by Blaise Quin
I wondered if she felt embarrassed about what she had done and said to me during our last lovemaking. It was not the first time she had finished herself when I had come too fast, but usually she had rolled over and done it quietly, so quietly that I think she didn’t want me to hear. She’d never used a dildo in front of me, and she’d never been so—crazed.
I decided I needed to try to change something else. Something besides getting her new clothes.
The next morning, just as I was leaving for work, I gave her a warm hug and a kiss on the neck. “You look beautiful,” I said.
Andie was in a robe, fresh out of the shower. “Thank you, dear.”
“Let’s go out for a nice dinner tonight,” I said. “That Italian place you like.”
She brightened. “That would be nice. We can people watch.”
I frowned. “Sure,” I said, already thinking of ways to make it more like a romantic interlude. “I’ll make a reservation at seven, okay?” I hesitated. “Maybe you could wear your new outfit.”
Andie’s eyes glanced away. “I think I need to have some alterations made on it. I’ll wear something else.”
I immediately thought of the comment the guy on the bench had made, about how women would go back to that store just to see the black man again. But I didn’t say anything.
But all that day I obsessed over whether I should say anything to Andie about what I had seen. But what could I say? Where you flirting with that guy? If I did that, I’d sound childish, and imply that I didn’t trust her.
And what if she did want to see the black man again?
At the restaurant that night, I said to Andie, “You look amazing in that dress.”
“What? Oh, thanks, Peter.” She looked down at her dress. “It’s getting a little old though. I was wondering, would you mind if I bought a few more new outfits? You know, for when we go out.”
“Sure, I guess. I actually thought that dress was pretty new.”
Andie shrugged. “Half the fun of going out is to wear something new. You know, something that makes me feel like I look good.”
“You look good to me in anything.”
She furrowed her eyebrows. “Don’t you want me to look good for other people? I would have thought you’d like showing me off a little.”
“I thought you just bought some new outfits,” I said. “At least, at that one store.”
“I did pick out one thing I really liked,” Andie replied.
I wagged my eyebrows. “Maybe you can show it to me after it’s altered.”
“I think I’ll save it for something special.”
I tried to hide my disappointment, and could not help but wonder if something special would include me. Gingerly I edged closer to the topic that was consuming me. “It was interesting watching you shop,” I said.
“Hmm?” Andie was intent on her wine.
“I don’t often get to do that, just watch you do something.”
Andie put down her glass. “You can watch me anytime. Why would shopping be interesting?”
“It’s not so much the shopping, but how other people react to you.” I held my breath, wondering if Andie would realize what I was talking about.
She didn’t seem to get it, or was pretending not to. “What do you mean?”
“I—.” I didn’t want to embarrass her. Then I had an idea. “I was sitting on a bench for a while, waiting for you. This guy was on the next bench, just some regular guy. He saw you. Do you know what he said? He said, ‘That’s hot.’ Meaning you.”
Andie frowned. “What did you say?”
“I agreed with him. I thought you looked pretty hot too.”
Her eyes darkened. “Some guy was ogling your wife, and you just let it go?”
“What did you expect me to do? Disagree with him? You are hot. Besides, he didn’t know you were my wife.”
“And you didn’t tell him?”
“I didn’t want to embarrass him.”
“Oh, so it’s okay for me to be embarrassed by some pervert eying me, but you’re worried about hurting his feelings?” Andie was getting angry.
“No, no, that’s not it. I don’t think he was a pervert. Just a healthy guy appreciating a beautiful woman.”
“A guy making lewd comments about your wife?”
The guy actually had been a little lewd, but this wasn’t the time to bring that up. “It wasn’t like that. It’s just a normal male reaction. You must realize that guys look at beautiful women. And you certainly fit the bill. I bet men look at you all the time. It doesn’t mean they are lewd, they just can’t help it.”
“I don’t think women notice that kind of thing.” Andie stared at me, thoughtful. “So if men are staring at me, it doesn’t bother you?”
“Not at all,” I replied. “I—I kind of like it.”
Andie put her menu down. “What? You want other men to be staring at me?”
“No, that’s not what I meant.”
“So which is it? You don’t think I’m pretty enough for men to want to look at me? Or it doesn’t bother you if they do?”
She was twisting all my words around. Was she teasing? “I—I’m just not surprised if a guy looks at you, that’s all. You’re gorgeous and sexy.”
“I don’t want you to think I’m trying to attract male attention.”
This dinner wasn’t going exactly like I had planned. “I’m sorry. All I was trying to say was that you are very pretty, and that it should come as no surprise to either one of us if a guy checks you out.”
Andie seemed to relax somewhat. “Well, okay. I guess I’m kind of surprised it doesn’t bother you. I mean, if a guy is looking at me, at my body, he might be thinking all kinds of nasty things.”
I couldn’t help but think of the way the guy at the store had been looking at Andie, and how she had been looking at him, and wondering what kind of nasty things they both had on their minds.
“I guess it makes me feel a little proud,” I admitted.
