baring himself for her. His cock sprang free of the clinging cotton, bobbing up proudly. Gary felt his cheeks burn, knowing Deirdre would see it and realise just how turned on he was despite having been placed in such a weird, demeaning situation.

When he stepped free of his underwear, he put it with the rest of his discarded clothes. Immediately, Deirdre snatched the pile up, tossing it into the hall closet. ‘You get them back when you go through the front door,’ she told him. ‘Not a moment before. From then until now, you do everything naked.’

He couldn’t help noticing the relish with which she pronounced the word naked, nor the contrast between his enforced nudity and her fully clothed state. It seemed to reinforce the control she now had over him.

An idea occurred to him, one that could add an extra dimension to his humiliation. ‘I won’t have to answer the door like this, will I?’

‘Oh, what a delicious image that is. But no.’

For a moment, he thought she was sparing him further embarrassment. Her next words dashed that hope.

‘You see, my guests are here already.’

With that, Deirdre pushed the half-open living room door further ajar. As it swung back, Gary saw three stylishly dressed women of around Deidre’s age sitting on the sofa. From their leering grins, it was obvious they’d watched – and greatly enjoyed – every moment of his slow strip. It wasn’t just Deirdre who’d seen him expose his cock and balls, it was a group of strangers, too. Instinctively, his hands dropped to his crotch, shielding himself from their gaze.

‘No, you don’t, Gary.’ Deidre’s tone was harsh. ‘You don’t get to cover yourself up. In fact, even though they’ve seen it all already, you have to go in that room, hands on your head, and let my friends get an ever better look at your naked body.’

Wondering quite how the evening had taken such a bizarre turn, Gary obediently stepped into the living room, fingers linked behind his head. It seemed as though carpet had never felt so thick and soft beneath his bare feet, nor the faint breeze coming from the open window so cool against his overheated skin. Everything seemed to emphasise the fact he was naked, and the four women were fully clothed.

‘Right, now turn round,’ Deirdre commanded. ‘Let them admire your big, hard cock and that tight little arse.’

The whoops and cheering he heard as he gave a slow twirl reminded him of women watching a hen night stripper. They made him feel like an object, here purely for their pleasure and gratification. To his shame, his body was responding to their crude comments, his cock growing even harder.

‘That’s enough for the time being, girls,’ Deirdre said at last. ‘I’ll let Gary serve you all with champagne, then the serious business can begin.’

Blushing to the roots of his floppy blond hair, yet more turned on than he’d been in months, Gary scuttled out of the room. The kitchen was at the far end of the hall, a bottle of Moët already standing in an ice bucket on the counter. He was placing it on a tray, along with four champagne flutes, when Deirdre entered.

‘You’re loving this, aren’t you? So naked and so, so willing to obey …’ As Deirdre spoke, she pressed up against him. The silk of her dress brushed against his shaft like a caress, causing his cock to twitch and a little moan to escape from his lips.

She laughed at the way his body was betraying him. ‘You’ll do whatever we want you to, won’t you, Gary?’

‘Yes, ma’am,’ he found himself replying. It was true. Being here, completely bare and in thrall to this collection of baying cougars, was affecting him in a way he could never have predicted.

Deirdre let him carry the tray through to the lounge.
Then, as he poured a glass for each of her guests, she introduced them.

The redhead whose floral top strained across an impressive cleavage was Julia.

‘Good evening, Gary,’ she purred. ‘Bet you’d love to see my tits, wouldn’t you?’ She beckoned him closer, lowering her voice. ‘Sorry, but it’s not going to happen. Not tonight. Hope you can cope with the frustration.’

Kay was a striking Nordic blonde in a leather miniskirt. When she crossed her legs, Gary heard the soft whisper of her stockings rubbing together. ‘Hi, Gary. Nice arse.’

Pauline, who had provided the notorious fish pedicure, seemed a little mousy in her boring grey office suit, but turned out to be the boldest of the three. She reached for Gary’s cock and stroked it slowly for a moment, never breaking eye contact with him. ‘Shaking hands is so passé, don’t you think?’ she murmured.

