Heidi, Corrupted (An Ex-Wife Sharing Romance)

by Max Sebastian

  But at least, in that case, she would be happy, she would move on. That would probably be the healthiest for her.

  I said, "Look... I should probably... you know... head back home..."

  I saw a glimmer of disappointment in her eyes, but she nodded, trying to hide it from me by suggesting she knew how it really was, that I'd only been trying to be nice, trying to cheer her up, by taking her out with me that night.

  That I didn't really want to get back together with her.

  Perhaps that I didn't really want to spend time with her, that she was all alone once more, as she had always been since our break-up.

  Heidi's negativity was slipping back in.

  I said, "But look... I had a lot of fun tonight. We should do it again some time soon."

  "Yeah, we should, I had a lot of fun," she smiled, grateful to me, but not really thinking I was being entirely serious.

  Heidi, being Heidi, needed something tangible, something real she could hang on to, not just some vague suggestion of a future rendezvous.

  And perhaps, she needed a little guidance, or even something stronger... instructions. She'd needed the threat of me walking out on her to get her to actually start flirting with other guys.

  "Next Saturday," I said, firmly. Commanding. "I'll come pick you up again. We'll go out, and you can... you know... practice some more."

  "Okay," she said, looking up into my eyes again, hope and optimism filling hers. "I mean, sure, I'd like that."

  It was only a week away. It was a firm date, something she could cling on to. And I wasn't putting it off until next month, the next time we ran into each other, next year — she had a few days off, and then I'd be back.

  "Maybe you'll find a guy you really like. Someone you'll actually call when he gives you his number."

  She smiled and blushed like a schoolgirl. Then she looked at me and didn't seem to fully understand why I, of all people, should want to help her move on to the next guy — but she seemed to understand that I was saying we couldn't be back together, but that I wanted to be her friend. We were back to that conversation we were having when I first asked her out — and maybe I was trying to do right by it, at last. To be her friend. To make sure after we broke up that she was happy, and moving on to the next thing rather than wallowing in rejection and self-pity.

  "Maybe," she said, nodding. Grateful to me. Perhaps also a little excited that she might find someone new.

  "Why don't I come round a little earlier next time?" I suggested, again showing her that this wasn't a chore for me, I liked spending time with her — at least under this strange premise for spending time with her. "We could have a little dinner together before we go out. You know, start things rolling."

  "I'd like that," she said, her smile broadening. "That would be really nice."

  "Come here," I said, opening my arms wide in offer of a hug. She grinned and stepped into me, closing her arms around me as I closed mine around her, though our faces came together cheek to cheek, rather than mouth to mouth. A warm, friendly hug.

  I said, "You see, we can be friends, can't we?"

  She nodded. "Of course."

  "Good friends."

  "Good friends."

  A last little squeeze, and I could hear a faint but clearly contented sigh, as though her mind had been set at ease by my clarification, her ultimate fears of being left alone were abated.

  We stepped apart, and I added, "But I am going to get you laid, Heidi."

  She giggled, and blushed again, looking oh-so-appealing to me, even with the last of my alcohol fading from my system. "See you on Saturday," she said, stepping inside her door.

  "See you Saturday. Seven o'clock?"

  "Seven's good."

  And she closed her door on me — which, in my eyes, was a very good sign.

  Chapter Four

  On my way home I put my hands into my pockets and found a little scrap of paper in one of them. I withdrew it, and by the light of the streetlamp saw the number and the name scrawled above it in plainly feminine handwriting. Bella.

  I remembered the blonde who'd been watching me kissing Heidi. God, she'd been even prettier than Suzi. Usually I wasn't really the type to have girls approaching me to give me their number. Suzi had been one of those magnificent miracles because we'd always sat together in a sophomore class in which neither of us had much of a clue.

  My break-up with Suzi had been so harsh, now that I thought about it, because I'd been so sure I wouldn't ever get another girl so stunning interested in me.

  Now here was Bella, who had been quite unbelievably stunning, coming right up to me to give me her number — and strangely, I found myself drawn more to Heidi, and this bizarre little plan of getting her involved with some other guy.

  I didn't want to call Bella because it seemed like doing so would distract me from the odd little fantasy I had about a girl who was Suzi's — and Bella's — antithesis.

  A fantasy that in all likelihood wouldn't even allow me to have my sordid little encounter with Heidi once she'd been claimed by another.

  I was quite plainly insane. Perhaps it was a good thing I didn't intend to call Bella.

  For now, though, I had Saturday to look forward to — and I was looking forward to it, very much.

  *

  Another Saturday came around. I'd spent the intervening week as though Heidi had never come back into my life — working hard, drinks after work with friends a couple of nights, but no communication with my ex herself.

  That's not to say I didn't think of her plenty of times. My sexual fantasies seemed to revolve exclusively around her now, and the thought of seeing her with another man. Sure, back before I dated her, I had the occasional fantasy about her — but those had related to me seducing her. Now, it was other men doing it, under my watchful gaze.

