Arthur Borrows My Wife

"Dingle, come in here," my boss, Arthur "don't call me Art" Powers ordered.

He's not the kind of boss to yell and scream, but his presence commands attention. As his number two at Powers Industrial, I had become accustomed to being at his beck and call. Despite his power, Arthur was generally a kind man, but he was prone to the occasional eruption on those rare instances when he didn't get his way.

It was nearing 5 pm on Monday afternoon. The office was emptying out when I strolled into Arthur's office. He pounded away at his keyboard and, without looking up, told me to have a seat.

He studied his screen for a second, reviewing his email briefly before pressing send and turning his attention to me.

"So," he started with a smile, "did you enjoy the game yesterday?"

Yesterday, when my beloved Detroit Lions won their first playoff game in more than 30 years. I'd been a fan my whole life, as far back as I could remember. My wife, Annie, and I had season tickets for a few years before family and the cost forced us to make the tough decision and give them up. Since then, I structured my weekends in the fall and winter around the team's schedule. I was a die-hard fan and finally had a good team to root for.

"You have no idea, Arthur," I said, a gigantic grin on my face. "It took me a long time to calm down enough to sleep last night."

"Did Annie help you with that?" he asked with a wink.

My biggest complaint about working for Arthur was that he constantly pried into my sexlife. He was a good boss and the pay was great, so I looked past his comments, but on more than one occasion I needed to take a walk to clear my head after conversing with him.

"Jack Daniels helped me," I said, laughing off his innuendo and hoping he'd move the conversation along.

"To each his own, I guess," he said with a chuckle. "Are you going to the game this weekend?"

"I wish," I said sadly. "Tickets are just too steep for me. Last I saw, standing room tickets were going for $800 each. I'll just watch on TV, I guess."

"Well, what if you didn't have to?" Arthur asked with a twinkle in his eye.

The confusion was written all over my face. "Um, what do you mean?"

"I have a contact over at Johnson Machines. He's offered tickets to the game for me, my wife, and a key employee."

"But, you're not married," I stammered. Arthur had been married when I first started at PI, but after a contentious divorce more than a decade ago, he swore off ever marrying again. He had dated - or hooked up with - a succession of beautiful women since, but as soon as things started to get serious, Arthur swept them out the door.

"That's where you come in - or should I say, Annie comes in, Kenny," Arthur said, his eyes piercing right through me. "We haven't worked with Johnson before. They're an old-fashioned, family-oriented company. Their equipment is so good they get to pick and choose who they work with. I want to make Powers Industrial a valued partner of theirs. But to do that, I'm going to need a wife. Since you know how I feel about ever getting married again, I was hoping maybe you'd let me borrow your wife for the day."

I could feel the heat rising in my face and I was about to protest when Arthur held his hand up, as if to calm me.

"I know this is a crazy request," he said softly. "I'm not talking about doing anything over the line with your sweet Annie, but we would have to keep up appearances which means occasional touching and maybe a peck or two on the cheek. You'll be there, too, so you can see that everything is above board and I'm not taking advantage of her. Take the night, go home, talk to Annie, see what she says. This deal could be huge for our firm and would mean a big bonus for you. I think in the end, the two of you will decide this little ruse is worth it."

Arthur returned his focus to his computer, signaling that he'd said his piece and our meeting was over. I slowly rose out of the chair, exited his office, gathered my things, and headed for home. It's a miracle I didn't cause a 20-car pileup on the highway with my mind racing a million miles per hour.

I did my best to gain my composure before entering our house, but apparently my best wasn't good enough. As soon as I walked through the door and my eyes met Annie's, she asked "What's wrong, Ken?"

"Well," I said hesitantly, "nothing's really wrong, but I do need to talk to you about something tonight after the kids go to bed."

She gave me a questioning look, but didn't pry, instead giving me a quick kiss on the lips before going about her business in the kitchen, preparing dinner for our family.

We spent a fairly normal night - dinner with the kids, helping them with their homework, and our family ritual of watching Jeopardy! - but with tension thick in the air. After we tucked the kids in for the night, Annie went in to put on some PJs and wash her face while I poured a couple of glasses of wine and prepared myself for what was to come.

