I was a total fool to do what I did. The only excuse I have is that I got carried away by the temptation of the music and the dancing. I've always loved the beat of Latin American dances and I get bored when Tomas is away on one of many his business trips. So sometimes I'd go with my friends to a dancing class to practice my salsa steps. The man who runs the studio is a marvelous dancer and I loved to go around the floor with him. Only for the dancing, you understand, not for any other reason. Yes, Pedro flirted with me, but he does that with every woman he dances with, so I didn't take it seriously.

Not until he pounced on me, that is. It was the third or fourth time I'd been to the classes and we were dancing together. He was showing me some new steps, and everything was dreamy. He'd kept me back for a few minutes partnering me through a loco complicado as everybody else went to get their coats. One minute more and I would have gone with my friends as well, but just for that moment we were alone, facing one of the full length mirrors in the teaching room, and Pedro was standing behind me. His hands were on my waist and suddenly he lifted them up at the same time as he kissed my neck. It was such a surprise that I froze still, even when his fingers cupped my breasts and gently squeezed them.

Of course as soon as I recovered my wits I told him to stop doing it, but he said that if I struggled the thin shirt I was wearing might get torn, which would give my friends a lot to talk about. He said that if I smiled at him in the mirror and counted ten slowly he'd let me go then, after he'd had his little bit of fun.

It was a difficult situation but if that was all he wanted, I was willing to do it, as long as I could break free before anybody else came into the hall. There would be any amount of trouble if my husband heard about this. So I smiled at Pedro's reflection and counted to ten while his hands did what they wanted, by which time I freely confess my blood was pounding as well. But then Pedro let me go as he'd promised he would, and a good thing too, because one of my friends came back into the instruction room only a second or two later.

It was very difficult to talk to her as though nothing had happened and I was thankful I was already flushed from all the rapid dancing I'd been doing. Anyway, she didn't seem to notice that something unusual had happened

So, we left, and I'd already decided that I was never going back for another lesson at Pedro Enloe's hands. There was altogether too much temptation there for faithful wives who were getting bored with their lives. In fact I was quite sure that one or two wives might have fallen for his advances and it crossed my mind that perhaps the mirrors in his dancing room could tell some lurid tales. I'll also admit that on that very night I had a most vivid dream in which I saw myself in the same mirror, with Pedro doing the same thing to me again, only this time I was wearing nothing at all!

Still, not even the most jealous of husbands can worry about his wife's dreams, as long as you have the good sense not to tell him about them. So, that was it. Until the next time that Tomas was away, and I had an envelope put through my letter box -- unstamped, not addressed, only my name on it and "Personal and Confidential" written on the front in large firm letters.

I opened the envelope, took out the pictures I found inside it, and nearly fainted. It seemed that mirror could tell tales after all. For there I was, just as I'd seen myself in it, with Pedro's fingers fondling me, and my smiling face watching them at play.

It was stunning, baffling, unbelievable. Slowly I worked out that the only explanation must be that the mirror was made of two way glass, and that somebody had been behind it with a camera as Pedro had held me in position, making sure that the hidden watcher had his chance to capture the whole scene in a series of snapshots taken through the mirror.

I made myself a very large drink and went out to sit on the balcony as my mind twisted and turned like a hooked game fish. Had Pedro gone to so much trouble just to ensnare me? I thought again what I'd thought before, about how other wives might have given into Pedro's advances. Well, it seemed like there must have been a lot more than I'd first thought, because Pedro had probably used this trick before and, equally probably, very successfully. At any rate I'd certainly never heard any other woman talking about it.

Correction, no other wife. Which must be the way that Pedro played it, carefully picking his blackmail victims from married women unwilling to risk the wrath of their husbands. Presumably the category in which he placed me. And if so, he'd chosen his mark shrewdly. Let Tomas see these photos and he'd never believe any explanation I tried to give him. So, what could I do but phone Pedro and try to talk things over?

"Trista, how nice to hear your voice again. How may I be of service to such a beautiful lady on such a beautiful day?"

"Pedro, I need to discuss something with you."

"How about right now? I believe this is your maid's day off. Is that not so?"

I admitted that it was. Which was probably why the letter had been delivered to my house that day.

"Then I shall come and see you in half an hour. But, I warn you, Senora Cunedo de Perniciaro, that unless you are looking very sexy for me I may not bother to come in."

I put the phone down, knowing for sure that an attractive man was on his way over to my house with the clear intention of committing adultery with me. And either I let him do what he wished or my husband would kick me out into the street. So I went to the bedroom to put on my suspender belt and black stockings.

If that gives the impression that I was not nervous about the idea of Pedro slaking his passion with me, then it is a totally wrong idea. My knees were trembling and even the squeak of a floorboard underneath my steps sounded like an accusing cry. But if it had to happen then I would do my best to make it as much like my dream about Pedro as I could: I would meet him as a lady, not as a slut, with my face made up and in a demure dress.

As for what to wear underneath the dress, certainly the suspender belt and the stockings. They were always a great attraction for Tomas. My panties? Of course, for no seduction was worth the name unless it involved that point of no return where a girl has her panties slipped off her quivering body by a lusting male.