  I was mildly surprised that I didn't hear from her all week, though. I thought I'd get some kind of email or text message here and there, trying to remind me she existed. Trying to ease her way back into my life to the point where I didn't notice we were in a relationship again. There was none of that. It was quite a relief, actually. A breath of fresh air.

  I texted her on Saturday morning, asking if she was still okay for 7pm. She replied simply:

  >Looking forward to it :-)

  And then there was I dressed up in a nice shirt and pants, arriving at Heidi's place on the dot at seven, a little nervous, wondering what she would look like.

  She opened the door and I was a little surprised to find her in a bathrobe. She'd put on make-up, she'd done her hair, she smelled really good in yet another new perfume I didn't recognize. But she was wearing white terrycloth.

  "You're not ready?"

  "I'm so sorry..." she said, seemingly in a state of despair as she let me into her apartment.

  "It's okay — we're not late or anything," I said. "What's up?"

  "I don't know... none of my outfits are any good..." she complained, closing the door behind me, then skirting past to head into her room. I ducked my head around the corner of the small hallway to check out the lounge and the kitchen — the place was subtly different than when I'd lived here, her roommates' influence I guessed. But it didn't seem like her roommates were home this evening.

  "I'm sure you have something..." I said, slipping into her room after her.

  There were several dresses laid out on her bed. I'd say some of them looked a little too formal, though I wouldn't claim to be an expert.

  "You don't necessarily have to wear a dress," I suggested. "Just whatever makes you feel... you know... confident."

  "I don't think anything makes me feel confident."

  "The one you wore last week?"

  She shook her head. "Needs to be dry-cleaned."

  "You have something like it?"

  She paused, then grabbed something on the bed. A blue dress, a little longer than the black dress she'd worn last time. All the dresses on the bed were a little longer, it seemed. She held the blue on
e up to her, but wrinkled her nose.

  "They're all... well... really they're all intended for concerts," she explained. "I don't tend to buy them for... well... going out."

  "You could wear jeans and a t-shirt," I said. "Whatever makes you feel comfortable. But..."

  "I want to do this properly," she said. Her bathrobe accidentally hung open, and underneath I caught a glimpse of her panties. They were pink with white spots. Not particularly sexy — she could do much, much better — though the way my sexual fantasies had turned recently, I naturally liked looking.

  She noticed me see her, then held open her bathrobe purposefully for me. "I don't really own any fancy underwear," she admitted.

  I thought for a moment. It would be classic Heidi just to admit defeat, to concede that she just wasn't equipped to do this. But at least she was telling me now, at seven o'clock, rather than at nine or ten o'clock when it was too late.

  "Why don't we go out and look for something?" I said.

  "Uh... okay..." she said with considered uncertainty.

  That timid look in her eyes made me figure she needed me to be a little more firm in my view.

  "Come on," I said. "Put something easy on for now — we'll go shop for something."

  "Shopping?"

  I laughed. "We've got time."

  "But dinner?"

  "We can grab a sandwich or something. Come on — this is much more important than dinner."

  With Heidi in a pair of jeans and a jacket, we hailed an Uber car to take us down to Oxford Circus, which wasn't too far away and the stores were open for another good couple of hours. Heidi actually seemed relieved at our new plan, her positivity bubbling up into conversation about how she never really paid much attention to what she wore before, except for when the orchestra put on their concerts.

  "And that's hardly the same," she said. "If you wear something too racy... well, you'd probably show up the soloists."

  "And you'd distract the audience," I pointed out.

  She laughed. "Right."

  "But right now, that's exactly what you want to achieve."

  "I suppose so!"

  I'll admit, this wasn't something I had been expecting at all, and I wasn't usually a big fan of shopping. But there was a strange fascination and excitement about traipsing around Oxford Street looking for something for Heidi to wear to wow other guys.

  We hit the department stores, and to begin with, we looked at dresses. Heidi was initially drawn to items that were on the more conservative side. She'd pull something off the racks and hold it up to her body, and I could see why she might go for something like that — but it was a little too close to the dresses she already owned, the ones for the concert. Dresses that might be more appropriate at a wedding.

  She could see almost instantly from my expressions that they weren't what we were looking for.

  I held up something much shorter, tighter, and Heidi's eyes widened in disbelief.

  "At least try it on," I said holding up the little red dress. "It might look really good on you."

  "I'll try it," she agreed, her tone heavily laced with doubt.

  "Come on."

  I was learning that being a little firm with her paid off. We went into a changing booth, and I perched on the bench to watch her peel off her jeans and her shirt. I enjoyed the show, even with the underwear she was wearing. I think she enjoyed showing me, too — the sexual tension in that changing booth was noticeable. Jesus, it was more sexual tension than we'd ever had when we'd been dating, let alone when we were married. I think it probably spurred on the whole tension that we were shopping for an outfit for her to impress other guys. And at the same time she was trying to impress me, and I was suddenly interested in her again like I hadn't been for months and months.

  She squeezed into the dress and pulled it into place. It did look good. Clinging to her body, it ended high on her thighs, while the neckline plunged enough to get a guy interested in her cleavage, even if she wasn't possessed of large breasts.

