The Tenant: A Very Naughty Hotwife Novel (10 page)

11
: THE BOOTS

Even if Ann
a
had tricked me somehow, and even if Anna was back in control of this game that I had started, my obsessive thoughts and her wild sexiness were not making it easy for me to step back and think rationally about where we were going with this.

We went shopping the next day.

It was a planned trip. By that I mean, we had planned it before the conversation from the night before.

But Anna was racing to the goal now, and part of me was superheated with excitement. Part of me had a hard-on all day watching her finger black lingerie and give me a complicit smile.

But another part of me wanted to stop what I had apparently put into motion.

Everything she looked at now was something sexy, and everything she touched could be the thing she would wear to have sex with John.

At a shoe store, Anna took things to a new level.

She found a pair of knee-high brown leather boots. They had five-inch heels, they were clearly the pride of the store. An elephant would have looked sexy in them.

Anna ran her fingers up and down the smooth brown leather of the boots. Then she flipped the model shoe over and her eyes widened a she looked the price.

“One thousand dollars,” she said. She started to put the boot back, but an idea occurred to her. I could see it forming in her mind.

“Hmmm,” she said. She looked at me, and twisted the boot playfully in her hand.

I was a few steps ahead of her, or maybe right in pace with her. But I waited for her to deliver her idea.

“What if we made things a little more interesting?”

I played innocent. “What things?” I asked, as if I had no idea.

“Well...” she said. “You have things you'd like me to do...”

I nodded, and I looked around the store a little nervously, trying to get an idea if anyone was listening as much as to make sure that no one was looking, because I could an erection growing in my pants already.

“And I feel like, I should have some kind of...bonus...waiting for me at the end of it. After all,” she stroked the boot seductively, like it was a cock she was working into a frenzy, “I
never
work for free.”

See the thing about Anna? She liked to be submissive in bed, and someone who didn't know her well might read all kinds of things into that that simply weren't true. Because Anna gave up only the control she decided to give up. The rest she kept for herself. The rest she twisted and manipulated.

Her hands were moving up and down the soft leather of the boot, like it was an enormous cock.

I looked at her expression.

However much I may have wanted to put the brakes on everything; to tell Anna there was no way I would pay her to have sex with another man; to laugh in her face and go home and do something clean like have cookies and tea; I couldn't. I couldn't stop any of this, because it was leading me, not the other way around.

Anna knew it.

And so did I.

“So you do what I want, and I buy you these boots?”

She bit her lip. “Exactly.”

You have to understand that I love Anna. And maybe this is all part of it. But right then, just then, I wanted John to do the most fucked-up things to her. Something about her turning the tables on me this way made me want to see walk her around his room on a dog leash.

I took the boot from her and set it down in its place. “Let me think about it,” I said, and my own calm, beneath which I was raging with all kinds of filthy ideas and desires, surprised even me. “That's a pricey boot.”

I could see that Anna liked the way this game was panning out. It flashed across her face. I wasn't sure if she wanted to hide her pleasure or not, but her face returned to its usual cheerful, dangerous unreadability. She let her hand linger on the boot, and then she walked past me, the slightest smirk on her face.

Or did I imagine that expression? As soon as she was behind me, I no longer trusted what I thought I had seen.

All I knew was that my wife had just agreed to let me give her instructions about what I wanted her to let another man do to her, for the price of a leather boot.

My chest was tight, and my heart was pumping rapidly.

I was excited, there was no doubt about that.

But the excitement was so raw, and terrifying, that it almost made me sick.

Anna didn't brin
g
anything up again for several days. She let me simmer, thinking about what we had agreed to. And not agreed to.

She got ready for work, made coffee, talked absent-mindedly about dry cleaning, snapped back at TV reporters on the news, and put her lunches into tiny glass Tupperware containers. She let me wonder if I had imagined everything we had discussed, if I had misread something she had said when I suggested my idea.

Of course, I had a feeling she was doing just that – building the tension so that I started to doubt whether she had agreed to anything at all.

I didn't want to come pawing at her desperately, like some out-of-control addict or animal.

She had agreed to it, after all.

Hadn't she?

I couldn't remember if she had ever exactly said yes to any of this. She had liked the idea, but maybe she was just pretending. Maybe everything she had said to indicate that she was taking it seriously had been a game to her.

She had, after all, never received my specific instructions.

I was so obsessed with thinking about whether Anna had, in fact, agreed to my fantasy, and whether she took it seriously and understood that I really wanted her to do it, that I gave no thought at all to how she was going to accomplish it.

There was certainly no doubt that Anna could pique John's interest. There was no doubt in my mind that he was attracted to her. Every man was attracted to Anna. Had I given it any thought, though, it was still a tricky situation: she needed to maneuver the situation so that she and John ended up in the apartment, in his room, where I could see them.

John didn't seem like a reckless guy. He really didn't seem like the kind of guy who would fuck his landlord's wife in his own bedroom.

I didn't actually think about any of this, though, like I said. My mind was occupied with endless circles of imagining Anna on the other side of the wall, her skin covered in sweat, her pussy filled with cock, and me watching her.

And then worrying about whether or not Anna was really trying to make that happen or not.

