Madeleine Plays (A Wife-Watching Romance): Book Two of the Madeleine Trilogy

by Max Sebastian

  As it happened, though, by the time the event was over, and he was tidying himself up prior to departure from the apartment, he felt ready.

  Madeleine texted him to say they were all going to Jupe, a nightclub down in the Lower East Side. He told her he’d meet her there, and felt a little better since the place was hardly conducive to conversation.

  He ended up meeting them all briefly outside the club in the queue, Madeleine introducing four guys—Fabian, Ryan, Dan and Cole—along with Jennifer, who was actually a college girl who worked part-time at the store.

  Hugo shook all of their hands, smiling warmly, noting that the guys his wife worked with were all pretty good looking. It gave him an interesting glow to think she’d been dressing in those short skirts for these guys, flaunting her cleavage. They had, probably, had a hand in boosting her confidence massively, which made Hugo feel curiously grateful to them.

  Meeting Fabian was a little strange, knowing that had things gone differently—had his relationship with Madeleine not been so strong—this guy might even have had an affair with his wife. He received a huge jolt to the heart when she first said those words: “Oh, and this is Fabian.”

  He was taller than Hugo, stronger, fitter. Could have been a fireman or a marine—he didn’t much look like a bookstore manager. Five years older than Hugo, probably, there were flecks of gray in his closely-cropped hair, but his face had plenty of youth ingrained.

  Was this Madeleine’s type, if she wasn’t with her husband? Tall and powerfully built?

  “Hey, nice to meet you,” he said, smiling warmly enough, though his eyes were checking Hugo out as though assessing the competition—seeing who it was that had locked Madeleine down, prevented his ongoing interest—and perhaps searching for any signs that Hugo knew of the kiss, knew Fabian was a threat.

  “You must be the boss,” Hugo offered a big smile that appeared innocent of any knowledge the tall half-Puerto Rican had in any way handled Madeleine improperly.

  “That’s right,” Fabian said, his smile broadening.

  “I’ve got a lot to thank you for,” Hugo said. “Giving Madeleine such a great opportunity.”

  Fabian nodded, barely concealing his surprise at the apparent warmth in Hugo’s manner toward him. “You don’t need to thank me—she’s a real asset for the team.”

  Madeleine saw how her husband interacted with the man who might have come between them, and Hugo saw surprise in her face, too. Surprised that he really wasn’t angry following her confession, that he really didn’t feel ill will toward Fabian despite knowing what had happened.

  That he was absolutely fine with her continuing to see Fabian socially, knowing there had been an attraction between them.

  The line moved relatively quickly, though, thankfully, leaving little time for conversation.

  Down a set of steps, the basement nightclub was not huge, but was certainly popular, with hardly a space to stand without brushing into someone else.

  Their first stop was the bar, and Hugo ordered a double vodka to help him catch up with the others, who had been supping wine all evening and now moved on to spirits.

  As the others hit the dance floor, Hugo found it was so busy he could suitably blend in with the crowd, dancing innocuously with Madeleine, who gave him occasional pitying but grateful glances knowing he wasn’t much of a dancer, or one for nightclubs at all for that matter, but was doing his best to keep up.

  She did look hot.

  Straw-colored hair tied loosely in a ponytail, she was wearing a dark green and black dress that looked almost like a smart play on camouflage, and practically skin-tight seemed to enhance her shape beautifully from the perky rise of her cleavage down to her nylon-clad thighs. Occasionally as they were dancing, it would creep up to show she was wearing hold-ups, not pantyhose, which made her look unbelievably sexy, though periodically she had to keep pulling her dress back down.

  The dancing also gave her a pink glow in her face that made Hugo feel a little light-headed, reminding him a little of her performances at home.

  Her colleagues left her dancing with Hugo to start with, but as the drinks began to roll through them, Ryan, Dan and Cole started getting closer to them, occasionally nudging into her as they moved to the heavy beat, causing Madeleine to look up at her husband and flash him an impish grin.

