I was supposed to have a solid conversation about this with her. That's what Heller would say.
The scene before me was surprisingly tame when I opened the door. A handful of students were standing around with plastic cups that appeared to have punch in them. They seemed moderately, but not especially drunk. I scanned the room quickly for an ultra-sexy costume containing my wife and found none. I went back over everyone again, and saw only the typical assortment of black capes, pointed hats, and clown wigs that one might expect at Every Halloween Party from kindergarten to corporate America..
“Oh no! Didn't you find it?”
Jen's voice.
She was draped in a black cloak with a witchy-looking hood on the back of it, a not particularly sexy costume at all. My eyes readjusted the scene in front of me. She was standing by Emery, who was dressed up as a vampire.
My heart sank again.
This had all just been an elaborate tease.
“The costume's at home,” Jen continued. “I sent you a text.”
She seemed to be playfully winking at me, even though she wasn't.
I looked at her. “It's in the car,” I said half-heartedly.
Someone handed me a plastic cup. “Hey,” he said. His accent, even on that one word, was so thickly Scandinavian it seemed like he kneaded the word around for an hour in his mouth before it got out. I turned to see the man who obviously Sven, the very blonde, very dorky Swede who apparently ran the stats lab. “You must be Chris,” he said. “I'm Sven.”
I held up my cup to toast him.
I was feeling the bile of disappointment in my stomach. I could barely keep my grim mood from tugging the corners of my mouth downward.
Jen, however, was smiling at me, twisting a little in her costume. “Sven is also really into marketing stats,” she said. “So he's been waiting to meet you.”
Sven swooped upon me like a hawk, and I sipped the atrocious and very weak punch from the plastic cup while he launched into a mostly unintelligible monologue.
This was such a terrible disappointment. It seemed that everything I had been promised by Jen, and everything I had enjoyed imagining about her was falling apart into a pile of plastic capes and cups and – I grimaced at the snack table – pumpkin cupcakes.
But no sooner had I abandoned all hope, and begun to actually try to decipher Sven's rambling narrative, than I saw that Jen had slinked away with Emery. The two were leaning against a brick wall, standing very close to each other. Their plastic cups were practically touching on the rim, and they were leaning forward to whisper to each other.
Jen had placed her foot against her other leg, and her boring black cape slid away to reveal that her long leg was clad in a black and white striped stocking. As she moved closer to Emery, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear and speaking to him in a low, conspiratorial tone, the cape slid away a little more and a flash of her thigh peeked out.
I met Sven's eyes and nodded, to keep him talking, and then I looked back at Jen and Emery. Jen's gaze wandered over to me as she took a sip from her cup, and again her eyes seemed to glimmer and wink at me, even though she didn't actually do any of that.
My heart surged as I watched: Emery looked down, and he must have seen the striped stockings beneath the cape.
His fingers moved into the fold of the cape and pulled it open. “What's this?” I heard him say, amused.
Jen pushed his hand away and the cape closed before I could see the costume that was evidently beneath it. She whispered something, smiling at Emery.
I closed my eyes fro a little more than a blink, replaying the sight of his fingers on the hem of my wife's cape, pulling it open to view what was underneath.
A gesture of extreme familiarity.
The kind of space-invading familiarity that two lovers could have.
I opened my eyes and looked at them.
They seemed to be moving closer to each other.
Jen laughed, running her fingers over the rim of the plastic cup.
Her eyes suddenly jerked in my direction. A brief glance.
Just to be sure I was watching.
As soon as she turned back to Emery she seemed to move closer again. Her smile seemed to get more wicked, and her eyes seemed to take on even more of a devilish glint.
“...so that is why I gahbhemmla und wordstahrten fahber for the best, yeah?” Sven finished with flourish. He clapped a hand on my shoulder. His face had gotten ruddy and I could see from his eyes that he seemed to have taken quite a hit from the watered-down punch.
