“Trying to get me drunk?” she asked when he was gone.
“You figured me out.” I shrugged, glancing at the departing server. “So back in college, would you have gone for him?”
Courtney looked at Rick, sizing him up beneath her long lashes. She looked at me slyly. “He’s good looking,” she said. “But it wasn’t exactly like that.”
“So tell me how it was.”
She sighed. “I only had four boyfriends before you. I never lied about that.”
I felt the pressure of her confession begin to build. “Okay. Yes, four boyfriends, including only one in high school. Long-term boyfriends, too, because you didn’t like being single.”
“That’s right.” She bit her lip. “But I’ve, um, been with closer to... I don’t know... ten, fifteen guys.”
“Okay.” I scratched my head. “Help me understand that.”
“I’ve always been...pretty.” She rolled her eyes. “That sounds awful, but whatever. Guys have been checking me out since puberty. It’s a thing I had to learn to deal with early on, and I knew that I shouldn’t let that get to my head, but...” She shrugged. “Teenagers aren’t the most self-aware of people. So I guess it did get to me, kind of.”
“So you were what? The ‘mean girl’ in school?”
Courtney looked embarrassed. “Yeah, I guess I was. I mean, not as bad as that movie or anything, but there was definitely a clique of pretty girls, and I was in it. Anyway, we were an incestuous group, you could say, doing the group date thing more than anything exclusive. I don’t count any of those guys as boyfriends, by the way, and nothing serious happened. But there was this kind of competition, between us girls, for who got the most attention.”
“And you wanted to win.”
Courtney blushed. “I didn’t just want it. I did win. And you know how?”
I guess my face must have betrayed my lecherous thoughts, because she laughed and shook her head. “Not like that. I learned to play the guys off of each other. It was a game. Guys are kind of easy to manipulate—especially teenage boys. All I’d have to do is sit back, make them jealous of one another, and everyone would want me.”
“Very manipulative,” I said. “I didn’t think you had that in you.”
Courtney batted her lashes. “You’d be surprised at what I had in me. It was pretty shameful.”
Rick arrived just as she said that, with our refills of wine. If she was embarrassed, she didn’t show it. She sat there quietly, meeting his eyes as he refilled her glass, and thanked him as he left.
We looked at each other and shared a laugh. I said, “Okay, so you were a mean girl. Then what?”
“Then I sort of settled on Mark. Football quarterback, homecoming king. I mostly chose him because all the other girls wanted him.”
“You sound perfect for one another,” I said.
She laughed. “I hadn’t thought about it like that. But yes, at the time, I guess I thought so, too. We dated through senior year and into college. I had every intention of, I don’t know, marrying him or something. You know how it is with young love. In college, though, there was this whole other pool, and all the attention that came with it. It was...” She looked dreamy. “...eye opening. We tried to make it work. And it did, for almost the first semester. He’d visit, or I’d visit. He got jealous, though, so jealous. Especially when we were apart. But the crazy thing was that whenever we were together, whenever we reunited, the sex was intense. I found that the more jealous he was, the better those reunions were.”
I could understand that, but didn’t say anything. She was in the zone, and I didn’t want to disturb her.
“Then, close to winter break, during finals, I...” She hesitated, looking down into her wine glass. “I actually cheated on him. I felt awful. I didn’t mean for it to go so far, but we were drinking, one thing led to another, and...” She shrugged, wincing up at me.
“I’m not judging. High school relationships never last,” I said.
She licked her lips. “But that’s just it. It kind of did. I went home, confessed, felt terrible. Told him I was so sorry, and that it was meaningless, and all that. Mark was pissed, of course. So angry. And yet...”
“The sex was amazing.”
Courtney nodded. “So intense. So, so intense.”
“That wasn’t the last time you...slept with someone else when you were with him.”
Courtney shook his head. “I didn’t set out to do it, but found I couldn’t resist. It’s so awful, I know, but thinking about Mark’s jealous reaction was sometimes more exciting than the sex with the other man.”
I found myself envious of Mark, despite all logic. “So what happened?”
“Eventually, inevitably, it all came crashing down. I went to surprise him at his college. He was in bed with some other chick. Turned out that he’d been cheating on me, too. Maybe that’s why he never broke up with me. Like we had some unspoken open relationship. I don’t know.”
“So you split up.”
Courtney nodded.
“But the seed was planted.”
“Yeah.”
“And the other three boyfriends?”
“Also got pretty jealous. And none of them could handle it like Mark. It became self-destructive.”
My heart skipped a beat. “And me?”
Courtney was already shaking her head, like she knew just what I was going to ask. “You were different. After my fourth failed relationship, I knew I was out of control. It was fun, but there wasn’t a future in it—not the future I’d wanted since I was a little girl, anyway. I actually swore off men for a couple years before I met you. And the rest is history.”
What wasn’t said was that history had a way of repeating itself, and I had the distinct impression that it was right now. More, a part of me hoped that it was, despite knowing how badly those other four relationships had ended.
“That’s quite a story,” I said. “So I’m...what? Safe?”
