Of course, there was no party for us, and I purposely stayed away from Rafael for several weeks while Allie and I got our feet back under us. There were many conversations about what had occurred, with both of us feeling stupid and guilty. Thankfully, it slowly started drifting to the background of our daily lives, and when I thought we were past the worst, I decided it was time to talk with Rafael. Thus, late on a Wednesday afternoon, I arrived unannounced at his office. Almost as if he was expecting me, I was quickly ushered in and Tilde returned seconds later with beers.
"What's on your mind?" the black man asked.
"Look, things got out of hand the other night, and I...I just want to clear the air. Get some things straight," I explained.
"What things?" he asked, with his face offering no clue as to what he was thinking.
"I guess...I mean what I'm saying is that I don't want my wife to be messed with. I don't want you to try and communicate with her. We made a mistake, and we have to live with it, but I want it over," I said.
He was silent for several seconds as he took in the message, but when he started talking he became more animated and his voice grew in volume as the words came out.
"Look, man...let me tell you something. In my line of work, I've seen all kinds...plain dumb bitches, junkies and those down on their luck. Some do it cause they have to but they don't feel nothing. Hell, Brad Pitt could be fucking them and they wouldn't care. Others though just like to fuck. I got a couple girls that would give it away if they weren't being watched. You know what I'm saying?" he said.
"Sort of...not really..." I answered, unsure of where he was heading.
"Well, let me explain further then. Your wife loves to fuck. She loves it. Probably spent her whole life being told what a good girl does and doesn't do. But, let me tell you she had the time of her life. I suspected it might be in her when she was on the street, and I was right! Now, you got the problem of putting the genie back in the bottle, so I hope you can give her enough to keep her satisfied," he replied.
"I don't want you texting her..." I started, but Rafael interrupted.
"I won't start nothing with her, but let me tell you something plain and simple. If she reaches out to me, it's a different story. If she does that, there ain't no promises, so you best work it out with her," he said boldly.
"I don't want her messed with..." I began, but was cutoff once more.
"Work it out with her," he stated emphatically.
On the drive home, my mind raced as I ran through my relationship with Allie, trying to remember any time where she had shown signs of the behavior Rafael had called out. It felt like he was describing her as something of a needy slut, which certainly didn't fit the woman I knew. She could certainly be passionate, and I'm certain she had been so in her relationships before we met, but as far as I knew, all her experiences prior to the fateful night had been part of a committed situation. Unfortunately, even though I thought he was wrong about her, I couldn't completely shake the message, and I found myself gauging her reactions when we encountered anything provocative, whether out in public or at home watching a movie or TV. In addition, when we made love, even when she experienced a nice orgasm, I often wondered if she wanted more.
Compounding the situation was the uncomfortable feeling I now had when I had to work with Rafael. While it had been consensual sex, it certainly hadn't been planned nor was it well thought through, which created a real tension between us. Despite efforts to let it go, when we were together, I often thought back to my wife and him in bed, and the sexual eruption that had occurred.
"You still getting your wife to dress up for you?" the black man asked one day.
It was late on Tuesday afternoon and we had just finished discussing a contract for the purchase of some property. His question caught me off-guard, as he had steered clear of the subject since I confronted him.
I thought about telling him to mind his own business, but after several seconds I merely said, "No."
"Is that because of you or her?" he quickly replied.
"Look, I don't want to discuss my wife," I said in a deliberate tone.
He chuckled at my answer which made me see red, and then said, "So, you decided to run and hide because things got a little freaky? Remember, you were tapping Tanya, too."
"Come on..." I responded, to signal I didn't want to discuss it.
"Okay, man...but that's you not her. I bet she'd put them on in a heartbeat," he said, laughing once more.
There was no question the exchange was an attempt to manipulate me. However, since I wouldn't engage, the subject quickly died. By the time I arrived home, I had forgotten about it, but for some reason when I saw Allie his words came racing back. With all that had occurred, and the emotional aftermath that we had dealt with, it was an insane idea to even consider. Yet, here I was, across the small table from my wife, remembering how she looked in each of the outfits.
My willpower lasted until the following Friday, and along the way, I talked myself out of it at least a hundred times. However, in the end, I wanted to see if she would actually model them again. I needed to know if Rafael's message was prophetic or just arrogant bullshit. That evening we had reservations for dinner at her favorite restaurant and I knew she would be in a good mood and relaxed after several glasses of wine. So, on the pretense of having forgotten my phone, I left her with the car in the driveway and went back inside. In less than a minute, I had the hot pants and bikini top laid out on the bed, with the boots on the floor beneath them. With phone in hand, I returned to my wife who was none the wiser to my sneaky plan.
We returned three hours later after a nice meal. Fortunately, as expected, Allie had consumed a good amount of wine and was feeling playful. I thought she would head to the bedroom immediately, but as soon as we entered, she went straight to the couch and curled up on one end. Wanting to keep her buzzed, I went to the kitchen and returned with two glasses of wine.
