“You look… great.”
She gave me a spin, and the skirt lifted to show me a flash of the lacy panties. A puff of warm air carried a flowery scent from the shower, the scent of her skin, maybe a hint of her sweet pussy.
I swallowed hard. So we were really doing this.
“Everything okay?” she said.
But it seemed to me she barely waited for the answer. She scooped up her purse, walked over and leaned toward me. She moved her lips very close to mine – as close as you can without touching – and said: “I don’t want to mess up my make-up.”
Then she smiled, trailed her hand over my cock as she turned, and waved at me as she left.
“I’ll text you.”
She stopped as she exited, holding the door open.
“Don’t worry,” she said. “It’s in the bag.”
My cock throbbed.
10: C ONVINCING
After what seemed like an eternal wait, Tennile texted me with their location, a restaurant in the slightly higher-end tourist area, the Southern Point Cafe. I decided to walk, since I knew it would take some time for them to get settled. There wasn’t much to do down there, if you were prowling around instead of trying to actually eat.
The plan between Shane and Tennile was that they would all go to dinner, an informal meeting of sorts, and then Shane would be called away unexpectedly, leaving Ryan and Tennile together. At that point, Tennile was supposed to drop her lawyer-act a little, and turn up her feminine charms.
The plan, when I had first heard it, had seemed incredibly cuckoo to me.
I mean, we men weren’t that led around by our cocks, were we?
Tennile had merely raised an eyebrow to that.
“Ryan Maddock is on the edge. We’re asking him to do a risky thing. He’s a businessman; he wouldn’t do it if it didn’t hold any water without the pussy. He just needs a nudge in the right direction,” Tennile had said.
I was turning this moment over and over in my mind as I walked through the grubbier parts of town, the beachy, grimy sandwich stores and cheap hotels. Tennile, lying on the couch with her legs stretched out, telling me the plan, telling me in that calm, sultry voice of hers how she would be the “nudge” in the right direction that a man like Ryan Maddock needed.
It sent chills down my spine, good and bad.
I walked faster, thinking about all this, so I had to make circles around the blocks of slightly more upscale hotels near the small public beach where the restaurant was. I was to stay away until Shane was gone, since he would recognize me. I held back a few blocks, walking by the same ritzy hotel complex so many times the gate guards started to eye me suspiciously. I headed out to the pier and strolled along, trying to look touristic and not mad.
Finally, my phone buzzed. I stared at the bungled message, which I knew Tennile was typing under the table:
[Nila]: she nest gone
Shane’s gone.
My legs felt as if they were floating on something as I strolled back down the pier with my hands in my pockets. Inside my chest, my heart was skipping and skittering. My stomach was getting that cool, anxious twisting feeling in it. I could barely feel my limbs as I hiked – quite a distance – back to the cafe.
As I walked past the cafe, I saw them through the window. Tennile was holding on to a wine glass, her fingers playing with the rim of it. The motion seemed careless, but I was starting to know my wife better: she knew that Ryan Maddock was watching her fingertips on the rim of that wine glass and thinking about how he could get her to do that same thing to the rim of his cock.
And he could.
I could only see the back of Ryan Maddock's head. Sandy hair, close-cropped. He looked young, fit. His shoulders were broad but they had muscle beneath them.
They were seated at a table close to a door that let out onto a patio. There were quite a lot of people there, so I wasn’t going to get noticed no matter where I sat. I scanned the place as I opened the door, my mind calculating, my cock throbbing to life.
A pretty waitress smiled at me as I walked through the door.
“Just you, sir?” she said. “A seat at the bar perhaps?”
I smiled back. In what seemed like slow motion, I moved my eyes over the restaurant. “I’m expecting someone,” I found myself saying. “Maybe one of those tables next to the open windows?”
There was one table, and one table only, right behind my wife and Ryan Maddock.
“Uh… yes, there’s one right over there,” she said pointing, and I almost forgot to follow her finger. “Is that okay?”
