The Game (A Hotwife Adventure)

by Max Sebastian

  I nodded, and led her off the dance floor. We grabbed a couple of drinks — bottle of Heineken for myself, rum and coke for her — and did as best we could to walk as far from the dance floor as we could. The music was still loud, but we could hear each other without jamming our lips in each others’ ears.

  Marie said, “It’s not that I don’t want to…”

  “Of course,” I nodded, and felt a surge of relief to hear Marie voicing reluctance.

  “I mean, seriously. I don’t think I’ve wanted anyone more…” she blurted out before suddenly regretting sharing too much information. I smiled back at her, reassuring her that I didn’t think she’d just humiliated herself. “…But Izzie seems kinda torn up inside about it all.”

  “I get that feeling,” I said.

  “I think part of her is like this hardcore journalist, she just wants to find out firsthand how it would really be, how it would feel for you to do what she’s been doing. But part of her is a wife who loves her husband and even after everything that’s happened… just isn’t comfortable giving him up to anybody.”

  “Nobody asked her to,” I said. “This has never been about an open relationship.”

  “No, I get that. But it’s just curiosity on her part, right?”

  I nodded. I was feeling a little more relaxed now, a weight had been lifted from my shoulders.

  Marie said, “I could go home with you right now, I could take you into my bedroom and tear off all your clothes. And… well… I seriously want to…”

  “Okay…”

  “I mean, with my track record. I feel like I deserve time with a guy like you, even if it’s only one night.” She smiled, and I knew she didn’t really mean we should go back to her place. She went on, “And Izzie couldn’t be mad at me — at either of us. I mean, Jesus, she told me to make sure you wear a condom when we… well, you know.”

  “Maybe she’s a little… misguided… because you’re her best friend,” I suggested.

  Marie nodded. “We were close in college. Okay, sometimes we even dated the same guy, and it wasn’t such a big deal.”

  I was a little surprised at that one, but now wasn’t the time to comment on that. The impressions I was getting of how Izzie must have been in college were seriously hot. But I wonder if I’d been a guy in college at the time, dating her, it probably would have disturbed me knowing too much.

  “I think maybe she feels bad that you’ve had such tough luck with guys,” I suggested.

  “You’re probably right.”

  She smiled at me again, and I felt the puff of pride that she apparently liked me so much, and also her gratitude that I understood where she was coming from.

  “God damn it, it’s so unfair,” she laughed.

  “I’m sorry.”

  She nodded. “I’m going to have dirty dreams about you, Oscar MacDonald.”

  We hugged, and I breathed in the gentle sweetness of her perfume, and I couldn’t help but feel the temptation to suggest we say to hell with it, and take Izzie at her word before heading back to Marie’s place to fool around.

  “I think I might head home,” I said.

  “You’re sure?”

  “I don’t know… I think it might be for the best. If we get a little drunker… we dance a little more… well, maybe we’ll change our minds.”

  “And that probably wouldn’t be for the best,” she nodded.

  “Izzie might even have more time to persuade us to do it. But deep down, she’s not comfortable with it really happening.”

  “No.”

  “I… I don’t know… maybe I should just slip away before she can say anything,” I said.

  “Sure.”

  “You could tell them I’m not feeling so well any more.”

  “I will.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  I was so full of regret in the back of the taxi on the way home. I could smell Marie’s perfume on my clothes — and her arousal on my hand.

  At least I had time and separation to think things through. During the journey back to Silver Spring, I returned to the conclusion that I’d come to the right decision — I didn’t want Izzie to feel pressured to try lending me out to her friend, even if it was her own curiosity pressuring her. At least, not when she had big reservations as well.

  I figured that in reality, I’d been expecting nothing to happen with Marie from the beginning, so I couldn’t feel bad. Izzie might feel disappointed in one way, but I’m sure a part of her was happy I wasn’t going through with it.

