Back inside the house a little later, the back of Kelsey’s dressing gown rides up her thighs as she stretches to reach a bowl from a kitchen cupboard. Any irritation and misgivings about Arthur’s lecherous behaviour evaporate as I study her legs.
“Did you see the way he was looking at you before Kels?”
“I don’t think he was really,” she smiles and it wavers on her lips before returning.
“Oh yes he was,” I cross the room and I’m kissing up her neck.
She’s moaning, moving against me eyes closed.
My cock is hard. Her hand is around my balls. I’m opening her gown. My fingers feel their way between the creamy flesh of her inner thighs. Her breath on my face: a faint smell of toothpaste. My fingertips touch the burning heat between her legs.
She’s soaking.
Chapter Three
I lean back against the kitchen worktop waiting for the Gaggia coffee machine to heat up. Seeing Arthur again this morning and Kelsey’s reaction has dredged up some intense feelings.
It’s an incredible mind-fuck to look at the woman you love and to know that another man has had her only a matter of months ago. To watch the heave and swell of her curvy body when she strips for bed at night and be aware that another man knows her married flesh as intimately as you. To remind yourself that someone else has ravished her, invaded her and looted his sexual fill of her while she wore her wedding ring.
How much more head-scrambling does that make it when you were instrumental in getting your wife to cuckold you? When you witnessed the event itself and when the man who claimed her is some 40 years older than you both.
Even with all that, given enough time I still might have been able to ‘put it behind me.’ Maybe even one day we could both have almost forget it had happened.
But what about when the man who enjoyed your wife lives and moves about above the place you call home? When he can probably hear every creak of your bed and every brief moan your wife utters when you make love to her? What happens when you suspect they both want each other again?
Knowing he’s back there again now, it’s like walls have closed in on me and Kelsey. The man who had my wife, who made her cum like I never could, he even owns the place we call home.
I know I’m going to be checking every look he gives my wife. Every time I see him will remind me that this man knows exactly how my wife’s body feels. I bet he can remember exactly what it’s like to be inside her. He was looking at her before like he still wants her. She was so wet before when I talked about him. Does she want him?
Perversely even as my blood runs cold at the possibility; just thinking about them together has my groin is stirring again.
He’s bound to want her again. How many girls who look the way my wife does would actually ever give themselves willingly to a man as old as him? He must think he’s died and gone to heaven having her with a husband like me living below him.
Shit, my head’s all over the place again. I’ve got to start thinking logically. Focus myself on sorting out practical things like getting some different clients and stabilising our money situation. We really have to get a grip on this side of things. Rein in our spending – especially with the financial hangover from the vacation.
How do I do that if I’m going to be constantly distracted by the old man’s presence above our heads? Or when I’m so obligated to Rochella for the bulk of our income?
The light on the coffee machine alerts me. I swirl the chrome milk jug under the nozzle and as the choking sound fills the air I’m wondering about moving home. Maybe instead of renewing our rental agreement at the end of next month, I should be persuading Kelsey we ought to move. Take that first step to break these chains.
I know she absolutely loves it here. It’s her dream apartment. The views are incredible and it’s so well-situated for her friends and work. But what if I had a serious search and found somewhere else close by? Maybe I could persuade her to at least look at it?
“You’re not going out sunbathing with him lurking around up there are you Kelsey?” I twist off the steam nozzle and stare at my wife as she appears. Sanity and logic in charge of my head once again.
“I want to top-up my tan before work in the morning,” Kelsey pulls her dressing gown around her white string bikini and kisses my cheek. “In any case, he said he was going out.” She props her sunglasses up in her hair above her forehead.
My mind hold’s up a mental image of a covetous Arthur being ‘treated’ to a display of my wife’s newly tanned figure. Jealousy and a creeping, queasy sexual arousal wrestle in my belly.
“Will you make me a cappuccino too please Nick?” Kelsey smiles and makes her way out onto the terrace with a paperback and the remains of our suntan cream.
By the time I take her coffee out to her she’s lying back on the sun lounger in just her bikini, rubbing cream into a raised knee. I glance to the terrace above. No sign of Arthur.
“I’m going to go through some business emails on my laptop.” My cock twitches in my pants as Kelsey massages the oil into an inner thigh.
How can I live a life where I’m wondering if my wife is being spied on every time she goes outside to sunbathe? Even when some depraved part of me finds the situation a thrill; surely the sensible thing to do would be to find us somewhere else to live? Somewhere we could get away from this whole ‘trap’?
I fire up my laptop on the dining room table rather than using my desktop PC in my office in the back bedroom. This way I can I keep one eye on Kelsey outside while I browse some of the property rental sites.
I trawl through the first couple and although there’s nothing suitable I’m still fairly confident. But after I’ve spent time on three or four more of the major rental portals it’s becoming worryingly obvious that actually, this apartment is a pretty good deal.
There’s nowhere near the same size in this area with anything like the views we have. There’s a couple across town that look ‘OK’ but they’re both on the ground floor. I know Kelsey wouldn’t want that. In any case, they’re hardly any cheaper than what we’re already paying for this place!
