Leigh Uncovered: A Wife Sharing Novel

by Arnica Butler

  LEIGH UNCOVERED

  A Wife-Sharing Novel

  By Arnica Butler

  *********

  Copyright 2017 by Arnica Butler

  All rights reserved. No duplicating and no resale, but

  feel free to share with friends or family.

  Published by Thirteenth Line Publications

  This book is a work of fiction. All characters, companies, organizations, products and events in this book, other than those that are clearly in the public domain, are fictitious, and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, companies, organizations, events, or products, is purely coincidental.

  All characters depicted in this story are 18 years or older.

  Cover characters are models. Image(s) is/are licensed from:

  PawelSierak / DepositPhotos

  Published by Thirteenth Line Publications

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  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  1: New Neighbors

  2: How I Know Your Wife

  3: Leigh The Model

  4: Billie The Matchmaker

  5: A Different Kind Of Model

  6: A Different Kind Of Leigh

  7: Afterward

  8: A Gambler

  Epilogue

  More From Arnica Butler

  1: NEW NEIGHBORS

  Leigh sighed and uncrossed, then crossed again, her sinuous legs, angling them out to the side so that they formed a long, slender line with the curves of her calves to either side. They formed a pretty shape, vaguely reminiscent of her feminine parts, which is probably why it turned Jeremy on so much.

  He watched his wife push a loose strand of her rich, red-tinged brown hair from her forehead with the backs of her fingers. These were all signs that she was getting anxious, and he smiled to himself. It was just like Leigh to get anxious about whether or not someone was coming to a barbecue.

  “What if they don’t come?” Leigh complained, almost as if she had read his thoughts.

  Her eyes were on the enormous bowl of potato salad she had made, arranged beautifully in a pretty dish on top of some ice in a clear baking tray. She had prepared enough for twenty people, even though only two were invited.

  Jeremy laughed and leaned forward to gain some momentum to get out of the reclined back of his Muskoka chair. He had a beer in one hand and a small bowl of Leigh's potato salad in the other, which he had taken so she felt someone was at least making some headway on the darned thing. “They said they were coming,” he told her gently. “And if they don’t... we can eat potato salad for the next two weeks.”

  Leigh was frowning toward the side of the house, her pretty, chocolate-colored eyes squeezed into a squint and her generous mouth worked into a comical pout, puckered and off to one side. “It only keeps for like three days. Max,” she said earnestly.

  Even after six years of marriage and some financial ups and downs that had pressed them into some tight places and difficult decisions, Jeremy was still head-over-heels in love with his wife. One of the things he loved most about her was how seriously she took food safety and having enough food at barbecues – two manias that were now coming to a showdown on the first sunny Saturday of the short-lived New England spring.

  He leaned over and kissed her on the lips, drawing the pout back into her natural shape: a generous, almost ethic-looking mouth, lower lip slightly fuller than the well-defined carving of her upper lip. “It will be fine,” he assured her. “Bales will eat it, right Bales?”

  Their black Labrador lifted his head lazily from under the table at the sound of his name. Assessing that no one was actually offering him any food, he rolled onto his side with a loud sigh.

  Bailey would, in fact, eat any amount of anything, being a lab. But he only got up if the offer was genuine.

  “It has onions in it!” Leigh said quickly, and then realized that her husband was provoking her a little. She rolled her eyes at herself, her long eyelashes striking her eyelids in a fan of magnificent black plumage. “Okay. Okay. I’ll relax.”

  “Have a beer,” Jeremy suggested.

  “Sooo many calories.”

  Leigh had recently lost ten pounds in a fit of exercise that she had not enjoyed, and she had vowed to never put it on again. Jeremy hadn’t actually minded the extra weight, and if he was being honest, he couldn’t really tell the difference. His wife always looked great to him. She was a well-proportioned woman, with pretty, slender legs and a well-turned ass. She had fairly large breasts and a thicker waist, but there was no flab on her anywhere.

