They really didn't know anyone there anymore – their friends Samantha and Brad had left the party an hour or two earlier, but Charles and his wife Natasha were still enjoying themselves and had continued to mingle with the other guests. Although the crowd had thinned out a bit, the atmosphere was pleasant and Charles felt quite comfortable in the dim interior of the large room.
Making his way to the small bar, Charles ordered another Scotch and looked around for his wife. He'd been talking to an older gentleman about the economic meltdown for some time and only now realised that he hadn't seen her for awhile. But she wasn't too far away from him – standing not more than ten metres away in a quiet corner, he spotted her, and Charles smiled with a mild sense of relief.
Picking up his drink, Charles discreetly watched his wife with more than a passing interest. Natasha had not been out to a party for quite a long time, and with the champagne flowing freely, she now appeared to be letting her hair down a little as she leaned back casually against a wall while two men standing quite close to her talked animatedly. Charles noted that the three of them still appeared quite oblivious of him checking them out at that moment from across the room, and he couldn't help but smile with pride – he thought his wife looked fantastically vibrant right at that moment, dressed in her low-waisted skirt and matching white top.
And Charles was right – his wife did look especially nice in her new outfit, bought recently, just for that evening...
Her skirt was of an unusual design consisting of cleverly layered white-chiffon, parts of which came well below her knees with variously shaped pieces of the almost sheer material overlapping randomly from the waist like oversized handkerchiefs – some were long – some quite short, giving the hem a staggered look. Although the neat waist of the skirt sat on her hips in a very low fashion, she was afforded some modesty, as it was trimmed with an intricate-lace that added around 10 centimetres to the height of the waist, so that in effect, it stopped just below her pierced belly button – it was more like a wide belt really, but because the lace was quite transparent, it was probably even more an alluring feature than had it not been there at all...
And her top – wow!
It was a beautifully-made camisole of an identical lace to that of her skirts waistband. Starting just above her belly button, leaving her tanned midriff exposed, it clung tightly beneath her breasts – almost like a bodice really. It gave her an almost voluptuous appearance that belied her quite modest endowment – and in the right light, it too was tantalisingly sheer. To top it off, Natasha's long, well-groomed, almost raven-coloured hair contrasted wonderfully with her white outfit – and the effect was quite appealing indeed!
Although Natasha was not beautiful by any stretch of the imagination – to Charles, at that moment, he thought that she looked gorgeous, and he certainly felt that he was a lucky man indeed to be still married to a woman who had, in his opinion, only improved with age like a classic red wine.
Sipping his Scotch, Charles felt a slight pang of jealousy when he noticed Natasha place a hand on the shoulder of one of the men and lean toward him rather closely as she laughed at what ever he was saying to her – while she still appeared to be oblivious to any scrutiny. Charles shook his head; he hadn't seen her like it in years – flirting with other men like a girl in her twenties! He smiled to himself; once he would have been pissed-off with her antics, but they had been married a long time, and he wanted her to have a bit of fun now – just harmless fun of course.
*
Finally, Natasha spotted her husband watching her, and she smiled back at him with a feigned look of innocence for a moment or two, before shifting her attentions back to the dark-haired gentleman standing in front of her. He seemed nice, she thought, Greg he'd said his name was – his friend was Jeff or something – she vaguely remembered...
Greg said something witty to her again, and she laughed spontaneously, barely noticing as his friend, Jeff, refilled her partly empty glass of champagne yet again from a bottle that was chilling in an ice-bucket nearby.
Natasha fondled her glass and sipped every few moments; she knew that she was getting more than a little bit inebriated – but she wasn't stupid – she was quite aware of what the two men were up to, and of course their lewd suggestions to her had merely confirmed it. Funnily though – now knowing her husband was watching from nearby gave her a desire to be just a little bit naughty – just for a change, and she shifted her right leg slightly, allowing her skirt to open partway and expose her shapely thigh while still resting her hand on Greg's shoulder...
Natasha could now feel the younger man's hot breathe play over her neck and waft up to her ear each time he whispered something to her – and it tickled and made her giggle.
She watched her husband as he watched her – and she smiled back at him and sipped on her champagne again, all the while listening as the two men's suggestions became cruder and cruder...
Natasha barely moved when she felt a hand rest lightly on the small of her back – soon to begin caressing her gently. Jeff filled her glass again – and again she sipped and listened. They had both commented on her dress of course – but now Jeff complemented her on her wonderful top too, and asked her if she knew that in the right light it was partially transparent – she shook her head, and laughed innocently that she didn't know.
Discreetly, the hand on her back moved little by little down to her bottom – and when Natasha felt one of her firm, round orbs being touched lightly, she quickly drank nearly half her glass of champagne in one gulp – but said nothing to deter the bold advances.