If I seriously want to move and make it financially worthwhile we’re going to have to ‘downsize’. Not just in terms of views but location and size. That would be no easy sell to Kelsey that’s for sure.
I’ve searched all the major rental websites when a chilling thought occurs to me. Is Arthur actually ‘subsidising’ the cost of our apartment so that he can keep my wife close to him?
Maybe I’m just being paranoid. But I’m running this idea around my head so much that I’m not even sure how long someone’s been knocking at our front door. That reminds me: I must get some new batteries for the door bell.
“Nicholas, Good afternoon. I hope it’s not an inconvenient moment?” the landlord’s walnut brown eyes slide away from me and into our apartment.
“I thought I should take the opportunity to pop in before I head out across town. I may be late back and I want to give you something.“ He holds up a large carrier bag. “May I come in?”
I thought he was going to wait for us to tell him when it was convenient for him to call?
“Who was it Nick?” Kelsey comes through the frame of the terrace door. She tightens her dressing gown around the indent of her waist. Pulling it across the bikini top barely covering her large, round breasts.
“Oh...” she says when she’s sees I’m not alone. She blows a lock of hair out of her eyes.
“Hot out there?” Arthur smiles at my wife. His lips remain parted.
“It’s lovely,” Kelsey nods.
“I only stopped by for a moment before I have to go out again. I wanted to give you these. As I mentioned; they’re just a little something for each of you that I picked up while I was away. I won’t embarrass you by staying to watch you open them. I know how awkward that can be.”
“I’m afraid we didn’t bring anyone anything back from our vacation.” I mumble, “We only went away for a week.”
“Don’t be silly,” Arthur laughs, “There’s nothing I need. In any case I know you youngsters don’t always have the spending power of my generation.” he pats the carrier bag.
“Will you at least stay for a coffee?” Kelsey asks him and I try to catch her eye so I can give her a glare.
“No, really, I can’t. I need to be somewhere else. A tenant eviction would you believe? Nice to have you both back. I’ll see you again soon. Bye for now.” he waves at Kelsey while I’m seeing him to the door.
“Well that was quite sweet of him really wasn’t it Nick?” Kelsey is sitting on a stool at the breakfast bar with the carrier bag on her lap. She crosses her long legs and her eyes widen as she pulls two silver gift-wrapped parcels from the bag. “I love surprises,” she grins at me.
“This one has your name on it Nick.” She holds out a rectangular box about 6 inches by 4.
“You can open it Kels. I’m not sure we should be accepting gifts from our landlord.” My stomach has tensed as I consider what the old man’s intentions might be.
“Oh Nick don’t be like that. He’s just trying to be nice. It doesn’t mean he expects anything in return.” Kelsey’s lacquered red nails pick at the neatly-wrapped parcel.
I’ll bet he doesn’t expect anything in return.
“You sure you don’t want to open it?” she asks me.
“You do it.” I shake my head and take a seat again at the dining table in front of my laptop.
“A camera!” Kelsey holds up the shiny red device, “Nikon, says you can use it underwater.”
“Oh whoop-de-doo. Who uses cameras now? I get all the photos I want with that don’t I?” I jab an index finger at my phone on the table beside my lap-top.
I’ve got a strong, sneaking suspicion why a man like Arthur would buy me a high quality camera and it has nothing to do with taking scenic underwater shots.
I’m trying to decide whether to succumb to the sense of anger or the one of gnawing eroticism inside me as I become aware Kelsey has stopped opening her gift.
“What is it Kels?”
“Just a book,” she presses the torn strips of wrapping paper over the contents.
“What sort of book?”
“Just a book.” She laughs but her face is flushed.
“Let me see it”
“I’m sure he didn’t mean anything by it. Probably his idea of a joke.” she passes the half-wrapped hard-back to me.
A black and white image of a naked blonde peers over her shoulder at me from the center of the book cover. I think I forget to breathe as I study the title.
‘Perfect Poser: Ultimate Glamour and Nude modelling Techniques.’
Chapter Four
If I’d have thought Arthur was still at home when we’d opened those presents yesterday I might have gone straight up there to speak to him. I mean I don’t like confrontation, but he’s not even trying to be subtle about this.
Kelsey says I’m being too sensitive. But how is any husband supposed to feel when another man gives his wife a book about posing without her clothes on?
The trouble is; I don’t know how I feel.
I’m sitting alone in the house now Kelsey’s gone to the office. I should be re-doing that brand design work for one of Rochella’s products. Instead my clammy fingers are picking their way through the poses suggested in the pages of Kelsey’s gift. What was he thinking when he bought her this? He can’t seriously just be assuming she’s going to model for him again? Or is he expecting even more – a repeat performance of when he had my wife?
My heart is hammering in my ribcage. What kind of husband would just sit here at his desk as if nothing had happened? I have to go and talk to him. But this churning in my stomach scares me. It’s not just anger. I’m reluctant to even admit it to myself. There’s that disturbing excitement building in my belly again as well.
This is an impossible situation with him living upstairs. I need to put a stop to it but I’m not sure I can face confronting Arthur.
I try to turn my focus onto the business. I study some of the details in the latest project from Rochella. Some packaging design for a food product she’s involved with. Even that brings my thoughts back to the landlord.