“Yeah,” I said, enthusiastically, which seemed to please him. He nodded, and then abruptly turned, smiling foolishly, and walked away.
I looked back to where Jen and Emery had been standing, and my heart plummeted to my feet when I saw that they were no longer there. For a few eternal seconds I panicked: had she just run off with him? Was this the guy she planned to make my dream come true with?
God. Not Emery.
My eyes swept in ragged jerks over the room, and I was just about rising to hysteria mode, when a puff of air caressed the back of my ear.
“Boo,” Jen said softly.
I whirled around. She had her cape wrapped around her hand, and the hood pulled over her head. It was an oversized black hood and framed her pretty face nicely, but it also vaguely made her look satanic. “We have to get going,” she said. Her mouth was turned up in a knowing, naughty little grin. I felt a pang of excitement ripple through my relief.
“You're leaving?” It was Emery. He had turned all the way around, abandoning a conversation directly behind Jen.
Jen patted him on the chest. “I told you. Our friend Trey invited us ages ago.”
She looked at me. “Ready?”
I could barely contain the radiating excitement that had burst open when she said “Trey.” That and getting to wave bye-bye to Emery had just buoyed my mood so much I was going stratospheric.
“See you around Dave,” I said, as Jen pulled me through the small cluster of people by the hand, and out into the hallway.
Then we were in the cool night air, on our way, it would seem, to see Trey.
Once we got outside, Jen walked ahead of me. “It's cold as balls out here,” she said.
An expression I had never understood.
Her feet made a very sexy, very feminine hard clack on the pavement. Her hood blew away from her face and she didn't bother to fix it. The cape billowed out behind her and I caught a glimpse of her stockings, which came up to mid-thigh, giving her legs a vague aura of prostitution that was incredibly arousing. Whatever she was wearing above that was not visible: if it was a skirt, it was a short as my imagined “Naughty Nemo” skirt, because I didn't see anything but her thigh, all the way to the car, no matter how much her cape billowed.
I unlocked the door remotely, and she popped in, shivering.
I climbed into the car and looked over at her. I turned on the heat.
She was clutching her cape for warmth. One piece of the long material, though, had slid away from her thigh. I reached over and gave it a little push, so that it slipped away from her legs. Her bare thighs, above the line of the stockings, were covered in gooseflesh. “You're freezing,” I said. “I had better warm you up.”
Jen had no objections to me taking her thighs in my hands and rubbing them to get them warm. She grinned at me as her teeth chattered.
“So, what's this party?” I said.
She chattered and grinned silently at me for a moment. Her prickled skin smoothed under the heat of my hands, and the silkiness sent a shiver through me. I could feel myself getting aroused. I slid my hands further along her left leg. I had twisted in my seat to hold her thigh in both hands. I moved up the length of her muscle, closer to where I could feel the humid heat of her pussy with my fingertips as they approached -
She pushed my hands away. “Not yet,” she said. “We have a party to get to.”
I reluctantly coiled back into the driver's seat. Jen swept h
er cape up and covered her legs. She was grinning, having a great time dragging out her teasing.
“So what's this costume?” I said.
“You'll see,” she smiled.
“And where are we going?”
Jen flipped the sun visor down to look in the mirror. “Just get driving. Head west on Jefferson.”
I stared at her. She was twisting some red-orange lipstick from a tube, and it slid out slowly like an emerging cock, headed toward her lips, ready to stain them with its dirty color...
She turned to me sharply, her eyes still smiling. It was only in that second that I realized Jen had an incredible amount of control over all of this: herself, me, the lure of her potential sluttiness. “That's all I can tell you right now,” she said, and her voice was breathy.
Then back to the lipstick, smearing it on thickly.
I stared a few cold, enticing seconds more. She wasn't really going to have those very same lips around Trey's cock in less than hour, was she?
My cock throbbed painfully.
I put the car in gear, and followed her instructions blindly. Turning left on Jefferson.
