Seven Dates: A Different Kind of Hotwife (3 page)

I woke up the next morning alone in bed. Joanie hadn’t slept on her side. I groaned. I had been hoping she’d have calmed down after I went to sleep, but apparently she didn’t.

I showered, shaved and dressed. I needed to get back into the office and work the TKD issue.

I found Joanie in the kitchen. She was writing on a yellow legal pad. She didn’t look up even though I could tell from her body language that she’d heard me enter. I sat down opposite her. I cleared my throat. No response.

“Joanie, I’m really sorry about last night. I’d had a bad day. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

She hesitated and then finally looked up. “No, Kel, it’s okay. It was quite informative. I’m glad you explained what I need to do to please you.”

I rolled my eyes. I had apologized and she seemed to want to start up again. I had neither the time nor patience for it.

“Great,” I said ignoring her obvious sarcasm. “So now that we’re all in agreement, I need to get to work.”

I rose, yet I hesitated. We’d gone to bed angry and had woken up the same way. And now I was going to work that way. But I just couldn’t find the energy to deal with Joanie right now. Maybe with a little more time she’d cool down. I leaned down to give her a kiss, but she didn’t even give me her cheek. I kissed the top of her head instead.

One thing I always knew about Joanie was that she had a strong sense of morality, of right and wrong. A legacy of her Catholic upbringing. She put things into boxes. Sin or not sin. There were few shades of grey. It’s not something I ever really understood. My reaction was to fudge it. What she didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her. Except it did. My fear of crossing her lines led me to withhold. It was a slow process, but I locked her out. I realize that now. The series of lies and half-truths that I’d told about my career, our finances, my dreams about the future, all of them, in one sense an attempt to protect her from anxiety, they built a wall between us that allowed tension to build up. We hadn’t had a big fight in years… maybe not ever, actually. But now it looked like it was all coming to a head at once. Bad timing.

***

I spent the morning with the lawyers. I hate fucking lawyers. It didn’t occur to me until halfway through the meeting that they weren’t necessarily on
my
side, but once it did, I realized that I’d probably spent the past two hours tying a noose around my own neck. Oh sure, they wanted to fix the contract, but their backup plan was clearly to pin all the blame on me for the fuckup. Which was fair, I guess. It
was
my fuckup, but as long as I was a willing sacrificial lamb they didn’t have much motivation to help me fix things. No skin in the game.

After I realized the lay of the land, I was more cautious in my disclosures, more close to the vest. Truth is, I might need to throw those fuckers under the bus at some point, so I needed to keep some things to myself. That’s a dirty little secret of the business world. Most of your “teammates” are just waiting for an opportunity to put a knife in your back and devour the carcass. Melodramatic? Maybe. Accurate? Definitely.

I finally made it back to my office and began going through my files, reconstructing the negotiation from the beginning. I’m pretty organized, so most of the work was already done, but it did allow me to pinpoint where the screw-up had occurred. The key was to find an interim memorandum of understanding – we’d been exchanging those at the end of the negotiating sessions to make sure we agreed on what had been agreed -- that incorporated the new language. I knew that was the sort of thing Joanie had been thinking about when she’d tried to solve my problem, but it was also what I already knew I had to do.

Ah Joanie. She meant well. It’s just, yeah, she didn’t always get me. Which is fine. She’s my wife, not my mom. I reached for my desk phone to call her, apologize again. But I decided not to risk it. If we got into another fight, I knew I’d be worthless for the rest of the afternoon, and I needed to get more work done.

I did let my mind wander for a bit, though. I wondered if Joanie was having second thoughts too. Maybe she’d spend the day reflecting on it and realized that,
gasp
, I had a point. It would be so easy to make it up to me.

I imagined her making an appointment at the spa for a mani-pedi, French tips, and then deciding on the spur of the moment to get a waxing. A shower after, where she’d run her hands over her newly bare snatch, getting turned on thinking of my reaction when I saw. Then a trip to the mall for some new lingerie, a sexy, black, lace bra and panties with matching thigh-high stockings. A new dress, very sheer, short, only to mid-thigh, low-cut, showing a load of cleavage.

