by Blaise Quin
My eyes darted to the closet where that very dress was hung.
Peter jerked his head in that direction, and my connection with my husband was now so complete that I immediately knew what he was thinking. I ran to the closet, stripping off my tee shirt, tripping as I stepped out of my shorts.
I swept the hangers aside, grabbing the dress and pulling it on just as Peter said, “Actually, I’m her husband.”
I froze, my fingers on the zipper, holding my breath to see what would happen next. Would Nathan Chase be thinking that Peter was calling to complain about him hitting on his wife?
The silence drove me crazy. I stuck my head back out of the closet, expecting Peter to have hung up, or be staring at the phone as Nathan Chase gave him an earful. Instead, Peter was nodding into the handset.
“I completely understand, I wasn’t calling to get in a fight. Just the opposite, actually.” Peter looked over at me and gave me a thumbs up. I wasn’t sure if he was reacting to the dress or to what Nathan Chase was saying.
Either way, my heart was pounding in my chest as I fumbled for the zipper. The zipper on the dress I’d been wearing when Nathan Chase—that’s how I thought of him, not Nathan, but a powerful man deserving of his full name—had noticed me. The very dress I had put on to attract a man’s eyes. I hadn’t known it would be Nathan Chase, just any man I found desirable. A man to fantasize about when I was masturbating. And when I was having sex with Peter.
It was happening so fast, and yet my body was already ahead of the game, running down the path I had set foot on. A path I had been on for years, only to have taken a long rest stop. Now Peter had joined me on the path.
My legs were shaking so hard I couldn’t stand up. The dress brushed against my bare thighs, a caress. Nathan Chase wouldn’t be a man to caress. I had to hurry, for him.
I grabbed at the zipper again, my hands shaking harder than my legs. Peter said, “The reason I’m calling is. . .”
Fuck the zipper.
I collapsed against the wall, hard, the way I’d expect a man like Nathan Chase to shove me. My hand reached under the hem, just as his would. My fingers sought out my pussy, just as he would.
My wetness spread over my fingers, just as they would his.
I mashed my hand over my clit, rubbing furiously. I didn’t need to warm up. Nathan Chase wouldn’t be one for foreplay, he’d take what he wanted on his terms, when he wanted it. He wouldn’t wait for me.
I fought to keep my eyes open as my frenzied fingers flew over my clit. Through my lashes I saw Peter watching me.
Into the phone he said, “The reason I’m calling is because of what you wrote on the back of the card you gave her. You asked her to call you when she was ready.”
Peter paused, letting it all sink in, for Nathan Chase, and especially for me. I was pressing so hard on my clit my ass slammed against the wall, my moans now so loud I was sure Nathan Chase could hear them.
Peter waited a few more seconds, my heavy breathing building to a crescendo. And at exactly the right moment, yet another indication of how well my husband knew me, Peter said, “She’s ready now.”
I exploded, my eyes shooting open, the image of Peter holding the phone, smiling, indelibly etched on my brain, then my eyes squeezed shut just as my labia opened wide, pulling my fingers in, not one, not two, but three, a poor substitute for a cock, which is what I now so desperately needed.
My spasms had barely subsided when I threw myself across the room, yanking down Peter’s pants even as he was still on the phone.
I sucked him off as he made the arrangements with Nathan Chase.
Peter
The lobby was large, subdued, upscale. Exactly the kind of hotel that I expected Nathan Chase to frequent. Just beyond the lobby lay a wide lounging area, small sofas and wide armchairs clustered in separate groups around gleaming glass and chrome coffee tables.
I parked myself in the corner, where I’d have some privacy but still retain a clear view of the lobby. The lobby that Nathan Chase would pass through, on his way to the elevator, the elevator he’d ride up to the room where he’d fuck my wife.
I had purposefully arrived early. Not only because I would have been too anxious to wait elsewhere, but because I wanted to see Andie arrive. To see how she’d look crossing that lobby. Whether she’d check to see where I was. Whether she’d stop to give me a kiss.
