by Sean Geist
Then, one day, she went further.
***
It was one Friday in December. Betty, a co-worker and friend of Lauren, invited us to her annual holiday party out on Long Island. We had been invited each of the last three years and this time we actually had no other commitments, so we decided to attend.
I had a few end-of-year issues to clear up at my job, so my wife got a ride with Betty straight from her office. I drove out to join her and we planned to take up the offer of spending the night in one of our host's spare guest rooms.
I made it out to the house around nine o'clock, well after the festivities had started. The house was huge, by city standards, two stories, set up on a hill. It was described to me as brown, but in the dark it just looked black. Hundreds of little colored lights covered the front of the house and many of the trees and bushes in the yard.
I could see plenty of activity through the large picture windows that faced the street.
The driveway was full of cars as was the street in front. I ended up parking about fifty yards away. After a short, brisk walk I followed a runway of red and green lights that bordered the serpentine path up to the porch. As I walked, the quiet early winter stillness was broken by the muffled sounds of music and laughter coming from inside the house.
I spotted Lauren through the window. She had changed into her sparkly party dress, a red top with a green knee length skirt. I couldn't see much detail from where I stood, but I could tell she displayed a pleasing amount of cleavage. She had a drink in her hand and was chatting with someone – a man with dark hair sporting a pair of dark brown slacks and a forest green polo shirt. He stood a few inches taller than her so Lauren had to lift her head to speak to him. I was sure he got a good look between her peachy breasts.
I looked down at the blue suit I was wearing; a green and white striped tie was my only nod to the holiday. I was definitely dressed too formal. At least I wasn't wearing an ugly Christmas sweater like a few folks I saw.
I continued up the path and noticed the man say something while lifting his drink. He and my wife looked up. She smiled and shook her head, taking another sip of her drink. Polo shirt said something else. Lauren glanced at her watch and shrugged her shoulders. They moved close and kissed. It was a friendly kiss on the cheek, then they moved apart again and continued their conversation as if nothing untoward had happened.
I was confused. My wife only flirted when I was around. She couldn't have seen me. Was she holding back on me? I was intrigued, maybe she was warming to the idea of fulfilling my fantasy. The thought sent a shiver through me.
Before I could fully process my feelings, I heard voices coming from the side of the house. I quickly dashed behind one of the few bushes that weren't covered in a string of lights.
“What a party.”
“Betty and her husband really know how to entertain.”
Two men, young and unrecognizable to me in the dark, came into view. They both carried drinks; one had what looked like a cigarette in his other hand.
“And they know lots of gorgeous people.”
“Need a light?”
The pair sat down on the front porch step. They continued chatting while they shared deep pulls on whatever they were smoking. A few seconds later the wind blew the wonderful aroma of high quality weed my way.
“Did you see that one chick in the red and green dress? Smokin' hot”
“I think my girlfriend said her name was Laurie or something.”
“Man, I'd love to fuck her.”
“Me, too. Just don't tell Cindy.”
“You don't think Cindy would be down to fuck her?”
They both laughed. Listening to these guys casually talking about screwing my wife started arousing me.
“She taken?”
“Married.”
“That's even better. No commitments. Just sex.”
“You ain't got a chance with her. She's way above your level.”
They were so right. She was. None the less, the thought of these two men and my wife in bed was frightening and oh so erotic. There was no way she could control them, she'd have to just let go and be taken. One man fucking her, the other demanding she suck him off.
I was dizzy with lust. I should have been angry or ashamed but neither of these emotions registered at the moment.
My fetish had conquered me.
As I tried to come to terms with my fantasy, the two men finished their joint and headed back inside.
I was alone with my thoughts once again, my dirty, dirty, thoughts. I looked back up and caught another glimpse of my wife. She was also alone. She took a sip of her drink, closed her eyes and started bobbin her head to a song I could not hear.