  Then as I got closer and closer to our little neighborhood, I started to remember what, for me, was the main point of the evening — Izzie was still out there with Mason. Instead of dwelling on what had happened with Marie, I realized I ought to be devoting more of my attention to the potential for Izzie to sleep with her yoga-slash-kickboxing guy.

  Were they going to go back to his place, or would she bring them here?

  As soon as I got home, I tidied up the house a little more — it was already in a good shape — in the hope that Izzie and Mason might come here once their dancing was done. I remembered to conceal any family photographs that showed me, since Mason was of the opinion that I was just some random friend from the Messenger Izzie had tried to set up with her friend.

  After that, I grabbed some soda and a bag of popcorn to watch a movie on Netflix. Camped out on the couch, I pulled out my phone to see if I could see where Izzie was, based on her iPhone-tracking app. I saw that I’d missed a text from her:

  > Hey sweetie, you really feeling bad? You want me to come home take care of you?

  I groaned to see that she’d sent the text almost immediately I’d left the club, though it was nice she was concerned. I hoped she hadn’t been anxious about me in the meantime. I responded to her:

  >Feeling okay — just needed to get out of there. Not sure what to think about Marie, and I didn’t want it to spoil anything you had going with Mason.

  Izzie’s reply didn’t take long to come through.

  >I’m sorry if you felt pressured to go with Marie. I just thought you guys really liked each other, so it might be fun to play around. You know, nothing serious ;-)

  I texted her back:

  >I do like Marie, I just worry about messing up a friendship, and what you would really think about it all.

  Then Izzie fired back:

  >I don’t think it would mess anything up. She knows all our secrets anyway, if you two didn’t hit it off, she wouldn’t worry about it.

  Then another text from her:

  >Only, from what I can see, there’s no way you two wouldn’t hit it off :-P Ah well, maybe another time :-)

  I was surprised she was still apparently pushing for it to happen between me and Marie. Both Marie and I had been fairly certain she’d been concealing some doubts, some insecurities about it happening, though. It hadn’t just been me being paranoid.

  After those messages, there was no way I was going to be able to concentrate on the movie I had been watching, popcorn or no popcorn. I can’t even tell you now which movie it was. I was up on my feet, pacing, my thoughts turning to how Izzie must have looked, dancing with Mason. I imagined him doing as I had with Marie, her body pressed against him, his hands all over her, touching her breasts, perhaps even slipping under her dress to stroke her between the thighs.

  Now, I regretted leaving early. It had been a stupid move. I could still have passed the time with Marie, danced with her, perhaps even teasing Izzie by touching her as I had done before. I had half a mind to call a cab and head on back down there. Maybe I could even simply conceal myself somewhere in the club, away from the three of them, watching what happened.

  It was getting late, though. My feeling was that I’d probably get back to the dance club only to find they’d gone.

  A little later, Izzie sent me a text stating:

  >Mason wants to get out of here, but Marie wants to party some more. Not sure what we’re going to do, but don’t think we’ll end up
coming back there, sweetie.

  Then she added:

  >Anyway, you really should get some sleep xxx

  Should I have been surprised that Marie was still out with them? I guess I’d assumed that when I’d gone home, Marie wouldn’t have stuck around to interfere in Izzie’s date with Mason. I actually felt a little guilty — perhaps I’d upset Marie by suggesting I needed to go home. Perhaps I’d misread her signals, and while she’d been playing Devil’s Advocate in arguing that it wasn’t a good idea for the two of us to do anything overly NC-17, she’d actually wanted me to argue the case for going home with her.

  I won’t deny that interpreting female signals was a difficult job, even when you’d known them for years.

  I had to be happy that Izzie was intending on spending the night somewhere else, even if it meant I wasn’t going to get to see anything of her night with Mason. It did mean she was anticipating a successful conclusion to her date. At least I’d get her back in the morning.

  I texted her back:

  >That’s fine. Have fun, honey. Not sure I’ll sleep much anyway, but can’t wait to see you after your date ;-)

  She texted me a quick ‘love you’, to which I replied in kind. Then there was nothing for a while.