Courtney’s eyes went wide. She shook her head. “No, it’s not like that at all. You’re exactly who I want. I couldn’t ask for a better husband. I just wasn’t ready for you until I met you.”
“And if I’d come into your life in college?”
She looked at me slyly. “Well, you’re a good looking guy, so I’m not saying you wouldn’t have had a chance. But I also don’t think you’re the type of guy who’d cheat with another man’s girlfriend, which is probably what I would have used you for.” She covered her face. “God, that sounds bad.”
My glass of water was almost gone. My plate was nearly empty. I finished the last swallow of water, the ice clinking against my teeth, and took a deep breath. “Do you ever miss those days?” I saw a shadow pass across her face. “Do you ever get tempted?”
There was something there. I swore that there was. A moment’s hesitation. Or maybe it was my imagination.
“I’m not going to risk what we have. Nothing’s worth that.”
It wasn’t a denial, but I didn’t call her on that. Instead, I brought up our conversation the other night. “But you’ve admitted you like making me jealous. Like with the lingerie and the board meeting. Or the guys earlier tonight.”
She didn’t back down, but in her head, she also clearly saw those things as different. “That’s nothing. It’s just a game. It’s nothing like...back then.”
I wanted to know more, but Rick interrupted us before I could. He placed a chocolate cake with a lit candle on it in front of me. “Happy birthday, Mr. Haute. Complements of our pastry chef.”
Courtney said, “Happy birthday, John. Make a wish.”
I stared at the flame, seeing Courtney’s past life in the sinuous flicker. Make a wish. I wish, I wish, I wish that someone would tempt Courtney beyond the game. My heart jumped.
I blew out the candle.
Chapter 8
After the chocolate cake came the cocktails. I was already feeling buzzed from all the wine, and even thinking about maybe slowing down a little, in case I ended up o
n the floor fairly early on in my birthday night.
But Rick arrived to remove the plates and the silverware, and Courtney immediately demanded the cocktails menu.
“Are you sure?” I asked her, considering the fact that she was acting a little tipsy herself—I can tell when Courtney’s been drinking, she gets ultra confident. It’s hot, but it’s a little nerve-wracking.
“Seriously? The night’s still young,” she said, her eyes flashing with mischief.
“I suppose...”
Rick returned quickly with the cocktail menus, and Courtney leaned across the table to take one from him, in the process giving both him and me a superlative view of her chest. I was somewhat surprised—her dress had started off as really quite tame, not at all low cut. Now she sat up straight with her menu and I could see it plunge down to show off a lot more of her cleavage. How had she managed that?
I looked at our waiter and had no doubt he’d seen exactly what I had. He looked a little hot under the collar, for sure. It fired me up more than a little.
“A Zombie for my husband and a Death in the Afternoon for me,” Courtney demanded. I raised my eyebrows at my sudden lack of choice in the matter, and it made her laugh. “You can choose the next ones,” she promised.
“So what’s next?” I asked her as our waiter melted away to fetch our cocktails.
“Whatever you like, it’s your birthday,” she said, sitting back to finish her red wine before the next round of drinks appeared.
She seemed to be enjoying showing off her chest to whoever happened to be passing by. I was enjoying it, too, though I tried not to show it too much.
“If it’s my choice alone,” I said, “then I’d most like to take you home and peel off that dress.”
Her smile was bright, but short-lived. As much as she liked my attention, she wasn’t ready to call it quits yet for the night. She pouted, “We can go home any time. You don’t want to see what the night might bring?”
I laughed. “I’m not sure I can drink quite as much as I used to.”
She giggled. “I can. More, maybe.”
“Okay,” I nodded, seeing where this was going. “So what I want to do on my birthday is whatever you want to do. So what do you want to do?”
She grinned, ecstatic. “I want to have a few more strong drinks with my cute hubby, and then go dancing somewhere.”
Our drinks arrived. I took one mouthful of my violently orange cocktail, and nearly burned out my throat. “Uh... what is this?” I asked.
Her drink was a cloudy pale green color, served in a Champagne glass, which she sipped delicately, showing no ill effects at all. “You’ve got three different kinds of rum there, lime juice... I think Pernod, Grenadine... grapefruit juice? Something like that...”
“Uh... nobody strike a match, please.”
My wife was drinking Absinthe and Champagne, which I didn’t even think was legal, so that shows how much I know.
The cocktails did what Courtney wanted them to, I suppose. I felt my inhibitions gradually weakened.
“The dance clubs... the good ones... aren’t even open yet, so we might as well stay and be comfortable,” she said as I suggested maybe we could skip the after-dinner liqueurs. “We can entertain ourselves, can’t we?”
“Okay...” I said, sitting back clutching my orange biohazard, attempting to sip it yet very nearly passing out from the fumes alone. If she ordered me one more of these, I’d be out for the count.
“Now I think you’re trying to get me drunk,” I murmured.
“Of course,” she laughed.
“You realize,” I said, holding up my drink as though I was toasting her, “the more of this I drink, the worse my performance in the bedroom?”
Her eyes flashed. “Oh, but there’s plenty of time to deal with that. Doesn’t it make you feel nice?”
