My Hot Wife's Coming Out Party -- Part I
By John Callden
Author's Note:
The story you are about to read is loosely based on an actual incident.
Several names and details have been changed to protect the far-from-innocent.
PROLOGUE
She'd been excited about this trip for weeks. We both had. This wasn't just any weekend we were spending in Manhattan without the kid. This was
the
weekend. The one we'd talked about for months. Vee's Hot Wife "coming out" party, so to speak.
It was the occasion of my wife's 30
th
birthday -- a big day for most women, and certainly worthy of my big birthday presents. Two nights at the fabulous (but snooty) Plaza Hotel were only the beginning. I added "West Side Story" and "Rain" Broadway matinees, dinner at a 5-star restaurant each night and tickets to see one of her all-time favorite bands at the Beacon Theater on night one.
But the greatest gift by far was reserved for
this
night, night
two
. Being "shared" had always been a fantasy of hers, and tonight we would bring it to life -- hopefully in high fashion.
The Plan: Vee would wear her sexiest (but not sluttiest) outfit and drink her favorite white wine while sitting alone at the hotel bar. And not just any hotel bar, but the world-famous Oak Room Bar. The same bar where Cary Grant was kidnapped in "North By Northwest" and drunken billionaire "Arthur" Bach wined and dined his hookers. And, if all goes as planned, the same bar where my hot wife will seduce just the right drink-buying gentleman to take upstairs for a night of wild fucking.
And, as if that weren't enough -- Adding to the excitement will be me watching her do her sexy cheating wife thing at the bar from my seat at the tables. And, hopefully, playing a role in, and perhaps even videotaping, the erotic goings-on 3 flights up.
ACT I
So there we were, back from a great Tribeca Grill dinner and taking a breather in our Central Parkview suite at just after 9PM on that warm September night in 2010. Vee was doing a final prelaunch outfit assessment as she checked her reflection in the bedroom mirror.
"How do I look?"
I was standing close behind her,
really
close, with my arms around her slim waist, my eyes also consuming the gorgeous vision in the mirror. And my nose was loving the faint yet familiar scents of her shampoo, her soap, her deodorant, her toothpaste and just a hint of her favorite sexy perfume.
"Scrumptious," is the word that popped, and it was no lie.
At age 30, Vee had actually improved upon her sexual allure since first catching my eye, so many years ago. She wasn't thin, but nor was she fat. She was what guys often referred to as "built." Built upon a medium-tall frame with shapely though not particularly long legs, a great ass, a thin enough waist, and full C-cup tits to die for. Add a pretty face, a contagious smile, long dark hair, and a taste for the bizarre, and you've got the head-turner I'm lucky enough to call my wife.
"Happy hunting," I added with not a drop of sarcasm, just a comforting grin and a light tap on that fabulous butt.
She returned my reflected smile and added a wink, then turned and kissed my cheek.
"I'm nervous as hell," she admitted, grabbing her half-full wine glass and downing it in one smooth motion.
"Don't be. You
know
I've got you covered," taking the empty glass from her and kissing her forehead. Truth be told, my nerves were at Defcon-3 too.
She gave me a reassured, sexy grin and kissed the air in my direction. After quickly rechecking her look in the mirror, the birthday girl headed for the door and her fantasy's opening act.
ACT II
I gave Vee the 15-minute head-start I'd promised before trudging downstairs toward the 100-yr-old wood and glass saloon. Walking into the smaller and darker than expected barroom, it was obvious right from the jump that this was
not
a pick-up bar, at least not one fitting the typical mold. The age-range was remarkably wide. There were tables seating young yuppie-types and just as many filled with
much
older, post-theater types. And the bar and SRO crowds were an amalgam of anybody's guess. Most of the men wore jackets and
all
of the women were decked out in their best Saturday night garb -- sexy yet sophisticated.
I spotted Vee sitting at the bar, quarter-full glass of wine in hand and listening to a well-dressed chap with too many teeth in his mouth standing beside her and making his play. She looked fan-fucking-tastic.
The place was pretty packed, but I managed to score a small table-for-two directly across from the bar. That meant I'd actually get to see and somewhat hear Vee's game as I sipped my Stoli martini. And my first takeaway was Choppers striking-out and returning to his laughing buddies at a large and loud table downstream from mine.
Scoping the room for potential Vee bulls, I noticed, instead, a striking woman, blessed with a subtle Pacific-island beauty, standing just steps away. She was laughing and exchanging vapid pleasantries with a small group of the early Saturday evening revelers. She noticed me noticing her and shot me a wink while continuing to speak with her small but evidently enamored audience. Meanwhile, over her shoulder I noticed that Vee had already attracted another suiter, who was in the process of having her glass refilled.
Vee's body language made obvious her attraction to the tall, athletic-looking dude, whose warm smile and eager eyes told anyone paying attention that the feeling was quite mutual. I knew from the familiar sparkle in her eyes, and her flirtatious arm-touching as she laughed at his most-likely stock corny lines, that
this
was the guy she wanted to fuck tonight. This was
really