“It’s perfect.”
I followed her to the table, and she set out a menu for my guest, who I assured her would be along any moment. I ordered a bottle of wine, and I sat facing Ryan Maddock’s head.
Tennile caught my eye, but she didn’t reveal that she saw me, not even for a moment. She was leaning on one elbow, giving Ryan Maddock a nice view of her cleavage. Her legs were crossed and slightly off to the side, but she rubbed them together sensually from time to time, and I knew he could see that, too.
I held up a menu and listened for their conversation.
It was dreadfully boring. Ryan was actually talking about numbers: investment costs. His voice was dry and business-like. Disappointment was settling down inside of me like sludge in a lake. Maybe this guy was such a cold fish our plans would fall apart.
Maybe that wasn’t the worst thing in the world.
I lowered my menu and looked at Tennile, who had not broken her serious expression, looking intently at Ryan as though he were telling her the most interesting thing in the world.
Very briefly, for a simmering moment, she flicked her eyes over to mine. They were back on Ryan’s, I suppose, before he could even notice the look. But Tennile’s glance conveyed a lot in just a short time. It was a cool, professional look, with a layer of amusement below it.
Don’t worry, it said. I’ve got this.
“Excuse me,” Ryan said, cutting himself off. He looked at his phone.
Tennile slid her own phone from her purse at precisely the same moment, though she did it in a slinky way, sliding it out of her leather purse and bringing it up to where she could read it, her fingers playing over the screen the way they would travel over my chest.
I watched her face.
“Oh,” Maddock said. “Shane is, uh… not going to be able to come back tonight.”
Tennile turned her phone to face Ryan with a curious little smile on her lips. She wriggled a little in her seat, almost imperceptibly, and her eyes twinkled. “Well,” she said. “There’s no reason you and I can’t have a good time.”
This tipped it, of course. My own cock was hard as a slate in an instant, and there was a perceptible ripple that traveled through Ryan Maddock, who may have been a bit slow on the uptake but was certainly not dead from the waist down. When a woman like Tennile, in a dress like that, leans her elbows on the table and gives that sort of smile and says she and you can have a good a time in a voice like that, you’d have to be in a coma not to pick up on what she was laying down.
You’d have to be an idiot not to take her up on it.
“Well,” Maddock said, and he leaned back on the wide chair and hung his arms over the back of it by the elbows. “Let’s get another drink, then.”
“So tell me, Tennile, you get out on the water much?”
“I grew up in Nevada,” Tennile lied. “So, no. I don’t care much for that part of the job.”
I watched my wife smile, a perfect kind of inviting smile. She had her fingers on her wine glass, and almost as though she had rehearsed this scene a thousand times, and brought the glass to her lips and let the dark red wine linger on her mouth with a very precise, calculated sip that made my cock throb.
The unsettling feeling that Tennile was a little more professional than she should be snaked through me, but it was soon forgotten, because Maddock was talking.
“Well, that dinghy we were on today is no place
for a lady.” A pause, while Tennile swirled her wine with her eyes glinting and the enchanted expression on her face, an expression that told Maddock she knew what he was going to say next, and she would go along with it, whatever it was.
Jesus.
“You ever been on a yacht?” Maddock said. “Mine’s just out there in the harbor.”
“Is it,” Tennile said. A statement, another swirl of her wine as she smiled wryly, then tipped her head back slightly to drain the wine glass. “Why don’t you get the check? I’m going to run to the ladies.’”
She stood up, sort of swaying out of her seat so that each of her curves was highlighted in turn, let Maddock get a nice long drink of her pretty breasts in the scandalous dress, and then she spun and slinked away in that catwalk of hers.
I stared after her, and I could have sworn I heard Maddock growl.
I stumbled out of my seat and walked – fairly unsteadily – after her, talking to myself the whole time to keep from crashing past a waiter and running to the ladies room.