I looked around our table, taking in the relatively civilized restaurant, which really didn’t seem like the place to drink such strong cocktails. I did feel good, I couldn’t deny that. I was in that sweet spot where I felt ultra relaxed and strangely confident, yet without getting to the stage where my movement was impaired, or my head becoming dizzy.
“I guess so,” I said.
“And makes you feel like we could say anything to each other.”
I nodded, “I suppose we could.”
She leaned forward, squeezing her breasts together for my benefit, and whoever else was looking our way. “So tell me what’s on your mind,” she demanded.
I shrugged. This was like some interrogation, here. I thought this was supposed to be my birthday. But there was an odd thrill in the fact that she was urging me to speak my mind. And that perhaps she would speak hers.
“What’s going on with your dress?” I asked her. “There’s no way you were showing off that much cleavage when we got here.”
She giggled. “It’s a Girrou dress. Made of really stretchy fabric,” she said, and tugged the neckline to show that she could effectively change the shape of her dress on her body, making it appear much more conservative.
“Wow,” I said.
“You like it this way, or this way?” She asked, giving me the option.
“That way,” I indicated the option where her cleavage was very much on display.
She grinned. “I thought you might say that. So what else is on your mind, sweetie?”
“Isn’t it my turn to ask what’s on your mind?”
She crossed her legs, and even from the other side of the table, I could see how high her dress was riding on her shapely thighs. I guessed that her Girrou dress had also been pulled down to just above her knees earlier, but had since seen its hem rising quite a way.
She said, “Okay... what’s on my mind?” She looked directly into my eyes, her gaze somehow sharp, almost intimidating. “Okay... what’s on my mind... this: when I wore some nice new lingerie and made you think I was wearing it for someone at our board meeting...”
“Yeah?”
“It made you into some kind of sex god,” she said. I felt my ears burning.
“I don’t think I’d call myself a god...” I said, modesty cutting in.
“That was the hottest night since... since...”
“Since Mark?” I prompted her. I felt a slight fluttering of the butterflies in my stomach, but the adrenaline was flowing through my bloodstream. Normal husbands might not like to hear about their wives’ previous boyfriends, but it was fascinating to me, exciting.
“I’m sorry...” she said.
“No, it’s okay... so your other boyfriends... when you made them jealous...”
She shrugged, “With two of them it started out hot... and then kind of went nowhere. After a while they kind of resented any attempt to make them jealous.”
“And the other one?”
“The other one didn’t like it from the start... I’m not sure what happened there...”
“How long were you with him?”
“Six months? Maybe more. I never realized how much of a... I don’t know... I guess he was religious, he liked the good girl image I projected on the surface.”
“You were with a guy like that for six months or more?” I chuckled. “How did he manage to keep you?”
“I cheated on him,” she said, with a sigh. I didn’t want this to turn into some kind of therapy session, but it was interesting to me. “I liked cheating on him, I liked it more than anything else about him. I was kind of angry, I suppose.”
“What happened?”
“Well... I mean, I’d cheated on all my boyfriends, and that was ultimately what killed those relationships. But then there was Wesley... and somehow it was the cheating that kept me in the relationship.”
“Until he found out?”
She nodded. “I guess you could say... my reputation around college was like mud after that,” she laughed, though I could tell the memories were painful. “At least it made me focus on my studies. Wouldn’t be in the job I’m in otherwise...”
&nb
sp; My turn to choose cocktails. I wasn’t exactly going virgin, but I wasn’t going to refresh the Eau de Chernobyl in front of me, and I didn’t want Courtney to go off the boil yet, either. Long Island Iced Tea for her, Mojito for me. Easy, simple, nice.
“So all this has been on your mind?” I asked her.
She shrugged. “I really did wear that sexy underwear just so that it might improve my confidence in the board meeting,” she said. “It was so important: I had to pitch to the board to support a project that will see our public clinic days increase to five per month...”
“And they went for it?”
“They did,” she grinned.
“Honey, that’s fantastic!” She did seem pleased.
“Only,” she said, “I get home... and there wasn’t time to change out of my clothes before you got back...”
“No need to,” I insisted.
“And then you were all jealous... and all over me...” I wasn’t sure whether she was complaining or celebrating what had happened. But from the way her nipples were pushing out through the thin gray material of her dress, I could tell she was turned on.
“You looked so good,” I explained. “And I guess thinking that I might lose you to some other guy...”
“You know you’d never lose me,” she said, earnest, honest seemingly.
“You seem... I don’t know... anxious...” I said.
“I don’t know... it awakened something inside me I thought I’d moved away from. And now I can’t stop thinking about it. And it frightens me.”
“Because your other relationships all folded?”
“Uh-huh.”
“I’m not going to stop wanting you just because you make me a little jealous now and again,” I said, feeling myself blushing, revealing more than I thought I’d be able to. Getting so close to telling her I fantasized about her sleeping with other men.
Why couldn’t I just tell her? I still felt embarrassed.
“I’m not kidding,” she said. “This could be very dangerous for us.”
The darkness she’d put out there between us... it was so very tempting to me. I felt like Anakin Skywalker being tempted by the wrong side of The Force.
Out of His League: A Hotwife Novel Page 7
