Madeleine Strays: A Wife-Watching Romance

by Max Sebastian

  But for whatever reason she wasn’t happy with the underwear on offer in Bloomingdale’s, or else she simply wanted to try to embarrass her husband a little more, pulling him along to a boutique store up on University Place, a little closer to home.

  He just felt foolish in there—worse so than the department store, since the whole store was women’s underwear. With so much pastel and padded or frilly or lacy fittings, it was clearly not a place meant for a guy like him. He tried not to look at any of the other customers in the store, keeping his attention firmly on Madeleine, the safest place for his eyes to be.

  He tried not to focus too much on the prices, either, though underneath the surface he was happy for her to spend whatever it took to get her feeling as gorgeous as she looked.

  He tingled all over as she held up items as possibilities for her date to appreciate.

  In the end, it was black and sheer with lace edges, a thong that was almost a G-string, it had so little there, but would remain invisible under her dress.

  Her nervous energy continued as they got home, and Hugo would have thought even a mild orgasm might have calmed her down, but his offer was politely declined.

  “I want to save myself for him,” she said. “You can have me soon as I get home from my date.”

  “You better believe it,” Hugo smiled, though he found it a little hard to breathe after what she’d just said.

  The thing was, after all the role-playing they’d done, even the realistic stuff, both of them knew this was really happening now. It was even more shocking this time because Hugo saw how nervous Madeleine was underneath the surface, though nobody could deny she wasn’t also extremely excited by what was coming.

  She couldn’t stay alone for a moment, though Hugo wasn’t going to complain. He got to sit in the bathroom watching while she showered carefully with the shower curtain open. That was a treat in itself, seeing her gently coaxing her body wash all over her beautiful smooth skin, watching her shaving her legs. He couldn’t help pressing against his hard cock through his jeans as he saw her using that little razor to tidy her patch of pubic hair—knowing that she was doing it in case her date happened to see it later that night.

  Then she was putting on her lingerie, and he was telling her that if it came to the point where her date was close enough to her panties to see how sheer they were, the question as to whether she was dressed too slutty on a first date would be moot.

  “You’ve been messaging him, haven’t you?” he asked. “In the past few days. Is he the kind of guy who would think bad of you for wearing that kind of underwear?”

  “No, I suppose not.” Her implicit confirmation that she’d been continuing to chat to this guy in the past few days prompted a burst of jealous energy inside his chest.

  “I mean, you’ve told him you’re married and that your husband is happy for you to have a fling with another guy.”

  “You’re right.”

  He talked her back into confidence, back into feeling comfortable about her sexy lingerie choice. As she sat in those wisps of black lace and black thigh-high hold-ups, applying her makeup in front of the mirror, it drove Hugo insane.

  After brushing her hair, she tied it into the kind of girly high ponytail that he’d always thought Madeleine frowned upon, but perhaps did give her the coquettish hint she was going for on this date.

  As she finally slipped on her dress, standing in front of the mirror in mild horror and elation at just how astoundingly short it was, Hugo found himself actually envying her date. Then she added a pair of shoes, complete with high heels. Fuck-me heels. Jesus. They made her push out her butt and her chest in order to maintain her balance, making her look even more devastatingly sexy

  Whoever he was, if he played his cards right that evening, her date would end up a very lucky man.

  “Will you be able to relax while you’re with him, honey?” he asked her after she’d asked him for the twentieth time if her dress was too over the top for a first date.

  “I’ll try.”

  “Remember, this isn’t supposed to be some kind of ordeal—it’s about you enjoying yourself. If you’re not enjoying yourself—”

  “I know, I know,” she said, but the warmth in her smile suggested to Hugo that she had at least half-forgotten this point.

  She said, “I guess I’m worried about you back here on your own…”

  He slid forward, parted his legs and nudged in to sit behind her. “You’ve tested me enough, haven’t you? You’ve seen me when I’m under the impression you’ve actually been with another man.”

  “I guess.” She smiled and wiggled her butt as she felt his erection pressing gently against her. She let out a quiet moan as he pushed forward. “You realize I’m going to have sex on the brain now when I meet this guy?”

  Hugo chuckled. “You should, honey.”

  Four

  Waiting for her, he felt he should have been more prepared for the gut-wrenching uncertainty of it all, having been through it before.

  He was, perhaps, a little less worried than the last time. When she’d made him think she was actually playing at being a prostitute, he had all the fears about the inherent risks that went with that oldest of professions. At least this time it was merely a first date.

  She’d told him they were going to Calloway’s, a fairly up-market Midtown steak house, a fairly safe venue.

  He had to try to relax—plenty of young women went on plenty of first dates in New York City, you couldn’t dwell on the minuscule possibility that she’d chosen to date an axe murderer. And anyway, the guy knew she was married—had to know her husband would come after him if he got abusive.

  Even with his artificial attempts at calming himself, lounging in front of the TV with another feast from Domino’s to keep him company, time seemed to crawl by as he waited.

  About half an hour in, his phone buzzed, which made him jump half a foot into the air. First thought, naturally, was that Madeleine was in trouble. It turned out to be from Lucy of all people.

  > So it’s finally happening???