She’d greet me at the door to our house. Tell me she’d made reservations at Morton’s. In the car ride over, she’d flash me her thigh-highs, hint about the surprise I’d discover later. At the restaurant, a martini for me, coupe of champagne for her, a big steak and a bottle of red.

“Get a coffee, baby, I don’t want you falling asleep on me,” she’d coo, batting her eyelashes at me.

And then, in the car ride home. “Just relax honey and drive,” as she unzipped my pants and swallowed my cock.

My thoughts were interrupted by my stupid phone. Donald’s secretary
inviting
me to come up to the eighth floor for a meeting. Just as well. A few more minutes with my fantasy and I’d have ruined my pants.

***

I was wrung out by the time I got home. Donald had been full of encouraging, not-punishing-failure, kind of stuff. You know, like: “criminally negligent conduct,” “bonus clawbacks,” “salary garnishment.” All of which was bullshit, but it seemed to make him feel better to muse about ways he might be able to fuck me over if I couldn’t get the contract fixed. The lawyers had apparently been more creative brainstorming with him about ways to screw me than they’d been with me about ways to fix the fucking contract. I’d probably need to get my own lawyer, paid for out of my own pocket, before too long.

I managed to make it home without incident. I even got a seat on the train. A pretty minor thing, but after the last two days, it made me almost giddy.

I walked in the front door and immediately heard the click-clack of Joanie’s heels on the hardwood floor in the hallway coming in my direction.

I smiled brightly at her appearance. Damn, she’d gotten all gussied up for me. Not the short, sheer dress I’d imagined, but a more substantial black and gold wrap that nonetheless looked almost obscene in how it accentuated her curves. And those shoes… black, shiny stilettos. Where had they come from? But mostly I almost gasped at her mouth, a rich red applied heavily to her full lips, outlined with a darker red trace, and coated with shiny lip gloss. It was a look that conveyed one thought, without any possibility for misinterpretation. I felt my cock twitch in anticipation.

“You look amazing,” I gushed. “Are we going out?”

She looked down at herself, as if surprised I’d notice.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Not
we
. Just me,” she replied.

“Huh?”

“Well, you told me I needed more experience, so I decided I should go out on some dates.”

I groaned. So she was still pissed and planned to torment me further. I knew what she wanted. Another apology, more groveling, but I’d gotten my ass kicked enough for the day. She wasn’t going to get her jollies from me.

“So you have a date tonight?”

“Is that okay?”

I shrugged.
Whatever
. “Anyone I know.”

She hesitated, trying to plan the best lie. “Yes, but maybe it would be better if I didn’t tell you who… yet.”

I nodded. “Yes, probably…. Well, you have fun then.”

She frowned, disappointed, not the reaction she’d been looking for.

“Oh, I will. And don’t wait up.”

“I wouldn’t think of it.”

She looked at me for another moment. “Well, I better go. I don’t want to be late.”

I nodded.

She grabbed a light jacket from the foyer closet and opened the door. “I left your dinner on the counter.”

I forced a smile as she walked out the door. I rolled my eyes. She’d really picked a terrible time to push my buttons. I shambled into the kitchen. On the counter was the pizza box from last night, and when I opened it, there was half of a stale-looking pizza staring back at me. It speaks to how shitty my last two days had been that I was actually pleased. With a bottle of beer, or three, the day-old pizza would go down just fine.

I didn’t actually think much about Joanie while she was gone. I assumed she’d just gone over to a friend’s – Trina’s place, most likely. Trina was a bit of a cow, pudgy, though most cows don’t have red hair. She had never really liked me, and her love life was such a disaster that it suggested she understood men even less than Joanie. A perfect refuge for Joanie looking to vent about what an asshole I was.

I watched some lacrosse on TV, not so much because it is at all interesting, but rather because I quite enjoyed imagining Tanner Alden as one of the preppy assholes on the field getting periodically pummeled with a stick.

“Take that stick right out of Joanie’s ass and bash Tanner over the head with it,” I mumbled.

I chuckled to myself, then looked down at the five empty beers beside me. Yup, only a punchy drunk would laugh at that. Time for bed. I cleaned up and stumbled into the sack.

