Hot Dates: Becoming a Shared Wife (8 page)

The couch was barstool height and it was tricky to maneuver in my short dress without flashing Charles, not that he would have minded, I’m sure. I tugged at the hem of my dress as I settled in, but I just could not get it to hide my lacy stocking tops. Charles smiled as he took note, but was polite enough not to comment. I spied my husband taking a seat at the bar. The view was imperfect, but when there was a gap in the crowd he would be able to see us. Our eyes met just briefly, before a cocktail waitress moved to our table.

“I’m Tricia. What can I get you guys?” Tricia was a petite, curvy redhead. The white satin bustier which comprised the top of her outfit offered up her breasts for anyone who cared to look, but Charles only glanced at them for a moment.

“We’ll have two dirty martinis,” he said, ordering for us both.

“I think you’re trying to get me drunk, sir,” I said, after Tricia departed.

“Do I need to?”

I tried very hard not to blush, but did not fully succeed. It was the most overt statement of his plans that he’d made. “That all depends on what your intentions are, doesn’t it?”

“Yours too.”

“What do you mean?”

“I may have intentions, and trust me I do, but on their own they don’t mean anything unless you’re out to play tonight.”

“Out to play?” I laughed. “You make it sound like I’m some teenager who snuck out.”

“Maybe you didn’t sneak, but I don’t think this is an average night for you. I think you came out looking for a good time.”

“Sounds like you have me all figured out. Tell me more, please.” The banter was to hide the shiver of fear that shot through me. For a second I thought Charles
had
figured out what I was up to somehow. Had he noticed the dent on my finger where my rings would normally be? I could not do much about that.

“I’m guessing recently divorced, or maybe just separated. Either way, you don’t look like you’re used to being out on the prowl. You seem a little nervous, like you haven’t done this for a while.”

“There could be some truth to that,” I acknowledged. I was not going to confirm or deny anything. If he wanted to think I was some divorcee out looking for a good time that was probably for the best. But I had thought I was doing a good job at covering my nerves. Did Charles come over because he thought I was out of practice and I would be an easy mark? If he thought I was just going to fall into bed with him, he had another thing coming.

Charles slipped his arm around me and moved closer. His other hand came to rest on my knee, his thumb lazily tracing upward toward my stocking top and the edge of my dress. “But none of that really answers my basic question. What are
your
intentions, Dana?”

“I really don’t have any. I am just out to have fun tonight.” I was glad I could answer honestly.

“Just what I like to hear.”

Tricia came back with our drinks and we toasted to having fun. His hand went back to my knee when he set his drink down. I clutched mine and nerves led me to drink it too quickly. I was already buzzed by the drinks I’d had before and that last martini pushed me over the edge to goofy and more than a little flirty. I leaned my head on his shoulder and his hand dropped down behind me so he could cup my ass, which only scooted me closer to him. My stocking tops were left exposed by my shifting and Charles traced the lace with his fingertips. His touch gave me the chills, especially when I glanced over and saw my husband peeking when he could.

Dave watched us together like he was trying to memorize every moment. I wanted to know how he felt watching me sitting so closely with another man—a stranger—and letting him touch me so freely. I knew he had to be rock hard, but I wished I could fully understand his desire to see me like that. The way Dave looked at us I could feel him willing me to go further, but I’d been waiting for Charles to make a move and he seemed happy to move slowly so far. He probably thought that since I was so out of practice on the dating scene that I’d spook if he moved too fast.

I took a deep breath and went for it. I tipped my head back and brushed my lips over Charles’s neck. He stiffened for a moment and then smiled and said, “I guess I got you drunk enough.”

“I guess you have,” I replied and smiled, lightly kissing his neck with a quick flick of my tongue.

Charles smelled good—strong and masculine. I did not recognize the cologne, but it smelled expensive. I did not think there was anything cheap about this man. His fingers brushed through my hair and caressed the back of my neck, urging me on. More chills. I turned my body and place a shaking hand on his chest. The adrenaline rush was incredible. I would have felt it coming on to a man like this in a public place anyway, even when I was single, but doing it now as a married woman, with my husband watching, it turned my whole body into a live wire, vibrating with energy.