  The three question marks at least conveyed their Maid of Honor’s state of mind, and suggested she was still being kept relatively up to date on the personal details of what was going on between Hugo and Madeleine. It made Hugo laugh—Lucy was so in need of gossip, so in need of the juicy details, she couldn’t wait barely half an hour into the date for the latest.

  He texted back:

  > She just left 30mins ago. Probably hasn’t even got there yet!

  A fraction of a second later, her reply:

  > You actually feeling okay right now?

  He actually felt touched that Lucy cared. She seemed to have changed her attitude toward him since they’d all moved to New York. He’d always got the hint of suspicion in Boston, in the latter years, that she had blamed him for Madeleine’s constant distress. There was none of that feeling now. These days she seemed to want to take him under her wing, like he was some kind of favorite little brother.

  He texted her back:

  > Feeling good. Happy it’s finally happening, hoping it’s what she really wants and that it turns out great.

  Well, that was fairly vague. But there was no way he was going to be able to communicate the nest of vipers going on inside him to anybody within the space of a text message.

  > You’re a special guy, Hugo. Madeleine’s unbelievably lucky to have you. But know we can stop all this at any time, if you have any doubts about it.

  He got the impression that she and Madeleine had spoken at length about all this, that Lucy perhaps saw the need to step in and ensure everything was all right even if Hugo couldn’t bring himself to tell his wife directly. The way she used the word we in her text was oddly comforting to Hugo. Perhaps it really was a good thing that she was being kept in the loop with what was going on.

  Making use of that word we, he texted back:

  > Thanks, I know we can stop it if we have to. I’m really good now, though. Really w
ant her to have this experience if possible, I know it sounds crazy.

  Lucy texted back:

  > Crazy good! God I wish I was married and had a husband like you. Keep me updated!

  As his text message conversation with Lucy came to a close, one more SMS came in, though this time from Madeleine’s number:

  > Just arrived. Think I can see him at the table. Wish me luck!

  Hugo wished her luck, his stomach doing cartwheels as he typed the message and hit the send button. By the time he’d sent a dutiful text to Lucy letting her know the date had started, he found that his heart rate and his breathing had quickened, while his hands had gone quite clammy clutching that phone.

  He was even shaking a little.

  Was this his body’s way of telling him this was unnatural, wrong? God, he felt so hot inside, yet his skin was cold, rising into goose bumps.

  It was only a first date, he told himself. Dinner would take at least an hour, Madeleine wasn’t the type to rush it so she could get him to a hotel room. But then what type was she? She’d consistently broken through the boundaries of the type her husband had thought her to be—it was quite a thrill.

  Sitting with phone in hand in case any news arrived, all he could do was breathe, and wait.

  *

  Two hours after her dinner started, with Hugo telling himself the extended meal was merely the way things were in an up-market restaurant rather than his wife’s unwillingness to keep him informed, she texted him to let him know they were headed to a bar for a few drinks.

  They were going to a bar—that meant the meal had to have gone well.

  Hugo’s stomach was really churning now—he even felt a little sick. She must be getting on nicely with her date, making a decision to go to another place, where she’d have more alcohol to lower her inhibitions.

  As he had quite a bit in the previous couple hours, he started pacing around the room again, trying to calm himself down. He spotted their framed photographs sitting on the table by the front door, and picked up an image of the two of them taken at a house party back in Boston, Madeleine leaning back against his chest, his arms around her.

  She looked so happy—that was just before they were married. Was she that happy again, now? Was she flashing that magical, care-free smile at her date right now? Hugo hoped so.

  The text message he received from Lucy in reply to his update gave him some sound advice:

  > Keep yourself occupied, it’ll take your mind off things.

  It was good advice, as it turned out. He figured that television wasn’t going to cut it—instead, he fished out his laptop and did a little work for an hour, then when there was still no word from Madeleine, he pulled on his gym clothes and went down to the gym for a workout.

  *

  After a long leisurely workout—and cooling-down swim—still there was no further word from Madeleine.

  He felt a little crushed to open the front door to an empty apartment. Strangely, his cock was semi-erect, and now the distraction of his visit to the gym was behind him, the thoughts returned to his head, of what she might be doing with her date that made her forget to keep her husband informed of her whereabouts.

  Necking with him in some dark alleyway behind the bar, hands flying all over the place.

  Sucking on each other’s tongues while his hands found their way between her legs, to find the tiny little thong she was wearing.

  Kneeling in some shady doorway somewhere, pulling his cock out before inhaling it.

  Cuddling up to him in the back of a taxi on the way back to a hotel, his finger slipping inside her soaking pussy.

  Hugo did a tentative search of the bedroom and bathroom, in case she was merely being very quiet—but it was clear she wasn’t there, and hadn’t been since she’d left for her date.

  *

  One o’clock in the morning. Still no sign. Sleep was impossible. Madeleine was going to come home to a very tidy apartment.

  Thirty minutes passed, and then his heart nearly stopped as his phone buzzed—a text message from Madeleine. Finally.

  > I’m so sorry! Completely lost track of time! On my way home.

  Her text provoked shock—Hugo felt as though somebody had poured boiling oil down his throat, to scald and blister his stomach.

