Getting Her Nails Done

For the next several weeks, the young couple made love almost every day, as both were lifted by a combination of excitement and nervousness around what had occurred. During those encounters, Lynsay admitted bit-by-bit all the things she had seen and felt. Mike was wise enough not to act judgmental and only expressed his concern about her personal safety. It was an understandable message for the young wife, and helped relieve her of guilt.

There was of course the issue of dealing with Tucker and his ongoing presence. For the most part, Lynsay was able to steer clear of him and when they did interact, he never broached the subject. Mike on the other hand was in daily contact with the carpenter. At first, he felt very strange about the interaction the man had experienced with his wife. While there had been no physical contact, and no exposure, it still seemed like a shared intimate act. At first, he hoped the man would stay silent on the subject, but as time went by, his thoughts shifted, and he found himself hoping that he would say something to start a discussion. He knew it didn't make sense and he wasn't sure about his motivation, but it was real and he even went so far as making comments about Lynsay's opinion in the hopes of prompting a response. None was ever given, which made him wonder if it was due to the man's gallant attitude or complete indifference.

They were at the dinner table, three days before her next scheduled appointment, when the subject came up about using Connie.

"I'm not sure about it," she said when he asked about her plans.

"It will likely be awkward...very awkward..." Mike replied.

"I know..." Lynsay responded, but after a short pause added, "But, she's very nice. You know I do like her."

He could see in his wife's eyes confusion, but also a pleading look, as if she were seeking his approval.

"You could make an argument either way, I guess. Just do what feels right," he told her.

Lynsay approached the door with great trepidation wondering how they could possibly engage in a conversation. She expected that the older woman, like her, would be nervous and somewhat embarrassed, so she was shocked when she was met by a lively hello. It seemed that Connie didn't feel any shame whatsoever concerning her decadent sexual activity.

"Hi, Connie," Lynsay answered, struggling to maintain a clear voice.

"How have you been?" the woman asked.

Soon, they soon were engaged in a causal conversation just like on previous visits, and the young wife was surprised how quickly her nervousness had been extinguished by the woman. She clearly had a way of connecting with people, and Lynsay had mostly forgotten about the sex act when Connie suddenly went to it as she worked on her feet.

"What'd you think, honey?" she asked.

Instantly, she knew what the woman was asking, but being caught off guard, she stumbled for an answer, "What do you mean?"

"Last time, with Bo," she responded.

"It looked like you were...enjoying it...but you know...maybe I shouldn't have been there," she answered.

"Yeah, I'm telling you...I thought Tucker was nuts, but damn if I'm not liking it now," she admitted freely, and then continued with, "Bo is really good."

"Connie!" she replied in shock as she blushed deeply.

"You shouldn't have left. It was just getting started," the older woman stated.

"I was too nervous to stay," Lynsay replied.

Connie chuckled for several seconds and then said, "Nervous or horny? Did you tell your husband?"

The young wife was stunned by her blunt questions and the fact that they were very similar to her husband's. She was left speechless for several seconds before she answered.

"I told him," she admitted.

"What'd he say?" she asked as she continued to work.

"He got a little mad, but mostly because he...he was worried," she replied.

"Worried that you were going to do it, too?" she responded.

"No! No, Connie, he was worried about...my safety," she explained.

"Oh, sweetheart. Bo's a big teddy bear and Tucker just wants to watch," she laughed in her raspy voice, and there followed several minutes of silence before she spoke again, "You had wild eyes."

"What?" Lynsay responded in confusion.

"I looked over at you and you had a wild look in your eyes," she said, and then pointedly asked, "Did you get hot?"

"Shit, Connie," she gasped in profound embarrassment.

"I'm just sayin...from what I saw..." she started before Lynsay interrupted.

"Connie!" she cried out.

"Did you?" she asked in a matter-of-fact voice.

The seconds ticked by before the young wife finally decided to answer, "I...I...never watched anyone before."

"Meaning you did?" she pushed.

Lynsay wasn't sure why she answered as there was no real reason to, but somehow, she felt connected to the older woman, and in small voice said, "I guess...some..."

