Waiting On My Wife (short story)

[photo credit: VitalikRadko]

A surprise short story just in time for the weekend. This one came together quickly, and is really just an appetizer for what's to come later on this Patreon, but I wanted to treat my first, special patrons. Thank you so much!

Waiting On My Wife

“Table 9 is fire,” Jon whispered as we passed. He was on his way into the kitchen, a smirk all over his face. I was on my way out.

Dahlias had a full booking tonight, even on a Wednesday. Business was good. The restaurant had just been written up as one of the top five new places to dine in the city paper and the reservations were showing it.

Table 9 was my table, and I knew exactly what Jon was talking about when I saw the pair sitting there. Picture a good looking, but mostly unassuming Wall Street professional and you’d get a decent idea for the man—brown hair, week old beard, wore a suit well. 

But the man wasn’t the fire. His date was. She was gorgeous. There was something almost Eastern European in her look—her high, well-formed cheeks, golden blond hair that she kept half-back and contrasted nicely with her dark brows and dark irises. She wore a red dress that sat off her shoulders, and a multitude of golden necklaces draped over her pale, flawless skin.

They were sitting across from one another, but so clearly into one another. It was the eye contact, intense and palpable. She watched him with her head half-tipped, one hand resting just under her cute, pointed chin, the other on the table, where their fingers touched. Beneath the table, she had her legs crossed, and slowly ran the top of her foot along one of his calves.

There was a comfort between them, but also a newness. They were definitely fucking, and they were going to fuck again tonight. This was all foreplay. 

I knew all of this because the blonde was my wife.

“Hello,” I greeted. “I’m Drew and I’ll be your server this evening. Can I start you with something to drink?”

My wife, Elsie, glanced up at me with a playful smile, but let her date do the ordering.

“I’ll take a glass of the Chianti. She’ll have a chilled Chardonnay,” he said.

“Excellent choice, sir,” I said, looking at Elsie. A fire had kindled behind those dark eyes, dancing with lust. “Tonight, we have a few specials…”

It was hard not to stare at Elsie as I rattled off the menu, and harder still not to match her smile. We shared a secret. The giddy excitement felt like I was back in high school, passing notes to my girlfriend—not a 40-year-old man working on the waitstaff of a fancy restaurant as my 40-year-old wife was on a date with another guy.

Although that was actually even more exciting.

“I’ll give you a moment to browse the menus,” I said. “I’ll be right back with your drinks.”

“Thank you, Drew,” Elsie said. They were the first words that she’d spoken, soft and sweet and playful.

I nodded and left them to it, although I did hear the man say, “You’re being a bad girl, Elisabeth. Careful or I’ll have to punish you.”

I was glad that our waiting uniform included a short apron to disguise the bulge in the front of my black trousers. This was even more intense than I’d anticipated.

Elsie was a hotwife. She was married to me, but slept with other men. We’d been indulging in this fantasy for about five years, and it had yet to get old or stale. It was always thrilling whenever she went out to meet a guy for sex. I still loved every moment of the build up, watching her prepare herself for someone who wasn’t me.

Over the years, her lovers had gone through different preferences. With her trim beauty and svelte build, most liked it when she dressed up like a fashion model, getting her to wear short, tight dresses that most suburban married women in their late thirties would never wear. 

One guy, her one and only black lover, liked it when she braided her blond hair into cornrows, making her wear a lot of makeup, bright red lipstick, and clothing made out of leather. He made her grow out her bush, and unlocked her craving for rough sex.

There was even one guy who liked dressing her up in school girl uniforms, pigtails and everything, and call him “daddy” as he fucked her.

None of them lasted more than a few months. It wasn’t so much that I was worried that she’d grow attached to one of them, but the other way around. Elsie was amazing. Not only was she insatiable in bed, but she enjoyed following these orders, and all these men loved to command.

That’s when Mikael came onto the scene. Mikael was a successful doctor—quiet, a little dark, a little odd, but mostly unassuming. We found him on Ashley Madison, and Elsie decided to meet up with him for a drink on his looks more than anything else. Drinks led them back to his place, where Elsie learned what true submission felt like. They didn’t even have sex that night, but when she left, she knew that she’d do anything to see him again.

“So what do we think?” Jon said. “First date? Second?”

“No, definitely not,” I said as I gathered their wine bottles. “But I don’t think they’re, like, a couple, either.”

“You think they’re friends?” Jon couldn’t have sounded more incredulous.

“Not just friends, no,” I said.

Jon agreed. “She’s been eye fucking him since they sat down. God damn, what a lucky fucker. She’s somehow cute, hot, and graceful all at once. I wouldn’t mind seeing those eyes stare up at me from her knees.”

“You’re terrible, man,” I said with a chuckle. “Let me get back with the drinks.”

