“It was pretty fucking hot.”
“I guess it was. And now I’m going to go scrub it all off.”
Dana rolled out of bed and padded over to the bathroom. She paused in the doorway and asked, “Are you going to join me?”
She didn’t have to ask twice.
eleven
The cameras were all around me and I wished there was a way I could tell if I was being watched. Dave put the cameras in to see me fuck, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t turn them on while I was in the apartment doing other things. I got a creepy, uneasy feeling knowing he could be spying. Would Dave want to know what I did before a date? He could have wanted to see how excited I was—or see if I was nervous. I made a mental note to ask him later and hope my husband told me the truth.
I sat on the couch in the hot date apartment and fussed with the little gold zippers on the sides of my skirt as I waited for Carlos to pick me up. They were easy to reach, as the skirt barely hit mid-thigh while I was seated. I couldn’t quite believe I was wearing that outfit outside of the house.
Earlier in the day, he’d texted and asked what I planned to wear on our date. I told him I had a couple things in mind, but hadn’t decided yet. He demanded I try on the outfits and let him choose. I didn’t even think about not complying. I quickly stripped out of the leggings, tank top and sweater I’d been wearing to do laundry and changed into a tight, electric and black color block dress that had a shiny zipper up the spine. I really liked the way it showed off my butt and boobs, and thought Carlos would like it too. I posed and snapped a selfie in the full-length mirror.
-sexy. Let’s see my next choice
I threw that dress on the floor and changed into a sleek little red skater dress with a narrow black belt. I liked the way the loose, short skirt swished when I moved. I’ve got to say, I love that some of the sexy little things I liked back in the 90s have come back into style. If I’m going to be dating again, it was nice to dress a little bit like I did back when I was single. The red dress was short and tight in the body, but didn’t show a ton of skin. I sent a picture of that one to Carlos.
-Hot. Any more?
It was annoying that he wasn’t more effusive. I thought I looked good. My husband would have been tearing that second dress off of me—if he wasn’t preserving me for someone else. I texted Dave a picture of the red dress, telling him Carlos was helping me pick my outfit. I knew that would put some lead into his pencil.
Dave texted me right back: It’s got to be that one!
I did have a third choice, and I changed into it. It was amazing how many flirty, sexy little outfits I’d accumulated over the past months. A lot of my old mom clothes had to be pushed aside for my hot date dresses. I felt sexier than I had in years. I was not sure about the third outfit—I felt like I was about ten years too old for it—but I sent Carlos, and my husband, the picture anyway. Carlos texted me back immediately.
-That’s the one, baby. Can’t wait to see you in it tonight
Dave surprised me by saying he liked the red dress better. Did he think this outfit was over the line? The red dress was very sexy, but it was still me. The last outfit, a tiny black, quilted leather skirt with gold zippers down the sides and a tight, low-cut strappy black top, didn’t leave much to the imagination. I wasn’t wearing a bra for the picture, but I would have to wear something later. Being braless in that top was too obvious. Even though I think I’m in pretty good shape, I wasn’t entirely comfortable wearing it. I texted Carlos back:
-You can’t wait to see me out of it
-That too. But I like it when hot women dress up for me.
-Are you planning on showing me off?
-Maybe. I get the feeling you like that sort of thing
-Go arrest someone. I have things to do before tonight
And I did have things to do. I took a long, luxurious bath, enjoying a mid-afternoon glass of wine while I laid back in the steamy, frequent water. I shaved my legs and made sure my mound was nice and smooth. Swiping the razor over my pussy, and knowing I was doing it for Carlos—not my husband—was an aphrodisiac and I had to put the razor aside to spread my lips and stroke my clit. My eyes fluttered closed and I recalled Carlos’s smooth, chiseled body, the way his cock stood out, strong and proud. I hadn’t seen him in weeks, but suddenly it was like it was yesterday, and I couldn’t wait to give myself to him again. Breathy little moans came quickly and in minutes my toes were curling as my climax washed over me.
