Monday night couldn't come fast enough. My sleep was restless and I had a difficult time focusing at work. After work I went to the gym for my kettlebell class. I arrived home sweaty, tired, and hungry. I felt good about the upcoming evening as Clayton and I had come up with a good plan. He had originally suggested Lance and I dress down and I initially thought it was a good idea, but I changed my mind. It was our first real date and Lance was taking me to dinner before the movies. I wanted to dress up.
So Clayton came up with an alternative plan. Since I was going out he suggested to our daughters he take them out to dinner. He planned their departure to be before Lance's arrival. It was perfect. We especially looked innocent as we gave each other a quick peck on the lips and said goodbye. He told me to tell Lance hello and to enjoy the movie. Each of the girls gave me a quick hug. If either was skeptical they didn't show it. We looked like the model nuclear family.
After they left I finished dressing taking a dozen or more selfies of me. I knew Clayton wanted to be there to help me dress but thought it was a nice way to reward and thank him for helping me get out of the house looking like I was on a date.
My skin is milky white. I avoid tanning and use plenty of sunscreen when I am outside. I don't mind the jokes on the golf course or tennis court about my white complexion because I know how good I look naked. And my face looks a decade younger than my contemporaries.
I took a shot of me naked in front of the mirror followed by one of me in something I never wear, stockings and garter belt. I loved the way it made my coal black bush stand out. The next selfies were of me in panties and then with my bra on. I took some as I applied makeup, did my hair, with my dress on, then my heels, and finally after I brushed my hair and applied a fresh coat of lipstick. I looked and felt like a million bucks.
Lance showed up on time looking tall, dark, and handsome. He was wearing slacks, a dress shirt, and sports coat. When he saw me the look on his face said it all. I fought the temptation to invite him inside for another long make out session but knew if we started we wouldn't make dinner or the movie. And we might get busted if Clayton and the girls got home too soon.
We did hold hands as we walked to his car. He held the door open for me and I got in. He walked around to the driver's side and got in. Inside the car he turned to me and said, "Moira, you look amazing."
I thanked him and told him, "You look very handsome."
He drove us to a restaurant which was quite nice and far enough away there was almost no chance of us running into anyone we knew. On the drive he put his hand on me and I put my hand on top of his.
We chatted about our respective days.
In the restaurant we were seated in a somewhat secluded area and our waiter was smart enough to not hover and to clear his throat before approaching our table. With my wedding and engagement rings on and Lance's off he had to have known or suspected we weren't married to each other.
He asked about my Sunday and I told him about Clayton's miscommunication with me and how we had cleared the air. I didn't go into details and he didn't press me for them which was a relief. We then talked about Saturday night and how good it had been. He ordered a bottle of wine and after our waiter poured it offered a toast, "To us."
I touched my glass to his and repeated, "To us."
After our appetizers and meal he asked if I wanted to share a dessert. I told him I did. He ordered us a grand marnier soufflé. We finished the bottle of wine waiting for our dessert. He told me he had been thinking about me for the past two days. I told him he had been constantly on my mind also. He then confessed to having had a secret crush on me going back to when we first met. I told him I thought there had always been an attraction and asked why he hadn't acted. He held my left hand up, "Because you're married."
I pointed out, "I'm still married."
He countered with, "True, but your marriage is different. Before you were married and unavailable. Now you are married and available."
I couldn't help but blush when he spoke those words because everything he said was true. Before Clayton became my cuck I put a wall around me telling the whole world I was off limits. I was friendly, but not too friendly. I didn't flirt or hint I was easy. Now I did just the opposite and if Lance had picked up on it I was positive other men had too.
Still I hadn't been asked out by anyone and was the one who asked Lance to dinner. Either people thought I wasn't serious when I was flirting or I wasn't being bold enough.
My blush wasn't out of embarrassment or shame, but arousal. To have him confess his secret crush and to boldly make a play for me telling me I was now available and for the taking made me wet, hardened my nipples, and reddened my cheeks.
Dessert came, a grand marnier soufflé, the crème anglaise making me hunger for Lance's cream.
When the bill came I took it from the waiter catching Lance completely off guard. I explained to him it was my way of feeding Clayton's kink. He didn't protest but the picture he had of Clayton's kink was crystal clear. He chuckled but not in a cruel way saying how much more he liked Clayton now that he was dating his wife.
Back in his car he and I exchanged a few very heated kisses. He suggested we skip the movies and go directly to his place. I said, "I'd like that too."
Clayton and I had never lived on our own. We had moved from our parents' house to our apartment which we soon outgrew as I had a baby within a year. Lance lived in a very upscale condo. We took the elevator in the parking garage to his condominium. On the way up we kissed.
He unlocked the door using a keypad and insisted I go in first. I walked in and my first thought was how much Clayton would love to have a bachelor pad like Lance's. He allowed me to walk around and tour his place on my own while he made us Irish coffees. His bedroom was very manly; the bed king sized. I imagined myself on that bed with Lance on top of me. I was glad he hadn't accompanied me because it wouldn't have taken much persuasion on his part to have me naked in his bed.
I checked out the bathroom followed by his office, den, and made my way back to the living room where I found Lance just finishing preparing the Irish coffees. He sprayed whip cream to the top of each cup and suggested we go sit on the couch. He put the mugs down on the coffee table and sat down beside me. He picked up a remote and with the click of a button Frank Sinatra's voice filled the room.
Another click of a button and the lights went from bright to dim. This was his make out pad I thought wondering but not really caring how many women he had applied the same moves to. At that moment I just wanted it to be my turn to go to my grave saying I had spent an evening in Lance's love shack.
He turned to me and asked, "Where were we?" Tilting my chin up with one hand he pressed his mouth to mine. As we kissed I thought just how good he was at kissing. There was something about the way he kissed which was so different from Clayton who was no slouch at kissing and any of the other men I had kissed before Clayton.
His fingers I quickly discovered were very nimble leading me to later comment, "You should have been a pickpocket."
I shouldn't have been surprised. It was well known he had a reputation as a ladies' man. Practice makes perfect and I was certain he had perfected his moves practicing them on dozens of ladies.
Using his right hand he proceeded to second base cupping, kneading, caressing the entirety of my left breast before zeroing in on my nipple which my very thin bra did nothing to protect from his fingers. He twisted my nipple to make it harder and then used the tip of his index finger to rapidly stroke the very end of my nipple. He had me squirming with pleasure all the while keeping his mouth pressed against mine.
So focused was I on the pleasure he was giving me through my right nipple I didn't notice his left hand until he had the back of my dress unzipped to my waist and my bra unsnapped.
I remember feeling his hand on my bare back but not remembering how it got there. A minute later and both his hands were on my shoulders as he peeled the front of my dress down my arms. I remember bending my arms to help him expose me. The bra followed the dress and now he resumed pleasuring my left breast while kissing his way down to my right.
I thought rather indelicately, "Fuck. He is good," and moaned to let him know I liked what he was doing.
"You have magnificent tits Moira," he said.
"Thanks. They're all yours. And you have very talented fingers."
I swore I detected a smirk when we exchanged glances a few seconds later. He was quite sure of his abilities. I should have been mad at being relegated to a piece of meat that if he pushed the right buttons would give up its treats, but I wasn't. He was what he was, a Casanova.
He resumed feasting on my breasts. I thought to myself, "He certainly knows his way around a pair of tits."
