Megyn smiled again, and laughed. “I honestly don’t remember. And I have to get going. And I can’t be… you know… when I meet up with Max.”
But her pussy betrayed her real feelings again. Barely had she begun to speak than my fingertips felt the slick juices of real excitement, sliding down from within her.
My cock had been hard since the moment I came this afternoon, so there was no talking me out of it. I pulled on the towel, and it opened up and slid to the floor.
Megyn turned around a little, and smiled at me. “I’m serious,” she said.
I had my hand on my cock now, and I gave her a look that must have communicated to her that one way or the other, I needed some satisfaction before she left.
She turned around fully and then slowly slid down to the floor. She took my cock in her hand and placed her mouth at the base of my cock, nibbling at the shaft from the side. She ran her tongue along the length of it, and up to the crown. “I’m sorry I forgot what I wrote to Max Riley,” she said.
I grabbed her hair and pushed her forward onto my shaft. “I don’t think you forgot,” I said.
Her eyes flew open and she looked up at me, as my shaft disappeared into her mouth. I felt the twist of her throat as she gagged a little, but I pushed on the back of her head a little harder, getting myself all the way into her mouth. Her gaze never wavered: she looked at me steadily, almost challenging me.
It was clear to me at that point that Megyn wanted to be a naughty little whore.
I balled her hair up in my hand and moved her up and down the length of my shaft. It wasn’t long, in the state I was in, before I felt my cum bursting through my dick, welling up in Megyn’s mouth, gushing into her throat.
She dove further on my shaft of her own volition, and sucked the cum from my cock. As she retreated from the base, she swirled her tongue around the shaft, pulling every last drop of my seed into her mouth.
I stood over her, watching her, almost mystified by her.
When she was finished she wiped the corner of her mouth, and smiled at me.
Then she rose, and turned to wash her face and brush her teeth, while I sat, spent, on the edge of the tub.
I followed her when she exited the bathroom, and watched her put on her gray dress. I stared as she rolled her stockings on again and secured them on her sculpted thighs. I was in such a daze that it took me a moment to notice that she hadn’t put on any underwear.
I raised my eyebrows.
Megyn smiled. “I wondered when you were going to notice,” she said.
The dress barely came to mid-thigh. If she sat down in that thing, it would be dangerously revealing.
It was brazen. It was slutty as hell.
It was so unlike her.
My cock pulsed, and I almost couldn’t believe it.
“Which shoes did you pick out?” she said. She leaned over to get them out of the bottom of the wardrobe, and when she did the dress rose up and gave me just the tiniest wink of her bare slit. I could see that her excitement had traveled to between her thighs, smeared on each of them, wet and sticky.
She removed the boots and turned around, waving them at me. “These?”
I nodded.
She snapped her fingers in front of me. “Wake up, sleepy-head.” She stepped into the boots and pulled the zipper seductively along the length of her calf. The black leather closed around her leg at the knee, hinting at leather BDSM, making my cock a little twitchy yet again.
She stood up and put her hands on her hips. “Good?”
She didn’t wait for my answer, but went to the bathroom to dry her hair and put on her makeup. As I listened to her, replaying the sexual wildness I had just experienced this afternoon, I was adrift on a sea of erotic, but sometimes frightening, thoughts.
When she exited the bathroom and stood near me for my approval, I almost couldn’t recognize her. Sure, she as the same Megyn I had married: red hair, smattering of freckles, hazel-green eyes. But piled on her were the layers of the new Megyn I had created – the Megyn of anal sex, the Megyn of dark eyeliner and lashes, the Megyn of the firey red landing strip with no underwear on, encased in a stunning gray dress and hooker-like black boots.
The Megyn who was going to let Max Riley fuck her in the ass tonight.
I’m not a guy who typically engages in regret. It’s a pointless sentiment. But staring at Megyn, I did, for a moment, feel like I was falling. Maybe this had gone too far. For just a second I had a thought, a thought that I would really not mind turning back the clock and undoing all of this.
I don’t know why. It was something in her smile. Something in the way she had her hand on her hip, something foreign that glimmered in her eye.
But like I said, I don’t typically do regret. So I thought about it, and figured whatever was done was done.
“You look hot as hell,” I said.
Megyn gave a little flick of her head to get her hair behind her shoulder. She smiled. Then she walked past me to get her phone and her purse, and she kissed me as she walked toward the door. “I’ll text you as soon as I have the plan,” she said.
Her lips met mine again. They smelled like expensive lipstick, a thickly make-upy smell with a layer of fruit beneath it. She smelled expensive and whoreish, and her mouth worked over my lips in the same kind of way. Much like I would imagine a high-priced escort kisses you, for whatever reason.
Her eyes were closed.
She opened them at the last minute, and then she popped a loud kiss on my lips and hopped away. “See you soon.”
14: THE CLUB
[Megyn]: bad news
[Megyn]: maybe
I stared at the screen, unsure of what to write, my stomach twisting. Since Megyn had left, I had given a lot of thought to the thing that was stirring inside of me, faintly bothering me, and I had come to the conclusion that perhaps it could be cured, or at least diluted, if Megyn only came through with her promise of getting me a view of her naughty, naughty behavior.