As I laid back in the tub it struck me that I didn’t masturbate often these days. Before we started our hot dates, I probably did it three times a week, on average. Dave and I had a great sex life, but there were times when I just wanted a quick release during the day. I think Dave and I have less sex now and I’m more oversexed than ever. If I want sex from my husband, I usually have to initiate it, which bothers me, at least a little. I have all these men dying to sleep with me, but I have to seek my husband’s attention. It really does seem like he’d rather watch videos of me fucking than actually fuck me sometimes.
I don’t understand why he wouldn’t rather have the real thing. I could get as much sex as I want from other men—Dave really does seem fine with me going out whenever I want—but I want to make love to my husband. Which leaves me horny all the time, but instead of masturbating I turned that energy into thinking about my next date, which makes me as close to a sure thing for these guys as they’re ever likely to see. I’ve tried to say something to Dave, but he just refuses to see it. He thinks everything in our sex life is perfect. So I just go with the flow and take my pleasures where I can, but I do feel like I’m missing something.
The bath was a lovely respite, but there was much to do afterward. The laundry never ends and I had some paperwork to tackle for Dave’s business. Not long after that I was in the Prius to get the kids from school.
As I chatted with the other moms in line, I briefly wondered what they would think if I rolled up in that little outfit Carlos wanted me to wear, instead of the jeans, boots and yellow sweater set I wore—normal clothes. Words like skank, whore, slut would surely be muttered. They would think I lost my mind, and maybe someone would even work up the nerve to say something catty directly to me, but possibly not. My actual friends would pull me aside and ask if Dave and I were having trouble. And I think a lot of the reactions would be motivated by jealousy.
Not to sound catty myself, but most of the other moms my age at the kids’ school just haven’t kept themselves in great shape and I know they resent those of us who have. They hate the way their husbands look at us. And I sympathize. I’m as busy as any of them, but if you want to be in shape after a couple kids, after you hit your mid-thirties, you’ve got to make it a priority. I’d rather stay in bed than run in the morning, but I’d also rather still fit into my size six jeans.
After that, it was back home, where homework was done and I folded laundry while the kids played in the family room. Too soon it was time to start dinner—a lasagna. Dave came home and we ate dinner as a family, but I only picked at my salad. I was nervous about my date with Carlos, and I didn’t know if he wanted to have dinner or not. I didn’t want to eat twice. He was skimpy with the details. I grabbed a shower and then we put the kids to bed together. I didn’t want to get ready for Carlos until they were safely in bed. Dave went to finish cleaning up the kitchen and I went off to prepare myself for another man.
My spiked heels clicked on the granite tile when I came into the kitchen. I’d gotten pretty good at walking normally in crazy high heels. Dave looked up and I knew he thought I was sexy, but he did not smile like he usually does when he sees me ready for a date. Did it bother him that I was wearing what Carlos chose, instead of the outfit he liked?
“Wow, that looks even hotter in person,” Dave finally said. I could see the unasked question in his eyes, You don’t think that’s too much? Or too little?
“I don’t look ridiculous, do I?”
“If you were going to a PTA meetin
g, yes. If you’re going to a club, you’ll fit right in.”
“I don’t know where we’re going. Carlos just gave me a time to meet up.”
Dave didn’t seem to like that either. “Okay. But you’re going to end up at the apartment later?”
I bristled. That was what he really cared about. Not that some rogue cop might disappear with me, but that we ended up at his precious fuck pad. “Yes, dear. We will be there,” I said sweetly, pouring it on. “I told him my girlfriend was out of town and we could use her place. He wanted to go to his, but I told him I wasn’t up for that.”
“Cool.” He came around the island and held me out to look at me, hands on my hips. “He is going to eat you up, hon. Jesus.”
I softened and smiled. “I don’t even feel like myself. I can’t believe I’m wearing this in public.”
“You look like you, Dana. Just the supercrazyhottest version of you. I don’t care where you guys end up going. No one will be looking at anyone but you.”
“Thanks, babe. I love you.”
It was a normal day, except for the fashion show for my lover. Chores, laundry, kids—not the kind of day that led most women to sitting in a car waiting to be picked up for a hot date while their husband was home with the kids. I was staring down at my lap when the burner phone chirped with a text. Carlos was out front. I’d told him I’d come down when he got there because I was afraid if he came up we’d never leave the apartment. That wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, but I looked forward to seeing what Carlos had planned. I slipped on a long, black trench coat and went down to meet him.
