by Sean Geist
“Will Brad be there?”
“Probably.” She drew out the word.
“Will you be a good girl?”
“Should I?”
“If you're not, you'll have to tell me about it.”
“Oh, don't worry. I will.”
We said our goodbyes, and I went to bed, my mind filled with thoughts of my beautiful wife being deliciously naughty. I awoke the next morning with a raging hard-on and an intermittent ringing in my ears.
***
“Hello,” I said after picking up the phone next to my bed. It was just after six in the morning.
“Why are you still in bed?” It was my boss, back at the station in Des Moines.
“Cause it's gonna be a late night. Debates at seven – I figure you guys want hits at nine and ten.” My voice was rough, my words jumbled as I tried to re-enter the waking world.
“Turn on CNN. I need to see Tiffany's bright shiny face on our air in an hour.” The line then went dead.
“Fuck me.”
I turned on the TV and was greeted with the breaking news logo. Tonight's debate was called off. One of the two remaining candidates had dropped out of the race overnight handing her opponent the nomination.
Our reporter was still brushing her teeth outside the venue and I was putting the finishing touches on her report, when my photographer started his countdown. Thirty seconds to air. I tossed Tiffany my notepad; she tossed her toothbrush to me.
She gave her report like she'd been up all night writing it – in reality it was mostly tidbits from the wire services, followed by a soundbite from the former candidate I'd cut from an earlier package.
The rest of the morning was spent collecting comments from the remaining candidate, her staff, her opponent's supporters and the opposing party. We had a two minute report ready for the top of the noon show and then we were free. Most of the networks had packed up and left town.
I was given a head start on my weekend.
I thought about calling Daphne and asking if she wanted to scrap her plans and have dinner with me. I probably should have; instead I decided to surprise her.
Our crew left Cedar Rapids around two and we were back in Des Moines by four. I went home to change and decided to meet up with my wife at her happy hour, have a few drinks and then take her home to make good on the fucking I promised.
I figured showing up around six-thirty would give my wife plenty of time to socialize before I showed up to monopolize her attention.
Larry's Place was one of the most popular nightclubs in the city and it was hopping, even for a Friday evening. Loud music and cigarette smoke filled the air. It was one of the last clubs near the University that still allowed smoking, and so, in deference to a couple of Daphne's co-workers this was where they liked to meet-up.
The place was laid out in three levels – concentric circles – each one a couple steps higher than the last. The first level was table service – a few sunken plush leather sofas seating up to nine people comfortably interspersed among the standard four tops. I did a quick walk around and didn't see my wife, so I made my way up one of the four access stairs to the dance floor level. It was tough moving through the sea of bodies, rhythmically moving to the beat of an unseen DJ.
I was never going to find Daphne through the dim smokey haze so I made my way up to the bar – the top most level. I ordered a drink, a cheap domestic beer, and perched myself at the railing overlooking the dance floor. I thought about pulling out my cell phone and calling her, but I figured with the music and loud conversations going on, she wouldn't hear her phone go off – Daphne never put her phone on vibrate.
So I stood and scanned the crowd between sips of my mediocre beer. Each time my eyes fell upon a flash of red hair I thought it must be her, but I was wrong – until I wasn't.
I had turned back to get another beer when I spotted her, leaning against the far end of the bar, trying to get the bartender's attention. With what she wore, it didn't take long.
Now granted, I hadn't been out on a fancy date with Daphne since we'd moved to Iowa, so it wasn't surprising I'd never seen her in the outfit she now wore. It was stunning and illustrated just how beautiful and sexy my wife was. She wore a pair of tight black jeans, ones I had seen, but not with her in them. She had on a pair of healed cowboy boots that accented her legs just right. All of this was lost on the bartender, whose attention was grabbed by the body hugging maroon sweater, which gave him an excellent view of her bountiful cleavage. I really hoped she didn't wear that outfit to work. I doubted Brad would get any work done if she did.
