No hard sex - Don't do that.
If you don't like stories about wimps being cuckolding... Well, read it anyway?
+++++++++++++
"Time we were leaving."
"I'll leave when I'm ready dammit James," she rounded on me. "Stop hassling me."
"But we're supposed to be meeting with Sir Henry, Juliette," I pleaded with her. "My job could be on the line."
"Then get yourself a proper job," Juliette taunted me, and turned to the two jackasses she had been flirting with, ignoring me. Virtually dismissing me to be honest.
"What a wimp your husband is," I heard one them, the big dark guy laugh, and I gritted my teeth, telling myself that this situation hopefully wouldn't be lasting much longer, wincing when I heard Juliette's high pitched laughter joining in.
He was wrong of course, very wrong, but now wasn't the moment for me to risk explaining their error to them.
You want to leave James, then we will," she seemed to relent at last, bringing a silent sigh from me, short lived though it turned out to be. "Get the car!"
Fuming inside, I made my way round to the car parking area, and a few moments later was pulling up outside the club where we'd been for the last few hours, cursing under my breath when I saw that the two goons had followed her out and were stood there with her, laughing and joking, probably at my expense, and letting their hands wander where they didn't ought to be. Not that she seemed to mind, and I was beginning to wonder why I was. Public image I suppose. There could be quite a few people around who would recognise one or the other of us, and I just hoped and prayed that there was no one either of us knew well.
"I don't think this is a good idea Juliette," I protested as she got into the back of the car, closely followed by the big dark guy, while the other one, the stocky tough looking one, darted around to the other side and let himself in, effectively sandwiching Juliette in between them. It was a company car, and quite a big five seater, but even so with the size of the two strangers she'd picked up, the three of them were squashed up pretty close together.
"Home James and don't spoil the horses," chuckled the stocky guy in a false and mocking upper class accent, and all three of them burst into laughter.
They laughed while I guided the big car out into the London traffic, grating my teeth in anger at the abuse they were subjecting me to, frustrated that I was in no position to do much about it, and angrily shoving away the silky bra that suddenly appeared over my shoulder and draped itself across the rear view mirror.
---