This is a work of fiction. This multi-chapter series explores themes such as free use and wife sharing. It features interconnected story elements across all chapters that are recommended to be read in order.
PROLOGUE
Every time I enter a board room, I can always expect the businessmen on the other side of the table to ask me the same question: 'How's the wife?' On the surface, that type of question about spouses could be passed off as typical small talk before a meeting. But I'm married to Israeli supermodel Bar Refaeli, and I suspect every businessman thats asks me about her is hoping I divulge just enough to fill their wildest imaginations.
I love bringing Bar with me on business trips, if only because our busy schedules make it hard to spend time together otherwise. These trips are always fun for us because we follow a simple formula: I conduct business in the daytime, then we enjoy ourselves after hours. We eat great food, stay in beautiful hotels, and enjoy exotic nightlife.
EARLY MORNING
Bar, myself, and Adam arrive at Barcelona airport, having suffered through a long, uncomfortable flight from Israel. We're welcomed at the airport by a private driver who escorts us to a black SUV. Our driver politely reminds me that the transportation, hotel accommodations, and restaurant reservations for the trip are all courtesy of Cristiano, my friend and primary business contact in Spain.
The three of us jump into the car. First stop is the hotel to get settled in. In the car, I watch the sun rise through the tinted window. Bar's tired head leans against my left shoulder, her eyes closed, and I stroke her blonde hair to comfort her. Her hand rests inside my jacket pocket to stay warm. With my other hand, I review my notepad to make sure I'm fully prepared for my meeting in a couple hours at Cristiano's offices.
Bar and I sink into the backseats relaxingly while Adam, my assistant, sits in the passenger seat.
"How many more minutes to the hotel?" I ask Adam.
"30 minutes, sir. Can I get you anything?" he responds.
"—You can be quiet while I try to sleep!" Bar interrupts, clearly still irritable from our insufferable red eye flight.
"Sorry ma'am," Adam responds sincerely, then turns his head back around toward the front.
Adam is frequently on the receiving end of Bar's mood swings. He's a young man with a kind heart, but Bar often treats him like a little brother she loves to bully and tease. Adam is actually my sister's stepson whom I've employed as my assistant for the past six months. So he's not even blood-related, but I care for his well-being just the same. He's half my age and has half my conviction, so I try to boost his confidence every now and then, usually involving Bar.
"Adam, she's just tired. Can you mark her calendar for a massage? I'll book her an appointment at the hotel."
"Yes sir, will do."
"In the meantime, you can massage her feet to help her sleep."
"...Quiet please," Bar murmurs to both of us.
I remove Bar's sandals and she subtly groans in annoyance. With her eyes still closed, she does her best to maintain sleep as I place her calves and feet up on the car's center armrest. Before Adam's fingers reach her feet, I stop him momentarily. "Use lotion. It's smoother."
"The lotion is in the luggage, in the trunk sir," he quietly responds.
"Okay let me look in her purse for some," I tell him.
I reach over Bar's lap and grab her purse and start digging for a pocket-sized lotion bottle. I shuffle past her various makeup kits, her phone, wallet, and three different brands of condom boxes
.
I finally pull out a small liquid container and hand it to Adam.
"Here, use this," I tell him. It's too late before I realize I've handed him a small bottle of lube that Bar and I use, the brand's sticker label apparently removed for some reason.
"Fancy massage oil," Adam whispers cautiously, trying not disturb Bar. I try to hold back a chuckle knowing he isn't aware of what I just handed him.
Adam squirts a dime of lube onto his palm, rubs both hands together, then starts applying pressure to her arches with his thumbs. She doesn't respond verbally but I can tell by her subtle facial reaction that she feels more at ease.
"How expensive is this bottle? Does this company sponsor Bar? Should I bring this bottle to the hotel for the masseuse to use on her too?" Adam quietly fires off his list of random questions with excited glee.
He clearly enjoys whenever he gets to massage Bar. I often ask him to rub her feet, shoulders, head or hands when she's stressed. As the loyal assistant he is, he never abuses his privilege. And I never get worried or offended when I notice the erections he tends to get during these massage sessions.