I closed my eyes and even though I could hear the music and the crowd around us, everything seemed to melt away. I focused on misbehaving. Charles guided my lips from his neck to his lips. Many of my first kisses with men have been shy and restrained, but not this one. I hungrily mashed my lips to his. I honestly had not been thinking about kissing other men before any of this came up—I was satisfied with Dave—but I kissed Charles like it was all I wanted. The rush of kissing another man for the first time in years was so intense. His hand on my butt pulled me even tighter against him and it felt like I was practically in his lap. In my mind’s eye I could see Dave watching us and going out of his mind. He was certainly getting what he insisted he wanted. Charles slipped me his tongue and I pulled back just enough so that there was a chance Dave could see it if he was watching closely enough.

The hand sliding up my thigh got my attention. I wish I could say that I hesitated and had to really consider if I wanted to cross that line. I wish I could say I considered my husband’s feelings in that moment, but I was drunk and I was hot and when Charles pushed his hand up past the top of my stocking, I relaxed my crossed legs and felt his firm fingers on the hot tender flesh of my inner thigh. I knew he had to feel the damp heat emanating from my sex. I could not hide my arousal from Charles.

“Charles…” I gasped when his fingers brushed my lacy panties.

“You’re soaked, Dana. Looks like you did come out to play tonight.” He sounded amused.

He added pressure, plastering my panties to my lips, soaking them. My nails dug into his arm and I whimpered. This was why playing like this might not be a good idea. It’s a terrible confession, but I was not sure I could control myself. When I was sober and getting ready I was sure of where my boundaries were, but with several martinis in me and my passion inflamed I didn’t know where I would stop Charles. I hadn’t seen myself sitting in a bar with a virtual stranger’s hand under my skirt, but here I was. His fingers expertly explored my cleft, finding my clit and teasing it. I buried my face in his shoulder in hopes it would muffle my moan.

Charles brought me back to another scorching kiss and pushed my thighs even further apart—far enough that he could peel my panties away and move them to the side. His tongue explored my mouth while he fingers explored my pussy. He touched my smoothly-shaved lips, smearing my wetness across them and then plucked at my clit. I squirmed in the seat, squeezing my thighs around his hand. It wasn’t that I wanted him to stop; it was just so intense that I couldn’t sit still. Charles’s experience showed in how he touched me. He did not just finger-bang me the second my panties were out of his way, but he teased me and worked me up to a frenzy before slowly sliding his fingers inside me. He massaged those fingers in and out of me and my hips moved on their own, urging him on.

“Oh Charles…”

“Come back to my room,” he said.

“I…I don’t know…” I
knew
the answer—it was no—but a big part of me was screaming a different answer.

“I know you want to. Don’t try to deny it, Dana.”

I looked out for the first time and amazingly, no one was paying attention to us. It felt like we were putting on quite the show, but the bar was busy and luckily the table provided some cover. Anyone who cared to look would know exactly what we were doing, what Charles was doing was damned to make me cum, but at least the table left me with a modicum on modesty. But we did have an audience. An audience of one.

Dave could not bring himself to pretend he wasn’t watching us. People passed in between, but every time the view opened again I saw my husband sitting there, watching while I was being fingered by a stranger in public. He did not look jealous. Or angry. Those were the reactions you’d expect. Dave looked like he was watching the greatest concert in the world, like The Beatles had gotten back together and were playing just for him, in his living room. His hand rested on his thigh and I’m sure the temptation to touch himself was incredible. If we were not in public I’m sure he wouldn’t have resisted.