Whether she’d even look my way.
And a bit of me wanted to see Nathan Chase as well. To see the man who had pushed Andie’s button with just a few words and a scratched note on the back of a business card.
Andie and I had discussed the arrangements, but the talk had been perfunctory, words about logistics a smokescreen for an undercurrent of excitement, of urgency. For her, at least. I sensed it the moment we had picked up the phone to call Rodney. Since then, no amount of sex we had was enough. She got off, we both did, she moaned and shuddered and climaxed, and yet I knew she needed more. She needed another man, a rough, powerful man.
A man she was no doubt fantasizing about as we had sex.
I couldn’t blame her, because I had unwittingly set this all in motion. I was the one who had reawakened her long held back desires.
And now I’d gone from unwilling catalyst to leading the parade.
I fidgeted in the chair, reviewing the plan. Andie wanted this, we both did, but we hadn’t completely lost our senses. She’d be alone with a virtual stranger in a hotel room. Part of our need, of her being with another man, would be satisfied even if it ended there. Yet we both wanted more. I had a strong desire to watch. She knew it, and got off on it. Yet I wasn’t ready to be in the same room. I didn’t know if my arousal was partially because I was safe in my own privacy, watching on video, or just listening to Andie tell me her fantasies.
I couldn’t predict how I’d react if I was in the same room. Even if Nathan Chase had agreed to that, a lot could go wrong. I might not be able to deal with it. The environment would change, it had to. No matter what was different, it could ruin it for Andie.
We’d come this far, and I wasn’t going to let that happen.
We’d finally come up with a simple but wonderful solution. She’d go to the room alone, but I’d be in the lobby. She’d call me from the room and leave the line open. We had a safe word. If she uttered it, I’d be there in seconds in case she needed help. In case Nathan Chase somehow went too far.
That was the deal I’d made with Nathan Chase, insisting that I needed to be close by, with a key card. He agreed without hesitation. I wondered if he’d done this before, if other husbands had arranged for him to fuck their wives. Or whether he was just amused.
Or whether he could tell from just my voice that he didn’t for a minute think that I’d try to rob him, or set him up. That no matter what I might try, he could deal with it.
The safe word was letdown.
As in how much of a letdown it would be if Nathan Chase, if the entire arrangement, if the sex, didn’t live up to our expectations. Our desires. Andie’s needs.
A man entered the hotel, wearing a tailored raincoat, salt and pepper hair, distinguished. I followed him with my eyes as he strode purposefully to the reception area. Was this Nathan Chase? I was too far away to make out details, only an impression of importance.
He checked in, the desk clerk pointing to the elevators. I had unconsciously leaned forward in the chair, falling back as I realized he was a first time hotel guest. I doubted he was Nathan Chase.
I had a running bet in my head who would arrive first. Whether Nathan Chase would purposefully come late, making Andie wait for the powerful executive. Or whether he’d be turned on enough at the thought of getting what he wanted that he’d be early, wanting to see her as she walked in to his room.
He was to arrange to leave the key cards, but no doubt a man in his position could have one of his staff do that. I pictured an older secretary, grimly setting up his tryst. Trysts.
No, a Nathan Chase wouldn’t have a
grim older secretary. He’d have a luscious young blonde with big tits who gave him blowjobs under the desk.
He’d direct her to set up his trysts, making her suffer knowing he was going to meet another woman.
I hadn’t even met the guy and I was pissed at him and jealous at the same time.
I was getting hot and bothered, and not just from anger. I shucked off my jacket, laying it over the chair arm.
Guests came and went, no one I suspected of being Nathan Chase. It was ten minutes to the appointed time.
A man passed through the front door. Even from across the wide room I instantly knew it was him. Broad shouldered, in an impeccable suit that fit him like a glove, no overcoat, disdaining the cold. An imperious walk of confidence that told everyone he was a man to be reckoned with, to get out of the way or suffer the consequences.
