The Other Man (West Coast Hotwifing) (7 page)

She laughed, noting the nervousness in her slightly off-key tone. “Let’s save it for when I get back. Just like you said.”

Behind her, Spence climbed from the bed, probably to give her some privacy. When she heard the water running, she realized he’d needed to get rid of the condom.

“You are one crazy little slut, sweetheart.” A lighter note had entered Keith’s voice. “I have to see this guy’s cock in action. It’s gotta be even bigger than it looks in that photo if he could make you come like that.”

She tried to downplay. “It was the vibrator,” she explained. “He told me to use it.”

“Just think, my very own porn film starring my slutty little wife.”

They hadn’t talked quite like this before. Mostly their calls had been about what it felt like when men did things to her, and so that Keith could hear her come again over the phone. Spence’s conversation last night had started something new. It could be good for them. “Monday night, I’ll make you a nice dinner, then we’ll curl up on the couch and watch it together.”

“I can’t wait. Love you.”

“Love you, too,” she said softly. He was gone before she hit End.

The truth was that nothing had ever felt like this with those other men. She felt more alive than ever before, her nerves twitching deliciously. This was feeling truly desired, truly enjoyed.

The bed dipped. Spence rolled in beside her, wrapped an arm across her abdomen, pulled her close until his cock nestled between her cheeks.

“He’s going to fuck your brains out after he watches that show,” he said against her ear, eradicating the last vestiges of Keith’s voice in her head.

“No. Probably not.”

“Isn’t that the point? To make him go wild?”

“Yes, but…” She shouldn’t discuss her marriage with him.

“If it were me, I’d want to fuck you while I watched you on the screen.”

Her soul preened with his words. Oh yes, this man made her feel desired, wanted, special. Keith called him cocky, but whatever he was, Spence understood the words she needed.

But Keith had never tried to make love to her when he looked at the pictures. He never would. She could only hope the video, which was far from static, would inspire something. Maybe he’d ask her to stroke him. Or better, suck him. Still, the best she could hope for was that he wouldn’t take the disk into his office and watch it alone on his computer.

“We’ve been married a long time,” she said, knowing she should shut up but needing to explain anyway. “He’s fifteen years older than me. Things just don’t work the same way they used to. So”—she shrugged against him—“he’s not going to do what you would.”

“How old were you when you got married?”

“Twenty-four.” Keith had been thirty-nine.

“Hmm.” It wasn’t an answer, just a sound.

“It’s not what you think. I wasn’t a home wrecker or anything. He was already divorcing his wife before I started dating him.”

“I wasn’t making a judgment,” he answered softly.

“Yes, well, some people do.”

“His kids and his ex-wife?” Spence asked intuitively.

Fourteen at the time, Keith’s son, Jerry, had never believed they weren’t having an affair. “Yes. I was Keith’s secretary.”

“Ergo, you were fucking him and broke up the marriage.”

“I wasn’t and I didn’t.” But Jerry had always blamed her. “His daughter didn’t react the same.” She smiled. “Alison and I are actually pretty good friends. She’s pregnant with her first baby and due in January.” His hand moved against her belly, and she nestled closer. It was an utterly sweet sensation that made her want to purr. “It’s almost as if it’s my first grandchild.”

He chuckled against her hair. “Sorry, but I can’t think of you as a grandmother.”

She smiled. “A grandmother certainly wouldn’t do what I just did.”

He nipped the crook of her neck. “You’d be surprised. But I still think you’re more a MILF than a GILF.”

She laughed at his play on the acronym, grandmothers-I’d-like-to-fuck instead of mothers. “I’m not a MILF either.”

“I still liked fucking you. Why no kids of your own?”

She shrugged against him. “Keith already had a family. And really, I wanted a career.” When she was young, she’d thought about kids. For a while, she’d ached for her own child, but she and Keith had built a good life, she liked her job and her independence, and she’d come to terms with the choices she’d made. She and Alison were close, and with Alison’s pregnancy, she’d get all those baby needs filled. But enough about her. “What about you? Any kids?”

“Never married,” he said with clipped words.

