She already looked pretty hot coming in from work—all made up, wearing a pretty summer dress that showed a lot more of her thighs than she’d ever show back in Boston.
“It gets better?” he asked her, only half joking.
“You do want me to make an impression, don’t you?”
“Of course. And you would in that.”
“Oh, you wait.”
She beckoned him to follow her through to the bathroom, and he was obedient like her pet, though his eyes were planted firmly on her shapely behind tucked into that dress as they went.
A small pile of black clothing lay on the counter beside the sink, making Hugo feel certain she’d planned this. Part of her build-up for a man who just adored to watch her.
Checking out her glorious curves in the mirror that made up the entire wall above the counter, she flashed Hugo a minx-like grin and dragged the dress up over her hips and waist to reveal a pair of pink lace underwear that her husband would ordinarily have taken to be a special ensemble for sex. Yet she was intending to wear something different tonight.
Hugo perched on the side of the bathtub as she peeled the dress off, up over her head.
Then off came her matching bra, and down came those panties to reveal the tidy patch of golden hair covering her mound. Hugo felt a little giddy to see it. How far was she going to go this evening? She knew where her husband stood, knew what his fantasy was now. She knew that if she really wanted it, she could go as far as she wanted—sleep with another man, if she desired—and he would be supportive.
Naked, she looked stunning. Any man would go some length for the chance to see her like this.
First item on the pile, black with straps hanging off it—she unfolded it and held it across her waist. A garter belt, something Hugo couldn’t remember her ever owning before. She fastened it around her waist, then revolved it around her body to get it into the right position.
“You’ve been shopping,” Hugo said, trying to sound casual, relaxed.
“You like it?” she smiled at him in the mirror.
“It’s pretty wild.”
He couldn’t help but notice, as she turned to look at him for real, just how hard her nipples were. She was getting off on this, dressing up for her husband, dressing up for their night out.
Next, she slipped on a pair of black and emerald silk and lace panties, which went on over the garter belt, over the suspender straps dangling down to her thighs. Hugo knew from glimpses of pornography what that meant: easy to get them off without taking off her stockings and suspenders. Then, a bra to match her panties, binding in her breasts, slipping the straps over her shoulders, checking it was all in the perfect position for the evening.
“How are you feeling?” he asked her.
She smiled. “Nervous, I guess,” she said, now turning toward him, leaning back against the counter, then hopping up to perch her behind on the edge, where she could shuffle in order to put on her stockings. She had to remove her shoes first, but then she was stretching out the thin nylon, balling it up before lifting her knee to roll it onto her foot, up her slender shin, over her knee and up most of her thigh. The other one followed. Hopping down to connect up the suspenders with the stockings.
Jesus. Hugo felt his insides on fire. Madeleine was wearing stockings and suspenders. Clothing designed for pretty much nothing but sex—and therefore so very sexy.
Would another man get to see her like this?
Hugo had never seen a real woman in actual stockings and suspenders before, he realized. It was so powerfully erotic, bringing up memories of 90s porn magazines he’d borrowed while a teenager. So very luxurious, decadent, and somehow completely, wonderfully immoral.
She checked herself out again in the mirror, turning to gauge every angle, and to Hugo she was disturbingly calm. Had she worn this kind of thing before? For someone else in her past?
Sure, he had those niggling questions as to why she’d never worn this kind of thing for him before, be he’d been together with her to know full well the answer: she’d always been far too self conscious about her body to wear this kind of thing, whether or not she suspected it would be a turn-on for him. These days, though, her confidence was at incredible levels—and this outfit was full testament to that.
Different shoes this time, a larger heel. Not quite stilettos, since they were intending on dancing that night, but sexy all the same. When shoes hiked up a woman on her ankles, it forced her to stand in a way that pushed out her curves magnificently—the feminist’s nightmare, perhaps, with insinuations it was purely for a man’s benefit, but it really did emphasize her femininity, and those scintillating curves.
God, she looked incredible.
