Megyn For The Win: A Romantic Hotwife Novel

by Arnica Butler

  “Those are incredible boots,” I said, giving her a kiss. “I’m starting to get worried Max Riley won’t be able to contain himself.”

  Just saying the words made a rush of images flood my mind, and I felt my erection – one that had been just kind of lingering all afternoon – growing.

  Megyn shook her head.

  But this time, it was more of a fake modesty kind of shake. Not the same impatient shake she had been giving, when she had viewed the whole thing as an inconvenience she would rather get out of. She was coming around to the idea with each passing day, and now that she had these hot clothes, she seemed to be... looking forward to it.

  What would I do, I wondered, if all of my daydreaming got real all of a sudden? What if Max Riley really couldn’t contain himself? What if my wife’s distant gazes and deep thoughts really had been about Max?

  What if I was setting myself up to get dumped?

  My soaring mood started to take a dive. I felt like I was in free-fall.

  Yeah.

  What the fuck was I thinking?

  Megyn looked at me, and put her hand on my hand. “Whoa,” she said. “Is it too much? It’s too much. Hey, no problem. Yeah, you know what? These are way too expensive, this is... this is silly.”

  The sales clerk's face was falling. She paused, her hands in midair, ready to staple the receipt at any second. Her mouth fell open.

  “Can we maybe... I think we better-” Megyn began.

  I held up a hand. “No!” It came out more forcefully than I had intended. “I mean, honey, no, it’s fine. It’s not that. These are great, you’ll use them for a lot of other stuff.”

  This was a lie: what the hell can anyone use knee-high Italian leather boots (not waterproof) for, besides luring a movie star?

  But Megyn was relieved (entirely too quickly, I might add.)

  “Really?” she asked, and she left only the tiniest of pauses between that and, “okay.”

  The sales attendant snapped the stapler and quickly transferred the bag to Megyn’s hands. She must have learned to get things into the customer’s hands ASAP. She practically threw it at us.

  If she walks right past it, I thought, I won’t say anything.

  After all, did I really want my own wife to have the idea to go into a lingerie store while she was shopping for a dress and shoes for a platonic date with a tall, handsome black man?

  No.

  Not really.

  But tell that to my heart, which was strumming away in my chest as though I had run a marathon.

  Megyn’s head turned and her gaze passed over the mannequins, the skimpy bras and the panties in the window. She looked behind her, directly at me – I must have been following, drooling, looking a bit like a rabid dog. She blushed.

  She kept walking.

  My heart fell.

  Then she paused at the end of the window display.

  “You know...” she said casually. “Since we’re here, I just realized, I need some underwear.”

  She waited for me to say something. I crossed my hands in front of my waist. The shoebox dug painfully into my nut sack.

  “Do you mind?” she said.

  I shook my head.

  She started back toward the door.

  “I might as well go with you,” I said, trying to sound more lighthearted than I felt.

  Megyn smiled at me.

  God, this was almost like a first date, or maybe that date when you know you’re finally going to have sex, but neither one wants to say anything and get shot down or embarrassed. Such a dance.

  It was thrilling.

  I followed her into the lingerie store.

  “I’m just going over to the sales items,” she said, and rushed over to them.

  Leaving me alone in the lingerie store.

  I realized I had never experienced this before. I wasn’t a shop-for-lingerie kind of guy. But now that I was standing there, and my wife did not seem to be shopping with me, the other women and the sales clerks turned to look at me.

  I felt, I have to say, like a little bit of a bad-ass.

  “Can I help you find something for your...” a salesclerk said, approaching me quickly.

  “Wife,” I said.

  “I see,” she said smartly. “And... do you know her sizes?”

  I didn’t, really. I knew she wore a b-cup, but just barely.

  “Honestly,” I said, “she is built almost exactly like that redhead over there,” I said, pointing to my wife.

  The salesclerk looked over at my wife discreetly.

  She smiled, and then fiddled with something on a hanger in front of her. “Of course I couldn’t ask her specifically,” the clerk said, “but maybe I can gauge it by something she’s looking at? Do you think she’s exactly her size?”

  I nodded fervently. “Yes, exactly.”

  “Okay, well... let’s pick out something you like, and then if she buys something I can tell you what the size was.”

  I smiled warmly at her. Such a clever girl.

  Megyn was frowning at me in curiosity from across the room.

  I took out my phone. “Just one second,” I said, holding up a finger to the clerk.

  I texted Megyn.

  [Me]: this clerk thinks ur not my wife play along

  Megyn made a face when she read the message. Then she caught my eyes and shrugged. She went back to what she was doing.

  “So, I’m... pardon, what’s your name, darling?” I said to the clerk.

  “Kim,” she said.

  “So Kim, I’m looking for something pretty... racy. Red. It needs to go with a red dress.”

  Kim shook her head confidently. “Don’t get red for red,” she said, and it was clear that she did not hear the Seussian quality of her pronouncement. “Shoes?”

  “Huh?”