Carlos sat against the fender of a black Dodge Charger with his arms crossed. Despite the chill in the air, he didn’t wear a coat. He was in all black—silk shirt, tailored slacks and boots. He looked good. Casual, but strong. A little shiver ran through me and I wanted him right there.
“Let me see,” he said, gesturing with his fingers for me to open my coat.
It was chilly and I wasn’t wearing much, but I did as he instructed. The coat was longer than the skirt. He smiled, and I crossed the distance and pressed against him, for warmth as much as anything else. “Do you like?”
“Even hotter in the flesh, babe. You like dressing up for me, don’t you?”
I nodded and kissed him. He grabbed my ass when I pressed my tongue past his lips. The tingling had spread from my pussy through my whole body by the time I pulled back. I wiped my red lipstick from his lips with my thumb. “Is that a convincing yes?” I asked.
“You’ll get your chance to show me your gratitude.”
“Gratitude?” I chuckled.
He smiled cryptically. “It’s going to be a good night. I promise.”
Carlos held the door, and before I could slide into the passenger seat he slid the coat from my shoulders. I was cold, but I was more flattered that he wanted to be able to see me. He got a nice flash of my legs as I slid into the black leather passenger seat. He folded my coat and placed it in the back.
“Where are we going?” I asked when he got in beside me. The car started with a low growl and Carlos tapped a couple buttons on the touch screen in the middle of the dashboard.
“Somewhere I think you’ll have fun. Have you eaten?”
“Just a snack. I could eat.”
“We can stop and grab something.”
“Only if it’s not going to throw off your plan,” I said.
“My plans aren’t that tight.” He smiled. “Did you walk out the door in front of your husband dressed like that?”
“No, I changed when I got upstairs. He might have had some questions if he saw me like this.”
“No shit, Diana. I would never let you out of the house like that, unless I was going with you.”
“So you wouldn’t mind me dressing like this, but you’d keep me on a short leash.”
“Mmm, I like the idea of you on a leash.”
I felt heat rise to my cheeks. That wasn’t the only heat I felt. The leather seats must have been heated, because I felt a nice, warm glow coming up from beneath me and it didn’t matter so much that I was wearing so little.
“But no, I wouldn’t mind. If you were with me, babe, you’d be dressed like that all the time,” Carlos said. He possessively dropped his hand on my bare leg.
“That could be inappropriate. You don’t want me to get the wrong kind of attention, do you,” I teased. His fingers almost tickled as they softly caressed my thigh and my legs parted a couple inches.
“Don’t worry, Diana. I’ll keep you out of trouble, unless that’s what we’re looking for.”
I couldn’t help but whimper when his fingers crept deeper between my thighs. “Are we looking for trouble tonight?”
“We’ll see.”
Carlos guided us into a part of the city I didn’t recognize, and I was relieved. It was highly unlikely we would be running into anyone Dave and I knew. Carlos’s hand smoothly moved higher and higher between my thighs, but he never looked away from the road. He had to feel the damp heat from my sex. I tried my best to act like nothing was happening while we talked, but it was not easy. The tight skirt restricted how widely I could open my legs, but that didn’t slow Carlos down. He slid his hand to the side and yanked up the little golden zipper. It opened the side of my skirt nearly to the waist. He pulled my legs apart now, no longer pretending nothing was happening.
“You’re fucking soaked, Di,” he hissed.
“Who’s fault is that?” I moaned. There was no way to control my reactions. Carlos rubbed little circles on my mound, pushing my black lace panties between my swollen lips. I put my hand over his, but not to stop him—to encourage him.
“I’ve got the feeling it doesn’t take much to get you wet. You were ready for it before we even got back to the hotel room last time, Diana.”
I slid down in the seat, pushing myself at him. “And you were driving me crazy then, too. Ohh, that feels so good, baby.”
“Take off your panties.”
