Wife's in Baton Rouge for work; she steps out in New Orleans
**
My discovery began innocently enough. I don't pry; I'm a trusting soul, or at least I thought I was. I was wrong, however, as events proved. Curiosity might have killed the cat, but curiosity worked in my favor, this time.
Susie had asked me to help her with her computer. Susie is a cute little fox in the same department as I work in, and when a sexy broad, especially one who wears tops that offer lovely down looks for the lecherous, asks for my help, well I just drop what I'm doing and head on over. Sure enough, I got a lot of down looks to reward me for my trouble.
I told Susie it would take some twenty minutes to sort out the problem, and she should go get a coffee or something. The buxom little sweetheart asked if she could bring me one back, too? When she does that, she always bends over deeply to place the coffee down next to me, so I smiled at her and said, "Yes, that would be great."
You see, I already knew how to fix things on Susie's computer. However, since I was inside it, I wanted to root around a bit and see why she had pictures with my wife Donnaccia in them, popping up here and there. Susie had tagged them with Donnaccia's name, too.
I hadn't thought Susie even knew my wife! It turns out, however, that I was obviously wrong. Susie did in fact know my wife, and she had taken some rather interesting pictures with my wife in them. It was not smart of her to put them on her work computer, however. Susie never was smart that way.
I copied and transferred the pictures so I could study them later. Then, as long as I was having some fun, I looked for compromising pictures of Susie, especially any that featured her topless. I have a small, not too overpowering, you understand, fetish for a woman's boobs. And Susie's boobs? Well, seeing them without a bra covering them would be delightful, I can assure you. I found one such picture, and it was a doozy.
Susie had made it easy for me. Her R and X rated pictures were all tagged 'Bad Susie.' Most of them were Susie flashing her boobs at various guys, but one had her making out, and in one, the guy was kissing her and his hands appeared to be where a girl usually doesn't let a guy's hands go, at least when she's in a public bar. You could see quite a lot of her in the picture, too. On top of it all, it was a selfie! Susie, or should I say Bad Susie, was quite a girl, and she was especially fetching in her role of being a 'Bad Susie.'
The pictures were all taken at some sort of club. I'd never been to a club like that, but it seemed to be a wild place. One special picture was of Bad Susie, with a big, wide, tooth-filled grin, something like a girl might get when she's pretending she's a cat who had just swallowed a canary. Behind Bad Susie were men and women in various states of undress. One woman, in the deep background, looked to be even naked!
Bad Susie was topless, with Mardi Gras bead necklaces dangling around her neck, one of them cupping her right breast. I quickly transferred that picture too, for a very careful, close study later. It had been taken with Susie's iPhone, and she must have recharged her iPhone on her work computer, and unwittingly downloaded her phone's pictures to her computer. Susie's lack of computer sophistication made such a scenario believable. I was running out of time, so I just copied and transferred all of her pictures.
My wife has a strange name. It's Donnaccia, which means -- in Italian -- (in slang of course): slut, tramp, tart, trollop, or whatever your favorite synonym is. You get the picture. Her Mom, who is a sweet woman but not that sophisticated, had seen the name somewhere, God alone knows where, and she chose it for her baby girl, some 24 years earlier. It proved prophetic.
My wife Donnaccia had gone to a conference in Baton Rouge around the time of Mardi Gras. It's of course possible that she could have, one evening, headed down to New Orleans with some friends, got drunk out of her gourd, and had some fun at a club down there. From what I hear, things can get pretty wild.
That night, I studied the pictures. I told Donnaccia I was working on a big project for work and that I could not be disturbed for the next three hours. I learned a lot from the pictures, just not enough. The first thing I learned is that Susie does in fact have spectacularly gorgeous boobs. She had around ten Mardi Gras bead necklaces. She could have bought them, been innocently given them, or she could have flashed her boobs to get them. Given the pictures I saw, I figured she got them all for free, due to flashing her boobs to ten or more men.