"Did you see how big he was? You ever been with a guy that big?" Connie asked, now getting specific.

"No!" she fired back, and then after a moment her curiosity got to her and she asked, "Did it hurt?"

"Bo knows what he's doing. He knows to start slow," she answered, and then she added, "He sure liked you there. It made him more excited. He was disappointed you left."

Lynsay was unsure how to take the comment, so she merely exclaimed once more, "Connie!"

"Did you tell your husband the details and get him worked up?" she asked, unfazed.

Instantly, her thoughts went to the torrid sex they had shared for the past several weeks driven to a large degree by her descriptions, admissions and responses. Somehow, the older woman had guessed what had occurred, but it wasn't something she wanted to discuss, so she put her off.

"Okay, no more talk of these things," she stated.

"I guess I have my answer," Connie cackled.

Soon, she finished and started putting her things away which relieved Lynsay from any further obligation to comment. She rose from the chair and pulled the money from her purse to pay just as the woman turned back and when they made eye contact the older woman's face exploded in a big grin. Despite her nervousness and concerns about what had occurred, she found herself returning the smile.

"I'll let you know about the next time and you can come by," she said, maintaining her look.

"No, Connie, not again...no," Lynsay said while shaking her head, suddenly losing the smile.

She didn't share the information about the invitation with her husband despite his pestering questions when she returned home from the appointment. For several weeks after she informed him of the voyeuristic episode, he had brought it up often during their lovemaking. She had to admit that at first it had been arousing, but she worried it had become a central theme. Her husband's initial shock at her participation had quickly turned into an obsession and he often would return to it in bed, probing for her motivations, feelings and reactions. He had long abandoned any anger or concern, and it seemed to her that on occasions he was actually encouraging more.

Lynsay's own thoughts and feelings were equally, if not more, complex. She certainly felt a level of shame at her actions and prayed that no one would ever find out. She knew that the other three present could tell one other person, and so on, which would create a geometric progression that might spread like wildfire. It terrified her and the impact in the small community would be devastating. Her only solace was the fact that those involved had an equal, if not greater level of guilt and risk, which should help maintain their silence. Then, there were the disturbing flashbacks that would sometimes hit her when she least expected them. Often, it was when she was driving or watching TV and her mind was relatively clear. They were always with her sitting in the chair watching, and the sights and sounds before her would make an excited shiver run through her body. She had kept this information from Mike, too embarrassed by the meaning to share.

Several months passed, and on occasion her husband would bring up the encounter during their time in bed, however it had diminished to the point that she felt comfortable. Similarly, her time with Connie was in a good place, as the older woman had stopped discussing her sexual play, rightly sensing that it was making her too uncomfortable. The only thing she couldn't rid herself of were the flashbacks, but thankfully, they were usually brief.

"Honey, I'm going to have Tucker redo the mantle," Mike announced to his wife one evening.

"Tucker? Why him? Can't we get someone else?" she asked with a look of distress.

The savant carpenter hadn't been around since he finished the bookcase, and with what had occurred, she found it odd that Mike would use him.

"I guess we could, but I already arranged for him to start," he explained.

"It's just...you know...it feels strange," she replied.

"Lynsay, it's a small job. He'll be finished in a couple days," he responded.

"Okay..." she said with a resigned sigh.

The timing of his project meant that she would have to be alone in the house with him for a couple hours after work unless she stayed late or did errands. The first two days that's exactly what she did and arrived home after he was gone. However, on the third and final day there were things she needed to do so she walked in the door and saw that he was in the latter stages of his effort. Moving to the kitchen after exchanging pleasantries, she poured herself some ice tea and sat down to rest. Just a few minutes later, as she stared aimlessly at the table, the erotic thoughts suddenly leapt into her brain. There was Connie, whining as she held on tightly to Bo's shoulders, while his large body rose and fell. There was Tucker in the corner of her eye staring expressionless towards the bed, and there she was, sitting in the chair with her tunnel vision, her screaming nipples and her drenched pussy.