A final application of lipstick, a shake of her head and a ruffle of her hair, and she was a sultry vision of seduction. She could have been a high-class call girl, a model, a movie star. But she was his, and they were about to go show her off on the dance floor.
Her little black dress was back out in the bedroom, hanging in the closet right by the door, ready and primed for use. She had to wriggle to get it down her body, it was so tight. The hem came down to her upper thighs, only just below the level of her stockings. It was going to be easy to see those later on, when they were dancing. The neckline was so low it barely covered her bra, revealing more cleavage than Hugo saw most nights.
She was ready to go, and her husband was almost drooling, he was so openly gaping at her attire.
The word wow just didn’t seem to cut it.
The fact that it was already late as they headed out the door seemed all kinds of bad. This wasn’t when civilized couples went out, not when they’d been married five years.
As she climbed into the yellow cab in front of him, Madeleine merely raised her leg and Hugo could see that she was wearing stockings, rather than hose, her dress was so short. It made him involuntarily shiver to see, to think they were embarking on a journey that could, if things went the way they hoped, result in Madeleine exploring some serious boundaries.
He could tell that she was nervous, too. She trembled a little, but she was also talked more than usual.
“She’s moving in on Wednesday—can you believe it?”
“I can’t believe it. It’s going to be great—we can just hang out, like we used to. It’s weird to think she’ll be a student again.”
Talking about Lucy was a great distraction for her, it seemed, though all the way to the club she was glancing up through the windshield at the road ahead, those eyes scouting for the signs they were getting close to their destination. Hugo could read the excitement and anxiety in her pretty face, the street lights flowing over her as they moved..
“I think she’s ready to start dating again,” she was saying. “She needs some distraction from Greg…”
“I’m sure she will when she’s ready.”
“Oh sure, when she’s ready. But I’m just saying. You need to keep your eye out for eligible bachelors, Mister. I’m not sure the bookstore crowd is quite the right type for her.”
“Judging by Greg, her type isn’t the right type for her.”
They pulled up at the street just down from the entrance. His hand was shaking a little as he handed the fare to the driver.
It was still too early for a line to build up outside the club. They were nodded inside by the bouncer, whose eyes strayed all over Madeleine, making Hugo feel a flicker of pride and exhilaration. She was absolutely gorgeous, and she was locking her arm in his.
A drink at the bar steadied their nerves. A strong drink, as it turned out, and Madeleine was ordering.
“Don’t normally come on a weekend.”
“I’ve only ever come here after work,” she yelled over the pounding music, which was too loud for conversation even this early.
The place was actually filling up already, it didn’t have that empty atmosphere of a party yet to begin. The darkness obscured some of the place, but they could see down to the dance floor, and it had a fair number of people jostling for room.
“I think we timed it perfectly,” she said, or rather yelled, smiling away at the fact that the barman kept ogling her cleavage.
“We probably did,” Hugo clinked glasses with her, and sank a mouthful of fiery vodka.
For a moment or two, they drank, they looked in each other’s eyes, just smiling at each other, examining each other’s faces, assessing how this was really going for the other, without needing to speak. Conversation by body language. Her eyes seeking reassurance in his—you’re sure you want to do this? You’re really interested in this? You can say ‘no’ any time, you can stop me, you can come pull me back, we can get out of here at a moment’s notice.
His eyes attempting to calm her, to complement her and to show firmly how thrilled he was they were playing this game together. Without speaking the words, showing her that he trusted her, he loved her beyond anything, and knew that she loved him.
This was just a little fun, that was all. Treading near the edge of a cliff, but with no intention of tipping over.
Finally, she drained her drink, and gave a final nod. Okay.
She leaned forward to kiss his cheek, giving him a chestful of her strong fragrance—something sexy, feminine. Chanel, perhaps, though Hugo wasn’t savvy enough to tell. Then she left for the restroom, and with a fresh drink in his hand, Hugo found himself a small table by the overhang, from where he could stare down at the assembled ranks on the dance floor.
He was shaking a little by the time he saw her emerge, a solitary figure quickly absorbed by the throng.
