Madeleine Strays: A Wife-Watching Romance

by Max Sebastian

  “Good. Me neither.”

  “But you know I don’t need this, don’t you? Any of it. All I need is you. That’s not to say I don’t want this. But I don’t need it.”

  “I know. I don’t need it to happen, either. But I want you to experience it.”

  His rock-hard, throbbing, pulsating erection confirmed him to be telling the truth, and she couldn’t help but hold it in her hands, looking at him all wide-eyed at just how big he was in response to the thought of her actually having sex with another man.

  “You’re amazing, you know that?” was all she said, and he didn’t know what to say to that.

  Such a sensual delight to shave her, when it was all over he just wanted to throw her on the bed and devour her. Only, when she stepped out of the shower, her skin all pink from the scalding water, glistening with that lotion she used to use when they were dating, because it made her skin so fresh and sexy, she told him not to touch.

  “I can’t be all wet and bothered when I have to put in a shift at the bookstore all day,” she said.

  “Of course.”

  “And anyway, this is not for you,” she added, with a touch of mischievous spite, her eyes flickering over his face, his reaction, the massively hard erection. Intrigued, surprised, aroused.

  “Why don’t you pick something out for me?” she asked him, picking up the hairdryer.

  His hands were shaking a little as he went to her underwear drawer, drew it open, his eyes tumbling into the chaos of lacy, silky, dangerous lingerie. When did there become so much of it? He swore he’d never seen half of this stuff.

  He got the very real sense that in all this, after all these weeks and months of playing around with The Fantasy, his wife had actually been steadily preparing herself to start dating again for real, despite her apparent caution and initial reluctance.

  Confused by the array of sexy underwear on offer, he looked up, back. The hum of the hairdryer ceased to leave brutal quiet, Madeleine brushing that magnificent golden cascade that poured down her back, sparkling clean and ready for another man’s hands.

  “Maybe the black ones?” she suggested, and Hugo realized he’d just been standing there, baffled. Then, a beat more and she was explaining, “The seamed stockings? I think fishnets may be too much for a first date.”

  For Hugo, the stockings suddenly seemed too much. The lace of the bra, the ludicrous inefficiency of the garter belt, which seemed like the most archaic thing, and yet it made his blood pump four times as fast. And God, they had just shaved her pussy. For a first date! Her correspondence with this guy Will must have given her much more confidence than she’d had with her first online date.

  Hugo laid out the stockings on the bed while she sat at her dresser to apply her make up.

  “Panties?” she smiled through the mirror, and he looked at her, surprised that he could forget such a thing. “You do want me to wear some for him?”

  Giving him that look of wonder, intrigue, mild shock, that this was really happening. That he was helping pick out her underwear for sex with someone else.

  “Yeah,” he said, though a big part of him liked the idea of his wife going on her date without any panties. So naughty, so dangerous.

  Thumbing through her lingerie again while she applied her make-up—relatively conservative for work other than the bright scarlet lipstick—the kind of lipstick a girl would only wear because it looked good sliding up and down a man’s hard cock.

  Hugo held up the most breath-taking wisp of see-through black mesh, initially not even recognizing it as actual underwear.

  “Perfect,” he heard her say, and the choice was made before he even knew what he was holding. The filthiest see-through thong he’d ever laid eyes on, something she had never even worn for him.

  Then she was standing before him, asking him for help putting it on—as though she needed it. The sight of her perfectly shaved sex, right there in front of him, making him swoon a little.

  Trembling as he helped connect up the clasps, rapturous as he helped her step into the sheer, near-invisible thong, his heart hiccuping painfully as he grasped the significance of her wearing her panties over the top of the garter belt and suspenders.

  Shocking, the complete loss of control he felt.

  “You don’t mind?”

  “Huh?”

  “Me wearing this?”

  “No, of course. You look incredible,” he breathed, and she was giving him the kind of surprised smile that said she noticed this complement was not the usual kind of automated husband response to a wife’s inquiry. It was entirely unsolicited and unthought out—a gut reaction, pure, credible.

  “Thank you,” she said, flashing him the full-on flirt that caused his heart bounce—she hadn’t shared that with him since the very early days.

  And then he realized she was only really practicing it, trying it out before she put it on display for someone else, for real.

  Wriggling into her dress to show him how the complete ensemble would look, she’d left the bra forlorn on the bed. His thoughts did not dwell on the question of whether or not she’d look obvious without a bra on her date: his eyes were drawn to that thong in the moments before she just about covered it with her dress. God, it was so tiny. He knew it would slip aside so easily. When did she buy that?

  “Zip me up?” she asked, voice light, bouncy, high-pitched. Flirty.

  He obliged, though he really would have preferred to just tear that dress off her. Holding aside her silky-soft golden hair to guide the fiddly little zip all the way up her back, breathing in the kind of cherry-vanilla perfume that would draw any man into a whirling fever of lust.

  “What do you think?” she asked.

  This time it was his turn to look wide-eyed at her, his jaw dropping. He said, “Unbelievable.”