My bra? No, that was simply an undignified and unnecessary encumbrance for a figure like mine. When I opened the door for Pedro there would only be a few buttons between his hands and my nipples. Buttons he could undo for his pleasure whenever he chose to take me. The images popped and burnt in my head like exploding fireworks in a black sky, so bright and so detailed that I needed to use both hands to hold my lipstick steady as I put it on. I wondered how long it would be before I heard the doorbell ring

The answer was, longer than I'd expected. Before it finally summoned me I'd been sitting in the front room for at least twenty minutes, trying to read a magazine and only turning pages full of words which my eyes refused to focus on. Instead I continually looked up to the open doors of the balcony, where the leaves rustled in the gentle wind with a sound like the creaking of bedsprings. Or so I seemed to hear, and I felt myself growing hot in the face as well as in other areas. I also tried to feel guilty but somehow there didn't seem to be any time for that, even while I was sitting around like the last patient left in a doctor's waiting room. And then the doorbell finally rang.

I wanted to pay Pedro back a little in his own coin by keeping him lingering outside but that would have been unwise, to say the least. All I dared to do was to pause for a second in front of the hall mirror, wondering whether I should undo a final button to reveal almost as much cleavage as I possessed. In a hasty decision I did undo the button and smiled wryly at my reflection. If it was only a door to door salesmen ringing my bell his day was about to brighten for a few minutes.

It wasn't a stranger waiting for me, it was Pedro, and he walked straight past me into the house before I could think of anything to say. And afterwards I couldn't say anything because my back was pressed up against the mirror as strongly as Pedro's lips were pressed against mine. I did try to find my tongue but his tongue found it first.

How he managed to finish unbuttoning the front of my dress at the same time I don't know, but he did. For when Pedro turned me around to face the mirror it was as it had been in the dancing room, except this time there was no covering at all between his hands and my breasts. As he leered over my shoulder at our two reflections I saw my own wide eyed response as he roguishly tweaked my nipples into taut arousal.

"You are a very sexy bitch, Senora Perniciaro. I shall enjoy taking you."

They were his very first words since entering the house. I held up my bare finger, to show that I had removed my wedding ring: "Today, I am just Trista. But we must talk about those photos."

"There is a time for talk, Trista, and a time for action. Now is the time for action."

And with those words he knelt down behind me, lifted up his arms with the hem of my skirt draped across them, then whipped down my panties so swiftly that by the time my hands had clutched at my waist I could see the flimsy silk garment already draped around my ankles.

"Pedro!"

"Now, my beautiful, now we dance."

He took me in his arms and swirled me around, then moved backwards into the front room as I tottered over the carpet like a tethered mare, only held from falling over by his strong arms. I tried to make fun of his passionate approach.

"Pedro, I think perhaps I should sit this one out."

"My sweet one, I was just about to suggest the very same thing."

He dropped me down in the nearest seat and peeled off his shirt. "This is were we really start to have fun, Trista."

And I said: "What do you . . . No, not that . . . Pedro!"

Pedro didn't say anything but I couldn't really expect him to, not since I was already on the tip of his tongue, in a manner of speaking.

At the back of my mind was the thought that this man may have kept me waiting for him to arrive but he certainly hadn't wasted any time since. About two minutes ago I'd heard the doorbell ring and since then I'd been stripped, fondled and licked like a favorite flavored ice cream.

"Oh! . . . Oh! . . . Oh!"

What was really amazing was that somebody was grunting away in my drawing room like a pig in a trough, and it wasn't Pedro, not with his mouth so full. Oh God, it was me, and now he knew exactly how excited he was making me!

"Hey, sweet lady, you like that, hey."

How to answer that? Especially when he rubbed his hands in circles around my bottom and I wriggled shamelessly in response.

"Well, how about that? A little touch up here and there and the fancy pants Senora Perniciaro wants to get herself fucked. Is that the way of it, my hot baby?"

He stood up, undid his belt and let his pants drop. He was wearing nothing underneath them and what had been underneath them certainly needed no support. He licked his fingers and ran them around the tip of his erection.

"Well, Senora Perniciaro, do you want to play with this? Shall I bring it over to you for a closer look?"

"If you want to."

Even at a whisper my voice sounded as if a crow was croaking the words.

He walked over to the chair, pulled apart the front of my dress and then took a very firm grip on my right breast.

"Senora Trista Cunedo de Perniciaro, let there be an agreement between us. You will suck my cock and I will not leave any bruises around your nipple for Senor Perniciaro to discover."

As the Americans say, it was an offer I couldn't refuse. I heard Pedro mutter happily as my lips slid around his offered flesh, and again as I left lipstick smears around the head of his cock. Pedro then laughed out loud.

"Ah, Senora, I always thought you would be a good partner for fucking as well as dancing. How many other men have had the pleasure of ramming their pricks up your cunt since you got married?"

I made a protest at the accusation. This was the very first time I had ever done such a thing, and I'd only been forced into it because of Pedro's photographs and his evil blackmail. Of course it was impossible to say anything of this through my nose, as my mouth was still completely full, so all that Pedro heard were some very unladylike snorts coming from me.

END OF PART ONE

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