C hapter 17
THE REAL PARTY
Jen got out her phone in the car, and began to type on it, smiling at whatever responses she was getting from, presumably, Trey.
Ordinarily I might have found that rude, but knowing that she was chatting with a potential lover, or maybe more than one, made it sizzling instead. Every glance up at me that I could see in the corner of my eye, every grin, every quick typing fit, was a potential communication to the man she was going to fuck.
What could she have planned? And how was I going to get to watch it? Surely she couldn't orchestrate something just exactly like my dream? I could feel my anxiety building: what if I missed her, somehow?
Or what if this was all just another tease?
What if I actually wanted it to be? Did I really, really want my wife to let that guy put his ebony cock inside of her?
A flash of the image of Jen's pussy, filled to stretching with black cock exactly as I had imagined it, sent a shudder through me. The car jerked a little, eliciting a wary eye from Jen.
“Sorry,” I said.
Jen dropped her phone into her cape. “Turn up here... I think we need to park somewhere on this street.”
I obeyed her instructions, resigned to just follow what she told me to do and go along with whatever it was. I turned the wheel deliberately, set the parking brake with a forceful pull, and placed my hands on my thighs, palms down.
Jen looked over at me. “Okay. So... it's about five houses down on that next street,” she said, pointing her finger to the right. “I'll go first and then you can show up a little later. In your costume, of course.”
I felt something twist inside of me. “Is this really Trey's party?” I said.
Jen smiled. “You're wearing that suit, right? So just... you know, walk around. Enjoy your anonymity.”
She pushed the door open. “Fuck,” she said. “It's cold out here.”
She looked back at me. “Okay. Last chance to back out.”
Her words seared through me. I shook my head, only a little, mostly from side to side.
Jen slid the cape away from her shoulders.
I stared at her costume. It was black and white striped. The top looked like a very tight button-up blouse, except hardly any buttons were closed. The front was open deep into her chest, and the lacy edges of a black bra were visible among the folds of the shirt.
Her midriff was exposed, and then a scandalously short shirt began at her hip bones. The material clung tightly to her shape, and because she was seated in the car, it barely covered her snatch. Then bare legs, then her slutty stockings, and the black stiletto heels on her feet.
It was an incredibly sexy, incredibly slutty costume.
“What's that?” I said.
She shrugged. Then she pulled a pair of fake, cheap plastic handcuffs from her purse. She twirled them. “'Naughty Prisoner' or something,” she said, laughing. “I don't know. I just thought I looked hot in it.”
I sucked in my breath.
“Is it close enough?” she asked, her voice seductive.
“It's great,” I said.
She leaned over and kissed me, and her hand slid over my bulging cock as she did. I felt a smile quiver on her lips when she felt how hard I was. “Okay. See you on the flip-side,” she said.
Her kiss, and the touch of her hand, slammed through me in two pressured bursts. The sound of the blood in my own ears was almost deafening.
I knew I should probably have said something about rules, or arrangements, or something. Just a final checklist, to make sure we were both on the same page. But I was paralyzed, transfixed, as she climbed out of the car. Her small, round ass was barely covered by the tight striped skirt. Her lean abdomen and her oval-shaped, long belly button were bare from just above her hip to her second rib, the faint outline of which could be discerned beneath her skin, just under the stripes of her skin-tight “blouse.” She shook out her long hair, and began to walk away. When she was about ten feet away, she turned and blew me a kiss from her plumped-up, red-orange lips.
When she turned right at the next street, and a lamp caught the perfect profile of her figure, a terrible thought went through me.
It was the way Jen had pointed in that direction.
It's about five houses down on that next street.
These weren't the directions of someone who had never been to a place. No one gave directions like that, so casually, in terms of number of houses... unless they came to that street all the time.
Right?
Jen disappeared in that moment, having walked far enough along the next block to be out of sight. I stared at the empty street.
I took out my phone, suddenly seized by a strange panic, a desire to act, a desire to...what?
Put the brakes on it?
I held the phone in my hand, staring at Jen's number.