She looked so beautiful, her curly black locks swaying back and forth. My heart ached for her. For a moment I felt guilty about even thinking of sharing her, but only for a moment, because, once again, polo shirt came back into view. Lauren opened her eyes and smiled, a sweet smile that could melt the polar ice caps.
Her new friend handed her a glass of bubbly. Lauren said thanks.
Polo shirt leaned in and gave my wife another peck on the cheek. She looked surprised but didn't pull away. He said something and they both looked up again and laughed.
There seemed to be a real closeness developing between them. I could sense it despite the distance that separated us.
I had never felt closer to my fantasy made real and I didn't know if such an opportunity would ever come again.
I took out my phone and texted my wife.
- Got a flat. Waiting for AAA. May be another hour or so. I hit send.
I looked up and saw Lauren pull out her phone and glance down at it. Disappointment spread cross her face.
I felt bad for lying, but I promised myself I'd make it up to her later.
My phone buzzed. Damn it. Lauren was calling me. I looked back up. My wife had her phone to her ear. Polo Shirt was moving to the music, biding his time.
I had a decision to make. If I took the call, my ruse was foiled. I'd never be able to pull off the lie. Lauren would see right though my words. If I ignored the call, I'd never be able to explain why without making up an even more elaborate lie than I'd concocted with my text.
Answer the call and confess, end this charade I'd planned, or ignore it, and let Polo Shirt make his move.
I slipped my phone back into my pocket, letting Lauren's call go to voice mail. I couldn't help but feel I had stepped over some line. I ignored that feeling as well. I had gone from playing a game, to a serious affair, with real consequences.
I could feel a pit growing in my stomach, but it paled compared to the iron-hard rod that had grown in my pants.
Lauren finished her message and gulped down her drink. Polo shirt said something and motioned further into the house. Lauren nodded and left my view, her friend followed close behind.
I don't know what I expected to happen. I was playing this blind. Did I really think my wife would betray me, jump on the first guy that chatted her up. She'd already told me she wasn't interested in sleeping with anyone else. Mild flirting to spice up our sex life was all she signed up for.
Deep down I knew Polo Shirt wasn't going to get lucky tonight, but my fetish was driving me to root for him anyway.
I moved around the side of the house, peeking into windows, trying to catch a glimpse of Lauren and her pal. I tried to stay out of sight of the street. Luckily, the house was on a large lot and the neighbors probably couldn't see me. Even if they did, I was counting on them ignoring the odd person moving around outside, seeing as there was a large party underway.
I struck out at the four windows I passed on the side. Two were darkened rooms, one appeared to be the bathroom, due to the opaque film covering the glass, and the forth had a light on, but the curtains were drawn. I could make out shadows moving behind them but couldn't tell if it was my wife or not.
The first window I came to, once I rounded the corner into the back yard, was about a
foot above my head. I glanced around and saw a bucket I could use as a step stool. I stepped up and found myself peering into the kitchen. The window was foggy with condensation, but I could still see inside. I nearly lost my balance when I realized Lauren was right on the other side of the glass. She was leaning against the sink, her left side toward me. She was sipping on her drink, more sparking wine, and talking to Polo Shirt.
“I'm kinda worried, Phil,” So now I knew his name. “He sends me a text, has car trouble, but my call went to voice mail.”
The sound was slightly muffled by the window, but easy to hear.
“Can't help ya there, Lauren. I'm sure he's alright. Maybe he's just busy with getting the tire fixed.”
Guilt hit me again. I didn't like making Lauren anxious.
“You may be right. I hope you're right. I was just looking forward to having some fun tonight.”
“You still can. I'm here.”
Smooth.
Lauren had been looking off down the hall, but she turned to face Phil and a sly smile formed on her lips. “You just want another kiss. No mistletoe above us here.”
“Dang. Still, I was lucky enough to catch you twice.”
“Should've moved.”
“But you didn't. Anyway, if no smooching, how about a dance?”
