Tipping the glass, Emily took the last of her red wine in a swallow. She glanced at the remaining quarter of the bottle, then back to the TV where the woman from post World War Two era was having an emotional conversation with her handsome Highlander husband in 17-whatever. She watched the love scene raptly, poured her last glass, then closed her eyes.
The wine had made her face warm and her body tingle, the couple on the screen had gotten her thinking, and she was on her own for the evening. She touched her breast softly through her thin pajama top, and felt her nipple harden as she squeezed it. Reclining with eyes still closed, she let her mind wander through erotic imagery. A man's hand caressing bare skin, a penis being grasped, a nipple being licked. She visualized him over her, pulling her left leg outward and hanging from the side of the couch. She pictured the little smile on his face as he leaned over her to kiss her, opening the drawstring of her pants. As she imagined his fluttering kisses moving down her body, she reached into the top of her pants, her fingers uncovering the heat that had grown between her legs. She pressed her clitoris experimentally through her panties as the scene in her mind progressed, the man between her legs licking her soft and slimy flesh, toying with her clit with flicking tongue.
Rubbing harder, Emily sunk further down on the couch. In her imagination, there were two men over her now, both caressing her with utmost concern for her pleasure. In her pants, the fabric between her pussy and fingers became soaked through.
"Mmm," she moaned softly, her breath quickening.
Emily sat with a gasp when the front door opened, her hand coming up from her waistband so quickly that she struck herself in the mouth with her own damp fingers. Her husband came in, followed by three others, all laughing at whatever they'd been saying as they entered. She straightened herself up, her heart hammering in her ears. "H-hi," she stammered nervously. "I thought you were playing poker at Jason's?"
"We were," her husband said. "Until Jason took a bad beat and flipped the table over."
"I don't know why we hang out with that guy," Tyler said. "Hey Emily. Hope you don't mind we're moving the game over here."
"No, of course not," Emily said.
"I don't think you've met Andy or Phil," said her husband.
"Nice to meet you," said Phil. "Larry said he was married, but he never mentioned how hot you are."
"Easy, big guy," Larry said. "So what are you up to? Watching Outlander?"
"Yeah, I was," Emily said. "I was just about to go to bed, actually."
"Why don't you join the game?" Phil suggested. "Fifty dollar buy in."
Emily frowned at her husband. "You've been putting money on this?"
Larry's friends all laughed at him, the tall man called Andy made a whip-cracking noise. "I usually win," he said in his defense.
"Almost always," agreed Tyler, with an edge of bitterness in his voice.
"We'll get the money back," Larry said, moving into the kitchen. "C'mon, Em, it'll be fun."
Emily sighed as she stood, tense and bothered that she hadn't had a chance to finish. She threw back the glass as she moved to follow them, and her unfastened pants slipped from her hips, sliding to her knees before she could catch them and pull them hastily up, but every one of the men saw the bright blue flash of her panties. She wasn't sure if they could see how wet they were.
Larry regarded her with amusement, raising an eyebrow.
"Larry, why didn't you ever tell me your wife was so sexy?" Phil demanded.
As bright as her blush had been before, the intensity managed to triple; Emily's face felt like it was on fire.
"If you've got a wife this hot, she deserves to be a real hot wife, you know what I mean?" Phil asked, his smirk growing. "You know what I mean, Emily?"
Emily was certainly acquainted with the phrase; she happened to know it was Larry's most commonly searched term. They had discussed the fantasy on multiple occasions. She only shook her head when Larry did.
"Let's just play," Larry said. "Do you want a bottle of beer, Em?"
"I might open another bottle of wine," she said. She started to worry as she poured it, glancing over as the men sat around the kitchen table with their beers, pulling out their wallets. "Are you really sure you can get our money back?"
"We don't have to play for money," Phil said.
"What?!" said Tyler. "What's the point of poker without any stakes?"
"Ante is a piece of clothing," said Phil, his gaze steady on Emily's eyes.
"Fuck off," said Larry, laughing.
"You are one transparently rude fucker," said Andy. "Strip poker? How old are you again?"
"You coward," Phil muttered to Larry. "Can you even dream up a more perfect scenario than this right here?"
Larry glared at his friend before meeting Emily's eyes abashedly. His ears were red.
"She's only wearing pyjamas," Tyler pointed out. "It wouldn't be very fair."
Emily frowned as she took a sip of her wine, considering. She took a longer swallow and set the glass down. "Let me get dressed."
Larry stood as she did, and followed her to their room. "Are you serious about this?" he whispered.
"About what?" Emily asked innocently as she pulled off her top. She selected her red lace bra from her drawer, glancing at her husband. "It's just a friendly game of cards."
"But..." Larry adjusted his crotch as he stepped toward her. His voice was barely more than a growl, "Em, I've told them about..."
"Don't overthink it," Emily told him airily. She put on a tank top, then a thin t-shirt, then a sweater. She dressed in jeans, socks, two necklaces and a scarf. She put a wide straw hat on, and her glasses.
Larry frowned at her as she turned from the mirror. "What does that mean?"
"Don't overthink that, either. Let's just play. If I feel like quitting, I will."
Her husband swallowed slowly. "Em, I love you so much."
Emily kissed him, and drew back smiling. "I know it, baby."
Back in the kitchen, the three men were arguing over the best variety of poker to play as strip and what the betting rules should be.
"Everybody's overthinking everything!" Emily announced. "Let's just play."