Annie looked very concerned when she joined me in the living room, grabbed her wine, and looked me dead in the eyes. "Ok, spill," she ordered before taking a big sip.

I laid everything out for her. She let me speak without interruption, but I could see the big question forming in her eyes. Once I finished, she asked it without hesitation.

"Does he know?"

Three simple words, but with many more unspoken. Does he know that sometimes when we're on vacation, Annie plays with other men while I watch? Does he know that she's confessed her attraction to Arthur several times? Does he know that she named her favorite toy after him and uses it when we roleplay at home? Does he know that we're far different from the vanilla facade we show around town?

"I don't think so," I said, my voice betraying my concern. "I mean, how could he? We only play on vacation and I've never talked that part of our life with anyone, much less someone at work."

"I haven't told anyone, either," she said earnestly. "So, you think this is all harmless?"

"I don't know about that," I said honestly. "All that innuendo he spouts has to come from somewhere. If he knew about your crush on him, things could get unbearable for me. I'm worried that the two of you in close proximity, pretending to be husband and wife, and a few drinks could be a real problem."

There was a pause in the conversation as Annie weighed my concerns, then her face lit up.

"Look, let's do it," she said eagerly. "I'll be on my best behavior. I'll just pretend to be one of those cold, WASP-y wives that all the rich guys seem to have. We both want to go to the game and the extra money would be great - maybe I could finally get these done," she said, grabbing her chest.

Since our youngest was born five years ago, Annie has been self-conscious about her breasts. I adored them but she thought they were saggy and unattractive, which impacted her confidence and how she dressed. She always wanted to get implants, but we couldn't justify the cost. More money would change that equation.

"Ok," I said, still unsure of the situation. "So, you want me to tell him yes?"

She nodded her head then grabbed my hand. "Yep, now let's go celebrate our good fortune!"

We hurried upstairs to the bedroom and did just that.

After I gave Arthur the good news the next morning, we spent the rest of the week planning both the logistics of the day and our pitch for Johnson Machines. Since it would take us a couple of hours to drive to the game, it was decided that I would drive Arthur's car and he and Annie would spend the time getting their stories straight. At times I wanted to call things off, but once the tickets were accepted - which Arthur did immediately after I said we were in - there was no good way to turn back.

As Sunday drew closer, Annie got more and more excited. At one point during the week, I jokingly asked her if she was trying to fuck me to death to get me out of the way. She gave me a sexy giggle and said, "Baby, if I wanted to fuck you to death, you'd be gone already."

Bright and early Sunday morning, we dropped the kids off at my parents' house and made our way to Arthur's. His gleaming red Porsche was freshly washed and ready to go. The way his car was parked in the driveway left me no room, so I pulled up and parked my 10-year old Buick on the street.

Arthur met us in the driveway, dressed in khakis, a white golf shirt, and a blue quarter-zip. The type of outfit you would expect a CEO to wear to an outing that was equal parts business and social. He let out a wolf whistle when his eyes fell on Annie. She was wearing black yoga pants, and a black long-sleeved t-shirt under the jersey of her favorite former player - Reggie Bush. The jersey, with the name "Bush" prominently displayed on the back, was a little short, putting her round ass on display. The tiny black thong I watched her pull on earlier kept any hint of panties from showing through.

She blushed but kept her cool. "Thank you, Arthur, but I don't think that's the kind of thing a husband does to his loving wife."

"Maybe not your husband," he quickly retorted. "But this one does!"

I chuckled nervously, steeling myself for a day full of Arthur's borderline (or worse) comments. Once we got there, I wouldn't be able to object to any of them without raising questions, so it was up to Annie to keep him in line.

"Kenny, I have some snacks and waters in the garage, can you grab those for me, please?" Arthur asked. "You can put them on the floor in front of the passenger seat."

"Um, won't they be in the way of your feet there?" I asked, confused.

"No," he said with an air of assurance. "Annie and I will be in the backseat getting to know each other. We have to make sure we can pass as a couple."

I looked at Annie with wide eyes, but she gave me a reassuring look. "That makes sense, Arthur," she said calmly. "I know you'll be on your best behavior so my man isn't tempted to drive your beautiful car off a bridge."