As the messages came in, my heart began to drop though my feet. I typed nothing in response, just watched it play out on my screen:
[Megyn]: you there?
[Megyn]: this club is packed theres a huge line
[Megyn]: I got in as vip of course but you might have a hard time
[Megyn]: hello?
Of course, this was really the original destiny of this evening. Why either of us had been naive enough to think anything different would have happened, I didn’t know. If someone like Max Riley was going to a club it would of course be a good club, a packed club, a club with a big line. And he would waltz right in, and put Megyn Lyons on the list and she would float into the club and over all the wild, writhing bodies and straight into his clutches.
And I would get nothing. I would stand outside like a loser, getting passed over each and every time the bouncer leaned out to look down the line, while twenty-somethings in mini-skirts filled the club. Until it was two am and the doors opened and my wife and Max came out arm in arm, his cum dripping down her thighs for all the world to see…
I held the phone, trying to decide what to type, what to do.
I wasn’t going to stand around looking like a fool outside. I typed.
[Me]: should have guessed it
There was a long gap, an hour long pause between this message and the next one from Megyn. I had a long time to sit in the silent hotel room, imagining my wife dancing, drinking champagne, sitting closer and closer to Max until all pretense of them not fucking was thrown out the window. Or maybe she was -
My phone buzzed.
[Megyn]: craig dryer didnt show up hes on the list
I stared at the text, trying to decipher what it meant.
[Megyn]: say youre him and youre in
I was up and throwing things around the room ten seconds later. I stared at the text until it burned through my consciousness.
Elation filled me as much as despair had eaten away at me moments before. She did love me after all.
She wanted me to get what I craved. She could have easily written off this evening, told me there was no way for me to get in, or simply humiliated me by making me stand in line hopefully only to get turned down over and over again.
But instead, she had thrown me this lifeline.
I was immediately absorbed in the problem of finding something to wear. I finally settled on jeans and a t-shirt, because I really didn’t look bad in that combo, and because I realized it didn’t matter what I wore.
I was there to observe.
I was so excited that I forgot, until I was gathering my wallet and the room key to head out the door: I had no idea where I was going.
My heart went flying around again as I thought about Megyn… how she probably tucked her phone into her purse and figured, that’s that. How she was probably more obsessed with Max at this moment, and was just waiting for me, getting her show ready. How she wouldn’t look at her phone again…
But when I opened up the messages, my dear wife had already sent it to me. In my wild enthusiasm I hadn’t heard my phone buzz at all:
[Megyn]: hey you want to know where this place is?
[Megyn]: you do
[Megyn]: I know you do
[Megyn]: hello
[Megyn]: I guess youre in the shower
[Megyn]: its a place called liquid kitty (lol) on 14 and pine
[Megyn]: okay, dont be so effusive
[Megyn]: im going to dance now
[Megyn]: like a slut
My fingers were all over the place in my excitement as I typed:
[Me]: bre tywt soon
And re-typed:
[Me]: be there soon
The Uber driver had practically laughed in my face when I asked him to take me to Liquid Kitty.
“You’re not gettin’ in there man, unless you have a hot girl in your pocket,” he said. He shook his head and explained that one night he and his buddies had spent more than three hours waiting to get in. He looked at me in the mirror, as though sizing me up. “I never went back,” he said. “How great can a club be?”
I didn’t answer, so we drove in silence. The club was so close I probably could have walked, but I didn’t mind. I tipped the little shit anyway, and then I sucked it up to go con my way in.
I was never a “clubber” when I was younger, and as I approached the bouncers and their VIP list, I racked my brain for any memory of any club, anywhere. I realized I probably had only seen a club in the movies.
I shoved my hands in my pockets and tried to look cool. The music from inside sounded decades and many, many shades of color outside of my own life experience. I cast a look down the line of patrons and was more than a little relieved to find that there were plenty of white people in the crowd. None of them were paying any attention to me, so I guess I looked passable as a person cutting the line.
“Craig Dryer,” I said to the bouncer. “I’m supposed to be on the list.”
I was half-expecting to get tossed onto the street, or for the guy to make a face like I was an idiot and send me to the back of the line. It hadn’t occurred to me until that moment, but maybe Craig Dryer had already showed up.
I tried not to shake with all this inner turmoil, which was less about fear of anything happening to me and more about losing my chance. Losing my chance to pass into that steamy, thumping, humming darkness and find my wife and Max Riley all entangled and sweaty.
But none of this happened. The guy nodded, and did nothing. No lifting of a velvet-covered chain, no opening of a door. Just a nod, and a disinterested stare.
So… feeling a little cheated out of my VIP experience, I walked in.
The club was everything that TV had promised me: loud, lights moving everywhere. A huge dancefloor with a vaulted ceiling above it. Three spectacularly beautiful black women walked by me smiling, their lips orange. A cloud of that fake smoke, cold and sterile, hit me in the face right after them.