His dark hair wasn’t short or long, perfectly in place, his face square. He glanced around the lobby and waiting area. Perhaps looking for Andie, perhaps looking for me.
Not for me. He wouldn’t give a shit about me.
Nonetheless, I shrunk down in the chair. Not because I was afraid, but because I didn’t want to spoil any of it.
The man looked back and forth from the elevator to the front desk. I could surmise exactly what was going through his mind. He was deciding whether to check to see whether Andie was already at the hotel. To find out how early she’d arrived, how badly she wanted it. Or to find out whether she had stood him up.
Could a man like that even consider that he’d be stood up?
He approached the desk. The clerk was on the phone; she immediately hung up. I had no doubt she knew who the man was, and he deserved immediate attention.
He said something I was far too away to hear. The clerk shook her head. He asked her again, a subtle clenching of his shoulders, pressing, or perhaps not believing. The clerk shook her head again.
The man turned around, checking the lobby. Then he strode to the elevators and pushed the button impatiently.
I smiled in the corner. That man might be in control, but he wanted Andie.
My wife.
Andie
My short silky dress was no match for the stiff breeze. I stood across the street from the fancy hotel, the wind swishing the fabric, lifting it up my legs, threatening to reveal far too much. In nothing but that tiny dress, I should have been freezing cold, I should have been shivering my way into goose bumps.
I was shivering, but from excitement. I had goose bumps, but from expectation. Instead of cold, my body threw off so much heat the people on the sidewalk gave me a wide berth, no doubt unable to be so close to my blistering intensity.
In a few minutes, if I went through with it, I’d be entering that hotel. I’d be picking up a room key that had been left for me by a man I had barely spoken a dozen words to. I’d go up to that room and have sex with him.
All while my husband waited in the lobby.
Just the thought of it, still so far removed from the actual act, was what made me hot. That such a possibility lay before me. I’d been with many men, I’d fantasized about them and countless others, yet no foreplay, no fantasy, had ever aroused me as much in expectation as this did.
I could still back out. Peter would understand. Just coming this far would be a story we could talk about for a long time. We could enjoy each other, arouse each other, have our own private sex.
Yes, I’d been with other men. And yet, what I was contemplating now was so different. This was planned, not just by Peter, and certainly not at all a secret of mine, sneaking off to cheat. This had been planned by the both of us. Peter had made the call, but only after he was sure I had agreed.
I was the one who had chosen what to wear. It had not been an easy choice. Should I wear an outfit Nathan Chase had not seen? Should I buy new underwear to get in the mood, to excite him? Should I wear the exact same outfit that had attracted him in the first place?
In the end, I chose to do it all. A lacy black bra, which I had modeled for Peter. The same cocktail dress Nathan Chase had first seen me in, just short of skimpy, the kind of dress I would wear to a club if I had been ten years younger. Vibrant blue, a dress to attract men. The neck cut low, the arms cut high, the hem short enough that if you weren’t constantly aware, you’d be flashing the world. The fabric just the right give and take mix between body hugging and imagination inducing, making your breasts as big as a man wanted them to be.
This time, no stockings. My legs and feet bare, accessible.
A long, very visible zipper up the back, enticing any man you passed to reach out and yank it down.
A zipper that my husband had pulled up for me just an hour ago, getting me ready for my date.
Date. What an innocuous word. Date implied a dinner. Coffee. Maybe dancing. And yes, maybe sex.
If I crossed the street, if I entered that hotel, if I picked up that key and went up to that room, there would be no maybe today.
I was so focused on my thoughts I was oblivious to the man standing next to me. He must have already spoken, because he said, “Don’t you speak English?”
I pulled my eyes from the hotel. A handsome middle aged man, distinguished, salt and pepper hair, wearing a cashmere overcoat was standing there. His piercing blue eyes were nice to look at. He reeked of money, although perhaps not the confidence I was normally attracted to.
“Did you ask me a question?”
He hesitated, confirming my opinion that he wasn’t quite so sure of himself, or was perhaps not used to doing his own work. He said, “I was wondering if you were available?”