  Hugo raised his eyebrows in mock shock at how increasingly brazen they were being—but then as he broke out into a broad smile, he gave a slight nod of his head that said clearly—why don’t you dance with them, if they want you to?

  This came as a genuine surprise to Madeleine. Though he’d told her of his dark little fantasies in the bedroom, it seemed that she hadn’t entirely believed he was comfortable with her flirting with other men in real life.

  Now, she tentatively turned to Ryan, and started dancing with him while looking back at her husband, seeing how he was taking it.

  Hugo laughed lightly, as though to hide his true feelings. But it wasn’t really jealousy, and certainly wasn’t anger, that he was trying to hide. It was hot seeing her standing close to Ryan, gazing up at him, smiling flirtatiously in a way she didn’t—couldn’t—with her husband, since they were already married, already so familiar. It was exciting to see that.

  He had to be careful not to show too much enthusiasm for her dancing with others, though. He didn’t want her co-workers to think her husband was a freak.

  The dance floor was so packed, when she danced with Ryan—and then Dan, and then Cole—she had to stand so close she was touching them. Almost slow-dancing, though her hands and those of her dance partners kept to themselves.

  Fabian kept away from her, which was perhaps understandable, though Hugo felt he would have coped seeing them dance together.

  Later, Hugo stepped out for a bathroom break, and when he came back he merged into the melee that was the club’s bar, deciding a few glasses of ice-cold water might go down well when he returned to the group.

  The wait for the bar was a long one, but while he stood there in the darkness, shuffling forward at the pace of a glacier, he could actually see through to the dance floor and just about spot Madeleine and her friends.

  He watched his pretty wife dancing with Dan, and then with Ryan again, her face shining with flirtatious yet innocent energy—simply having fun, but perhaps also enjoying their eyes trailing over her from time to time, taking in the sight of her in that cute little dress, perhaps even half a thought to what might have happened if they had all been single.

  Hugo saw Madeleine sharing laughter with Jennifer even while she was dancing close with Jennifer’s current squeeze, Cole, and it was clear the whole thing was innocent. Yet there was a pang of jealousy in Hugo as he watched his beloved with the other men—a feeling that he found strangely beguiling.

  In the old days in Boston, he felt certain he would have felt furious about her getting close to other guys—but then in the early period of their relationship, Madeleine had never really looked at another man, far less danced with one. Now, though, so far into their partnership and their marriage, she seemed relaxed, mature, confident enough in what they had to tease a couple of young bucks and prove to herself and others that she still had it.

  Hugo didn’t feel angry at all, perhaps because he too was so assured that nothing could threaten what he had with Madeleine. She had his ring, she had his surname.

  Watching her perform for another man turned his insides to molten lava. His heart pounded to see her looking up at Ryan or Dan, her pretty face breaking out into that glorious smile usually reserved for him. His cock strained against his tight jeans as he saw her reach up to place her hands behind Dan’s neck as they were slow-dancing so sensually, she almost looked as though she was about to kiss him.

  She was teasing them, everyone knowing her husband was near, sensing the risk while tempted by the reward.

  Hugo saw her sensual slow dance and it made him think these were guys she must have fantasized about from time to time, while
she’d been touching herself all those evenings before her husband had plucked up the courage to join her in her sexual re-awakening.

  She was even putting her arms around Dan as though they were an item, and it sent ripples of sexual energy through Hugo’s entire body—some kind of primal response that in the wilds of prehistory might have prepared him to go straight in there, drag his woman away and be instantly ready to take her and fertilize her.

  Far from feeling bad at all, watching her dance closely with her friends from the store made him feel a curious sense of comfort—she was having fun, she was really enjoying herself, and he didn’t need to worry that she was sad because they’d moved away to a strange new city to suit Hugo’s job.