It looked almost as though she’d pulled her dress down a little, if that was possible, until Hugo realized that from his vantage point up above, it probably just gave him a better view down her cleavage than at ground level. Still, she looked stunning, and as she began to move to the beat, she only looked more and more so, the motion enhancing the elegance and the femininity of her curves.
Hugo could see various male eyes checking her out, even from those already apparently with someone else. It made him tremble. Felt like he was monitoring a beautiful lamb while wolves paced in the shadows, waiting for their moment to pounce.
Madeleine glanced up at her husband, checking on him, though she didn’t want to react in a way that let anyone know he was there. Hugo returned a warm smile, showing her he could see her, he was ready for her to have a little fun.
A youngish guy, maybe even younger than the college students who lived across their street, was the first with the confidence to approach her. Blond, lean though without the athleticism of Connor—handsome enough to raise a broad smile on Madeleine’s pretty face.
His eyes were all over her as they danced, apart at first, the foot between them making it seem to Hugo that she was displaying herself to him, showing him what she had to offer. She cast a few glances up to where her husband was watching her, seeking that reassurance as the guy edged closer to her, until his hands were on her waist, and then she turned, to graze her behind against him.
Dancing in front of him, her back to him, she allowed his hands to run down her body, over those sumptuous curves, and Hugo felt a shiver course down his spine.
Jesus. This was so real. Actually seeing this guy with his hands all over her, even briefly over her breasts, though that made her turn and silently chide him.
What was he saying to her? Leaning in, murmuring into her ear, periodically making her smile or laugh or roll her eyes. Whatever his approach, by the end of the number Hugo suspected she was less than impressed with his chat-up lines. She dispatched him to the bar, perhaps to fetch them a drink, but by the time he’d returned, she was already dancing with someone else.
Three of them, all a few years younger, danced with her. As she did so, Hugo started noticing her focus shifting to another part of the club.
He craned his neck trying to locate where her glances were directed, and saw an older guy hovering by at the bar watching her, occasionally nodding or raising his glass at her, biding his time while she worked off her energy with these young suitors.
Hugo felt sparks of jealousy firing off inside him every time her eyes darted off to the side, to gauge the affect of her performance on this man, who had to be ten years older than her, dressing smart in a dark purple shirt of doubtless quality.
It seemed that her display was now for his eyes, not her husband’s. When she pushed out her chest, or wiggled her rear, she’d look over to this new man, offering him a coy but flirtatious smile at how she was performing with this young guy who had no hope of bagging her.
When it came time to send her young partner away, the music melted into a slower number, and Hugo watched the older man dropping his drink, sensing his moment.
He approached her with confidence, Madeleine seeming delighted that he saw her as worthy. Hugo felt a strange buzz underneath the quiver of fear and jealousy as he watched her place her hand on his lower back, and then she was pressing herself to him, accepting his hands on her body.
One track segued into another, and Hugo watched them writhe slowly together, knowing that this guy had to feel the heat from Madeleine’s body, the firm swell of her breasts against his chest. The lights seemed to dip down lower as the dance floor became fully packed, elevating the colored spots and lighting effects moving over the crowd, though making it a little harder for Hugo to observe from above.
By the third track of their dance, Hugo was down to glimpses of them each time a light flashed the right way. The man was pushed firmly against her by the crowd around them, as much as his desire for her, and Madeleine was nothing but enchanted by it.
God, it felt hard to breathe in there, too many people around him. Hugo focused on drawing in deep chestfuls of air, accented by hints of dry ice, sweat and cologne.
A flash of light, and there was a glimpse of him whispering sweet nothings in her ear.
Another flash of light, and there was Madeleine nodding, smiling, giggling, responding to him with those dangerously seductive eyes.
Another, and another, and each new flash of light brought a fresh gasp from Hugo, though his shock was balanced by the growing excitement that Madeleine was really turned on by this wicked dance.
Watching her, he felt so alive. Shaking with excitement and yet chilled by a real sense of vulnerability, a hint of doom keeping him seriously on edge as Madeleine moved with her partner, more at ease with him with every beat.