“How old are you?”

“Forty-five.”

“Hmm,” she mused just as he had. “Never even thought about it?”

“There was a girl once. We were young.” He was silent a long moment. “She died.”

“I’m sorry.” There was a hell of a lot more to that story, but she was pissed at herself for prying. She didn’t want to turn things sour.

He changed the subject. “When are you leaving tomorrow?” The official conference ended after the keynote speech at lunch, though the booths in the exhibit hall would remain open.

“I’m staying the weekend. I’ve got the Sunday evening flight out at six-thirty. My husband wanted me to check out the area. He thinks Florida might be a good place to retire.”

“I can’t imagine you in a retirement home any more than I can see you as a grandmother.”

She laughed. “Not a
home
. Just a house out here. Property is cheaper, and the tax situation is better than California.”

“So you’d really like to come out here?”

The humidity wasn’t a plus, that was for sure. “I’m willing to look.” He’d started a slow, rhythmic caress against her belly, messing with her concentration. She could stay in his bed a while longer. It was barely after nine. “When are you leaving?” If he had a late flight out tomorrow, they’d have time in the afternoon for a little something.

“I’m staying the weekend, too.”

She lay there a moment considering. She hadn’t thought beyond tomorrow afternoon and sneaking in one last quickie.

His hand slipped down her belly, over her mound, and down her thigh. He nudged her until she lifted her leg and tucked her foot behind his calf, spreading herself for him. Tunneling down between her legs, he stroked, and she arched against him, a low moan rising up her throat.

The weekend. Two days and two nights. Keith had told her to indulge herself. She was going to take him at his word. Tonight had been too good not to repeat.

* * * * *

She’d left him sometime in the middle of the night but not before he’d had her again twice. He’d always enjoyed sex, but she made him crave it. He couldn’t get enough of her.

Before going downstairs for breakfast Friday morning, he bagged his clothes for the laundry service and extended his room stay for two extra nights. He then changed his flight to the same Sunday flight she was taking. Yeah, he’d lied, but he’d do anything necessary to have the whole weekend with her. While the out-bound flight had one stop, the home flight was direct, and they would arrive before nine on the West Coast. They could change their seats when they checked in and sit together, even if that meant they were in the back of the plane. He would have those extra five hours with her before he had to turn her over to her husband.

He had one more errand, a brisk walk down to the pharmacy a block away for another package of condoms. He didn’t make it to the dining room until close to the end of the breakfast hour, but she was there, seated at an empty table for eight. The busboy cleaned away the dirty plates, utensils, mugs, and napkins littering the white cloth.

“Need a partner for house-hunting this afternoon?” he asked as he set his plate on the table and sat next to her. The room was thinning out and so was the buffet, the eggs hardening in the warming pan. He’d settled for coffee, fruit, and a bagel.

“Wouldn’t you prefer something touristy like the Kennedy Space Center?”

He’d prefer being with her, no matter where. He was well aware that he was bulldozing her into spending the afternoon with him. “It’ll give me a chance to see the area.”

“I’m going out to Ocala. It’s about an hour and a half drive.”

“That’s fine.”

“There’s supposed to be a thunderstorm this afternoon.” She was certainly trying to talk him out of it.

“A little rain won’t hurt me.”

She gave him a look he couldn’t interpret. “All right, house-hunting it is. I want to leave right after lunch.”

He wanted to take her hand under the table. Instead, he ate his bagel while she finished her toast, and they agreed to meet at the garage elevator.

She was his for the weekend, and he planned on spending every minute of it with her.

* * * * *

Did he plan on spending every minute of the entire weekend with her?

Zoe was nervous but secretly thrilled. She hadn’t called Keith to say she was house-hunting with Spence. They’d talked in terms of sex, not spending time together. As odd as it sounded, this was more intimate. But honestly, a little company while she was driving would be nice.

She’d printed a listing of houses for sale in the Ocala area, though she hadn’t made appointments to see any. Basically, she wanted to compare prices, check areas and locales just to get an idea of what could be purchased in the $300,000 range. Even after the housing drop in 2008, you still couldn’t touch anything decent at that price in California.

