Something Forbidden (5 page)

Funny thing is, I felt like I knew her. I’d been thinking about those two for the past nine months. This meeting felt akin to meeting a star actor from my favorite television show. “No, don’t think so. My name’s Max.”

“Chloe. Nice to meet you, Max.” 

“Likewise, Chloe.” I set her drink down and she reached for her purse before I stopped her. “On the house.”

Even if she didn’t know I knew her secret, I was determined to show her a little celebrity treatment.

“Thank you, Max.” She inclined her head graciously. Her chin-length bangs fell across her blue eyes. She flipped them back, a movement she had perfected. “I’d toast, but you have nothing to toast with. Let me buy you a drink?”

“Thanks, but how about I toast with water?” I made it a point not to drink at work, but this woman was shaking her head before I had a chance to fill my glass.

“That’s not going to work,” she said. “Anyone ever tell you toasting with water’s bad luck?”

I slapped the bar. “Well, that explains a lot!” She graced the lame joke with a laugh over the rim of her drink. “That any good?” I said.

“The gin and tonic you just fixed me? It’s passable.”

Now I laughed and fixed one for myself. I held up the clear, fizzy drink. “Better?”

“Much.”

“So what are we toasting to?” I said

She knocked her highball against mine. “Hm...Oh, I’ve got it. One of my favorite things.”

I turned my head questioningly, brow knitting. The mischievous glint in her eyes caused my pulse to quicken. “What’s that?”

“Illicit sex.” Her tongue darted out before tipping the drink between her pink lips.

I choked a little on my sip. 
Illicit
... there was that word again. She went on: “When do you get off?”

“You’re direct, aren’t you?” I stalled, studying her face. She had a round face that made me think of Russian beauty queens, although she didn’t carry even the hint of an accent. Her chic blonde hair made her seem sexier than the girl-next-door quality I’d picked up on before, but it somehow suited her better. “I’m flattered, but I’m married.”

It didn’t seem to phase her one bit.

“So am I,” she said with a crooked smile. “What, don’t tell me a hot guy—a bartender in a place like this—doesn’t see some action...”

“Not this one,” I said, although it was nice to hear a woman like this call me hot.

“Come on, really? You can share. I won’t tell.”

Was I actually feeling ashamed for not having an affair? This woman was too much, and yet I couldn’t help but play along with her. “I’m not sure I can trust you.”

“Oh, you can’t trust me,” she returned huskily.

“I get that feeling.” I tipped the rest of my drink back and gave her a parting nod. “The answer is still the same.
Not this one.
Nice to meet you, Chloe.”

“Likewise, Max.”

It was surreal, watching her over the course of the night. She was rarely without a man at her side. She sent some away immediately; others, she kept around, toying with them like a cat with an unsuspecting mouse. I was mesmerized watching her work.

She had so much confidence; so much control. She knew she was the hottest thing in the bar, and that she could have any man she wanted. If only Katie could be like that. My wife showed glimpses, but she’d always been too damn humble.

I was on edge with her sitting there, knowing what I knew. My body felt overheated and agitated, yet it was one of the single most erotic sensations I’d felt in years. I likened it to my first kiss with Katie, or the first time I undressed her. Chloe was certainly not my wife, but as I watched her bat her eyes at other men, I couldn’t not react like she was. And I had to continually adjust my cock, which remained in varying states of erection all night long.

As it got later and the bar’s crowd thickened, I kept waiting for Chloe’s husband, but he never showed. Chloe never appeared to be looking for the door, but it occurred to me that maybe one of the reasons she hadn’t left with someone yet was because she was waiting for him.

Just after midnight, I saw that her drink and that of her latest suitor—a handsome South American guy—were getting low. “Two more of the same?” I asked her.

“I think we’re all set,” the guy said. He flashed a presumptuous smile at the blonde.

“Oh?” Chloe raised her brows and looked up at him. “You’re leaving, Roberto?”