My brain must have still be on Nathan Chase, on Peter, on the hotel, so it took me a few seconds for his words to sink in. “Are you asking me for a date?”
“Well, yes, if you prefer to call it that.” He gave me a knowing smile.
I still might not have understood if I hadn’t just been thinking about a date myself, a sex date. “Do you think I’m a prostitute?”
The man’s smile faltered. “Why, I mean, the way you are dressed. . .” He waved his hand at my outfit, my bare skin, my four inch heels, all of it.
Another day I might have slapped him, or perhaps been so shocked as to be speechless. But a part of me said I couldn’t blame him. After all, there certainly weren’t any other women dressed the way I was, standing on the sidewalk, at one in the afternoon in the middle of the week.
I gave him a dazzling smile. “I’m sorry. I’m quite booked up, I’m afraid.”
I stepped off the sidewalk, now sure of what I wanted, and needed, to do.
If he’d been more confident I might have asked for his card.
Peter
I fought the urge to glance at my watch. Yet I was agonizingly aware of how close it was to the time when Andie was supposed to arrive. Was she having second thoughts? Having come this far, would she back out now?
I felt in my pocket for my phone. I hadn’t heard it ring or beep, but maybe I’d missed a text.
Just as I was about to check my phone, the doorman ushered her in the door.
Andie paused for the briefest of moments, yet at that instant the entire tableau was etched into my mind. She was framed by the wide glass entryway, a painting of a stunning woman on a clear backdrop. A masterpiece in every way, because the subject of the canvas was so undeniably beautiful.
She was elegant yet hot, reposed yet animated, calm yet impatient. All of that captured in her bearing, her clothing, her almost inappropriate level of bare skin for the time of year and time of day.
The entire room paused too, for Andie. Although my eyes were glued to her, I caught the stare of the doorman behind her, a man who no doubt saw many sexy women enter that hotel, yet he was taken with her. Men reading their papers looked up. Women who were on their phones stopped speaking.
Even as she moved across the lobby the image stuck in my mind, yet I pushed it aside, I could come back to it later. Right now I wanted all my attention on the present.
Her walk was confident in the tall, narrow heels, heels which made her calf muscles firm, hinting of other firmness beneath her dress, her ass, her breasts. And the dress, not so short as to be slutty, not so tight as to be cheap, and yet so utterly eye grabbing in the middle of the day in a hotel.
On any other day, had I been in that lobby and saw a woman dressed like she was, my first thought would have been: hooker.
Expensive hooker.
My second thought would have been: whoever hired her is such a lucky bastard.
She didn’t look around for me, for anyone. With confident strides she approached a male desk clerk, who had a phone in one hand, but was staring at her open mouthed. The other desk clerk, the woman who had given the room key to Nathan Chase, was staring too.
Andie spoke. I wondered what she said. Perhaps My husband left a key for me? Or My date is expecting me?
I need the key to room 3210 so I can go up and fuck the man there?
The man reacted slowly. I wondered if he was considering telling her they didn’t allow hookers in the hotel. He put down the phone and searched the desk. No, his delay was only because he was so enthralled.
And I was sure he had seen Andie’s wedding ring.
It was the woman clerk who handed Andie a small envelope. Of course. She knew Nathan Chase was waiting for this woman. I caught a flash of envy in her eye. No doubt she too had found Nathan Chase desirable.
She’d be stuck here in the lobby, fantasizing about what Andie would be doing upstairs in that hotel room.
Just like I would.
Andie turned away from the desk, and I expected her to immediately head for the elevators. Instead, as if she had all the time in the world, she crossed the lobby and entered the lounge area. For a brief instant I thought she was going to come up to me, but as far as I could tell she hadn’t even looked my way.
A man sitting in the middle of a sofa shifted toward its end, a subtle invitation for her: sit here. Two other men were opening staring, consciously or unconsciously sitting up straighter, squaring their shoulders.