Armed with her list, she met Spence in the lobby. Groups of people were checking out, the foyer was awash in luggage carts and roller cases. The rain hadn’t started, but the clouds were dark. In deference to the muggy heat outside, Spence wore shorts and deck shoes, and she’d donned another sundress.

He didn’t touch her as they rode the elevator down to the garage. In fact, they’d barely acknowledged each other, still playing the game for any conventioneers they might see.

“The car’s over there.” She beeped the compact’s remote and opened the driver’s door. Climbing in, she laid the list on the center console, then tossed her purse into the backseat.

Spence was on her the moment his door banged shut, his hand on her chin holding her captive for a ravaging kiss that stole her breath.

“I’ve been waiting to do that all day,” he said, his lips still touching hers.

“You messed up my lipstick,” she said, her tone dreamy. She was totally under his spell.

“Don’t fix it. I’m definitely going to be stealing more kisses.”

Regardless, she fixed the smudges in the review mirror, but didn’t apply new. Her heart was thudding as she backed out of the space. She hadn’t enjoyed the dance of sex in years. For married people, it faded away with time. Her trysts away from home had more an element of calculation in them. Spence made it fun again. Maybe it was that they’d had two nights together already and were past the usual awkwardness.

She pointed to her list on the console. “You want to type a couple of these into the GPS?” She’d brought her own handheld device. “I played around with maps on the Internet, and I think I’ve got them in a fairly good order so we’re not backtracking.”

He studied the addresses as she pulled out of the garage and headed to the freeway. The sky above was leaden.

“You expect to get to all these places?”

“Probably not. It’s just my starting point.”

“You’re very industrious.” He began keying in addresses. “I’m sure I’ll learn more about Florida than I ever wanted to know.”

She laughed with him. The lady on the GPS told her the next turn.

“I can’t listen to her the whole way.” Spence turned off the voice.

“Then you’ll have to tell me where to go.”

“Oh, I’ll delight in telling you exactly where to go.” He leaned in to lick the shell of her ear. A shiver of desire ran through her.

“Keep to your own side of the car.” But she loved the sexy, flirty touching. The first raindrops hit as they entered the freeway, huge splotches on the windscreen.

“Head up to Highway 40,” he said, reading the purple line on the GPS.

She remembered that from her mapping. It had appeared to be a primarily two-lane road. “It goes through the Ocala National Forest, so that should be a nice ride.”

It wasn’t more than a couple of exits up the freeway. At this point, Highway 40 was still four lanes with strip malls and gas stations along either side. Those quickly ended, and a grassy median separated them from oncoming traffic. The rain was intermittent, splashing for long moments, then abruptly stopped, only to start again another mile down the road.

“Look. There’s an open house.” Spence pointed through the rain-streaked windshield. “Might as well check it out.”

She and Keith had started with Ocala because it was farther from the coast and hurricane damage. But if she wanted to see what their money could buy, an open house was worth visiting.

She followed the signs into the subdivision, passing through an unmanned security hut. A large ribbon sign advertised models, but Zoe followed the smaller sign to the open house. She’d prefer to see something that hadn’t been tricked out like model homes usually were.

“Nice place,” Spence mused.

The streets were wide, the lawns thick, the yards large. There were few fences separating the properties, and most homes had screened-in pools, to keep out the bugs, she assumed.

She pulled to the curb outside a bungalow fronted by tall, leafy bushes. “At least we’ve got a break from the rain for the moment.”

Stepping out of the car, she was hit by a wall of heat. With the rain, she didn’t expect it; if anything, it was hotter and more humid that the past two days had been.

The double doors opened as if the real estate agent had been peering out the window. “Come on in. It’ll start raining again any second.” She waved them in.

Over sixty, with round rimless glasses and a short, gray cap of hair, she was thin as a rail. “Hi, folks.” She flourished a hand in the direction of the kitchen. “I’d love you to sign our guestbook, then feel free to have a look around.” Her accent was definitely southern, but didn’t have the twang Zoe associated with the deep south.