It was not a request and I did not hesitate in complying with his order. Just that edge in his voice sent chills down my spine. I pulled my tiny panties past my heel and placed them in his outstretched hand. I was still reclined low in the seat, with my legs apart, and after he stowed my panties in the center console Carlos returned his hand to my pussy. He had free reign to explore me now and slid two thick fingers up inside me. I cried out and gripped the armrest tightly. My eyes fluttered closed and I focused on his touch, trying to forget where we were. Although I’d become accustomed to the risk of fooling around in public, I was thankful for his tinted windows to hide me from prying eyes. With my legs spread like that, anyone looking down from an SUV would be able to see me fully exposed.
Carlos fingered me slow and steady, enough to drive me crazy, but not get me off. I pushed myself at him, but he refused to take the hint. He enjoyed toying with me too much. I reached out and felt him through his slacks. That thick cock lay along his right thigh, rock hard and ready for me. I considered straddling him and fucking him while he drove. It was so dangerous, but I was so horny.
“You want to come, don’t you?” he asked. He seemed amused.
“Yes, baby. You have me so horny.”
“Does your husband do this? Does he make you dripping wet like this?”
“No,” I lied. Dave had just done the very same thing while we waited for Travis, but it was important for Carlos to be top dog. And it wasn’t entirely a lie. My husband didn’t have the kind of absolute control Carlos had. There was no doubt the cop could keep me like that all night, where Dave would lose focus and let me come because he was too turned on himself.
“I think you need a man to take charge, Diana.”
“Only if you’re going to take care of me. You can’t just torture me.” I rubbed his cock harder, but I knew I wouldn’t just get him off as I had Dave. Carlos would not lose control.
“Like this?”
Carlos slid his drenched fingers up my wet furrow and attacked my cli
t. The stiff little nub was so slick he had trouble staying there, but he knew what to do. He almost pinched it between two fingers as he furiously rubbed me there. He wasn’t gentle, and I didn’t want him to be. He seemed to instinctually know what I needed. It was overwhelming and my cries quickly turned to screams. I pitched forward in the seat, trying to curl into a ball as the intense climax hit me. It didn’t just hit me—it slammed me, like a speeding train. I stayed tensed like that for I don’t know how long, with his hand trapped between my thighs. I finally fell back in the seat and stared up at the lights passing in the moon roof while I caught my breath.
“See, Diana, I know how to take care of you. You just need to leave yourself in my hands,” Carlos said.
“Yes. Anytime,” I mumbled, still floating on my cloud. He pressed his soaked fingers to my lips and I greedily sucked them. I like to taste myself—it was a trick I used to do to drive Dave crazy—but I hadn’t done it in a while. It was hot that Carlos did it without asking, like there was no chance I would deny him.
twelve
I was still slouched in my seat with my skirt around my waist when we pulled up in front of The Columbiana Lounge and I barely had it tugged down when the valet opened my door. I turned bright red when he had to wait for me to fix the zipper on the side. Retrieving my panties was out of the question. I just hoped he didn’t notice the big wet spot on the black leather seat. I felt extremely vulnerable in the tiny skirt with no panties, and I think Carlos liked that.
“You like to dance, don’t you?” he asked.
“Sure, but I’m a little rusty.”
“Oh, I’m quite sure you know how to move.”
The club didn’t look like much from the outside, just a low building with beige stucco walls and its name in cursive pink neon on the wall, but it was jumping on the inside. A bar lined the long back wall and there were some bar-height tables scattered around, but the bulk of the room was taken by a massive dance floor, with a DJ, perched high in the corner, spinning tunes with a strong, Latin beat. Booths were scalloped into the walls on both sides, with their own tables and upholstered in red leather. The club was packed with a clientele that looked to be largely Hispanic, with a few black people mixed in and maybe only handful of white people. It’s something you rarely experience if you’re white and live in the suburbs, the feeling of being a minority in a crowd. I honestly couldn’t remember ever being in that position, and I hope it doesn’t sound too racist to admit I was a little nervous. It just didn’t feel like somewhere I belonged. If Carlos wasn’t at my side I probably would have turned around and walked out, but he held my hand firmly and pulled me through the crowd. Multiple people greeted him, not a few of them women, so I had to assume he was a regular at the club. All of the women who knew him were very attractive and seemed to be wearing as little—or less—than I was, and I felt oddly jealous.
Hot Dates 2: Living as a Shared Wife Page 15