Like a professional, the bartender took one quick look down at her breasts – no man could resist – and back up to her eyes. My wife looked so sexy, I could feel my penis stiffen in my pants and I had to take a moment to adjust. For this, the darkness was my friend.
I started toward Daphne but immediately froze when I noticed she wasn't alone. As soon as the bartender turned away to get her drinks she began chatting with the guy to her right. This put her back, and curvy ass, to me, but it gave me a good view of him. His short blond hair seemed to sparkle in the purple florescent light. His white dress shirt was unbuttoned halfway down his chest and he wore, what appeared to be, tight fitting blue jeans.
Everyone in this club seemed to be wearing tight clothing except me. Then again, I wasn't really dressing to impress anyone. I was expecting to pickup my wife, someone already attracted to me. Looking at how Daphne was dressed, she might be trying to pick up someone herself.
The thought sent my heart spinning with jealousy and lust. My buxom red-head beauty, my Daphne, dressed like she was looking to score, thinking her husband was over a hundred miles away. I again had to adjust my cock as blood continued to flood there, leaving my brain to make do. My heart skipped a beat when I saw her place a hand on the other man's arm. It was a friendly gesture, but one my overactive imagination could easily mistake as flirting.
Daphne laughed at something he said and he leaned in for what I thought might be a kiss, but before that fear could be confirmed, the bartender returned with their drinks – three bottles of beer and a mixed drink. My wife's companion, Brad I was sure, took the drinks and headed off down toward one of the tables on the lower level; I lost him soon after he left my wife's side, since she was the focus of my attention. She turned to order a couple more drinks, and that's when I decided to approach, but, again, I wasn't fast enough.
Another man – this one in a business suit, his tie undone, his muscles barely contained in the expensive fabric, like wearing clothes that fit was out of style – moved up to the bar directly between me and my wife. He was at least a foot taller than her and she had to crane her neck to look him in the eye. He could easily get a good look at her tits without breaking eye contact. She smiled at what he said and even laughed once or twice. It never failed to impress me, just how easily Daphne got along with men, not only me and her co-workers, but complete strangers; I was guessing he was a complete stranger. I guess I shouldn't be too surprised, my wife was naturally comfortable around people – which was why I found it funny she went into accounting and not public relations.
My erection continued to harden as my stomach attempted to crawl out my throat. I felt queasy, but thrilled, like I was riding a roller-coaster, my heart racing with fear and excitement. Daphne was more than just my wife, she was a beautiful woman, a sexual being. She was aware of her attraction and seemed to revel in it. I promised myself never to forget that.
She continued to talk to the guy, even after her two other drinks arrived. The man tried to pay for them but Daphne laughed him off. He seemed surprised, but not put off. After a few more minutes my wife picked up the drinks and seemed to say goodbye.
Mr. Businessman was obviously taken with her, and by the smile on her face and the thank you that tumbled from her lips, he was telling her as much. He took out a business card and pen and wrote something down – probably his personal phone number. He handed the card to my wife
and a dark green monster arose in my chest and nearly suffocated me. The talking and flirting didn't seem to bother me as much, but this crossed a line. I was burning with hatred for this man trying to hook up with my wife.
Daphne looked at the card and smiled. For an instant, I was petrified. Would she take his number and call him later? Maybe set up a date for another time I was away, or call him later tonight since she still didn't know I was home. All my fears and insecurities wrapped themselves into a tight spiked ball and lodged in my throat, making it hard to breathe.
I looked at the man again. He was handsome – in a strong, rugged way – with a chiseled jaw, a strong roman nose and a healthy muscular physique. He looked like he could work on Wall Street or for some mob boss. I also imagined he was packing quite a monster in his pants. I'm well equipped in that department, even though, like every man, I'd like to be bigger, regardless of what my wife says, there will always be someone longer and thicker who could reach places I can't. I could see Daphne going off with the man, maybe have some fun with him, and coming back to me.