Natasha looked over at her husband again – and she wondered if he knew where the tall dark-haired young man now had his hand – she doubted it, and she smiled, before closing her eyes momentarily when she felt her flesh being explored through the thin material of her skirt.
*
Standing near the bar on his own, Charles watched his wife silently for a few minutes and finished his drink. The two men that were with her had moved in quite close and appeared to be taking it in turns to whisper into her ear. He was almost certain one of the men had his hand around his wife's back, as she moved her hips from side to side to the music – but he was not really sure.
For what was possibly only half a minute, Charles turned around to order another Scotch – but when he turned back around, his wife had gone – and so too had her friends!
Looking around with only mild alarm, he just caught a glimpse of her leaving the large room via the hallway close to where she had been standing – her admirers each clinging onto one of her bare arms as they led her away...
Charles smirked irksomely, but tried not to let it bother him. He'd give her a few minutes and then go and check on her, he thought.
* * *
"So where in the hell have you been?" Charles said to his wife, just a little too harshly.
Natasha looked at her husband bemusedly for a moment, "Just getting a bit of fresh air, honey... why, did you miss me?" she asked, as she raised her champagne glass and nearly emptied the contents.
Charles stood in the hallway looking down at his wife; her normally well-groomed long hair looked dishevelled and one of her camisole's spaghetti-straps hung down loosely off her tanned shoulder, allowing her cleavage to spill out even more.
"You've been gone long enough!" Charles exclaimed, "So where are your boyfriends?"
Natasha laughed; "My boyfriends?" she sipped from her glass again, "You're not a bit jealous... are you?"
Charles' mind was racing and he looked around briefly – they were on their own for the moment, but the music was loud and he wanted to talk to his wife – privately. Putting his arm around her slim waist, he walked her to a door not more than two metres away, and opening it, he led her inside. It was obviously someone's bedroom, but no-one else was in there at that moment.
"Oooh... sooo do you want a bit, too?" Natasha chuckled, as she placed her arms loosely around her husband's neck.
Charles' reaction was immediate – just as she'd expected. His jaw dropped and his eyes opened as wide as dinner plates, and he gripped her wrists firmly and removed her arms from his neck!
"Tash... you've gotta be kiddin' me?" Charles said, his anxiety levels peaking at his wife's lewd innuendo.
She said nothing for a moment – just looked up at her husband sheepishly, while a crooked smile slowly parted her lightly rouged-lips, "Kidding you? About what, honey?" she asked, pouting seductively.
Charles took a deep breath and tried to calm himself down. He had not seen his wife like this in years – but it appeared to him that the long absent cock-teaser had suddenly resurfaced! "I wanna know what happened? Why in the fuck do you look messed up?"
Natasha wobbled slightly as she looked up at her husband, "Le's sit on the bed, honey... mmm? My legs are getting tired in these blasted high-heels you made me wear..." she suggested as she finished her champagne and dropped the flute onto the thick-carpeted floor carelessly.
"I want to know, Tash!" he said sternly.
"Okay then... I'll tell you..." she said huskily, and then gripping her husband's hands in hers, she pulled him backward toward the large bed in the middle of the room and sat on the edge, her slender form barely ruffling the black-silken sheets.
Charles stood in front of her – his hands on his hips, "Well?"
"Well... umm... let's see... well, the tall one...you must have noticed him when you were perving on me..."
"Perving on you? I was merely fuckin' admiring my wife, thankyou!" Charles snapped, his irritation starting to rise markedly, "What about the prick, anyway?"
"Prick? Oooh dear... that's a bit nasty," Natasha said tartly, "His name is Greg... and he's a successful chartered accountant... and..." she hesitated.
"And what?"
"Well... he was nice... and I think he liked me..." Natasha said dreamily, as she lay herself down on the soft bed, allowing her arms to flop back behind her head.
Charles looked down at his wife – she was certainly more than half drunk now, he noted – something of which was a very rare occurrence indeed these days. He tried to remain calm, as the onset of years had taught him wisely – but he was struggling with it – he could feel his jealous anger growing like a monster inside of him with her not-so-subtle teasing.
"...in fact... I'm sure he liked me, Charles," she said as she raised her knees till the heels of her white shoes rested on the bed.
"So what makes you say that?" he asked, watching her moving around on her back sensuously from side to side, her eyes partly closed.
"Well... why else would he take me out to show me his old car... some Mustang or something like that?" Natasha said softly, "You would probably like it, hon... it was really... really nice."
Charles grunted, "So is that it?"
"Umm... well... not really, he showed me how the seats go back. You know there's not much room in those coupe thingies?"