***

I’d taken half an Ambien to make sure I got to sleep, so I was a little groggy when Joanie woke me coming into the bedroom. I pretended to be asleep until she sat down on the bed. She smelled of cigarettes and sweat. I guess she hadn’t gone to Trina’s after all.

When I stirred she turned on the reading light and leaned over toward me. “Are you awake?”

Her breath was hot, boozy, a little musky.

“I am now,” I sighed.

“Oh good,” she said happily, as if I’d walked into a trap. “I learned
so
much tonight.”

“Hmmm? Oh, that’s nice,” I replied.

I wanted nothing more than to go back to sleep. Certainly I didn’t want any part of whatever game Joanie had planned.

She shook me gently. “But I have so many questions. Will you answer them for me? Please?”

I sighed. No way this would be good. “Okay.”

I peered up at her. She looked a little tired, but pleased with herself. Her lipstick was badly smudged. A nice touch, although maybe a little too much.

“Okay, so why is it so important for the girl to be on her knees when giving oral? I mean, it is uncomfortable for me, and wouldn’t the guy be more relaxed sitting down?”

“Huh?”

“I’m just trying to review what I learned tonight and understand it better. I was taught that I should get down on my knees to, you know, suck cock.
On your knees and make eye contact
,” she concluded, her voice dropping an octave as if quoting another man.

I stifled a laugh. So transparent. Was I really supposed to believe that she’d gone with another man and let him order her to blow him?

“I don’t know, maybe it’s a submissiveness thing?” I offered, trying to act as if this were all some abstract discussion.

She nodded. “So I guess that’s the same reason for insisting I… I mean,
the girl,
has to swallow? Because you know, the third or fourth time it starts to get old.”

“Four huh? Did you have a date with a teenager?”

I couldn’t resist the line, but I immediately regretted it. Even hinting that I thought this was real played into her game.

“No, I just guess, he finds me more exciting than you do.”

“No doubt,” I deadpanned.

“So, about swallowing?” she persisted.

“Maybe it’s just a cleanliness thing. I mean, it has to go somewhere.”

“But one time, he… I mean, men want it on your face or tits, right?”

“Yes, but then at least it isn’t on the man.”

“Okay, so –“

“Um, Joanie, how much longer are we going to do this, because I –“

“Need some sleep. I know.
Believe me
, I do too. But just a few more questions.”

“So, the gagging. Why is that a turn on?”

I rolled my eyes. “Gagging?”

“Well, John…. Oops, I shouldn’t have said that. But I guess, you do have a right to know. Anyway, I guess John is bigger –“

I laughed.
Really Joanie?
“Well, since I’m about average, I guess by definition half the men in the world
are
bigger.”

She nodded thoughtfully. “I had never thought about it that way. So, when I’m walking around, every other man I meet is bigger than my husband?”

I waited.

“Anyway, John –“

“John Martin?” I asked, unable to contain myself. Our neighbor across the street. Divorced. He had a weekly happy hour on his deck that always struck me as a little desperate. I’d heard him setting up when I’d gotten home.

She gave me a sad look that I could tell she’d been practicing for my benefit. “I’m sorry I had to go so close to home. But I was on a short timeline to start my dating.”

She paused, waiting for me to comment.

I just wanted to get it over with. “Okay, so John, our big-dicked neighbor, was gagging you, and…”

“Well, it seemed to turn him on.”

“Yeah, well, it shows how big he is, right? You can’t even handle him.”

“Oh, I get it.”

“Glad I could help.”

She leaned down and kissed my cheek. “Oh, honey, you really did. Between John’s demonstrations and your explanations, I definitely feel like I understand how to please men much better. I would show you, but I have to admit, my jaw is a little sore right now. Maybe later?”

“That would be great.”

Oh God, were we finally done?

“John offered to help continue my education on other issues, but I feel like it’s better if I broaden my experience. What do you think?”

I sighed. “Yes, definitely.”

“Okay, good, because I have another date tomorrow… with a different man.”

“Right, gotcha. Maybe I’ll work late.”

“Good idea honey. I know how busy you are.”

And finally she’d said something that made some sense. I turned over and went back to sleep.