“I… um…” Clearly he’d figured he was going home with her, and was just now learning otherwise.

“Have a good night. And thanks for the drink.” She smiled and turned to me. Dismissed, just like that. Confused and grumbling, the man shuffled away.

“Not illicit enough?” I scooped up her glass and began fixing her another. If she didn’t want it, that was fine, I wasn’t going to charge her for it anyway—hell, I don’t think she’d paid for a single drink that night.

“Oh, he was fine,” she said with a twinkle, “but I have my sights on another.”

I shifted, trying to adjust my growing excitement without being obvious about it. She was too blatant to be successful with me—even were I single, she was a little over-the-top—but any attention from a woman who looked like her was arousing. I’d have to be as gay as Nadia’s brother-in-law not to feel that way.

“You’re going to have to relax your sniper finger then,” I rebuffed, pouring myself a drink. “This one’s not that easy.”

“That’s why I like him.” She winked, stirring her new drink idly. “But really, I don’t mind going home alone. My husband can take good care of me.”

I shook my head, and asked her the same question I asked him so many months ago. “Explain that one to me. He knows you’re here?”

She nodded brightly. “I probably shouldn’t tell you this, but it was his idea at first. He gets off on sharing me.”

“Like, a cuckold thing? Being humiliated and all that?” I asked. I went right for the stereotypes.

Chloe released a hearty laugh, covering her mouth when she realized she couldn’t stop it right away. “I wouldn’t call Greg a wimp,” she said when she found her voice again. Her eyes went a little far away. “No, not a wimp at all. He just has some…peculiar fetishes.”

“So you don’t, like, tie him up while strangers have their way with you?”

She shook her head. “I don’t think he’s ever even watched, except when we swap with another couple.”

My cock jerked again. Another revelation about my personal celebrity couple. It felt uncomfortable, forbidden, yet disturbingly erotic. “And it doesn’t bother you?”

“Well, not anymore.” She stirred her drink some more in thought, watching the ice melt in the clear liquid; she hadn’t yet touched it to her lips. “It did at first, I suppose.” All night, she’d been meeting my eyes with her own; it was odd to see her so diverted. “Like I said, it was his idea.”

“How did he…”

“You’re a curious one, aren’t you? Looking to spice up the love life?” The confident Chloe was back, her stare boring into me. “We started off roleplaying it. I’d go in, pretend to be alone in some bar, and he’d hit on me like he was a stranger.” She smiled fondly at the memory.

“You liked that?”

“Oh yes! It was really exciting. We did it a few times before he suggested I go in a little before him, let other guys come on to me.” She took an absent-minded sip from her drink and answered the question I had before I even asked it. “Now
that
was a thrill. Gets me excited just thinking about it.”

I couldn’t believe I was hearing this. It went against everything I’d ever believed. Every moral code I’d developed. It both upset me and intrigued me. How could these two treat their wedding vows so casually?

“You should try it sometime,” she said when I was unable to produce a response. She fumbled into her purse, withdrawing a business card.
Chloe Reynolds
was printed on one side of the cream card stock, along with the name of some commercial real estate firm. On the back, she scribbled down a second number. “My cell,” she explained, handing it to me. “Either I’m a poor judge of my tolerance levels, or you’re cute enough to make me forget my own rules—either way, I never give out my number, and here I am, giving it out.”

“What’s this for—?”

“Just take it. You’re married, I get it. You love your wife. But you’re also really curious about my lifestyle. Take it and call me if you have any questions.” She slid off her stool, leaving most of her gin and tonic on the counter. “And seriously, try the roleplaying thing. I have a feeling you’ll get a kick out of it.”

With a final wink, she strolled out of the bar, alone.

****

When I pulled into our driveway, I was surprised to see the bedroom light was still on. At 2:30 in the morning, Katie was usually fast asleep. I thought I remembered her saying she had an overnight business trip tomorrow, so it was even stranger that she wasn’t getting her rest.