I was grateful that an interior wall blacked the space in front of the restrooms from the view of the restaurant. But Tennile had evidently stepped into the ladies,’ and so I was left standing around like a prowler. I wasn’t sure what I was doing there – I wasn’t there to stop her. I was just there to maybe take a little bite of her before she went off to Maddock, or feel beneath her skirt and see if she was wet…
I looked to the left and the right of me, and saw that the area was in plain view of patrons on either side of the hallway formed by the wall. Not plain view; some plants obscured things a little and it wasn’t like they were staring right into the space. I could maybe just hook a finger quickly through her panties…
The ladies’ door opened and Tennile met my eyes. She smiled, and she started toward me with that same, hypnotic smile she had given to Maddock, and my fingers were already tingling with the desire to feel her slick pussy juices on my fingertips, even if it was just for a second.
And then, suddenly, there he was.
Maddock.
His arm shot in front of Tennile, pushing the door back open, and her eyes and her taunting expression went like lightning to his face. He was stepping toward her, backing her into the bathroom.
Tennile laughed, a giggly-cunt kind of laugh that seemed cartoonishly fake to me, but was probably music to Maddock’s ears. “Ryan!” she said, in that fake-scandal voice women use when they want to pretend that they would never, ever dream of doing what you obviously have in mind.
I saw the back of his head: I imagined the lecherous look he was giving her. I saw his hand slide away from the door and toward her chest, but the door swung closed as he reached toward her and so I never got to see the rest.
And I was still standing there. Like an ass, but maybe not too bad because Maddock had been so obsessed with getting at my wife that he had not even noticed me standing there.
It was only when I heard the click of the door that I realized fully what was happening: that the bathroom was a single and that the door was locked and that the two of them were inside.
I stood there in disbelief, the incomplete image of Maddock reaching for Tennile’s breast burning into my vision until I couldn’t see what was in front of me.
A guy looked at me, made a kind of strange motion that must have meant to inquire if I was going to use the mens, and when I just stood there idiotically, he went in and locked the door.
Moments later, he came out, rubbing his hands on a paper towel and shaking his head. He hooked a thumb at the ladies’ room, and shook his head again, smiling. Then he disappeared.
I floated into the mens’ room and locked the door. For a moment there was nothing but the hum of a light that was beginning to fail, a scratchy hum, the final throttle of the toilet as it filled from the previous occupants’ flush.
Tennile’s voice came in over these tones, low, almost inaudible at first. But once I picked it out, it drowned all other sounds out, and it was all I could hear.
Tennile’s low moan, another hyperbolic version of herself, pornographic squealing moan, in time with a low, steady thump that could be heard through the wall.
I edged closer to the wall.
Bump bump bump.
Breathy gasp, breathy “oh!,” breathy gasp. “Oooooh.”
I put my hand on the wall and I could feel the vibration. The sounds, unarguably, of two people fucking against a wall in a bathroom.
One of those people was my wife.
A wave of sickness, not real sickness but a kind of exhilarating feeling that was just a hair away from vomit, like a roller coaster, washed over me and almost made my knees buckle.
Oooh, Tennile’s voice said, higher-pitched. It was muffled by the wall, coming through layers of wood and plaster, but it was unmistakable: she was rising up to a climax.
Another man’s dick was in her pussy right now.
Bump, bump, bump, oh, oh yes, oooooh, bump, bump.
A shriek. Muffled, as though by someone’s hand. A loud thud. And then a groan, a male one, and I leaned against the wall to double over from the pain that was like a vice grip on my balls as I listened to the sounds of Ryan Maddock filling my wife’s pussy with his cum.
My own cock was impossibly, painfully hard.
I could hear their voices, though not the words. Another bump.
I stumbled into the stall, through those swinging wood doors that are reminiscent of an old-time saloon. In a hurry of clumsy fumbling, my cock throbbing, I got myself out of my pants and jerked off, which took no time at all.