Andie gave me a long look. “I’m not some kind of slut, you know.”
I had never thought of Andie that way, but just her mentioning it made my cock stir. I suddenly had this image of Andie with the black man, his hands all over her, and Andie wanting it.
Why was I getting aroused thinking of Andie shamelessly putting out for some stranger?
“I don’t think that,” I protested.
“Besides, I’m married,” said Andie. “I couldn’t just go around fooling around with other men, could I?” Andie’s voice had a strange inflection at the end. I couldn’t tell if her ‘Could I?’ was a rhetorical question, or whether she was asking for my permission.
How to answer that? Did I really want her to know that I had been aroused thinking of her with someone else? Would she think me any less of a man if I did?
“Well,” I said, dragging it out, watching her eyes, trying to get a sense of what she meant. “Just because you are married, it doesn’t mean you can’t, you know, be friendly to other men.” Andie’s eyes widened, and I thought maybe I had gone too far. “I mean, talk to them, just be sociable.”
Andie nodded slowly. “Oh, that’s what you mean. For a minute there, I thought maybe you wanted me to do more than that.”
Which was exactly what I was thinking. And I couldn’t help but feel that’s what Andie was thinking too.
“Like what?” I asked, as innocently as I could.
“Like flirt. Or—.” She let it hang.
I shifted uncomfortably. “There’s nothing wrong with a little flirting. It’s all in fun.”
“So let me see if I understand you,” said Andie, her voice flat. “You take me out for a nice dinner, and instead of being romantic you tell me that you want to see me flirt with someone else?”
“That isn’t what I said,” I protested. “I just—”
Andie cut me off. “Let’s see. Maybe there is someone here I can flirt with for you.” She turned toward the bar. “How about that guy there, the one with
the mustache?”
I was trapped now. I looked over at the bar. “Uh, which guy?”
“The one with the leather jacket.”
The guy Andie was referring to looked kind of rough, a little out of place at this nice restaurant. Actually he looked more than rough, he looked like an outlaw biker, with longish hair and a three day beard.
“You think he’s good looking?” I asked.
“You tell me,” she said. “You’re the one who wants me to flirt with someone.”
“Is he the kind of guy you would want to flirt with?” I tried to deflect the conversation back on her, but I was holding my breath to see how she would respond.
Andie gave him a long look. She sighed. “I couldn’t.”
I felt an odd mixture of relief and disappointment. “Because you’re married?”
Andie looked me right in the eye. “Are we being completely truthful here?”
“Of course.”
“I couldn’t flirt with him because he looks like he’s the kind of guy who takes what he wants. If I flirted with him he might want to have me. And I don’t think I’d be strong enough to stop him.” She paused a minute to let that settle in. “Do you think you could stop him, if he wanted me?”
“I, uh, I’m not sure.”
Andie shook her head. “I thought we said we were being truthful.”
I looked over at the biker guy again. At that moment he turned toward us, maybe he had noticed us staring at him. I quickly looked away.
“See?” said Andie. “You can’t even look at him. Is that the kind of guy you want me flirting with?”
“Let’s just change the subject,” I said. Where was the damn waiter?
“You’re the one who brought it up,” said Andie. “Besides, it’s kind of fun. Let’s see. . .” She turned back toward the bar. “How about that guy? The tall one with the elegant woman.”
I couldn’t help myself, and looked back toward the bar, carefully keeping my eyes away from the biker. There were actually quite a few tall men there. “Which one?”
“The very handsome one. If you don’t mind my saying. I mean, if it’s okay for men to notice me, then I’m sure you don’t mind if I notice a good looking man.”
“No, not at all, it’s only natural,” I said, still trying to figure out who she was talking about. There was a tall blond man, but he wasn’t with a woman. The only tall man with an elegant woman was—
“That big black guy? Is that who you mean?”
“Of course. He’s so hot, don’t you think?”
“I, uh, I wouldn’t know.” The black man was certainly handsome, but he couldn’t have been more unlike me. He must have been six foot three, with a wide, very muscular chest and a shaven head. A diamond glittered from an earring he wore.
When had Andie developed this recent interest in black men?
Or maybe it wasn’t so recent after all.
“He is—different,” I mumbled.
“Because he’s black?”
“Well, that of course. But he also—.” I was about to say, he doesn’t look at all like me. But of course then I’d be suggesting that Andie could only like men who looked like me, and that certainly wasn’t something I should expect. I’m sure none of the boyfriends she had before we got married looked like me. And I could barely get her excited in bed. “I guess I just never thought much about what kind of man you found attractive.” After all, I felt like saying, you married me.
Was that it? Did she need someone like that black man, or the biker, to get her turned on?
A sudden thought popped into my head, the black man atop Andie, her legs spread wide as he rammed into her, her hands caressing his shaven head. Begging him to take her. My cock began to harden again.
“What are you thinking?” asked Andie, as if she could read my mind.
“Nothing. I’m just surprised, that’s all. I’ve never heard you talk like this.”
“Like I said, you started it.” She picked up her menu. Then, as if it was an afterthought, she added, “Now you can see why I like to people watch.”