My heart twisted in fear and delight, and then one of the two won over. I called her, my heart pounding in the space between pressing the button and the sound of the phone ringing.
What was I doing? What was I going to say?
I had no idea, I just needed a second. A pause. A little more time to decide if…
But the time was over, I realized in horror, as the sound of Jen's phone vibrating reached my ears. She had left it behind, somewhere in the folds of her cape.
I jumped out of the car and yanked the Chewbacca suit out.
Hurriedly, like a madman, I stuffed myself into it. I cursed when I slipped it up and found it was on backwards. It was a fucking monstrosity. I shook it off and cursed some more, shaking the furry, slightly dank costume up again. The zipper caught partially up my chest. Whatever. I slammed the car door and started off down the street, filled with a kind of lusty rage that I couldn't understand myself.
About ten paces away I realized I had forgotten the head, and a wave of creepiness passed over me as the similarity with my dream clanged away in my mind. I stomped back to the car and fished the head out, tugging it unceremoniously onto my face.
The world went uncomfortably dark. The lights dimmed. A car passed me on the left, and scared the shit out of me because I barely heard it.
Fuck.
Overheating already, even in the cold, I walked furiously to the next street and went right, following my slutty little prisoner-wife.
Exactly five houses down, as Jen had indicated – a fact that still burned inside of me – was a house that was unmistakeably in the throes of a party.
This party looked a little rougher around the edges than Trey himself looked. We were in Inglewood, a neighborhood that was half-revamped but had dodgy patches here and there. There were certainly a few more dark faces at the party than there had been in my dream.
I felt a little itchy, a little uncomfortable, a little panicked, as I walked up to the porch. I paused there, feeling surreal. I was hot
. I wanted to wipe a drop of sweat from my eyes. Jen was nowhere to be found, and it was only a matter of time before someone recognized that I didn't belong here and did something about it.
But no one paid any attention to me.
I was safe in my wookiee costume.
Another strange shudder went through me, a sense of having been in this scene before. The house was nothing like the one in my dream, and the crowd was quite different, but the floating, dreamlike sensation of being there and not quite there was oddly familiar.
Was I actually here? I ran through a checklist of “reality” items to be sure: my feet were touching the ground, I was breathing, I could remember what I had for breakfast.
I was largely sure this was real.
I pushed my way into the house, stomach clenching and twisting. The inside of the house felt hot, and inside the costume I began to sweat. It was as much from the nervous excitement as from the heat. Trickles of sweat licked my spine, my ribs, my balls.
I let my eyes search frantically for Jen, for her stripes and her exposed skin. I let my breathing become as ragged as I wanted. I passed through the rooms of the house, no one looking at me for more than a second. I began to grow confident in my persona as a non-entity, hidden in my costume. I was essentially invisible: just an unknown person in a costume.
An open-concept kitchen and dining room made up the back of the house. The lights were dimmer here, and it was hard to see through the plastic mesh of the eyeholes. I paused near a wall and took a moment to survey the scene. A couple next to me was making out heavily in a seat sunken into the wall. They paid me no attention, even though I was staring at them blatantly. They were an attractive, young couple, and the girl was dressed like an angel, but the guy's hands were down the front of her costume, hard and lumpy over the shape of her breasts, fondling her. I watched for a moment, as transfixed by what I was seeing as the fact that I was being allowed to stare.
But I needed to find Jen. I scanned the room again. My heart was being crushed with each second that I didn't find her.
Then stripes caught my eye. Jen was sitting on a raised bench along the wall of the sunken dining/living room area. Her legs were swinging playfully, her ass barely seated on the ledge. My eyes went firstly to her short skirt, which barely covered her, and the shadow between her legs, which she was barely keeping together. If I were closer, I would have been able to catch a glimpse of whatever was there in the center. She had a drink in her hand and she was smiling, holding it coquettishly next to her cheek.
Body Of Research: An Experiment In Hotwifing Page 19