  Especially not now.

  Jeremy popped the cap off and poured a little into a small glass. “Just have a taste,” he said. “It’s a craft beer, a honey wheat, you’ll like it.”

  Leigh shook her head, but she reached for the glass.

  “Hey hey,” a voice said from the side of the house, and they heard the creak of the garden gate. The screech made Jeremy cringe; he’d been meaning to WD-40 that thing for at least three months.

  Leigh stood up and smoothed her sundress, a pretty light blue floral dress that wrapped across her chest and tied just below her breasts. It was a conservative length, just below her knees, but the wrap-over bodice and the funky sandals she’d paired with it gave an elegant, but slightly hipster, look. Her hair was pulled back in a pony tail, but it was a pretty one with a few carefully selected stray strands. The kind of pony-tail that took time and care.

  Leigh was ultra-fashionable, and although Jeremy wouldn’t have minded her straying to the sexier side, he loved that she always looked good. Leigh, for example, would never be caught wearing her hair in a bun, unless it was some kind of stylized bun for a formal occasion.

  The source of the voice was the female of the new couple on their street, Billie and Craig. Billie was short for Biljana – not that Jeremy was aware of that. She was much much more of a “Billie” anyway: she had a crop of light brown hair that came to her jawline; wild, light brown eyes that gleamed with mischief in the flecks of green smattered throughout, and an ensemble of plain features that together gave her a very cute, sexy countenance. A sort of sporty, friendly, Midwestern girl look.

  She dressed, however, like a sporty sex bomb. Since Jeremy had come across them on his morning run, Billie had changed her clothes and was now clad in a pair of cutoff shorts that left very little to the imagination, and a form-fitting white shirt that ended just below her belly-button, revealing a sizable slice of her torso. Her skin was a naturally toasted almond color, and a very appealing brown mole winked at Jeremy from just above her hip bone.

  Leigh extended her hand to Billie, and kept her eyes right on the new neighbor’s twinkling eyes, though she was tempted to let them wander up and down the very risque ensemble. “I’m Leigh,” she said. “Nice to meet you.”

  “Billie,” Billie said, in a voice that was as sultry as whiskey on the rocks. For the first time, Jeremy noticed that she seemed to have a foreign inflection in her voice. It was very slight, but there.

  Billie looked at Jeremy, and she crinkled her eyes so that she winked at him. “Hello, Jeremy,” she said, as if they were very old friends and she saw him every day. She scanned the table next and let out a little laugh.

  “Oh, good,” she said. “We’ve brought you some more potato salad.” She gave a half turn and held her hands up to frame the large bowl that Craig was holding in his hands.

  Craig lifted it to better display the extra potato salad.

  Jeremy gave Leigh a quick look. He was happy to see that Billie’s humor
was keeping her from tipping over the edge about the potato salad, which was now in full-on fiasco mode for her.

  “This always happens to me,” Billie said. “But,” she said, digging into a bag slung over her forearm, “I also have some sangria.”

  Billie was the type of woman who cast a magical spell on everyone she met, which Jeremy was beginning to see now. She had done it to him, and she was doing it now to Leigh, who ordinarily would have been induced into further anxiety about the potato salad, but was laughing instead at Billie’s joke.

  Billie shook a bottle, which looked more like some hooch someone would be selling out of the back of their car in the Bronx than sangria. “It’s a Bulgarian recipe,” she said, with an impish smile. “After this you won’t mind having all this potato salad, you’ll need it to soak it up.”

  “I’m Craig,” Craig said, stepping forward to shake Leigh’s hand with a charming smile. Jeremy let his gaze travel along Craig’s very toned, tanned arm to where he grasped Leigh’s.

  Jeremy didn’t remember Craig being so good-looking.

  Craig was tall – taller than Jeremy by a few inches, and Jeremy was a pretty average 6 feet tall. But where Jeremy was more a curly-haired, slightly shorter version of Jim from the immortalized TV series “The Office,” Craig was a rough, Marlboro-man type with a square jaw and stubble, straight hair cut expertly in a tough-guy cut, and raft of tattoos on his right arm that gave him a mild air of danger.