I kept my eyes on my husband as Charles teased my clit and brought me right to the edge. I bit my lower lip hard—adding a stab of pain to my intense pleasure—but my moans were still too loud. Finally some guys to the side noticed what was going on and I had an audience of six as Charles made me cum. The orgasm rocked through me and I stiffened, digging my nails deep into Charles’s arm. I know Dave recognized that moment of climax and he actually licked his lips as he watched me cum. The fingers on my pussy were unrelenting; Charles seemed determined to make me cum again, but I pushed his hand away. I needed a break. Shivering, I sagged against his side.

“Now try to tell me you don’t want to go back to my room, Dana,” he insisted.

I drained the remainder of my drink, but it hardly helped my dry mouth. “I just don’t think I’m ready for that. I’m sorry.” I slid my hand over his crotch and the hard-on I found there made me even sorrier. I knew it wasn’t fair to leave him like that, but I was not going to fuck this man. It didn’t matter how much I needed it—that was strictly for my husband.

“Then I guess we’ll have to settle for somewhere else a bit less private.”

The edge in his voice left no room for argument and I meekly followed as Charles led me away by the hand. Dave watched us from his spot at the bar, but did not follow. A narrow, dimly-lit hallway led back to the bathrooms. I realized his plan and pulled back against his hand, but he did not release me. I’d been so pliant thus far that Charles probably thought it was only token resistance. It wasn’t like I actually told him
no
. Thankfully, the men’s room was mostly empty. A young guy stood by the sinks, but he was too busy primping in the mirror to notice us passing behind him. I thought for sure that the bathroom attendant—a handsome Middle Eastern gentleman in a nice suit—would stop us, but he just returned Charles’s wink and turned the other way.

The stalls were large, with thick, floor-to-ceiling marble slabs as dividers. The doors ran floor-to-ceiling as well, providing some much appreciated privacy. No one would know what we did in there—which was not necessarily a good thing.

My heart pounded, but now it was driven by fear as much as desire. This was exactly what I worried about beforehand—we’d lost control of the situation. Dave and I were playing a game to add excitement to our marriage, but Charles was an unknowing player and he was not going to play by rules he didn’t know. I wondered if Dave followed us into the bathroom. Was he going to kick in the door and rescue his wife? For all I knew, this was exactly what he wanted. This was where my husband’s refusal to be specific was so maddening.

Charles locked the door and pinned me to the wall. I was aroused despite my fear—the danger was a major turn on. He pressed his fingers to my lips and I sucked them tasting myself. He watched closely, pleased with my acquiescence. My fingers were pulled away and we were kissing again, hot and urgent, and I felt his rigid cock pressing into me. He did not seem like a rapist, but I knew he was not going to easily be put off. He tried to own me with that kiss, and I let him have me. It was only when he pulled up my dress and pulled down my panties that I found the willpower to push back.

“Charles, we can’t. I’m not like that,” I complained.

“What are you like, Dana?” It sounded like he found my protests amusing.

“I don’t know. This is all so new to me.” Maybe a little of the truth would help.

“I think you know what you want. You’re just afraid to take it.”

“Maybe,” I admitted.

My panties were at my ankles and his fingers found my pussy again. If anything, I was even more soaked than before. I gasped when those fingers filled me. I thrust my tongue into his mouth to match his fingers. I could not hide that I wanted him. But I was not going to have him. Not tonight. Instinct kicked in and it was like I was a teenager again. I knew exactly what to do when I liked a boy enough that I wanted to make him happy, but I wasn’t ready to go all the way.

Charles looked surprised when I sank down in front of him. He must have thought I was just a tease at that point. I did not want to touch the floor and thanked all those squats in the gym as I balanced on my heels. The expensive belt gave me a bit of trouble, but I know how to get a guy out of his pants. His cock popped free of soft silk boxers and I was surprised to find he was almost shaved bare. I thought that was exclusively the providence of younger guys. I wasn’t sure I liked it. I prefer a manly man, and that was just too metrosexual for me. Dave grooms down there, but he still looks like a man. But the lack of hair did direct all attention to Charles’s cock. It was long, but on the slender side, and tapered to an elegant tip. It was the perfect cock for a man like Charles.