My fantasies of a cheating wife straddled the border of becoming real and I wasn't sure how I felt. I was aroused, no doubt. The thought of watching my wife – even just imagining her – being unfaithful caused my cock to pulse. My mind screamed no, but my erection screamed yes, and my stomach was caught in the middle.
To my delight, and dismay, Daphne waved her left hand at her suitor, drawing his attention to the ring on her finger. She placed the business card back in his breast pocket, said goodbye and turned to rejoin her friends.
For his part, Mr. Businessman took her rejection well. He didn't get visibly mad, call her a slut or cunt, or storm off. He simple smiled and took a sip of his drink. He was obviously a man used to rejection but fully confident he wasn't going home alone tonight. Despite the fact he wanted to fuck my wife, I wished him well. He was chatting with a couple of young blond women when I walked past him to follow Daphne. There were lots of giggles and smiles and laughs, and I just had to mentally applaud.
My wife rejoined her co-workers at one of the tables on the lower level. I watched them from the edge of the dance floor, doing my best to avoid drawing their attention. Daphne was one of the youngest of the group of six, four women and two guys, including the blond I figured was Brad. The group morphed throughout the evening, a woman would wonder off toward the restroom, a couple would make their way to the dance floor, the guys went to get drink refills. Nothing awkward, or overtly naughty happened and I started to feel embarrassed. I don't know what I was expecting to find. Daphne never gave me any need to doubt she loved me and I never thought she'd cheat on me. Our fantasies were just that. We'd tease each other about Brad and Steve and Haley, but it was all in fun, and we both knew it.
I had meant to surprise my wife, but instead she surprised me. Ever since we meet, I hadn't really seen her as an individual, apart from me. But here she was, having fun, obviously doing some friendly flirting, but staying faithful.
I turned and headed for the exit. I'd save my surprise for later. I was still hard for my wife, but I could wait. She needed time to just be Daphne and not Mrs. Hawks. When I got to the door I looked back at the table. I thought I might have seen my wife get up with one of the guys and head toward the dance floor. Maybe they were going to dance, maybe just get more drinks. I could have stayed to watch, I wanted to stay and watch, but it would be wrong.
Daphne was going to do what she was going to do. She'd tell me about it later, of that I was sure. Hadn't she told me about going out, where she was going and who was going to be there. I don't think she'd leave out what she did, unless she actually fucked Brad or Mr. Businessman. That fleeting thought sent a surge of blood to my cock and a shiver up my spine, but instead of continuing to stalk my wife, I went home.
I'd like to say I settled down, read and took a nap, instead I paced around the apartment, worrying about what my wife was up to and regretted leaving the club when I did. I know coming home was the right thing to do but that didn't make it any easier. I had to control my understandable insecurities.
I wished I had the attitude of Mr. Businessman, always moving forward though life – no worries, no regrets – confident and secure. I think I took my first step in that direction, when I left the club without accosting Daphne and her friends. I had to let this play out, let her come home to me on her own.
It was a tough night to get through. I would have much rather been covering a political debate. There were several times, especially when it got around ten o'clock, when I almost headed back out to Larry's. I overcame those urges and when Daphne finally got home, at half past midnight, I was glad I did.
I was lying in bed, not asleep but not totally awake either, when I was startled by bright light flooding the room.
“Jesus Christ!” Daphne stood at the doorway to our bedroom, her red hair the only identifying feature I could make out as my eyes slowly adjusted to the light.
“Surprise.” The word tumbled hesitantly out of my mouth, sounding more like a question then an exclamation.
“Richard, you scared the living shit out of me. Didn't expect you home 'til tomorrow.”
“Guess you didn't hear the news about the debate.”
“You know I don't follow politics.”
My wife headed straight to the bathroom, peeling off her clothes as she went. The stench of alcohol and cigarettes wafted in her wake. I followed her to our en-suite.