Lauren looked down at her phone again, maybe hoping to see another text from me. When she didn't, she shrugged her shoulders and put her phone back in her clutch.
“Why not?”
“Not the enthusiasm I was hoping for, but I'll take it.”
Lauren laughed and to my surprise, and Phil's, lunged at her companion, giving him a quick kiss on the lips. The kiss lasted no longer than a second, but the shock caused me to lose my balance and I had to hop off my makeshift stool to avoid landing on my ass.
By the time I got back up on my perch, my wife and Phil were gone.
I completed my search around the outside of the house without finding the couple, or anyone, dancing. I thought about heading back to the car and waiting an hour to make my appearance, to keep the charade going. But since the whole point was to watch my wife misbehave, that wasn't going to work for me. So I decided to make my entrance and see if I could catch a glimpse of my wife, being bad before confessing to my crime.
I was greeted at the door by Betty's husband. His name was Richard.
“But everyone calls me, Rick.”
He took my coat and hung it up in the closet to his left.
“Good. Cause my twin brother's name is Richard.”
“He go by Rick, too?”
“No. We just call him Richard, sometimes Rich.”
“Well, glad you could come, Roger, isn't it?”
“Yeah, I'm Lauren's husband.”
“She told us you might be a little late.”
“Have you seen her?”
“Not recently. Last I spotted her, she was heading back to the kitchen to refill her drink.”
I knew she wasn't there anymore, but I didn't say anything. Rick gave me directions to the kitchen and I thanked him again for inviting us to the party and letting us crash with them. I then headed off in search of Lauren.
The path to the kitchen lead through a spacious living room. Groups of people mingling about, chatting, snacking on munchies – a few were watching some college basketball game on the big-screen TV set up on the far wall.
I noticed the mistletoe hanging from the arch that joined the living and dining rooms. I stopped at a table to grab a few veggies and tiny hot dogs to munch on. I hadn't eaten since lunch, and I was starving. Watching my wife at play was hungry business.
“Roger. Glad you made it.”
Ann, one of the few friends of Lauren that I knew, had stepped up to graze on the canapés next to me. She looked stunning in her tight designer jeans and white blouse, unbuttoned half-way down her chest. Her modest pale cleavage was breath-taking – unapologetically provocative. She wore her blonde hair in a pixie cut with her bangs swept left across her brow. When she smiled, her blue eyes sparkled.
“Ann, it's been a while.” I leaned over to give her a little kiss on the cheek. “Had a little trouble getting here. You seen my wife?”
I popped a cherry tomato into my mouth, trying to be nonchalant. I wondered if she'd seen Lauren and Phil flirting. I didn't want to be judged. I enjoyed the thrill of the taboo fetish, not the humiliation of discovery.
“I saw her a few minutes ago getting a drink in the kitchen.”
“That's what Rick said when I came in.” Keep the cover story going.
We chatted for a bit. Both our families were fine, work was work, and we were both looking forward to the new Star Wars movie.
“Better go find Lauren. Let her know I made it here in one piece.”
I told Ann I wanted to pick her brain for suggestions of fun activities to try on our trip to Costa Rica coming up later in the Spring.
“I'll be around.” Ann's attention was now focused on the tall brown-skinned fellow who had slid up next to her. It might have been her husband, who I'd never met, but I didn't really care so I left her to him.
The kitchen was empty of people. The alcohol was self-serve, with liquor on the counter – vodka, gin, a variety of scotches and whiskies, and a real nice cabernet that had yet to be opened. I pulled an IPA out of the refrigerator, popped the top off and took a swig from the bottle.
The search for my wife had temporarily stalled. I had no one around to ask and I really didn't want to go scampering around like a lost puppy nosing in on other people's conversations. I took another drink. My body relaxed as the cool liquid ran down my throat. I could go exploring. The house was rather large, with many rooms and hallways to check out. I took another swig. And another. Then a final one. I'd killed the bottle.