  She beamed. Still naked from their shower, he could hardly hide his powerful attraction to her and this ridiculously short figure-hugging dress, which somehow seemed to enhance her curves, show off her cleavage and draw the eyes down to her beautiful thighs, so short they revealed the edges of her lace-topped stockings.

  “You did want to have dinner with the guy?” he asked her.

  “Yes.”

  “Because I’m not sure he’s going to get through the appetizers with you looking like that—he’ll probably want to take you back to his place before they even bring out the entrees.”

  “Well, he’ll just have to be patient. I am hungry, and appetizers just aren’t going to cut it.”

  With that, she turned away and started removing her dress, then putting on a skirt for work that was not much longer than her dress, along with a white blouse that offered a more than subtle hint that she was wearing a sexy lace bra underneath.

  “Too much?” she asked him, as she modeled the outfit for him.

  “I wouldn’t say that,” he smiled, loving the idea that she would be driving her co-workers crazy all day. Would they ask her if she had a date that evening? Hugo might have inside knowledge, but it looked as though she had something special lined up for the evening

  She grinned, loving his reaction to all this.

  “You know, I guess I felt a little cheap when I started wearing tighter, shorter clothes—I just couldn’t get enough of how guys looked at me. But now…I don’t mind it so much. It feels…liberating.”

  Hugo chuckled, “Well don’t feel too liberated until your shift’s over—those poor guys you work with have things they have to get done, you know.”

  And then she was heading out the door, saying goodbye to her husband with an air kiss by his cheek, and it all seemed so sudden to him despite the extensive time it had taken that morning to prepare her for her evening date.

  “Just remember that I love you, and I’ll always love you,” she said, as though she was going away on a long, long journey.

  The door closed with a brutal clunk, leaving silence, emptiness, cold.

  He was in a daze as he wondered, naked, back to the bedroom. Holding
his breath as he went into the bathroom to find that little CVS bag in the medical cabinet.

  He nearly came when he saw that she’d removed three condoms from that big purple box.

  Seven

  He settled himself, at last, with the thought that she wasn’t going on her date just yet. She was working an entire shift at the bookstore first. It didn’t stop the apprehension, the nerves, making his hands all clammy and his stomach churn so much that lunch was a write-off. Yet it kept him from becoming the gibbering wreck he’d been immediately after she’d left for work wearing that insane version of business chic.

  It was difficult not to keep reminding himself that somewhere out there in New York was a guy waiting to take Madeleine out for dinner, and then sleep with her. When his thoughts started turning in that direction, he either had to wait a moment and ride out the wave of fear and excitement, or find some quick distraction.

  He had a rare day to himself lined up, and to start with that was a daunting prospect. He could probably have called Lowego or Davis—or even Ray of all people—to see what they were doing, to see if they wanted to hang out, during the day or in the evening. But he felt safer to keep on his own, he didn’t want any secrets slipping out because his emotions were raw.

  He went out to traipse around the record store on E 3rd Street, Hospital Productions, even though he could shop for music or DVDs perfectly well at home.

  He went to the gym again, a little forceful exercise taking his mind off things until Madeleine’s personal trainer came in with a young redhead. Hugo’s mind right back on the fact that Madeleine could very well be engaging in such intimacy that night, and more.

  A light lunch from the deli across the street from the gym had to be abandoned because of the mild nausea he felt, but then he was back at the apartment building in the early afternoon with no plans to take him through to the evening, let alone night.

  *

  When five o’clock arrived, Hugo only had to look at the clock, and he found himself getting hard, that tingling sensation blossoming inside him, along with a chilling sense of fear that raised the hairs on the back of his neck.

  Madeleine’s date would be picking her up from the bookstore around now.

  He felt so much more extreme than he had on that first date. Maybe that first time, she’d cried wolf on so many occasions he never actually believed she’d go through with anything on her date.

  No, this time there really was more chance she’d go that step further with her potential new man. She’d been searching for this guy for weeks, carefully and diligently, as though it was some multi-billion dollar acquisition she was considering for her corporation.

  Five minutes past five, Hugo’s phone buzzed with a text message from her.

  > Hey sweetie.

  Hugo smiled, pleased she was thinking to text him at such a time. He dumped himself down on the couch, typed her a reply, which had to be suitably vague and relaxed so that he didn’t sound either frightened, over-excited or in any way controlling.

  > Hey hon, you all set?

  Her reply came back almost instantly.

  > All dressed up! Have my coat on so my co-workers can’t see what I’m wearing, in case my date comes into the store to pick me up.

  He couldn’t help but picture her in that tiny dress, and delight in the knowledge of what kind of skimpy little sheer lingerie she was wearing underneath.

  > He running late?

  > A few minutes. Traffic’s pretty bad. How you doing?

  > Pretty good—chilling at home.

  > Feeling okay about this?

  > Excited. A little nervous, but mainly excited. Hope this one works out for you :-) How you feeling?

  > Nervous, I guess. Fabian just asked if he should turn up the heat a little, he saw me shivering.

  > You’re going to have a great time.

  > Yes, I will. You know I love you, sweetie?

  > I know. And you know I love you, nothing will change that, ever. I just want you to have some fun tonight. Maybe you’ll come away with a friend with benefits, maybe not.