[Sidebar: The funniest Adam/Bar massage memory is when at the house late at night, she's in her thin silk black nightgown and he's in an undersized shirt and boxers. I invite him to our bedroom to rub out her knots to help her fall asleep. He couldn't hide much in his boxers that night. I think he kept trying to tuck it between his legs, but it kept popping back up.]
To my credit, I never call him out on his obvious erections because I know it embarrasses him. But Bar rarely misses an opportunity to poke fun at his expense, even now with her eyes closed and in her semi-conscious state. She teases, "Adam, I bet you're hard right now, aren't you?"
Adam's cheeks turn cherry red, but he continues diligently with the massage. I can't help but smile at Bar's blunt remark (which happens to be true), but I cover my face with my notepad to save him further embarrassment.
ARRIVING AT THE HOTEL
We pull up to the entrance of the luxurious five-star hotel. Adam and Bar exit the car and head into the lobby while I hang back with the driver momentarily. He notifies me that he'll make sure he gets our luggage upstairs. Then he hands me our room key already and says we have the penthouse suite and can skip check-in at the main desk. I appreciate the VIP service.
The driver tells me he'll wait in the hotel lobby whenever I'm ready for him to drive me over to Cristiano's offices. I thank him and try to tip him. He politely refuses and then changes the subject to tell me he's going to walk over to his co-worker (another private driver) to say hello.
I enter the fancy lobby to meet Bar and Adam. With the hotel keycard in hand, I point them toward the elevators to start heading up.
INSIDE THE PENTHOUSE
Once we step inside the suite, none of the rooms are actually visible until after having walked down a deep hallway. The penthouse's layout is like walking up the short stem of a flower before reaching its petals, at which point the entire suite gorgeously blooms into view with multiple rooms, decadent furniture, golden fixtures, and various art pieces.
I spot the master bedroom to the left. It's almost too spacious, with gray walls, a mirror on the ceiling, a large television, lounge chairs, and a gigantic king-sized bed with white covers. To the left of the master is a smaller bedroom with fewer embellishments but decorated elegantly nonetheless. I point to the smaller room and say, "Adam, that's your room over there."
"Sir, I get to stay in the suite too?"
"Yes, of course. You can't be on another floor if we need your help," I reply.
Bar quips, "Adam, just don't masturbate too loud in your room when we're having sex. These walls look thin."
Adam angles his face down in embarrassment. I smile in jest and try to save his dignity by telling Bar, "Love, you look refreshed now. His foot massage helped you sleep in the car, no?" After saying that, a part of me already regrets that I may have only set Bar up to respond with another playful put-down.
"Yes, it was very good. Thank you Adam. I did sleep better," she surprisingly and genuinely says to him from across the room. I always appreciate whenever she appreciates him, especially when I least expect it.
"You're very welcome ma'am. Can I help with anything else?" Adam says with a renewed smile, his face no longer looking down at his shoes.
I chime in, "Yes actually, can you go downstairs and make sure all our luggage gets up here soon? I need to change into my suit before I leave. Here, take the room key."
"Okay I'll be back, sir." Adam heads back downstairs, glad that his excellent foot massage has at least made Bar happy for the time being.
Bar and I plop down on the couch in the suite's living room, wondering what to do with an hour before I need to leave. She asks me, "How do you feel? Need help to prepare more?"
"I think I'm ready, love."
"Good, you'll do great, as always. Well, do you want to watch TV? ...or ...maybe film a quick video?"
Bar and I like to film video clips of ourselves on my phone when we travel together. I love editing and rewatching them whenever I have to travel without her. It's a nice reminder that she's always in my pocket wherever I go.
I elaborate to her, "Okay we can film a video, just a short one though. I can't be late to Cristiano's office."
Her eyes light up to remind me, "Oh Cris! Don't forget to tell him I said hi and that I miss him. What time are we getting dinner with him later?"
"Oh no, sorry love. He told me he has to fly to Berlin after, but I'll tell him you said hi."
"Oh no! Really?"
"Unfortunately ye—"
"—Can I go with you to his office? Just to say hi. Before the meeting starts?"