“Think, Roger.” I grabbed another beer from the fridge. “Where could she be?”
I could ask someone where the dancing was. There was some music playing in the living room – a Pandora station playing '80's music – but no one was dancing.
Then the distant sound of Prince reached my ears. I followed the beats, like some pied piper, down the hall, past a bend to the right and down a few flights of stairs to a lower level that had been turned into an entertainment room.
A pool table sat at the bottom of the stairs. Two couples I didn't recognize were shooting a game of eight ball; lots of stripes were left on the table.
Past them, the room opened up into a space about the same size as the living and dining rooms above. It was lit like a dance club – a few red and green and blue lamps shed a little light; a spinning mirrored ball completed the effect. I could make out several couples dancing across the floor, bouncing and gyrating to 1999, a song from before most of us were even born and that I was sure was playing when at least one of my fellow partyers was conceived.
There was a stereo system set up in the far corner and a few couches against the walls, but no one was sitting, they were all dancing.
I spotted Lauren and Phil moving to the music near the middle of the room, their bodies bathed in dancing colored lights. They were close – obviously dancing together – but nothing scandalous. Nothing to cause embarrassment even if other people were looking, which they weren't, save for me.
I was watching and I was aroused. Lauren hadn't noticed me yet and not wanting to draw attention to myself I moved toward the left wall. I found myself near an open door that I guessed led to the laundry room.
Prince gave way to Justin Timberlake and the energy in the room jumped up a notch or two.
Lauren appeared to be having a good time. She loved to dance and we didn't do it all that much. I could hold my own with my wife on the dance floor for a few songs, but I lacked the stamina to go all night. Phil seemed to be filling in for me nicely.
I watched them dance for seven or eight songs. Some couples left to get their drinks refilled or to rest their feet. A few new people trickled down from upstairs, Ann and her companion among them.
&nb
sp; As the songs progressed, Lauren and Phil moved closer together and nearer to where I was standing. I moved back into the darkened washroom to avoid my wife spotting me, on the off-chance she glanced my way.
I needn't have worried. When Lauren wasn't swaying her hips with her eyes shut she was looking up at her partner. I could feel a bond forming and it both thrilled and scared me. At that moment I had decided the possibility of her actually fucking him was greater than fifty-fifty.
The thought sent shivers down my spine. My cock ached.
The song selection started slowing down and I watched, with a mixture of fear and glee as the two moved even closer together. Phil rested his hands on my wife's hips, she placed hers on his shoulders. If I didn't know better, I'd assume they were lovers if I saw them out together somewhere.
I started to notice tiny little clues that Lauren was also being aroused by the scene she was partaking in. It was in the way her body moved as they danced, how she gazed into his eyes and ran her fingers through his hair.
I was getting jealous, a churning storm of unease raging in my gut, my mind raced with uncertainty. Could I lose my wife to this man? I was hurt and weary. And I loved every minute of it. I could never explain why. My cock was turgid, my breathing slow. I could feel the tingle in my groin of an approaching climax.
The thoughts that raced through my head, the emotions, I wished I could bottle them up, so strong they were, so intoxicating.
If Phil wasn't going to take my wife right then, plow her molten pussy with his cock, it would take all my willpower to keep from fucking her myself, damn the onlookers.
The sexual tension wasn't lost on Phil. He saw something in Lauren's eyes – a desire, a longing – and he pulled her closer. Without warning, he leaned in and planted a kiss, full on her lips.
My erection twitched.
Lauren stopped dancing. Phil pulled away. I expected her to slap him for being so forward, taking such liberties. She was a married woman.
Instead I saw her eyes go limpid. Her fingers grasped the back of his head. Now she was the one pulling him in for a kiss. This one much harder, deeper, and longer. I couldn't see it, but I knew their tongues were invading each other's mouths. Exploring. Seeking. Quenching a burning need.