  What was astounding to him was the dark little feeling deep inside that hoped she might feel tempted one day to go a little further than just dancing with Ryan or Dan, or even Fabian. She’d come home one day from one of her nights out glowing, flushed by her exhilarating experience, asking her husband for permission to see Ryan or Dan—or even Fabian—on a little more of a personal basis.

  He could see the slight sheen of perspiration on her forehead as he returned with an armful of iced water and she broke apart from her friend Dan—looking so ravishing.

  “Hey! Where were you?” she had to shout over the forceful beat of the music, but he caught the slight look in her eyes that was assessing his reaction to seeing her arms playfully around another man.

  “Takes a while to get served in here!” he bellowed back, his face breaking out into the broadest of smiles, which he hoped was demonstration enough that he was delighted she was having fun.

  “Not sure how much more I can take!” she yelled, and Hugo felt fireworks exploding inside him as she flashed him the most bright, exquisite smile of the evening.

  The others were hugely grateful for the cold refreshment Hugo now doled out, but he caught a new note of respect and—perhaps—admiration from Ryan and Dan, that it had been Hugo who had ensnared Madeleine, that she was with him and obviously still obsessed with him.

  Hugo realized that part of the severe arousal seeing her dancing with them was the simple fact that they saw her as intensely desirable, yet she was his. She was a real prize, and he had won her.

  A slower dance track came on, and Madeleine made Hugo her priority, pulling him further into the melee on the dance floor and away from her bookstore playmates. They were surrounded by hundreds of people, packed into the dance floor like sardines in a can, but away from anyone they knew, it was almost as though they had privacy.

  Madeleine reached up to put her arms around him, while his hands were on her waist, pulling her close to him. The music was pulsing deep through their bodies, the light somehow dipping even lower now it was so late into the small hours. Hugo felt electric being so close to this beautiful siren, who seemed to so bewitch her co-workers.

  Holding her tight, he breathed her cherry-vanilla scent, felt the heat of her body through her thin dress, the softness of her cheek against his.

  It was making him so hard as he danced against her, and initially he felt a touch embarrassed at reacting so obviously in such a public place—but then Madeleine pushed into him, grinding herself on his swollen shaft, loving it as the outward signs of his furious attraction to her.

  Hugo found his hands slipping on her body, down to her deliciously round behind. He found himself risking censure as his hands ventured under her dress, cupping her buttocks now skin-to-skin. But she did not castigate him in any way—in fact, she gave him a devilish grin, encouraging him, even wiggling her behind to spur him on in coaxing her bare flesh, groping her outrageously though it was too dark for anyone else to see.

  As the music went comparatively quieter for a moment or two, transitioning to another track, Hugo leaned into her ear, said: “This how it is when you dance with them?”

  She flashed her eyes at him, surprised at him though they’d already played around with the idea of her having a crush, of her even imagining being with another man.

  But he saw in her eyes and her flushed cheeks that she was as affected by alcohol as he was, and it had weakened her inhibitions in the same way it had his.

  “Sometimes,” she whispered in his ear, “I can feel them against me.”

  Her dress was riding up, and she was grinding her pussy against his erect cock, only his pants and her tiny thong in the way, and that depraved flicker of light in her eyes made the silent but indecent suggestion that this was how it was for her sometimes, dancing with her co-workers, pressing her tingling pussy firmly against them, feeling how hard she made them.

  “Naughty,” he said.

  She grinned. “But neither of them are as big as you, sweetie.”

  She reached behind her, and grabbed one of his hands, and he allowed her to sweep it around her thigh, over that smooth skin of hers that could drive him crazy—until she was pushing his hand between her legs, against the soaking scrap of material covering her pussy.

  She leaned up to whisper in his ear again, “None of them make me as wet as you do.”

  Hugo felt a little dizzy with desire for her, feeling just how saturated her panties were, his finger tracing out the shape of her slit through the wet scrap of material, making her lean against him and moan in his ear as they continued to dance, only the two of them knowing he was stroking her pussy.