  > I still think you’re crazy. But I can’t help but love it ;-)

  Hugo chuckled. Then suddenly, she sent another text:

  > He’s here. Lv u

  Just a quick text, urgent, no time for more. Hugo felt a powerful jolt of energy swamp his chest for a moment. It was now a familiar feeling—but its power did not diminish.

  Madeleine was on a date.

  *

  The waiting during the date felt familiar too, though that only made it feel a little easier. He knew what to expect at least. Madeleine had taken him on a wild ride to get to this point, but he felt hugely grateful to her that she’d explored this fantasy so methodically.

  He watched TV for a while, but found his thoughts veering off almost immediately after he started. He ordered a pizza, poured himself a beer. The beer made him feel a little better, the pizza did not.

  It was very difficult to settle down when your beloved wife was out at a restaurant with another guy, working out whether she wanted to fuck him.

  After an hour, he was finding little ways to distract his attention—streaming a new TV show from Netflix forced him to concentrate in order to get into the new characters, for example. He got his laptop out to surf the net, replying to a few emails, tapping out a little work stuff, even taking a look at some vacation ideas for the next summer.

  It didn’t stop his mind flicking back to the evening’s events, though. Imagining them in the restaurant, gazing into each other’s eyes, Madeleine’s date, Will, staring down her top at her cleavage. Madeleine getting up to go to the restroom, showing him those stunning legs of hers.

  Madeleine sitting there flirting with her date with her pussy all shaved and ready for him.

  Ten o’clock swung by. It wasn’t late for an evening, but Hugo was painfully aware that his beautiful wife had now spent nearly five hours on her date. A fortieth glance at the clock confirmed the time once again, but he could only groan. Well, he could hardly expect her to keep him updated all the way through the date.

  He did regret not being able to watch it, though. To see the light in Madeleine’s eyes as she flirted with him. The thrill in her face that she was being desired by this man in front of her, appreciated for her charms and her good looks by someone who wasn’t obligated by marriage to offer her complements.

  Five hours—they had to be finished with dinner by now. If you weren’t rushing dinner, it could go on two, maybe three hours. Not five. Were they at a bar, Madeleine taking a little Dutch courage so that she might do more than just flirt with him?

  At half past ten, Hugo’s phone rang. He dived for it.

  “Hey, Hugo!”

  Lucy.

  For a second—just a second—Hugo felt frustrated that it wasn’t Madeleine on the line. He even felt a little irritated—that Lucy had chosen to call at this moment, that she was perhaps checking up on them, and what they were doing.

  “Hey Luce. She’s not here right now, you want me to pass on a message?”

  “Oh no, I wanted to speak with you, actually.”

  Suddenly, all feelings of annoyance melted away. God, he needed someone to talk to.

  “How can I help?” he said.

  “Actually, I think it’s supposed to be me helping you.”

  “Helping me? I don’t think anyone can help me,” Hugo chuckled, sitting down in the window seat now, gazing out of the blind as he spoke to Lucy.

  “How are you feeling?” she said. “Really.”

  “Really? Well, it’s strange. Knowing that she’s out there somewhere, having fun with a guy she might sleep with.”

  “Must be beyond weird. I can’t say I really understand why you want her to do it—I’m not saying I don’t love the concept, from a woman’s point of view but… well. You’ll have to explain it sometime.”

  “It’s complicated.”

  “I guess it must be hot to have a sexy wife that other guys
want to get with.”

  “Something like that.”

  “So you’re hoping she’ll actually do it tonight?”

  Hugo felt his heart thumping at what Lucy was saying. Did she have the inside track on what Madeleine was planning to do this evening?

  “I don’t know,” he said. “I guess I’m of two minds. I do kind of want her to do it, so she has this experience, so we can fulfill this fantasy after so many months of thinking about it. But… I don’t know… when I first started wanting this to happen, I kind of pictured being there. I kind of want to see it—at least the first time.”

  “You want to see it? You mean watch her with another guy?”

  Hugo realized this fantasy relied on the date approving the presence of the husband, and also that the presence of a third person would affect the dynamics of the relationship drastically.

  “I know having a husband in tow isn’t exactly going to make a date as hot for her, though,” he said. “So I guess I just have to deal with her doing it all somewhere out of sight, and hoping that she’ll tell me all about it afterwards.”

  “You ever tell her you want a threesome some time?”

  “I’m not sure it’s quite as simple as that,” he said. “I guess it’s difficult to explain—but the sex is just part of this. I mean, I don’t want her to fall in love with someone else, but I don’t really want her just going out, banging some random guy and then coming back home, either.”

  “What do you want?”

  “Well, ideally, I guess I want someone worthwhile to date her—you know, flirt with her, ask her out, take her to dinner, get to know her. Then gradually work up to the point where they’ll sleep together.”

  Lucy drew in her breath. “And you’re not worried she’s going to fall for a guy like that?”

  “I know that’s the risk. I suppose that’s my big fear in all this, other than the obvious one about her safety. But I just… I don’t know. I guess you think of the whole idea of swinging, and it just seems so tacky.”