  He was also, or at least he said, a financial adviser at Woods-Gunther, which is why Jeremy had opted to invite him over. (On looks alone, he might have been reluctant to do so). But the guy had to be an upstanding citizen if he worked at Woods-Gunther, and he also had to be one hell of an investor if he landed a job like that in spite of those tattoos.

  Leigh responded to Craig the way most women do, which was to feel a little surge of adrenaline in her chest and coil of excitement a little lower. But Leigh wasn’t the easily-frazzled type, and she wasn’t the kind to lose her cool. Also, she was really happily married and didn’t think much of men who were, as she put it, “too good-looking.”

  Or so she said.

  “I’m Leigh,” she said, shaking his hand in a perfunctory, friendly-only way.

  Craig cocked his head and looked at Leigh intently. “Have I met you somewhere before?” he said.

  He did not release Leigh’s hand, and the grasp was just long enough to be awkward and make Leigh look down at their fingers.

  Jeremy felt a little shiver travel down his spine. Craig had a very flirtatious voice while asking this question.

  Or maybe flirtatious wasn’t the right word. A seductive-flirtatious tone. A George-Clooney-tone.

  In fact, it was just the way Craig generally spoke, and it was for every woman he saw. In a way, Jeremy sensed that; but when it was directed at his wife, it was unnerving as hell.

  Leigh shook her head, but she took both his question and his tone for a “standard” flirtation.

  Leigh was accustomed to men trying to charm her.

  “Not that I know of,” she said, sweetly and politely, and in a way that would have shut the charm down with any other guy.

  Craig, though, kept his eyes on hers. He smiled right through a simmering few seconds until, to Jeremy’s surprise, Leigh did become flustered. She dropped her eyes and made a big show of looking around for something. Then she held up a finger and turned toward the table as if she had something important to do there, though there was nothing but potato salad to attend to.

  Jeremy felt something flip in his stomach.

  When Jeremy turned back to Craig, the man was squinting into the sky. It seemed to Jeremy as though he really did recognize Leigh, and was trying really hard to remember from where.

  “Okay, where are the glasses?” Billie said, interrupting his thoughts. That line of thinking, at least for the interim, came to an end.

  Leigh did her best to relax about the plethora of potato salad, and Billie did her best to pour sangria over Leigh’s anxiety, but in the end, she boiled over and went inside to make something else.

  Billie, being quite a sport, went with her. Jeremy saw her lean on the kitchen counter, her sinewy limbs akimbo a cute and very sexy way. The next time he looked into the kitchen, Billie was sitting on the counter, swinging her legs.

  And Leigh, who was facing the window, was just talking pleasantly to her.

  “Huh,” he commented.

  Craig raised his eyebrows to ask him what he meant by that. The two of them were flipping hamburgers, a task they’d had to start over because they’d let them burn while engrossed in a conversation about day trading.

  Jeremy smiled. “Just… Billie. She’s a real charmer.”

  Craig smiled, and nodded, because he clearly agreed and already knew that. “Why do you say that?” he asked.

  Jeremy smiled, turning back to the burgers. He pointed at one of them to indicate to Craig it should be flipped. Craig started sliding a spatula under it with no need for clarification. “Just… Leigh is pretty uptight about a lot of stuff,” he began.

  Craig laughed under his breath. “You don’t say,” he said.

  “And Billie’s sitting on the counter in there, and she doesn’t seem to care.”

  Craig arched his neck to peer over Jeremy and confirm the scene he had described. He smiled again. “Yeah, Billie has a way about her, that’s for sure.”

  Jeremy was pretty pleased with how the evening was going. They didn’t have any friends in the neighborhood – it was one of those typical suburbs where people left early and came home late, and you could live there ten years without ever knowing what your next-door neighbor looked like.