"More?" she challenged me, although her grin and quick hand made it clear she was happy to imbibe.
"Just a nightcap," I replied.
Her glass was almost empty when she suddenly jumped from her seat and made for the bedroom with no warning. Instantly, my brain started counting the seconds, like an internal stopwatch, anticipating her return. I thought longer was probably better, although it might mean she just stewed more. Much sooner than I expected, I heard movement and as it drew closer, I recognized the sound of the boots on the hardwood floor. Suddenly, my wife was before me looking very hot in the skimpy clothing. Her face didn't give a clue as to her state of mind, and even though I tried to maintain eye contact, I was drawn to her top where I could see a hint of her nipples through the material. Then, she moved towards me and straddled my legs while taking my arms and extending them along the back of the sofa.
"What's the message here?" she demanded.
"I...uhhh...I just wanted to see you wearing it," I stammered, intimidated by her boldness.
She stared into my eyes for several seconds and I could tell her mind was churning. Then, she leaned forward and pushed her lips wetly against mine. I could taste the alcohol on her breath, which reminded me about how much we both had to drink. The clothes, her demeanor and the passionate kiss quickly aroused me and when we separated, I tried to break from her grip so I could push her onto her back. However, she held firm and then challenged me again.
"What do you want?" she demanded.
"You...in bed," I responded.
With that, she released my arms and I immediately drew her into an embrace. After a long hug, I moved her so I could stand and directed her towards the bedroom. At first, she took my arm in hers, but when I gently swatted her bottom and indicated she should walk in front of me, she rolled her eyes and stepped forward. The exaggerated sway of her ass made it clear that she wanted to put on a show, but I wasn't about to complain and followed her closely while enjoying the view.
"You have the most beautiful ass in the world," I declared when we reached the bed.
"Just the world?" she asked playfully.
"Let me get these off," I answered, and while she giggled, I reached for her shorts.
I was happy to hear Allie laugh at my words. In fact, her entire demeanor that evening had been more engaging than I had seen in weeks and I wanted very much for it to continue. Seconds later, we were in bed, squirming against each other as we fondled and kissed. Her sighs quickly turned into needy whimpers, so I wasn't surprised when she rolled onto her back and pulled me on top. Then, with her hand guiding, I pushed into her gushing opening.
"Mmmm...uhhhh..." she gasped, as I slithered deeply inside.
"You are so beautiful," I declared, with her arousal feeding my own.
"It's all for you," she answered, which carried me even further.
I tried to maintain a slow and steady pace, but her sounds and movements kept propelling me forward and it wasn't long before I realized I was pounding her hard. For a moment, I thought I might be hurting her, but when I started to slow, her hands started to pull on my ass in a clear attempt to get me to resume the rhythm.
"I'm not going to last," I warned her a minute later.
Suddenly, Allie pushed on my shoulders and extricated herself from beneath me. Then, with a deft movement, she spun to her knees and presented her lovely rear. I was caught off guard by her actions as she normally preferred the missionary position so we could whisper and kiss. However, with her glistening mound just inches before me, I found her slit and re-entered.
"Faster," she said just seconds later.
Once more, I was taken by surprise. This time, it was due to her forthright instructions which were counter to her normally reserved nature. It made me wonder what was brewing in her head, but I immediately started to increase the pace. Our momentary break had been enough for me to regain some control, and now it seemed from Allie's whines that she was on her own deliberate path. When I saw her hands gripping the comforter, I was instantly taken back to Rafael's and the scene of Clarence taking my wife mercilessly from behind. It made me wonder if she too was reliving the experience. Was she now using that encounter as a means to climax? I didn't have long to consider it because just seconds later in a series of squeals she announced the arrival of her orgasm.
"Uhhh...mmmm...ohhhh...ohhhh...ohhhh...don't stop...please..." she cried out.
I took her hips in my hands and began to pull her roughly against me, and then asked, "Like that?"
"Yesss...yessss...harder..." she groaned loudly.
It was too much for me, and despite the thoughts in my head, seconds later I joined her in a climax and spewed my seed into her sloppy pussy.
"Ughhhh...shit...oh shit..." I grunted.
With my head spinning, I pushed her forward and fell onto her back, still very much connected. Together, we took in huge mouthfuls of air as we slowly came down from what had been an incredible round of sex. Finally, I rolled to her side, trying to pull her with me, but my now limp dick slipped from her opening.
"Nooo..." she whimpered as my soft shaft left her.
"You want more?" I asked as my hand cupped her breast.
"I need to rest some," she answered.
So, we lay in silence while I stroked her lovely body and occasionally kissed her ears and neck. All the while, I thought about her move to her knees, the ease with which I got her to dress up, and the message that Rafael had delivered. Was he right? Did she want more? Instinctively, I knew he had been trying to coerce me, but there was just enough in her behavior to signal that he might be at least partially on target. Each of these thoughts brought me closer to the dangerous vortex, and multiple times I tried to eliminate them from my clouded brain, but foolish curiosity kept making me return.