  It wasn’t long before another text came in from Izzie:

  >Okay, sweetie. We’re taking Marie home. Time to start thinking of me and Mason being naughty ;-) xxxxx

  I was instantly hard.

  How long was it going to take them to get to Marie’s house, drop her off, and then head on to Mason’s house? I had no idea where Mason even lived. I assumed somewhere locally, but what was to say he didn’t commute to the gym where he taught Izzie’s yoga class?

  Was Izzie going to give me any more hints that night concerning what was happening between her and Mason? I really hoped so. Just then, I felt strangely distant from her, even if she was only in a cab heading from a club in Silver Spring to Marie’s house in Brookland, five or six miles away at most.

  She’d kept so much from me when she’d been with C, I had no guarantee I’d get anything else out of her until she was finished with Mason, until she was home with me. This might be the first time with Mason, but she’d seen enough guys by now that she might assume it was nothing new for me.

  Whereas, I almost felt as nervous as I had before her first time. It didn’t get old, this whole infidelity thing. This was the first time I knew her date well enough to feel intimidated by his dating my wife. It was totally different from what had come before.

  I had to plan for the worst. I went upstairs to begin getting ready for bed. Sleep might be my best ally.

  Then I received a text message. It was from Marie this time:

  >Hey Oscar, hope you got home safely! Sorry it all got a little weird tonight xxx

  I texted her back:

  >Home safe, thanks. Really enjoyed the night, you have nothing to apologize for!

  My guess, she was sitting in the back of the taxi while Mason and Izzie were making out, and she had nothing else to do but exchange text messages with me.

  Marie: You should have stayed! We could still have had a little fun, even if you didn’t take me home ;-)

  Oscar: Maybe another time.

  Marie: I’m going to hold you to that. You know Izzie wanted our cab to drop me off at your house?

  Oscar: But it didn’t, right? Because you know she has doubts, too.

  Marie: I’ll just wait until she has no more doubts :-P

  Oscar: If it’s what she wants, I’ll look forward to it :-)

  Marie: I’ll be dreaming about you tonight. Might not be awake when I am, either ;-)

  That made me laugh, made me certain Marie had had a few extra drinks since I’d left the club. Meanwhile I was sitting there on the bed feeling stone-cold sober. I hadn’t had much to drink all night, to be honest. I’d been too on edge about Mason, and then about Marie, to really let go.

  I thought our little conversation was over, but then Marie sent another text:

  >Has Izzie sent you any clues yet?

  I thought about Izzie’s last message, when she’d told me to start thinking about her and Mason, as though I hadn’t been already. I guess that was a clue.

  Nevertheless, I texted back to Marie:

  >Not really, no.

  Well, she was supposed to be my inside source on the Izzie story. And telling Marie I was content with the hints Izzie had sent me so far was no way to get her to help me discover more.

  Marie replied:

  >I’ll get her to send you something. Or else maybe I’ll send you a clue myself.

  Now she was talking! I’d take anything I could get. If Marie could snap a picture with her phone showing Izzie with Mason, and send it to me, that would definitely be a start.

  I waited ten minutes, and nothing came through from Marie or Izzie. Disappointed.

  Then just as I was giving up hope, Marie sent me a text:

  > Nobody bought Mr Thomas’s house yet ;-)

  I made the assumption she’d been having a text conversation with somebody else at the same time, and had sent the wrong message to me. But that winking emoji was a little too telling, a little too suggestive. Was this some kind of cryptic clue she was trying to deliver?

  I looked at my watch, and guessed that about now, the taxi would be pulling up at Marie’s house. It brought to mind the last time I’d been there, dropping Marie off after our dinner. Something clicked in my head.

  The empty house across the street from Marie’s house — she’d said it was Mr Thomas that was selling it. And the house in question had a “superb” view into Marie’s own bedroom — she’d told me that clearly enough.