She stood at the sink in her black lacy bra and panties; her sweater and jeans were piled on the chair next to our bed.
“Sorry I scared you. Didn't you see my car in the parking lot?”
“Didn't drive home.” Daphne splashed a bit of water on her face and began scrubbing off the day's mask. “Was too drunk.” She was a raccoon, a burglar – her hazel eyes surrounded by a black smear of mascara and eye liner. “Brad dropped me off.”
Hearing her say his name bit. I had to brush it off, laugh in the face of the little green imp trying to sneak up on me.
“Guess it's a good thing you didn't invite him in.”
My wife slowly turned her head to face me. A quizzical look spread across her eyes. “Why?”
Silence hung in the air between us, broken only by the soft sloshing of frothy water in the sink.
She was playing innocent. I couldn't have that. I needed to press on; the imp insisted.
“You know. Hubby away on business.”
Daphne's eyes grew wide. “Richard Hawks, you really think I'd sleep around behind your back?”
I was thrown by her shock.
“You really think, I'd bring a man into our apartment.”
She took a step toward me; I fell back toward the bed.
“Bring him up to our bedroom.” Her emphasis on 'our', her breasts heaved. I looked down at them for just an instant. I noticed her nipples harden the split second before she grabbed my chin and forced my attention back to her eyes.
“Look at me, not my tits.”
I wanted to say something smart, like her tits were a part of her, but my sarcasm fled her stern look, her flared nostrils.
“You think that little of me, that I'd fuck another man in our bed behind your back?”
I wanted to say I was only teasing. A thousand pleas for forgiveness flooded through my brain, but none would emerge from my mouth.
“Go on. Say something.”
My attempt at humor had magnificently backfired and the look on Daphne's face said I'd be spending a few days sleeping on the couch. I was about to get on my knees and beg when my wife started smiling.
“Man, Rich, you should see the look on your face, pale as – oh now it's turning red.”
“You knew. I didn't really think you'd bring him up?”
“Of course.” My wife started shaking her head. “You are so easy to tease.” She started unbuttoning my pajama shirt. “So, tell me why you're home so early, and why you didn't call.”
“Tonight's – last night's �
�� debate got cancelled. The story moved on so we got sent home. I didn't call cause I wanted to surprise you.”
“Oh, you did. Nearly had a heart attack when I turned on the light and saw you lying there.” My wife had turned us around and was now sitting on the bed as I stood between her open legs.
“So how was your night? Have fun with Brad and the gang?”
Daphne started telling me about her night as I knelt between her knees and pulled her panties down. Her musky arousal invaded my nose, sparking a flow of desire within me. She told me how she danced with Brad and gossiped about some of the doctors at work. Most of what she said went over my head as I lapped at my wife's fountain of pleasure, her moist lips tasted tangy and salty. I concentrated my tongue on her clit while I ran my fingers around her labia. She stopped talking and breathed out a deep sigh when I plunged one in, curled it up and stroked along the upper walls of her pussy.
“Oh God. That feels good.”
I continued licking and stroking, bringing her to the peak of climax, before backing off, denying her release.
“Fuck. I am so horny tonight.”
I paused my ministrations. “Brad make you horny?” I dove back in.
“Oh fu— Maybe. Sometimes – not tonight.”
I vigorously sucked on Daphne's now engorged clitoris – cutting off any more words that might come from her mouth. I drove her toward the cliff of her orgasm and then over it.
Her cries of passion were loud and I hoped the neighbors in the next apartment were away. I slowed my tongue as he climax subsided, until I was just lightly kissing her fuzzy petals and she started giggling. “That tickles.”
“I'll tickle you.” I got off my knees and stripped off my pajama bottoms, springing my hardened cock from it's awkward confines.
“I think at least part of you doesn't mind all this talk of flirting and infidelity.”
I rubbed my shaft through Daphne's lips until it was well lubricated then plunged it home. The warm embrace of my wife's womb drew a sigh.