"Huhhhh..." she suddenly gasped to break the spell.

She was certain she hadn't been loud enough to attract the carpenter's attention but she still peered around the door frame and was pleased to see he was focused on his task. For some reason, her gaze lingered and suddenly she was trying to determine why he would push his wife into the sexual play. She didn't understand his motivation, but couldn't help but think about her husband's reactions to her involvement. Was it the same thing? Was Mike the same as Tucker or was it really just something all males felt? They couldn't have been more different men. The carpenter was an average looking man in all respects, very introverted with a fastidious approach to his dress. His clothes were clean and neatly pressed, his belt looked almost new and even his shoes were spotless. Mike on the other hand was more "rough and tumble", somewhat gregarious, and if it weren't required for work, he would live his life in shorts, an un-tucked shirt and topsiders. Whatever the connection might be, if it existed, escaped her.

Lynsay went to the back of the house to change and when she returned Tucker had finished and left. She took the opportunity to inspect his work, and like his other assignments, he had done a thoroughly professional job. A surreal feeling came to her as she considered her recent flashback, the fact that Tucker had been so close and the fact he could work in such close proximity after what happened without any type of acknowledgment.

"He forgot the brass ornaments," Mike said when he looked over the man's work later that evening.

"What ornaments?" Lynsay asked.

"I found two antique medallions I wanted him to mount," he explained, and pointed to a spot on each side of the mantle.

The young husband took his phone and quickly found the number. Seconds later, his call was answered.

"Tucker? It's Mike. How are you?" they started and after some chatter, he said, "I think you forgot the brass things."

The conversation was short and to the point, but as the she listened, she learned several things that annoyed her. First, the carpenter couldn't return until Saturday, and second, her husband had to work in the city that day. It meant that either she would have to deal with his closeness again or leave the house, but since it was the weekend, she knew she could keep herself busy.

Mike was up early and gone early Saturday morning while Lynsay stayed in bed. Later, she had a light breakfast, got ready and left the house fifteen minutes before Tucker's scheduled arrival. She did some errands, went grocery shopping and was on her way home when she heard an incoming text.

"Bo's will be here at two if you want to come over," the message said.

As soon as she read it, Lynsay felt a strange pulse rush through her body. She thought about pulling over and instantly declining or perhaps not even responding at all, but finally decided to wait until she got home. Unfortunately, when she did arrive, she was met with another surprise when she saw the carpenter's truck still in the driveway.

She walked inside in her light, flowery sundress with her first load of groceries and saw the man working on the wood frame. He barely looked up as she moved, and she made four more trips to her car, and then unpacked each bag before finally collapsing in a chair to catch her breath. That's when her thoughts returned to Connie's message, which now seemed bizarre with the woman's husband just a room away.

When she checked the time, she saw that it was quarter past one, which meant that Tucker would very likely finish his work in her house and then leave to watch his wife have sex with another man. She thought about the timing of Connie's offer and she wondered if it had anything to do with her husband's knowledge about Mike's absence. It was an interesting coincidence, too timely she felt, and she thought it highly likely it had been the motivation for the older woman to reach out. Several times, she reached for her phone, but on each occasion, she stopped short of typing a message. Her excuse was that she wanted to ensure she did it in the right way, although deep down inside she knew there was something else. Deep within her was a small voice telling her to considerate it.

Lynsay left for the bedroom, ostensibly to use the toilet, but in reality, she just needed to move. She was gone for several minutes and when she returned, she could hear noise from the den. Glancing in, she saw that Tucker was packing his tools.

"All finished?" she asked as she stepped into the room.

"Yes ma'am, all done," he confirmed in his slow drawl.

As he spoke, he turned and suddenly she was able to see that his crisp khaki pants were tented with an erection. Although the man acted like nothing was amiss, it flustered her and she was barely able to force out a thanks and goodbye before retreating to the kitchen. Seconds later, she heard the front door close leaving her alone in the house.