Though all four had new-looking copies of the latest detective thriller by a popular Scandinavian author, none of them showed the least inclination to discuss it – which was, supposedly, the reason they’d all gathered at Deirdre’s. Gary had become the focus of the evening’s entertainment, and as he moved between them, refilling their glasses and offering them the exquisite finger food Deirdre had provided, they took every opportunity to touch and fondle his naked body. Manicured, be-ringed hands grabbed his cock, giving it a couple of swift, skilful tugs, or pinched and teased his hard, pink nipples. Occasionally, Kay would recross her legs, giving him the merest flash of her white lacy panties. He felt as though he was permanently on the verge of coming, using every last drop of self-restraint he possessed to avoid losing his load on Deidre’s thick oatmeal shagpile carpet.

As the alcohol took more of an effect, their tormenting became more inventive. Deirdre, who was sitting across from the other three in an armchair, demanded that Gary bend over from the other side of the low coffee table to top up her glass. From the reaction when he did, he realised that she’d done it so her friends had a perfect view of his arse crack and crinkled arsehole.

Someone – he couldn’t see who – took advantage of his position to drizzle ice-cold champagne between his cheeks. Before he could recover from the shock of feeling the chilled liquid trickling over his back door, a tongue burrowed deep into his crack, licking it up.

‘Now, now, Julia.’ He heard Deirdre’s chiding tones. ‘Don’t excite the boy too much. We don’t want to spoil the finale, do we?’

Gary hardly dared ask what the finale might be. What could possibly top being made to strip, then teased and tormented to the very edge of endurance by four horny older women who seemed to delight in the fact he was stark naked while they hadn’t as much as unfastened a single button on their outfits all evening?

‘Speaking of which …’ Kay glanced at her watch. ‘The taxi will be here shortly.’

‘Indeed.’ Deirdre took charge once more. ‘Gary, there’s just one last thing we’d like you to do for us this evening. We’ve very much enjoyed your little display, and we want you to finish it off by wanking for us.’

Gary was stunned. Desperate as he was to come, he couldn’t do in front of an audience. Yet he couldn’t deny part of him wanted to be watched. He wanted to see the hunger on their faces as his fist pumped up and down his cock, hear the coos of admiration as he shot his spunk.

Without a word, he moved to the centre of the room. There was a tense, anticipatory silence as he smeared the juice that leaked from his tip along his shaft. Having been so close all evening, he knew it wouldn’t take long before he came.

Still, he strung his performance out as long as he could, wanking himself at a steady pace. Then the need to orgasm became all-consuming. His fingers shuttled faster, sweat beading on his chest as his breathing grew ragged. Four pairs of eyes watched his every movement, willing him on to lose his load in spectacular fashion. His balls tightened, muscles stiffened and he gave a despairing cry as his spunk arced out to land in creamy pools on the glass top of the coffee table.

That, and the hooting of the taxi driver’s horn in the street outside, seemed to signal the end of the evening’s entertainment. Deirdre’s guests gathered up their bags and kissed their hostess in farewell. Pauline made sure to give Gary’s arse one last, saucy squeeze as she left.

Without being asked, Gary tidied away the empty plates and glasses. When he’d finished, he walked with Deirdre to the hall, anticipating the return of his clothes. Grinning wickedly, Deirdre fished in his trouser pockets, finding his wallet and front door keys. She handed them to him, along with two crisp £50 notes, then slammed the closet door shut once more.

‘Thank you for all your hard work, Gary. It was much appreciated, believe me.’

‘But – but what about my clothes?’ Gary asked. ‘You said I’d get them when I left.’

‘No, what I said was you’d get them when you went through the front door. I’m letting you out through the kitchen door. Don’t worry, it’s dark enough that no one will see your little streak home – much as I’m sure you’d like them to …’

As he dashed down Deirdre’s drive and into his own, concealing himself with his hands as best he could, Gary realised she was right. His dominant neighbour had introduced him to the strange, unique thrill of being naked and aroused in the company of fully clothed women, and he wondered how long it would be before he could sample it again.

Of course, there was also the small matter of getting his smart clothes back from Deirdre. Thinking of all the things she might make him do before he could earn the privilege of wearing them once more, Gary let himself into his house with a broad grin and a rapidly rising erection.