  Like a flash, I was throwing on clothes — jeans and a sweatshirt went straight on over my PJs — and dashing down to the car. Before I left the house, however, I located the binoculars a great aunt had once bought us while under the impression we were interested in ornithology.

  My sobriety was finally paying off: I could drive down to Marie’s house. Izzie had stayed over at Marie’s house often enough over the last few years. My guess concerning Marie’s clue was that she was letting Izzie and Mason sleep in her bedroom for the night, so they wouldn’t have to go all the way to wherever Mason lived. They could have come back to our place, of course, except that Izzie had suggested I get some sleep.

  It took me 20 minutes to drive down there, with almost no traffic at that time of night.

  I drove slowly down Marie’s street, then switched off my headlamps as I turned in to the driveway of Mr Thomas’s house. The driveway climbed up the slope, and curled around in front of the house. I could park outside the building, and from my car enjoy the great view of Marie’s house.

  She’d been right to say it was a superb view. The light was on in Marie’s bedroom, and I could see everything. It was a nice spacious room, and she had a very large bed. With the binoculars, it was as though I was right there by the glass, gazing in. I didn’t even have to leave the warm confines of my battered old Celica. Okay, so I felt like a stalker — but hey, we were playing the Game again.

  Mason was standing by the windows, still fully dressed, holding his phone as though texting someone. There was no sign of Izzie, but I got the feeling she was in the bathroom, getting ready to take things to the next stage with him.

  I was shivering a little as I waited there, and I wasn’t cold at all.

  I checked my phone, made sure it was on silent. Marie hadn’t sent any more texts, so I guess she was assuming I’d made sense of her clue. I suppose if I really hadn’t got the gist of it, I would have complained to her.

  Then, Izzie emerged from the en suite bathroom — and somewhere along the way she’d lost her dress. She looked incredible in that black-and-red lace lingerie.

  The surprise came when Marie stepped out of the bathroom with her, holding her hand, having also lost her dress. She was wearing black lace underwear, not too different from Izzie’s, other than its color, including s
tockings and suspenders.

  Wow. Marie looked good. It only compounded the sense of regret I had after turning down the invitation to take her home.

  The two sirens walked hand-in-hand over to Mason, and I think he received as big a surprise as I did as he turned to see them.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Izzie presented Marie to her yoga instructor as though she was a gift to him. They were all smiling, ear to ear. Marie laughed and at Izzie’s beckoning, gave Mason a little twirl to show off her fine body.

  I wish I knew what they were saying. Marie fiddled with her hair, slightly nervous, while Izzie stood there hand on hips, brazenly confident in her own body — helped by her time with all those other men, it appeared. Although I knew she had made out with Mason before, after yoga class. Probably multiple times.

  For a while they were just standing there, flirtatiously, sure, but they could have been at a cocktail party. I guessed they were breaking the ice, the whole unexpected thing about inviting Marie to join them.

  But was Mason really going to sleep with both of them? From the way they were dressed, from the way they acted, I had to assume he was.

  Had Marie sent me that clue to make sure I was watching her as they did this?

  Mason had his hand on Izzie’s back, stroking her as she seemed to be trying to persuade Marie to do something. Marie was playing coy, but as Mason’s hand slipped down to stroke Izzie between her thighs, the petite brunette leaned up to kiss his mouth.

  More laughing and giggling after that kiss. Marie put her hand to Mason’s crotch, cupping his equipment, and then she was slowly descending, crouching, her hands working to undo Mason’s belt and his fly.

  I sat up as the man’s huge cock emerged in Marie’s hands, as though it would give me a better view. No wonder the man had attracted interest from my wife in their yoga classes. He was very gifted.

  Marie knelt down, and Izzie was brushing her hair back out of her face, helping her as she leaned in to take the man’s hardness in her mouth. I would say she could only take half of it in her mouth, but it looked as though she was giving him sensational attention.