  Where was she? Had she been with him all this time? It terrified and exhilarated Hugo in equal portion, but it bothered him a little that she hadn’t clued him in to her whereabouts for such a long period. She had to have known how nervous he was about all this.

  He responded:

  > Can’t wait to see you! You have a good time?

  He wasn’t angry, though. He placed blame on the alcohol, on the potential awkwardness she faced in such a new situation, on the undoubtedly intense attention she must have been getting from her date. It would have made it difficult to pull out her phone and start texting her husband.

  Anyway, there was something so sexy about his wife having independence in her dating, even if it conflicted with his desire to watch. He couldn’t entirely put a finger on why.

  That final wait for her to arrive home was so jittery—he was a bundle of nerves, still, not knowing which way the date had gone, how far she had gone with Matthew. His assumption was that she must have done something. She’d been emailing the guy and talking to him on the phone all week, she definitely liked him.

  *

  At last, down the hallway he heard the quiet ding of the elevator arriving on their floor and the doors opening.

  Having been sitting on the couch, attempting to focus on the late night chat shows, he suddenly made the last-minute decision that when Madeleine came in, she should find him in bed. He wanted her to think he’d been relaxed waiting for her, perhaps even sleeping a little since she was so late.

  He didn’t want her to think he’d been so unbelievably nervous all evening.

  Quietly, he slipped off the lights and stole through into the bedroom, pulling off his clothes before diving onto the mattress to switch on the bedside lamp. By the time he heard the rattle of the front door being unlocked and opened, he was giving a passable impression of someone who had only just woken up.

  And there she was, and Hugo could not believe how desirable she looked—and that she had actually gone out to dinner and more with another man, wearing a dress as tiny as that.

  She’d taken her hair out of her ponytail. What did that mean?

  “Hey, you’re still awake?” she said, her voice sounding a little dry, a little hoarse. The bar must have been loud, forcing their conversation into loud voices.

  Or had she been screaming too much as her date had thrust inside her?

  “Of course,” he said, trying his utmost to sound casual. “You have a good time?”

  She sauntered over to the bed, and he saw that she had been carrying her shoes, which she now dropped. She shrugged, “We had a nice dinner.”

  Hugo’s stomach shrank.

  “Anything happen afterwards?” he asked.

  Standing in front of him, by the edge of the bed, she slipped the dress over one shoulder, then the other, allowed the little thing to drop to the floor to reveal her black lingerie and those sexy hold-ups.

  “I guess I could tell you that it did,” she said, and he caught his breath as she reached behind to unfasten her bra strap, allowing it to fall, revealing those gorgeous breasts, her nipples so hard.

  But she wrinkled her nose, and that was enough for Hugo to know her date had not ended as hoped.

  “Matthew wasn’t the one?” he asked her.

  She shook her head.

  “I think to start with, I was just too nervous,” she said, climbing onto the bed. “But the thing was, I just didn’t feel it for him.”

  Hugo felt a touch of disappointment, but he’d been through her role-plays before, when hopes and even sure-fire certainty that she had finally experienced extra-marital passion were dashed. Bottom line: he was just happy to get Madeleine back, and still apparently fired up.
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br />   “You must have had some fun,” he said. “Staying out so late?”

  She smiled, and now peeled down the bed sheets, her eyes lighting up as she revealed her husband’s bare torso, and then the bulge in his boxers. “He was an interesting guy,” she said. “We talked a whole lot—and I guess I wanted to see if it was just nerves, you know—”

  “You just didn’t find him attractive?”

  “I can’t explain it—I mean, he wasn’t hideous. I’d seen pictures of him on the website. I talked to him on the phone, he seemed nice. But when I met him in real life…”

  “You didn’t have chemistry with him.”

  Hugo finished her sentence for her, but then she was kissing his mouth, and he felt in her kiss that she was relieved to be home, relieved to be back in his arms.

  He tasted the white wine on her breath—she hadn’t progressed to spirits, then. He found it hard to believe she’d been out on her date so long, coming back well past midnight, if she hadn’t found her date the least bit alluring.

  There was no stopping her now. Kneeling between his legs, she pulled his hard cock out of his boxer shorts and now sank onto it, drawing out a moan as her heat enveloped his sensitive tip and her fingers closed around his shaft.

  “You never really went for the online dating craze before we met, did you?” he said, and looking up at him, she shook her head with his cockhead still in her mouth. “It’s not quite as simple as picking a guy on the website and then falling for him soon as you meet him.”

  God, she was so hungry for his cock. He was taken aback by her force—it was almost too much. He felt her tongue lashing him, her lips tight around his swollen girth—it was so hot that she was fired up by the need that had built up on her date.

  He had to concentrate to avoid simply losing it in her mouth, though he got the feeling she wouldn’t have minded so much if he’d let loose like that.

  It was such a turn-on to see such a voracious sexual appetite in her, as though she’d been starved for weeks, and this was the first food offered to her—his cock tasting delicious to her. God, had her nipples ever been that hard? He gently held her head, his fingers slipping into her soft hair, but he didn’t need to guide her rhythm or spur her on—she was taking what she wanted.