  "What do you think?" she said, turning this way and that to check herself out in the mirror, constantly pulling the tight material this way and that to try for a better fit.

  "It looks amazing," I said. "You look fantastic in it."

  She turned to me, her face illuminated with delight. At the same time, she bashfully covered her breasts with her arms, then tried pulling the dress down a little further on her hips.

  "It's a little... short..." she said.

  I nodded. "Short is good, though, right?"

  She looked doubtful.

  "You look wonderful in it, Heidi," I stressed. Firmness, that was the key to this girl, I was thinking. I added, "And remember it'll be a nightclub, so it'll be pretty dark in there."

  "I suppose so."

  "It's not like being on a stage in the orchestra with all those lights beaming down on you."

  "Right," she said, and gave another little twirl for the benefit of the mirror.

  Actually I thought the dress was too short for her. Not in how it fitted or how it looked — I didn't lie, she really did look sensational in it — but in how Heidi might accept or reject it. I had purposefully chosen one a little on the extreme side, hoping that if we eventually settled for something a little more modest, it would still end up being on the racy side. Only here we were, and she was indicating that she would accept my original choice.

  I was playing psychology, I guess. Heidi, more than most, needed a little psychology.

  "I'm not sure I like the color..." she said, and I was surprised that had been what displeased her about the dress. It was a positive sign in my eyes.

  "No problem — we'll find something in a much better color," I said confidently.

  She changed quickly back into her jeans, but then we headed out of that particular store and into another one where the selection of shorter dresses had been a little more extensive.

  "See anything?" I said after a while.

  "I'm not sure..." she said, and I suspected her modesty was kicking in again, her reluctance to push the boundary.

  I took a gamble. "What if I pick out a few to try..."

  She smiled. "Sure."

  I felt a little burst of heat inside my chest. Well, if she was going to let me pick out some options... I chose three dresses, all at least as racy as the red one we'd tried in the previous store.

  She seemed to catch her breath each time I picked something out, looking as though she was close to yelling at me to stop being so ridiculous. But she didn't stop me. She looked at what I picked out, all wide-eyed and open-mouthed, and then when I was done with my selection, dutifully followed me into the changing rooms.

  I watched her strip off her clothes, then don a dark blue dress, a black dress and a purple dress — all of them the kind of dresses I would never had conceived of Heidi wearing.

  "I don't know... it seems really short to me."

  "No, it's great. You look incredible."

  She seemed to like modeling for me, enjoying how my eyes swept all over her, and the reaction on my face. I'm fairly sure it made her want to wear the tiny dresses that barely covered her underwear.

  We went into two other stores to try on similar dresses, and eventually decided on a burgundy dress that made Heidi look like a goddess. Though she'd always been a little on the slender side, its satiny finish with a hint of lace here and there seemed to cling to her while accentuating the curves she did have, somehow lending her a natural poise and grace I'd never really seen in her before.

  "Well, I'm not sure..."

  I say 'we' eventually decided, but really it was me making the decision here. However, it didn't take a lot to persuade her.

  "You look so good in it. You'll have guys lining up to buy you a drink."

  "I like the color."

  "It is nice."

  "Bit of a VPL, though."

  I laughed. "If we buy you some fancy underwear, that won't be a problem, will it?"

  Even stripping out of the
dress in front of me, she blushed. But her pride was unwilling to let her flinch from what had to be done. "Right," she said.

  After buying the dress, we headed for a lingerie store — Intimissimi. If the buzz I experienced shopping for a dress for Heidi to impress other guys was strange, then it was much more significant as we toured the racks full of lace and silk and satin. Buying a dress was one thing — but bras, panties, for some other guy to see her in? Wow.

  I don't think Heidi could quite believe it, either, but then she was a little staggered by just what we were seeing in that store. I was guessing she'd never been in a place like this.

  She held up something for me to check out, her jaw dropping in astonishment that something so ridiculous might be on sale.

  I said, "Great — you can try it."

  "Uh... what?"

  I laughed. "It'll look great on you."

  Her eyes widened. But she didn't put the g-string back on the rack.

  After that it seemed that all bets were off, so Heidi was reluctant to draw my attention to the particularly scandalous items — and it seemed that she was hesitant to pick out anything at all.

  I held up a black lace bra and thong set, and Heidi caught her breath for the umpteenth time — but once again, she didn't say 'no'. As I added it to our line-up, she seemed happy for me to choose.

  With various items in hand, we found ourselves a changing booth and I perched on the seat to watch Heidi strip off once again. Only this time, she was stripping off her underwear, too. She did hesitate once she'd pulled off her jeans and her shirt — even though I'd seen it all before, I was no longer her husband, no longer her anything really. But you know, we were in a lingerie store and she was trying on underwear. What else was she going to do?

  But then she peeled off her bra and panties, and saw me watching her in the mirror, and from her expression seemed to enjoy the exposure. She actually turned to give me a better view, and took her time in deciding what to try on first.