Instantly, she wondered what had caused his excitement. Was it the knowledge of his wife's impending taking? Was it thoughts of her alone and vulnerable? Was it the hope that she would participate once again? It was all so strange, so incredibly bizarre and yet something drew her into it like a moth to the flame. The smart thing to do would be to bang out a "no thanks" and have it over and done, but she just couldn't make herself take that last step. She would, she promised herself, she just needed to think some more.

She was looking down at the table when her phone announced another incoming message, and looking at it, it read, "Come in through the salon. Don't be shy!"

Connie was being pushy, which wasn't like her, and it provided further proof she was aware that Mike's was gone. It was this belief that gave her the motivation to pick up her phone and type out a quick decline. When it was sent, a sudden surge of satisfaction swept through and she felt quite pleased with herself. She had overcome the strange inputs all around her and made a firm decision that was aligned with her principles and values. However, as the wave slowly ebbed, she felt something else, too. It took her a few minutes to pinpoint exactly what it was, but when she did, she realized it was relief.

Mike returned just after four, and went straight to the shower to get refreshed. When he was done, he joined his wife on the patio who was sipping wine as she sat in the shade and enjoyed the warm breeze.

"What did you do today?" he asked.

Lynsay gave her husband a wry smile, and then told him, "Well, let's see. I was invited to Connie's to watch some sex, but I said no. I was too busy."

"Haha...well too bad. You need to plan better," he laughed, assuming she was joking.

"I'm serious!" she fired back, a bit miffed at his response.

"No, you're not. You're trying to get me worked up," he laughed.

Now thoroughly annoyed, she took the phone that was resting in her lap, manipulated it to the text string and handed it to her disbelieving husband. She watched as the look on his face quickly turned from amusement to surprise.

"Damn! I mean...damn," he spat out.

"You can apologize now," she prodded.

"I guess I owe you one," he said, and before she could reply, he added, "Why didn't you go?"

Lynsay had been proud of her stance, so the question threw her off and it took a moment before she could answer, "Because I made a mistake once and I'm not going to do it again."

Now, it was her husband's turn to pause before he spoke, but finally he said, "Yes, I understand. Probably right."

She was hoping for more emphatic support, so she wasn't pleased with his words, but what really struck her was the look of disappointment on his face. Annoyed with the way the conversation had developed, she picked up her glass of wine and sipped on it in silence.

Mike knew he had pissed off his wife. Unfortunately, he had been caught off guard by her message and he wasn't able to contain himself. He had greatly enjoyed the intimacy they had shared since her bizarre encounter. They had the best sex of their marriage and the exploration into his wife's sexual psyche through their whispered bedroom conversations had been amazing. However, time had acted as a drag and the momentum was definitely waning. Thus, when she revealed the text exchange, he had thought about the potential for re-ignition.

"You want to go out to dinner?" he asked, hoping to get out of the dog house.

"I guess," she replied, still clearly perturbed.

Fortunately, they had a nice meal, and then shared an after-dinner cocktail with some friends they had run into at the restaurant. Mike could tell his wife's spirits had lifted and she didn't protest when he guided her to the bedroom when they returned home. They made love tenderly and Mike made sure that he kept everything focused strictly on them.

Connie had typically waited until they were well into the session before she brought up anything risqué, so during the next appointment, Lynsay was surprised when she went to her recent meeting with Bo as soon as she lifted her hand.

"Why didn't you come over?" she asked.

"Uhhh...Connie...I don't know...it just doesn't feel right..." she stammered.

"I thought since you were alone it might work out well," she replied, confirming that her husband's absence had indeed played a role.

"Mike would kill me if I did anything without him close by," she answered, thinking about his strong message on safety.

"I told you not to worry, but I understand. Kinda sweet he thinks like that," she chuckled.

"Yes..." Lynsay said, although her mind replayed his disappointed look.

There session continued with random chatting and it wasn't until the manicurist was working on her feet that they returned to the subject of sex. Strangely, it was Lynsay that brought it up.

She was carelessly mulling things over in her head, and almost before she knew it, the words came out, "What did I miss."