  “What color are the shoes? Match the lingerie to the shoes. That way, she can slide out of the dress, have the shoes on, and put on a little show,” Kim explained. She put her hand to the side of her mouth, as though there were anyone around to keep this information from, and added, “Also it’s just tacky to have some red that isn’t quite the right red. With red. So what color are the shoes?”

  “Sort of beige,” I said, almost unable to believe the way I was dipping into my fantasy.

  I wasn’t actually looking for underwear for my wife’s date with another man, was I? Not actually for the purposes of her showing it to him.

  Kim nodded, unaware of what was happening inside my mind. “That’s very classy now. Very in. And I have... the perfect thing.” I had no idea what she was talking about. My mind was going to dark places, very quickly. She started walking, and I followed, assuming that’s what she wanted me to do.

  “Now, you might be thinking, ‘beige, ugh, that’s like grandma-wear,’ but this is so sexy...” she said, and then her voice was lost as she abruptly turned a corner.

  Megyn was watching me with her hand on her hip. Smiling. Did she know what I was up to? Did she suspect that I was picking out lingerie for her? With her date in mind? Did she like the idea of me doing that, or was it just an amusing game to her? Would she be repulsed if she knew how very seriously I was taking this fantasy inside my own mind?

  We stopped suddenly and I almost ran into Kim.

  We were standing by a rack of beige-colored bra and panty sets, and I frowned. They did, actually, look matronly, just as she had warned. Kim held up a hand to my frown. “I know,” she said, “but trust me. Just... wait...” she reached back into the garments, a stretch for her, and retrieved a lingerie set, which she held up for my inspection.

  The color was less neutral beige than the others, though it was hard to say why or how. But she was right. The set was sexy in spite of its color. Intricate lace curled provocatively around the edges of the bra, but it was largely transparent. The panties were the same, edged with the pretty, sparking lace but with a body of a mesh-like material that would allow for a gauzy, sexy look at what was beneath them.

>   “Of course, these aren’t the right size.” Kim leaned toward me. “We’ll wait, and see what she buys,” she whispered.

  I was staring at her. My mind had traveled far away, picturing this set of underwear appearing inch by inch, as the zipper of the red dress was pulled slowly down by a pair of dark black fingers.

  I shuddered.

  “You like them?” Kim persisted.

  “Yes,” was all I managed to croak. “I’ll... um... yes, please find out the size.”

  “Or you can just text your wife,” she said. “Unless you really want it to be a surprise.”

  I shook my head. I myself was unsure what I meant by that.

  “Okay. Do you want to pick out some stockings?”

  I blinked. I was really going down the rabbit hole of dirty images.

  Kim pointed to the right. “Your wife probably wears a medium,” she said. She started walking toward them, and I followed. She waved in the direction of hundreds of cardboard containers. “Get something with a beige lace,” she said. “And it will go really nicely with... oh! Actually,” she crowed. “I have just the thing. This one has little flecks of red in it...”

  She selected a package and handed it to me.

  “Anyway,” she said, to my silence. “I’ll just go peep on this size while you check things out. But really, you should text your wife for the best fit. Unless...”

  She lost interest in finishing her sentence, and shimmied away.

  My phone rattled against my leg, sending a buzz through my semi-hard cock.

  Not helpful.

  [Megyn]: What are u doing?

  I looked around. She was grinning, standing by a table piled high with silky undergarments. She looked up at me after I stared at her for a while.

  She shrugged. Well?

  I typed.

  [Me]: Its a surprise

  I watched my wife smile as she read my message. There was something impish in her smile again, a mystery to her thoughts that I hadn’t seen for ages. After so many years of marriage, and kids, we had become the kind of people who already knew what the other was thinking, all the time. Which is lovely in its own way, but not very exciting. Seeing something in Megyn’s smile that I didn’t recognize, knowing that something was brewing in her mind that I couldn’t be certain of, was exhilarating.

  [Megyn]: Is it a pony?

  I laughed under my breath. And tried to think of a good comeback.

  [Me]: I need your size.

  [Megyn]: Large.

  I looked up at her, alarmed. She was smiling.

  [Megyn]: Ohhhh not for the pony. 32B and medium

  Then:

  [Megyn]: I promise to be surprised.

  [Me]: about what?

  [Megyn]: Exactly

  I slipped the phone into my pocket and looked at the stockings through the cellophane on the package.

  It had been a long time since Megyn and I had engaged in this kind of fun, friendly banter as well. I wondered why we didn’t do it more often. In fact, thinking about it, it had been a long time since we had gone out on a date, or a shopping trip where we weren’t buying things for the kids or running around frantically. It had been a long time since Megyn had asked me how she looked in her clothes, or dressed up in something new.

  And a long, long time since she had purchased lingerie.

  I looked over at her. She was holding a pair of black thongs up to the light, as though trying to figure out how they worked. The material was little more than a scrap of fabric.

  I took my phone out.

  [Me]: get them

  I watched her smile as she read the text. She shook her head and looked down at the screen, as though she were about to type something. Then she looked up at me and grinned.

  She dropped them into a basket she was carrying and turned around to browse some other items.

  I took the stockings to the front and got Kim’s attention.

  “I got her size,” I said.