It was an unthinking, blinded, jerk-off, the kind of thing I hadn’t even done so recklessly, so addicted-like, even as a teenager. With one hand I pawed at the toilet paper and tried to get most of my cum into the clumsy wad I rolled off. I felt my whole face go red with the strain of resisting the urge to yell as I came.
I tidied up, my mind already going to where the two of them were now, and I floated out of the bathroom on a high. My head was spinning.
I went toward where we had been sitting, and a slight panic gripped me when I saw they weren’t there. I spun around, caught Tennile’s dress in my eye by the exit, and went into full-panic mode as I realized I wanted to follow them, desperately, that my wife, who was leaning on Maddock’s arm, was indeed going to his yacht.
Maybe for more.
I needed to pay the bill, to get out of there.
I sank into my chair, desperation choking me. But when I looked up, there she was. Tennile, walking back to the table. Ignoring me, but with this little smile on her lips that let me know she was not, she leaned a knee on the chair and scanned the table. Then she sat down, and flicked her eyes toward me, smiling. She leaned down to feel the floor with her hand.
“Oh!” she said, though no one but me was there to hear it. “Found it!”
She winked, and she stood up. Then she walked right past me, and I was able to touch her calf and the back of her knee as she passed, nothing more. The scent of another man was on her, just a faint waft of it rustled out from beneath the folds of her little skirt, mingled with her own scent.
I watched her get to the door, take Ryan’s arm again, and the two of them glued to each other like magnets and went through the exit.
I got up and followed them, forgetting about my bill entirely.
They walked to the marina, which was indeed “just over there,” as Ryan had promised.
I followed them, at one point getting as close as ten feet behind them. It was a balmy evening, a lot of people were out, and Ryan was so balls-deep in my wife in his mind that he wouldn’t have noticed if I had perched on his shoulder.
I watched her shake her ass as she leaned against him, her hips swaying seductively. She laughed a lot, a silvery, light laugh, the kind of laugh that for whatever reason had “Laugh Whores Use On Johns” written all over it.
I stared at her back, at her silky hair picking up in the ocean breeze, at the shape of her mouth as she smiled t
oward Ryan’s face. All parts of my wife that I had visited with my lips and my eyes and my fingers, time and time again, but they all seemed so foreign now.
When they dropped onto the floating docks, things became a little tricky: I was looking ahead and saw the security gate. Just a little hut, with a disinterested-looking security guy in it, who seemed to be watching TV.
Shit. They were trotting down the steps.
With my mind spinning, I followed, trying to figure out what I was going to do before we reached the gate and I made a fool of myself, or worse yet, got locked out. I contemplated a lot of different things, had a lot of different scenarios fly through my head in milliseconds. I could text Tennile; she could create some pretext and come out for me… no. I could crawl past him… no.
And then, like magic, it all came together. Tennile looked back toward me as they stepped onto the dock from the final step. She tipped her head just slightly, meeting my eyes. Then her hand slid out of Maddock’s and she feigned digging into her purse.
I became aware of the baseball cap I was wearing (as, hilariously, a disguise.)
My body moving ahead of my brain, I was gliding toward them quickly, close to them, bringing my hand to the bill of my hat to do that tippy thing. Maddock raised a hand in greeting, and I took a giant step right behind them, close enough to Tennile to look like I was maybe with her. She extended her arm to me quickly, just long enough for the security guy to see, and we all went in together, a party of three.
I stepped behind them quickly as we passed the gate, and Maddock turned around to glare at me. “Whoops,” I said. “Sea legs.”
He looked annoyed, and Tennile saved the day by distracting him. “Oooh,” she murmured. “Which one’s yours?”
I looked back at the security guy; he was paying no mind to any of this.
They made a sharp right and I kept walking. “Evening!” I said, cheerfully, but of course Maddock didn’t return my greeting.
“Prick,” I whispered, and strolled down to the next pier turning right and trying to keep my eye on the two figures on the next one over between the expensive boats.
Nila's Long Con: A Hotwife Adventure Page 13