I laughed inwardly as I went to get the provisions. She was on her game today and ready to parry any thrust he might send her way. My fears vaporized.

We loaded up the car and climbed in, Arthur directly behind me and Annie behind the passenger seat. The car was spectacular. I felt like an imposter just sitting behind the wheel. Both Annie and I cooed over it, me on the power and smooth ride while she commented on the soft, supple leather seats.

Arthur and Annie covered a lot of ground during our two hour drive, talking through their early lives, families, colleges, and other life experiences. They tried to anticipate questions that might get asked of the couple and crafted stories for things like how they met and their wedding day that were believable but vague. I interjected here and there, but was mostly a quiet, interested observer.

As we pulled off the highway and worked our way to the parking lot, Arthur turned his attention to me.

"Kenny, what's your story going to be?" he asked.

"Um, what do you mean?"

"You know, when they ask about your wife and family," he said. "It can't be the same as Annie."

"Why not?" I asked. "I have a wife and two boys, that's not exactly unique."

"True," he replied, "but what are their ages? Names? That can't be the same."

"I guess you're right about that," I answered honestly. "I'll fudge their ages and names if it comes up, but I'm more or less going to stick to a version of the truth. That will make it easier for me to keep straight."

"Fair enough, Kenny," Arthur said. "I just don't want this to unravel."

"Understood," I replied, pulling into the parking lot.

As we gathered our stuff and prepared to walk to the stadium, I noticed that Arthur was now wearing a wedding band. He caught my gaze. "It's from when I was married. It took a little digging in the junk drawer, but I found it!" He said with a laugh.

I consciously made sure to walk behind the "couple" as we followed the flow of the crowd down the street and, eventually, into the stadium. Arthur had the tickets and plowed ahead until we reached the opulent luxury box and our hosts for the game.

Arthur wasn't lying about Johnson Machines being a family-oriented company. Almost every employee I met was a Johnson or related to a Johnson. We made sure to make the rounds and meet everyone before the game started.

Because I was driving, I kept my alcohol consumption to a minimum, but I was the only one. There was a pretty good communal buzz going in the box as kickoff approached, which wasn't helped by the family's tradition of tequila shots for all non-designated drivers for each Lions touchdown. Annie's alcohol tolerance has never been high and she was quickly feeling no pain.

I tried to keep my distance from Arthur and Annie so I wouldn't accidentally blow their cover. I tried to focus on the game, but kept noticing that she was getting more and more comfortable with him, leaning on him for balance and occasionally resting her head on his shoulder.

At halftime, Arthur announced that he and Annie were going to take a walk and maybe buy a souvenir or two. He held her hand, partially for appearances and partially to help her balance, as they exited the box and joined the mass of people on the concourse. I helped myself to some food and talked to a few of the Johnsons about the game and what I thought the Lions needed to do in the second half to pull it out.

The third quarter kicked off and there was no sign of my wife or her husband for the day, but that wasn't too surprising. There were a lot of people there and just getting to and from the team store during the brief halftime period was a tall task. As the quarter went along, I started to get concerned and decided to take a walk and look for them.

I exited the box and rounded the corner, nearly running into them.

"Oh, hey, everything ok?" I asked, looking them over. Annie seemed a little flushed but happy. She was clearly drunk.

"She can't handle her booze, can she?" Arthur asked with a laugh. "We're all good. Just trying to get some fresh air and walk it off. Where are you off to?"

"Well, I said I was going to run to the shop, but really I was going to check on you two," I said.

"We're heading back. It will look suspicious if you follow us in, so give it a few, ok?" Arthur ordered.

"Sure," I said to him. Turning my attention to Annie, I asked, "Are you ok?"

"Yes," she slurred. "I haven't been this drunk since Jamaica."

She punctuated that sentence with a wink. We both remembered that night in Jamaica. She was drunk and convinced a pool boy to come back to our room, where he proceeded to teach her what Jamaican men were all about while I watched. It was one of the hottest nights we'd ever experienced together and a memory we revisited often.

I watched them turn the corner and head back to the suite before heading down the concourse. I walked over by the team store, but decided the line was too long and turned back, falling in line behind two frat bros.