Another flash of light, and the older man was pressing his nose into Madeleine’s neck, inhaling her scent.
A heart-stopping moment of darkness, and then another flash, and Hugo felt a jolt of shock stab through his chest at the sight of the man kissing her neck gently, tilting his head to touch his lips just under her jaw. Madeleine looking a little surprised, but accepting it, slanting her head so that he might continue.
Jesus. Jesus. Jesus.
Hugo felt a little sick, and yet at the same time elated.
It was more than a little confusing. He was terrified, to the bones, and yet rippling with excitement, his manhood rock hard in his pants. She was so beautiful with her new dance partner, so pretty and elegant and graceful, a long burst of lilac light showing her moving with him, beaming up at him, adoring the attention.
Hugo was so in love with his wife, of course he was going to take pleasure in her having fun, truly enjoying herself, revealing that spark of sheer exhilaration from this unbelievable adventure.
Then, for the first time in an absolute age, he saw her looking up at him, her eyes searching out the crowd for her husband, finding it as difficult to see him in the darkness as it was for him to see her. It warmed him by several degrees to see her looking for him, checking on him, acknowledging his part in this.
She looked a little frightened at not being able to see him, until a spot light sauntered along the balcony and there he was, in bright blazing stage light. Her smile on finally locating him very nearly outshone the that powerful spotlight.
Her beautiful eyes pierced his, interrogating him in a fraction of a second, determining how he was responding to her transgressions with an older gentleman.
Hugo offered her a broad smile, and she was laughing, ostensibly at something her dance partner had said, though in reality it was clearly in response to her devoted husband.
He was trembling as she was cast into darkness again, and then when a new flash arrived on her, and Hugo saw her in the man’s arms, kissing his mouth, pressing up against him as she sucked on his lip, it felt as though his heart had stopped.
God in Heaven.
Then the light was gone again, and Hugo had to consciously focus to prevent himself from hyperventilating.
His phone buzzed on his hip—a text message from Madeleine, he knew it before he’d even retrieved the little thing.
Her words were instantly comforting and reassuring.
> You want to meet outside? I don’t think I can take much more of this!
He sent a message back:
> Sure, it’s been pretty intense!
A flash of light, and she was looking up at him, smiling warmly, lovingly. A last message:
> Give me a few minutes, really need to pee.
Hugo nodded, and was up on his feet for a leisurely saunter out through the crowd of people now making the place a little over-full. He needed fresh air. He could wait for her outside well enough.
The line waiting to get in was now down the block—insane. You couldn’t get more people in that nightclub, it simply wasn’t feasible. Hugo felt a little old, coming out early. Back in Boston, before they’d been married, they would probably have been in a line like this, waiting to get into another nightclub having warmed up elsewhere, with the intention of going on until the small hours, maybe even dawn. Now, though, he felt relief to get out of there, to breathe the clear air outside, which might be just as full of toxins from the traffic streaming by, but at least was cooler.
The clocked ticked on, five minutes, ten minutes, fifteen. He was regretting leaving the club—what if something bad had happened? He couldn’t get back in now, and this wasn’t the kind of place to give him a stamp on the back of the hand for easy re-admittance.
He told himself she was simply waiting in a line for a restroom stall—no doubt the nightclub’s bathroom facilities were totally incapable for such a massive crowd. Yet his heart was racing, he felt that dark undercurrent of paranoia and jealousy clawing at the wonderment and excitement he’d been feeling at actually watching Madeleine stretch the limits of their relationship in the arms of another man.
What if he had misread her intentions in those text messages? What if she meant for him to meet her outside so she could ask his permission to go home with that other man? She hadn’t said anything about going home.
As the time ticked on, he started to imagine her remaining on the dance floor with that guy, knowing her husband had scampered off to wait for her outside. He had visions of the guy leading her away from the crowd, into some dark corridor, some shadowy corner where they could enjoy a little semi-privacy.
Pushing her down to retrieve his hard cock and wrap her lips around it.
Hugo was getting more and more certain she’d changed her mind, decided that if they were going to try this, they should jump straight off at the deep end.