  Kim nodded, as though I had made a very sage decision, and she came around the counter at an efficient clip.

  “Uh...” I blurted. “I’m thinking of maybe... getting a few other items, like maybe... I don’t know, do you have any recommendations?”

  This declaration not only seemed to not surprise Kim, she seemed almost to have been waiting for it.

  Of course. No wonder she had gravitated toward me. Men probably went bonkers in this store. Unrealistically, expensively, addictively bonkers.

  I had a moment of shame for my gender, but as usual it was instantly gone, replaced by thoughts about my wife in the filthy burlesque-looking panty set that Kim was waving in front of me.

  “This... is a little unusual,” she said. “But it’s really popular with the ladies.”

  I felt my phone buzz.

  “Yeah?” I said. The price tag had already caught my eye.

  “It comes with this robe...” she said, fingering a see-through “robe” with a fringe of black lace.

  My phone buzzed again.

  Kim threw the set over an arm and fished into a rack behind her. “There’s also this, which is just beautiful.”

  I took my phone out.

  [Megyn]: yes

  [Megyn]: get that robe I want the robe

  I looked in the direction I had last seen my wife, but I didn’t find her.

  Kim was holding a white and blue lingerie with a sort of ombre to it in front of me.

  My mind was now loosed from its moorings, spinning off into images of Megyn in the silky, lacy, pearl-encrusted ombre bra, a dark form behind her, unhooking it with soft snaps, the material sliding down her skin...

  “I like them both,” I said. “I’ll take them.”

  Kim smiled. Her mind was already spending her commission. “Maybe you should get some stockings to go with these?” she said suggestively.

  “I’ll defer to your recommendations,” I said.

  Megyn was at the register with a basket of items. God only knew how much we were spending, but I didn’t care. The blood that might have reached the part of my brain responsible for thinking about such things was redirected.

  I felt the buzz of my phone against my palm. I was standing rather stupidly in the middle of the store, probably with a really lascivious expression on my face, and I hadn't returned it to my pocket.

  [Megyn]: meet you at the fountain

  When I left the store, I was on a high. I didn’t know what exactly Megyn was playing at, or how seriously she was taking any of this, or how much it approximated my own fantasy – but I didn’t care.

  I swept my eyes up and down the wide corridor of the mall, looking for “the fountain.”

  I found it and walked toward the area.

  Megyn was sitting on a bench with her legs crossed, and, how to say this? She was sitting in a sassy kind of way. The foot she had crossed over her leg bobbed playfully, and she grinned when she saw me.

  I stood in front of her. “Hey,” I said.

  “Hey,” she answered. She was definitely being playful and flirtatious. I wondered if she was as wound up as I was. I wanted to take her out to the car, which was parked in a shady corner of the parking structure, and have sex right there.

  “You wanna go get some eats with me?” I said instead. It was a weird attempt to sound like a mall rat, which was silly because we were well past that age and this mall was way too expensive for teenagers to hang out in.

  She looked a little surprised. Then she shrugged. “Okay.”

  I didn’t know where I was going, but I took Megyn’s hand and walked quickly toward the parking area with authority. I had my mind set on leaning over her in the car and not even making it out of the parking lot.

  “Oh,” she said, as we rounded the final corridor between us and the lot. “I have an idea... there’s that fancy place in the hotel, right here.”

  My excitement dampened a little. I looked at her.

  Was she actually hungry? Or just teasing me? It was hard to tell. Her expressio
n was unreadable. It was both impish and perfectly sincere.

  She tugged at my arm. “Come on. I know we’ve spent a ton of money today but it’ll be fun. We never do anything impulsive.”

  This was true. And anyway, it was a drop in the bucket at this point.

  I followed her.

  5: TRYING THINGS ON

  We settled into a cozy booth in a corner of the restaurant. Megyn looked around approvingly. “This place is actually really classy.”

  They had taken our shopping bags at the door, to put them neatly away while we enjoyed our drinks without looking like hoboes.

  A waiter presented the menus to us and asked for our drink order. Megyn looked at me, raising her eyebrows.

  What the hell?

  “A bottle of wine?” I asked her, and I saw that the prospect excited her. She smiled. “Red or white?”

  “White,” she mouthed.

  I asked the waiter to recommend a good one. Megyn was a fan of dry white wines. He asked if we were eating anything, and when we looked back and forth at each other, he suggested an appetizer of oysters and a spicy side ceviche containing avocados.

  “They’re aphrodisiacs,” he said slyly.

  Megyn tried to look shocked, and I smiled. The waiter barely waited for my assent to take down the order.

  Then we laughed.

  It wasn’t like Megyn and I never went out to eat, but when we did, there wasn’t the kind of chemistry between the two of us to prompt waiters to suggest plates of oysters as an appetizer.

  Megyn put her hand on her cheek and laughed, a little embarrassed by the attention.

  Then she leaned on her hands. “So,” she said. “Are you going to show me what you bought?”

  I looked around. “Right here?”

  Megyn glanced around the restaurant. “Yeah,” she said. “I guess it’s not the most appropriate place.”