I entered the house quietly, making sure I didn’t wake Mya. I crept into her room and kissed her softly on the cheek. She was such a perfect little creature. Perfect and innocent. She stirred a little, crinkling her button nose, but didn’t wake up. I stroked her dark, silky hair—thinner than her mother’s, more like my own. One day, her beauty would surpass even Katie’s.

I shut the door quietly on the way out and crept down the hall to the master bedroom. I wasn’t sure what I’d find and for some reason, my chest was pounding. Chloe was still heavy on my mind.

Despite all the lights being on, Katie was fast asleep. She was wearing an oversized t-shirt of mine, her glasses, and was propped up into a sitting position on her side of the queen bed. Her laptop was on, but had slipped askance, half on her lap, half on the mattress, and papers were scattered in haphazard piles across the comforter.

In the corner, her suitcase was packed—a little Samsonite with wheels—and her dark business suit had already been pressed and was laying out. Organized as always. That was Katie.

I watched her for the longest time as she dozed peacefully. With her usually striking features softened in sleep, she looked like the girl I’d met in Statistics who’d captured my heart for the second time.

I tip-toed across the room and silently reached for her computer. The screen saver flipped off as I removed it from her lap, and a picture of the two of us on our wedding day greeted me. She had our digital album open. I’d already been feeling nostalgic, that discovery practically brought a tear to my eye.

Katie woke as she felt me over her. “You’re home,” she sighed happily.

I kissed her lips; they were hot and soft. “I’m home.” I folded the laptop up and slipped it into her briefcase. She shifted on the bed, settling under the comforter as she watched me unbutton my shirt.

“I miss you,” she whispered. “It feels like we’ve barely seen each other recently.”

“Yeah. I’m sorry. When things settle down again, we’ll find another nanny. You weren’t waiting up for me, were you?”

Katie snuggled deeper beneath the sheets. “I wanted to see you before I left.”

I pulled my shirt off and hung it up in my closet. My jeans followed next. I didn’t bother putting on my pajama pants (the only thing I normally slept in). It was late and I should let my wife get her rest before her trip, but I’d been so worked up all night long. Sleep would have to wait.

Naked, I scooped the stacks of financial statements off the bed and set them on the floor before crawling under the sheets. My cock was already semi-hard (I wasn’t sure if it even got softer at any point that night) as Katie watched quietly. She was beginning to wake up, knowing what was coming next.

“My breath probably stinks,” she complained as I drew her against me. Her body was warm, a nice feeling after the chill of the night air.

“Probably.” I kissed her. It did, a little, but I didn’t care. Her tongue slipped into my mouth and soon, the (early) morning breath was a distant memory. I picked her glasses off and set them on the bedside table before returning to her lips.

She felt my hard-on against her stomach and mewed softly. I let my hands wander. She was naked under the t-shirt and her skin was incredibly soft. How did she do that? How did she keep it so silky?

Kissing her neck, my hands got a little more risqué. I followed the hollow that formed in the small of her back, tracing it beneath the t-shirt. It pulled up her lean torso before catching in the undersides of her breasts. I pulled away enough to peel the shirt over her head. When my lips returned to her body, they went right for her nipples. She held my head as I suckled, tasting the inch-long tip like it was a delicacy.

I switched breasts and let my hands explore beyond the softness of her tits. They traced the concave valley as her ribcage yielded to her narrow waist, then back out to her hips. I detoured across her buttocks: out and away, then tucking back in where her ass met her thighs.

I wanted more. I slurped off her tits and rolled her onto her back as I made a teasing journey down her stomach. I tickled her navel with my tongue, remembering the time when she had it pierced. That was before Mya; it felt like such a long time ago.

It was hot beneath the sheets, and hotter still between Katie’s thighs. I spread her legs and propped her knees up on either side of me, creating a tent for me to do my work. The light was muted here, coming through the comforter reddish and soft, like the light of a photographer’s dark room.