Donnaccia, on the other hand, often in the background in Susie's pictures, was actually right there, flashing guys in the pictures, and those same guys gave her necklaces right after. I knew this from short videos downloaded from Susie's phone. My wife was flashing lots of guys, and collecting lots of necklaces in return. Well, it was Mardi Gras, she was doubtless drunk, and she was having fun, letting off steam. My wife, too, has pretty, even very pretty, boobs. Shit happens. Donnaccia does, after all, have great boobs, and it's really not the end of the world if she lets another guy or two or three or four get some flashes, right?
There was more, however. Donnaccia was dancing with some guy. In a later picture she was kissing him; the kisses were not innocent. His knee was between her legs, rubbing her crotch. She disappeared from lots of the rest of the pictures, which were time stamped if you knew how to call up the time stamps (and of course I did), but then she reappeared. She had added a new necklace of black diamond shaped beads, she was flushed and looked ethereally happy, and the guy she had earlier been kissing and dancing with, who had been kneeing her, was being backslapped by his buddies.
Maybe I was jumping to conclusions, but it seemed pretty clear to me that Donnaccia had stepped out, gotten drunk, and had gotten laid down in a bar in New Orleans. In a much later picture, she was with a different guy, and he was all over her, too. She was still wearing the black diamond necklace, but now there were two adorning her sweet little neck! Had my wife, my innocent little wife, been twice laid, by two different guys, in one wild evening in New Orleans?
Ever since Donnaccia returned from New Orleans, those two black diamond bead necklaces had hung around one of our bedposts. I finally asked her why.
"Oh, do you remember my trip to Baton Rouge? One night when we were done working, a group of us headed down to New Orleans for Mardi Gras. It was wild! What fun! We should go there next year, okay?" she had said.
"And the two beaded necklaces?" I had asked.
Donnaccia giggled. "Oh, you only get those if you're a bad, bad girl," she said, and she giggled again. "I put those on our bed post to inspire me for when you want me to do some of our bad, bad things. You know, like for me to use my mouth on you, or to offer my 'cute little ass' to my big strong man?" and she giggled again. I loved anal sex with Donnaccia, and she knew it.
"Remember when you tied me up? That was hot!" Donnaccia said.
"Were you a bad, bad girl in New Orleans?" I asked, holding my breath.
"You mean, what did I do to be given those two necklaces?" Donnaccia said, and she giggled again.
"Yes," I asked.
"You won't be mad?" she asked.
"I guess it depends on what you did," I said.
"I did this!" Donnaccia said, and she flashed her boobs, picking up her top and her bra along with it.
"How many guys saw your boobs?" I asked.
"Oh, lots! I was given lots of necklaces. Blue, gold, green, red, all the colors," she said. "They're just boobs, John. All they did was look. You're not upset, are you?"
"Why'd you keep only these two black ones?" I asked.
"Oh, I've kept them all! They're in a box somewhere. The black ones look nice on the bedpost, don't you think?" she asked. "They're my favorites." I saw her eyes get dreamy, as they do when she's remembering something nice.
**
It was stupid, but I needed to know more. Susie was the answer. It was against company policy to ask her out, but I did, anyway. I could tell that she liked me.
"John, you're married," Susie said.
"It's just dinner. My wife's out of town and I hate to eat alone," I said.
"As colleagues, and only as colleagues?" Susie asked.
"Yes, just as colleagues. I wouldn't mind if you wore something sexy though. I enjoy being with the prettiest woman in the room," I said.
Susie blushed. She likes being flattered. What woman doesn't?
"I'll wear something where you can easily look down my blouse. I know you enjoy doing that," Susie said. Susie had seen right through me.
Susie looked stunning. I had never fully realized just how pretty -- and, especially, sexy -- she actually was! Also, she flirted with me, making lots of sexual double entendres. I had the feeling she was available, if I wanted to cheat. I kind of did, too, you know?
Somehow, I managed to steer the conversation, over dinner, to Mardi Gras and New Orleans. I told her my wife Donnaccia had gone down there, with some work colleagues, around the same time she had told me she had been there. Susie's face went pale.
"Donnaccia is your wife?" she asked.
With a name like Donnaccia, you always know you're talking about the same woman. It's not a name like Susie, or Joanie, or Ann, or anything common, anything normal. There's always only one Donnaccia in a room, in a building, in a city, maybe even in a state.