For a moment I just stood there. Then I quickly learned I needed to get out of the way. Everyone around me was moving, dancing, and I had other things on my mind. Like where in the hell was my wife?
I shuttled myself through the crowd and found an area where there was a little bit of space to stand. I typed to Megyn, who I would never find among all these bodies:
[Me]: im here
There was no response for what seemed like an eternity, though in reality it must have been no more than ten minutes. I wedged myself into a space against the wall, where men like me were watching the dancers and the lucky pairs, the shaking, sweating mass of hot women and cool guys, bouncing and flashing bright then fading into darkness.
My own heart pounded as loudly as the bass. I flipped the screen of my phone up toward my face neurotically, every five seconds. I checked the sound, the buzzer, making sure it was actually on. And then I waited, imagining all the things that might have gone wrong.
I was so close, so close to getting what I wanted. The smell of sweating female bodies was everywhere. Wet skin, dark skin, lips and dark, painted eyes. Round, beautiful breasts jiggled in sequined tops, bubble-shaped asses pressed against satin fabric and jeans and promised to burst out (never delivering). Model-thin girls with the faces of dolls looked on with sour, sexy pouts, while fun, bouncing girls made lewd faces and shook their bodies on the dance floor.
None of this helped to bring down my excitement. I was flying on a high I had never experienced before, but at the back of it was a need that I was afraid would not get met: there was only one body, one woman, one thing I wanted in this whole writhing mass of sexy humans.
And then she was there. On the second floor of the club, which I hadn’t really noticed until that moment. Her hair, lit up from behind for a moment by one of the swinging strobe lights, was a vivid, brilliant red, like a beacon. And then her legs, her short, short skirt. Her magnificent body, leaning against the balcony.
She had a drink in her hand, and she was leaning toward a man. It took only seconds for me to assess the large build, the height, the shiny bald head and the ebony skin: Max. She had her ear pressed toward his mouth, the kind of act that two people who are having a secret affair put on. Oh, the music’s so loud in here, we have to stand this close to each other just to have this completely regular conversation. But anyone looking could see that their bodies were pulling toward each other with an obvious gravity, a desire that was burning in each of them to rip each other’s clothes off. Anyone could see that each of those two people was burning in their center, ready to fuck wildly the first chance they got.
Below her, I noticed next, there were several guys who were not-very-subtly looking up to the second floor, trying to get a glimpse up my wife’s skirt.
Jesus.
I watched, half in horror, half-turned on, as Megyn looked down into the group of guys. There were maybe five or six of them looking up by then; a growing crowd. When she looked down at them, a clatter of whistles erupted from where they were standing. Someone clapped.
And Megyn, rather than being properly mortified, pulled herself closer to the balcony playfully and waved down at the boys looking up her skirt. I stared, my jaw falling to the floor, as my wife moved her foot around seductively, spreading her legs apart just enough to give them a glimpse…
A cheer rose up from below, and then cut off in disappointment as she leaned her foot against the bottom bar of the balcony and turned around, her legs closed together. She blew them a kiss, and turned back to talk to Max.
The lights were swinging around the club wildly now, so I couldn’t be entirely sure of what I saw, but I think Max’s expression was one of approval. He was just as turned on as I was by Megyn teasing the whole crowd. And why shouldn’t he be? He knew she was going home with him tonight.
The gray dress Megyn was wearing dipped low in the back. It provided anyone who was looking with the knowledge that she was not wearing a bra; that the high, rounded swell of her breasts was made by her breasts alone. And if they looked down, they would see that she had
no underwear, nothing between her slit and the world.
I could only see the back of her head now, and Max as he moved in on her without “visibly” moving in on her. Now that he was facing away from whoever was up there in the VIP lounge, he was doing very little talking. He spent most of his time staring into my wife’s eyes with a hungry look that almost made me weak at the knees myself.
After what seemed like another eternity, playing out in slow motion, Max’s attention was suddenly diverted from behind him. He gave Megyn the kind of smile that men give to women they know they can devour within a few hours, and retreated away from the balcony, meeting her eyes as he walked away.
Megyn waited a beat, then turned to look out over the dancing crowd. The guys below her gave another round of whistles and encouragement, but she shook her head and their enthusiasm died with the same disappointed groan.
She was scanning the crowd.
She was looking for me.
I took out the phone and typed another message to her.
[Me]: Im here at the bar next to the red martini thing
Immediately after I hit “send,” it occurred to me that she had no place to stow away her phone on her person. With no bra, and no underwear, and nothing but a tight-fitting dress, she had no place to put it -
Megyn, motivated by something, looked down at her feet. She reached down and pulled on the zipper of her boot, to the renewed delight of her fans below.
Another wave of disappointment, and one “boo” went through them as she took out the slender silver rectangle of her phone.
She read the message and looked out to find the red martini. And then her eyes were on me.
Megyn For The Win: A Romantic Hotwife Novel Page 19