  He heard her gasp as his finger found its way inside her panties, brushing her soft sprinkle of hair before finding her well, dipping inside her, coating itself in her juices before gliding inside her tight channel.

  It felt so wicked to touch her like that, to penetrate her while others were dancing so close there might not be enough space for them to dance apart.

  Hugo leaned into her ear again, said: “If you could take one of them home, which one would it be?”

  He brought his dripping finger up to his face as they broke apart a little, Madeleine looking briefly startled as he brought her wetness to his nose, breathed in her scent, touched his digit to his lips to taste her, whether from his open sampling of her flavor in the middle of this dance floor or his question about her co-workers.

  “With us, or with me?” she said with a sassy smirk.

  “Your choice.”

  The pounding of his heart blended with the pulsing music and Hugo felt a curious connection with it, as though his powerful fear and arousal at the thought of Madeleine taking one of her co-workers home with her—instead or along with her husband—was actually driving the music to which all around them moved.

  After a beat or two, she pushed her mouth against his ear, said: “Ryan has a bigger cock.”

  Her pixie grin hid whether she was telling the truth or simply winding him up, but then she added: “Dan’s a better kisser.”

  Hugo chuckled, only half confident she was bluffing now, the other half of his self feeling that blend of jealousy and exhilaration that made him want to scream and run and cheer and hide all at the same time.

  “You only get one,” he said, and her little nod made him feel more assured that their discussion was hypothetical, at this stage at least.

  She said: “You know you’re the perfect package? An even better kisser and an even bigger cock?”

  Hugo laughed, feeling exhilaration coursing through his veins. How fortunate he was to have such a beautiful wife, who loved him, who offered the hope of sharing his sexual fantasies, who valued him above all others. Any other wife might take his revelation of a fantasy about her consensual infidelity and immediately push him to make it reality—or start playing around behind his back with the sense of justification that this was his fantasy too, only he didn’t know.

  For now, hypothetical or not, he had the rosy glow in her cheeks, the twinkle in her eye, the spring in her step to make him feel glorious about the world. The wickedness in her gaze as she leaned into him and said: “I choose Ryan.”

  Her clear hint, that she wanted Ryan for his cock, ignited a fire inside Hugo’s chest.

>   The smell of sweat and dry ice and booze and perhaps even a little marijuana smoke stained the hot air, but Hugo shivered as he inhaled the spice from her pussy. He wanted more.

  He looked around them momentarily. It was so crowded, but people around them seemed to be in a world of their own, dancing, moving to the beat, aware only of the music. Even with lights swirling around them, it was so dark in that sweaty nightclub Hugo felt a whisper of confidence.

  Madeleine raised an eyebrow to question the smile that grew on his lips, but then he was sinking down, and she was looking faintly frightened and even horrified at what was on his mind as he looked up at her yet dropped to his knees right there on the dance floor.

  There was so little space, he was almost kneeling between her ankles—and yet checking on his surroundings, it appeared he was not being observed.

  Hugo splayed his hands over her thighs, loving her soft, slightly clammy skin, pushing up her dress to reveal her little white thong panties. Looking down, she gave another sharp warning glance, but she wasn’t stopping him. She was as turned on as he was, and she had the cushion of alcohol too.

  As he eased close to her body, drawing his nose over her thigh and up to hover by her covered sex, he saw her checking around her, seeing that they were not watched.

  Her hands, which had been nervously poised either side of her crotch, ready to shield herself at a moment’s notice, now moved aside, opening herself to him. He found it thrilling that she now moved her hands to her hips, holding up her skirt for him—approving, almost demanding, his intention to move in on her sex.

  He did not need any further prompting, but he surprised her again by hooking his fingers into the waistband of her panties, then dragging them down her thighs. She pushed her dress down, suddenly afraid of being caught, but as Hugo drew her damp underwear over her knees and down to her ankles, she saw around them that their neighbors were still all caught up in the music, and that the darkness made it difficult for anyone—even her—to see what was going on between her thighs.