Anna must hav
e
know
n
that I wasn't sleeping well. When she rose in the middle of the night, she didn't touch me or try to rouse me. This would bother me later, because if I had been sleeping as I usually slept, the whole thing might have unfolded without me even knowing.

She sat up first, and there was nothing unusual about that. She always paused before slipping out of bed, as if she weren't sure whether she wanted to or not.

I was on my side, and my eyes were closed, but I was awake and they snapped open the moment I felt her sit up.

The weight shifted in the bed, and then she was gone. 

I rolled over onto my back and looked at the ceiling.

Anna had been up two nights ago, to do work in the kitchen, so I didn't give it a lot of thought at first. It was just another night of insomnia for both of us. I tried to close my eyes, and maybe I even began to drift off.

It was a cool night, but Anna had left the windows open. She insisted on it up until the coldest winter nights, and closed windows, reluctantly, for rain alone. So there was nothing unusual about the open window, either.

I smelled cigarette smoke. It came up from the street, and my nose sought it out. I had been a smoker in college and I still loved the smell of it from a distance, outside. It reminded me of good times.

Then I heard Anna's voice. A light laugh.

I opened my eyes, as though I could better see her voice.

That was her voice, wasn't it?

Again.

By the time I got to the window, I caught only the tail end of whatever had been happening out there. The scene was so unusual, and ended so quickly, that for a second I felt sure I was in a dream. I saw Anna's hair, John's black arm resting on his knee. He was seated, and then he stood up. The orange tip of a cigarette streaked through the darkness. Anna had on a gray sweater-wrap, and her bare shoulder hung out of it. Smoke came from near her face – but Anna didn't smoke.

And then they disappeared from view.

Their voices were low, and I heard them for a few seconds. The scrape of feet on the sidewalk. A door opening. A door closing.

Crickets.

I blinked into the darkness. The scene had happened so quickly I didn't even know what to make of it. I looked at the clock. It was 3 am.

What time had Anna gotten up, I wondered? Had she really been smoking a cigarette? Where had she dragged that gray wrap out from?

My mind pondered these and other meaningless questions, before the reality of what was happening crept into my mind:

They had entered the building. Together. And they were not in our house – Anna's and my part of the house.

They were in John's apartment.

You fucking idiot.

My mind and body closed off from each other, with the strange divergence that occurs in an emergency or a crisis. My limbs began to move, even though my brain was still, apparently, confused. My body took me down the stairs, through the silent kitchen. My brain managed to note that Anna was not there, but continued to be too slow. My thoughts were lingering on things like the fact that her laptop was out on the table and still glowing, and hopefully she had saved her work.

But my body knew where to go, what to do. Down the stairs again, down to the basement. My hands reached up to a shelf just above my head on my way down the stairs, and grabbed a flashlight.

And then, there I was, in the basement, my face pressed to the wall, straining to see through the opening to the living room and kitchen, where a single light splashed against the olive green paint and gave off a dim glow. I could see the outline of their figures, and indeed my wife
was
in John's apartment.

What were they doing?

The light was dim and whatever they were saying to each other or doing was taking a long time. My back was starting to hurt from the way I was crouching on a pile of clothing and a some unemptied boxes from when we had moved. The whole pile was terribly unstable and I felt like I was going to slide off and crash through the wall.

I should have readjusted everything, but I couldn't tear my eyes away from the hole in the wall, from the snippet of the scene between John and Anna that I could barely see.

In fact, the fact that I could barely see it was only making it hotter. Better, in a way. Like when Anna wore extremely conservative clothing.

Like her white t-shirt at dinner with John.

My eyes were on their silhouettes, my ears prickling with every laugh of Anna's, ever smooth rumble from John. My cock was twitching in anticipation.

But my mind was on a troubling loop.

What if Anna had actually planned this whole thing right from the start? What if Anna had only tricked me into thinking that this was my idea? What if clever Anna, with all of her marketing skills, had turned the whole thing on me so that she could go to John's apartment in the middle of the night, guilt-free, and fuck his brains out?

How could that even have happened, idiot?

And:

Did it matter?

Did it really matter to me?

My cock reported that nothing mattered, nothing except seeing Anna fuck John. 

I pressed myself up to the wall, which was comical because it wasn't possible to get any closer and it wasn't improving my view of anything that was happening. I could faintly hear Anna's voice, and John's baritone beneath it.

The voices of flirting. Moving together like a harmony and a melody, entwining themselves. John insisting, Anna resisting.

I blinked. It was cool in the basement but I was sweating.

My cock was rock-hard and my mouth had gone dry. It was so close now, this thing that I wanted.

And then.

And then Anna and John's silhouettes came together. I couldn't see very well but I could see well enough to know that their mouths were inches from each other, then centimeters, then nothing at all.

My breath was caught in my throat and my heart actually stuttered inside of my chest.

Anna's lips, on John's lips. Their big, poofy lips pressed together. Now his hand would move down to between her thin thighs, and up the length of her leg, over her panties (which ones had she worn?)...

Suddenly, however, the figures parted. Anna was shaking her head.

Then she leaned back to kiss him, and before I could get my mind around what was happening, she was gone. The sound of the door closing echoed through the apartment.