"Dude, I swear," frat bro #1 said. "He had a handful of her ass and her tongue was all the way down his throat!"

"No way, bro," frat bro #2 replied. "No way Bush was kissing that guy."

"For real, man," #1 piped back up. "He's gonna be hitting that tight end tonight!"

The high-fived and headed into the bathroom. I made my way back to the suite with my head swimming. Yes, my wife was wearing her Bush jersey, but she wasn't the only one. She said she'd be on her best behavior and while I trusted her, as drunk as she was, who knows what could happen.

When I got back, the game was halfway through the 4th quarter and the Lions were starting to pull away. Emotions were high and everyone was happy. Arthur and Annie had taken seats near the front of the suite, watching the game closely. His arm was draped over the back of her seat, his hand resting on her shoulder. They looked comfortable, like spouses who had been together for years.

Our hosts passed out one last round of shots as time ran out and the stadium roared. I kept a close eye on Annie, who wisely handed hers to Arthur. I was happy to see that she was still capable of making decisions to avoid self-destruction.

Slowly, the box emptied out. We said our goodbyes and thank yous to the Johnsons before making our way carefully through the throngs of happy, drunk fans to Arthur's waiting car. He held the door open for Annie as she slid in behind the passenger seat. I expected Arthur to climb in the front, but he settled in behind me. We exited the lot and eventually reached the highway, heading west towards the setting sun.

The conversation flowed easily. We talked about the game and our prospects for working with Johnson Machines. Arthur sincerely thanked us both for playing along and reiterated that when this all worked out, there was a big bonus check headed my way.

Annie had been quiet this whole time and I could see in the rearview mirror that she was leaning towards the middle of the back seat. I figured she was working on passing out until she spoke.

"I told Arthur about Jamaica," she blurted out.

I could feel my eyes pop open wide and I looked back at them in the mirror. Thanks to the occasional bursts of light from overhead and cars heading the other way, I could see that Annie was not leaning over to fall asleep, but rather because she was caressing Arthur's chest. He had a gigantic, shit-eating grin on his face.

"Wh-what did you tell him?" I stammered.

"I told him that you like to watch," she said quickly.

"You should have told me, Kenny," Arthur scolded. "I would have let you watch me pleasure her over and over."

As if to punctuate his sentence, Annie moaned loudly. I looked back in the mirror and saw Arthur's hand squeezing my wife's right breast.

"I already know she's a great kisser," Arthur continued. "I can't wait to see what else her talented tongue can do."

I was in full-on panic mode now. We only played with strangers when we were out of town on purpose to keep our life from getting complicated. This could blow up in our faces in the worst possible ways.

"Wait, no, Annie," I started to plead, "you-you said you'd be on your best behavior!"

"She better behave," Arthur jumped in. "I'd hate to have to punish her!"

The giggle that erupted from Annie was one I knew well. It meant she was horny and needy. Whenever I heard that giggle, I knew she was dead set on getting fucked and nothing I could do or say was going to change her mind.

We were approaching a traffic backup, so I had to focus on the road and not what was happening behind me. I could hear them whispering, but couldn't make out what they were saying. The layers of break lights ahead of me kept me from looking back when I heard the unmistakable sounds of kissing.

"I'll tell you what, Ken," Annie said from over my shoulder. "If you can honestly tell me right now that you aren't hard thinking about me enjoying Arthur's big cock, I'll stop and at the next opportunity, I'll move up next to you where you can keep an eye on me."

Checkmate. She knew me inside and out, including that nothing got me harder than the thought - and reality - of her with another man. I could have lied, but they'd both know I was full of shit and I had no doubt that would make things worse for me.

"Well," she asked in a sing-song voice, lightly teasing my ear. "Are you hard, baby?"

My mouth was dry and I didn't trust my voice, so I just nodded yes.

"I need to hear it, Kenny," Arthur ordered. "I need to hear that you want me to have your wife."

"Yes," I croaked out.

"Yes what?" Arthur replied as I heard Annie moan again.

"Yes, I want you to have my wife," I said weakly.

"Getting closer," Arthur teased. "I think you need to show me the respect I deserve."

"I want you to have my wife, sir," I said at a volume barely more than a whisper.