  Leigh, who had grown up in a small town in Ohio, always talked about how strange that was to her. Jeremy could see, as the evening went on, that she was really pleased with the “neighborliness” of the barbecue. And he was glad Craig was a pretty cool guy to talk to, because he could already see that Leigh was planning many, many more barbecues like this one in her mind.

  They ate outside, because it was still early enough in the season that they weren’t going to be devoured by bugs, though Jeremy felt certain he’d wake up with a few oozing mayfly bites.

  Leigh had quite a bit of sangria with Billie, which loosened her up and made her laugh a lot as the two ladies camped out on one side of the porch talking about places they’d traveled and TV shows they hated, and some kind of neighborhood gossip that Jeremy couldn’t even understand how Leigh got, since they barely knew anyone.

  Jeremy and Craig settled into lawn chairs next to the barbecue.

  As a general rule, Jeremy tried not to ask everyone about their job right off the bat. He’d avoided it so far the whole evening, but he was dying to know how a guy like Craig, who would have looked at home in a prison yard or an adventure company, ended up as a financial planner at a firm like Woods-Gunthry.

  “So how’d you get into financial planning?” he finally asked, when he couldn’t take any more.

  Craig held his beer to his lips, and appeared really lost in thought. He didn’t answer the question. Jeremy felt unsettled; guys like Craig unsettled him anyway, but he wasn’t sure what to do when the man just wouldn’t answer him.

  He wondered if Craig was just annoyed to be talking about work. Jeremy decided to shut up.

  “Man,” Craig said after a while. “I feel sure I know her from somewhere.” He raised his eyebrows. Jeremy followed his gaze to where his wife and Billie were giggling on the other side of the porch.

  “She’s a real hottie, too,” Craig said, turning toward Jeremy and seemingly changing the subject slightly. He gave Jeremy a humored look up and down. “How’d you manage that?”

  It was a good question, and one that Jeremy spent plenty of time pondering himself. Leigh, with her long limbs and extreme curves, her pretty face and the glorious mane of brown hair, could definitely be considered out of his league. And if it ever occurred to Leigh to get a little sexier than usual in th
e way she dressed, then she would be decidedly in another league.

  But Leigh was a fairly conservative woman, and just a very nice girl with almost kooky old-fashioned values. She wasn’t church-going or prude, but she definitely fell more on the conservative than libertine side when it came to almost everything.

  All of this was lucky for Jeremy, who was a pretty nice, conservative choice. He knew that his boring job in urban planning with a pension and no potential for scandal, his somewhat bland looks and his lack of extreme personality traits all appealed to Leigh.

  Which is sort of a boring way to get the girl of your dreams, but how much did it matter?

  Jeremy responded by shrugging. “Just lucky I guess.”

  Craig was back to staring at Leigh – or at least it seemed that way to Jeremy – and sipping his beer absent-mindedly. The man was really into this “I’ve seen-her-before” thing.

  Jeremy watched Craig’s eyes as they took a long, lingering walk over Leigh when she stood up and poured two more drinks for herself and Billie. He couldn’t be 100% sure, but it was fairly obvious that the man’s eyes stopped for a rest on the curve of her breasts and the flare of the dress that hid the shape of her ass – to wonder what it might all look like if that floral material were stripped away.

  Leigh was laughing, and she seemed a little bit tipsy. “Oh, my God,” she giggled, as she placed her thumb in her mouth to suck some sangria she had spilled from it. She turned to Jeremy with bright eyes and her drink sloshed around precariously in her hand. A stray curl of brown hair sprung loose from her disintegrating pony-tail.

  “Did you know this?” she said. “The house up the hill, that one that you said gives you a creepy vibe?”

  She waited for Jeremy to say something, but for the life of him he had no idea what she was talking about.

  Leigh became impatient. She leaned on her knees and cupped her hand to her mouth, a funny, drunk gesture because she yelled when she said: “It was a meth house!”