My jaw dropped. “You mean, you like to check out men?”
“Is that such a surprise? Are you telling me you don’t look at women?”
“I do. I mean, I notice them, but it’s not like I want to—”
“Want to what? Sleep with them? Are you telling me that if some good looking woman came up to you somewhere and wanted to have sex with you, you wouldn’t do it?”
“No, I wouldn’t,” I said vehemently. “I’m married.”
Andie looked thoughtful. “What if said it was all right?”
I glanced around nervously, hoping that no one could hear us. Was she teasing me, or testing me? “I don’t want to sleep with anyone but you.”
Andie sighed and shook her head. Was she disappointed? Did she want me to sleep with someone else?
Or did she want me to say it was okay for her to sleep with someone else?
“What about you?” I mumbled, not sure if I wanted the answer, but now that it was in my head I had to know. “Would you? If I said it was all right?”
Andie gave me a long look. I couldn’t tell if she was angry, or considering it. Finally she said, “If that’s what you wanted me to do.”
I was saved from having to respond to this wild proposition by the arrival of the waiter. But I could barely concentrate as he rattled off the specials. My mind was awhirl at this turn of events. I’d already been put into a frame of mind by watching Andie flirt—and now I was convinced she had been flirting—and now this. Listening to Andie matter of factly talk about us having sex with other people. Pointing out men at the bar she thought were handsome. And seeming to know my inner secret, that for some reason I was getting aroused thinking of her with another man, a thought that had never occurred to me until seeing Andie at the store with the black man.
The hubbub of the restaurant grew to a crescendo in my ears, blocking out the waiter. I was imagining my beautiful wife, naked, kissing another man, stroking him, guiding him into her. . .My cock was pushing up against my pants, and I hoped the waiter didn’t notice.
“Sir?”
Andie kicked me under the table. “The waiter wants to know if you want something else to drink, Peter.”
“Oh, sorry. I’ll have another red wine,” I said, dragging my mind back to the present.
The waiter scurried off, shaking his head. How long had I been in never never land?
“Where were we?” Andie asked innocently. “Oh, yes, I was asking you if you wanted me to sleep with someone else.”
So she wasn’t going to let me off that easily. “I—Andie, what kind of question is that?” I asked, trying to buy time.
“It’s pretty straightforward.” She nodded toward the bar. “The big black man. Would you want me to have sex with him?”
“No! I mean, I don’t want you to have sex with anyone but me!” I tried to sound angry, but it came out pretty lame. “Unless—.” I could feel my face flush with excitement.
Andie’s eyes opened in mock astonishment. “Unless what?”
“Unless that’s what you wanted. I just want you to be happy.”
Andie gave me a long stare. She tilted her head, as if something had just occurred to her. “You have that same look on your face as you do when you are horny.”
“No, that’s not it, I swear.”
“So you aren’t hard right now, getting excited thinking of me naked, having sex?”
“Not with someone else!” I said, but I didn’t sound very convincing.
“Let’s see.”
I felt Andie’s foot on my leg and I nearly jumped out of the booth. She had dropped off her shoe, and she was riding her foot up my calf, all the while freezing me with her eyes.
“Andie, what are you doing. . .”
“You said you weren’t horny. I just wanted to make sure. You said we were being honest, remember?”
I squirmed as her foot slowly passed along my kn
ee and up my thigh. Andie has long legs, and she had no problem reaching me across the table. I tried to mentally kill my erection, but it was impossible. Andie’s toes slid over my cock, and then she almost drove her arch into me.
“Do you want to amend your statement?” she asked slyly.
“You did that to me! With your foot!”
“Peter,” she said sadly, “you are confusing me. You say you want to be honest, but then you don’t seem to be. It seems like you are getting aroused thinking of me with another man. How am I to take that?”
She looked angry, but for some reason I thought she might be pretending. She kept rubbing my cock with her feet, right in the crowded restaurant, something I didn’t think she’d be doing if she was really mad. Or maybe she was proving her point. We were in a booth, but if anyone looked right at us, certainly they might see what was going on. They’d certainly see how I was squirming.
“Why are you teasing me like this?” I pleaded.
“Teasing you? Teasing is when you do something without any plan to follow through. It isn’t very nice. Is that what you want me to do, flirt and tease with some man, and not follow through?”
“No!”
“But you said you want me to flirt with someone. Does that mean you would want me to follow through?”
“You’ve got my head all twisted up.”
“I don’t know,” said Andie. “Judging from what I feel, you don’t seem twisted at all. It seems pretty straight. I think you know exactly what you want.” She gave my cock another hard shove with her foot. “And I don’t like teasing. I mean to follow through. I’ll just keep doing this until. . .”
At that moment the waiter returned with more drinks. I thought I was free, that Andie would pull back her foot, but she kept rubbing me right in front of the waiter. What was I to do? Tell her to stop it? Say something like, ‘Hey, take your foot off my cock?’ It would be really embarrassing. Besides, it felt so good.