I print off some more prospecting letters to potential new clients for my design services. We’ll never get out from under this man if I don’t reduce our dependency on Rochella.
By 11:00am I can’t take it any longer. I have to go up there.
I stand outside his door, consciously trying to steady my breathing. There are a couple of envelopes lodged in his letterbox. I bet someone like him doesn’t get any final demands.
I take another deep breath. Be strong. I try to push away the thought that he owns where we live and the memory of him mauling my wife.
“Nicholas!” Arthur towers above me in an open neck bottle-green polo shirt. A smile radiates from his craggy features. He smoothes down his thin gray hair and makes a theatrical sweeping gesture, beckoning me into his apartment.
“What a nice surprise. Coffee?” he looks over one of his broad shoulders as he refills his own cup from the espresso machine.
“No I can’t stay Arthur.” I mumble, mentally rehearsing my prepared speech.
“Well at least sit down and join me for a few minutes Nicholas. An old man like me can’t be on my feet for as long as you youngsters.” He touches the frame of his spectacles.
I sit on the edge of his sofa, looking around the room where my wife spread her legs for him. This same room I watched him masturbate in to her images and when fondling her underwear. My cock has shrivelled between my legs.
“How did you like your gifts?” Arthur settles himself back in his armchair and looks at me slyly from the corners of his eyes.
“Well that’s the reason I wanted to come here and talk to you Arthur.” I need to raise my voice a little, make it sound like I mean business.“ The thing is, I don’t want Kelsey doing any more modelling. If that’s what you were thinking about with the book.” My mouth is dry. I gulp at my espresso. Shit it’s too hot!
Arthur’s eyebrows rise as I splutter.
“Nicholas you really mustn’t read anything too much into the gift or indeed gifts. I merely saw the items and then as the saying goes: - I thought of you.”
“Yes, but I wouldn’t want you to just be expecting another session.” my stomach tenses.
“Session?” Arthur says slowly, his head moving back against the armchair as he extends the syllables.
“I don’t want Kelsey to have to do any more modelling. We’re not in the same situation money-wise now. We won’t have any problems with the rent.”
“Well I’m very glad to hear that. About your financial situation I mean.” his fingers form a steeple in front of his chest, “I understand Rochella is continuing to provide you with plenty of design projects Nicholas?”
“Yes she is, but my other clients are developing well too,” I lie, feeling my face blush. Shit, I really need some other clients.
“I wasn’t necessarily anticipating another ‘session’ as you put it, of any kind with your wife.” The trace of a smile flickers around his mouth. “But that doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten how wonderfully natural she was when she did model for me Nicholas. Or indeed, how eager and enthusiastic she seemed when she was up here.” He pauses, as if studying my face.
I know my cheeks must be scarlet. He’s playing with me, like I’m some sort of cornered animal.
“In fact, seeing her again yesterday Nicholas served as a very vivid reminder of her assets. She very obviously has real talent. I have to say though; I’m rather surprised to hear she isn’t interested in modelling again.” Three of his fingers stroke around his wide jaw.
“I even invested in that state of the art camera for you Nicholas. In case you wanted to encourage her.” He shrugs his shoulders.
I look away from him. Anywhere so that I don’t have to witness him evaluating me. He and I both know why he wanted me to
have that camera.
My eyes pause on a pencilled sketch on the far wall. I don’t remember seeing that one before.
“That’s not...?” a chill runs through me.
“Kelsey?” Arthur says slowly.
“Is it?” I grip my cup in both hands. I nod towards the drawing of the familiar female holding her hair up behind her head and exposing pendulous bare breasts to the artist.
“As I said: ‘she’s a wonderful model’ isn’t she?” Arthur’s eyes move from mine back towards the semi-naked image of my wife on his wall. He rises from his seat and crosses the room to the framed drawing.
“I’m not sure it’s the favourite sketch I’ve made of her so far. But then again I had to use the other ones I’d done of her– as well as the pictures of you kindly gave me of her – for inspiration.” A thick finger traces Kelsey’s curvy outline through the glass.
My heart races as I recall the images of my wife I’ve previously handed over to this man.
“But this is probably one of the more ‘decent’ drawings I’ve made of her. At least in terms of her suitability for the wall of my home,” he smirks and touches the frame of the drawing. “I wouldn’t want to embarrass anyone calling at my apartment.”
“That...that shouldn’t be on your wall Arthur.” I stammer, a confusion of anger, frustration and a bewildering kind of elation raging through me.
“Why do you say: ‘shouldn’t’ Nicholas?” Arthur’s brow knits and he removes his finger from the drawing.
“It’s not right is it? My wife’s picture on your wall.” I put my cup down unsteadily on the coffee table between us and rise to my feet.
“Don’t get on your high horse young man,” Arthur says, his voice calm in the face of my turmoil. “This is art. Art is different.”
“But she’s still my wife Arthur. On another man’s wall.” my voice cracks.
“It’s no different from any other model Nicholas.” He sweeps a huge arm across the room towards another wall and two sketches of other women, both of which I think I saw on my first visit here.
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