Returning to their table with the two bottles of wine, I poured Elsie’s first. “The Chardonnay,” I said, tipping just a sippable amount into her wine glass. She smiled up at me with that coy, flirty look before taking the glass, swirling the white, and tipping it back. Watching her swallow was suggestive.

“This is accepta—ble!” Her voice hitched up at the end, and color sprang into those wonderful cheekbones of hers.

I’d been in the hospitality business long enough to pretend to not notice anything out of the ordinary, but it was still tough with my own wife. I filled the rest of her glass generously, set the bottle down, and poured a sippable amount to Mikael.

As I did so, I noticed that in his left hand, which he was resting casually on the table, looked to be a small remote of some sort. Everything clicked into place. Mikael was using a toy on her, right here in the restaurant, right in front of someone that he thought was a hapless stranger. My hand shook as I poured the Chianti, and I swear he noticed.

“Are we ready to order?” I said, my voice steady once again.

Mikael flicked something with his finger, and the tension in Elsie’s body fluttered away. “Yes,” Mikael said. “I’d like the arctic char, and she’ll have the petite steak.” He glanced at her. “Seems like Elisabeth is in the mood for a little red meat tonight.”

She reached out and ran her hand along Mikael’s. “Nothing little about it,” she said, batting her lashes at him.

I cleared my throat and nodded. “Let me, um, put those orders in.”

This time, when I turned, I listened for it, and heard it a moment later—Elsie’s gasp. The toy was back on. I had to get my head on straight. I had other tables to attend to. Other orders to take and water glasses to fill. This was a fun game for Elsie, but it was also my livelihood.

Although that’s what made this so spicy. She’d been seeing Mikael for about three months now, and although their meetups were infrequent, she always came back looking like she’d been in a hurricane. He was into power games, and he had a lot of experience with that. He challenged her, and because this was Elsie, she became his perfect sub.

“I shaved for him,” she’d told me one evening, about a week after their first true encounter. “He told me I’m not allowed to have hair when we’re together. Not even stubble.”

Two weeks after that, I found her in the shower when I got home from a closing shift at the restaurant. I was drawn to the sound of running water, and I wasn’t disappointed. She was there, her back to the glass door, water running over her pale curves, shaving her legs. Nestled between her buttocks was an onyx black butt plug. I’d stripped and joined her, asking about it. “He told me to wear it, to prepare myself for him. When I asked him how to explain it to my husband, he said to make something up.”

Those were the kinds of funny games we played. Mikael didn’t know that I knew everything. He issued these challenges thinking that they’d make Elsie squirm, when so little made her squirm. He ordered her to do things that he thought made me a cuckold, yet I definitely didn’t feel the weight of those horns. 

Despite that, Mikael did push her buttons. She wouldn’t keep going back to anyone if he didn’t. She’d never been tied up before. She’d never had clamps fastened to her nipples. She’d never had an actual paddle used. But each new limit that Mikael pushed had her craving more.

It wasn’t Mikael’s idea to come to Dahlias, though. That was all Elsie and her deviousness. Hard to imagine someone as sweet as her being so evil, but that’s why I loved her so much. Mikael didn’t know me. He didn’t care about me at all, other than as Elsie’s husband. It was the perfect setup to bring them in and watch them play.

And watch I did. I checked in on them formally, but also couldn’t stop looking over as I made my rounds. Sometimes, Elsie would catch me looking, flashing her eyes at me before turning her affection on Mikael. Most of the time, though, she was consumed by the man as she ate and flirted and worked herself up for what promised to be a wild night.

Elsie had made sure to tease me earlier, before leaving for this shift, showing off the dress that her “Master” had purchased for her. The off-the-shoulder minidress was bright red, elegant, yet daringly short. She wore tall, beige heels, and only a red g-string beneath. We’d showered together before, where she went down on me, working me up to the edge before pulling away. I shaved her legs and pussy, making sure her mound was as smooth as silk, edging her to the brink of her own orgasm. Then I’d left.

“How are we doing?” I asked, checking in on them after their plates had been bussed away. “Can I show you a dessert menu?”

For once, Mikael didn’t answer for them. Instead, he looked at Elsie expectantly. She colored, glancing from Mikael to me, then back to Mikael. He nodded at her, firm yet encouraging. She returned her focus to me. “I think our preferred dessert is off the menu,” she stammered. He’d put her up to this. Then she reached out and took my hand, pressing something into it.

“We’ll take the check,” Mikael said.

Whatever she’d pressed there was soft and wet. I had a hunch, but didn’t dare open my hand. “Right, um, I’ll ring that up.”

“Thank you,” Elsie said. It was a performance for Mikael, I realized, but nevertheless, I was thrown off balance, as I’m sure they intended. 

In my hand, I confirmed once alone, was my wife’s g-string. But not just that. There was a note. I recognized Elsie’s flowing text.

Meet me in the parking garage, B3, in the back, near the black G-Wagon. Ten minutes.

This was an unexpected twist. I found Jon. “Hey, can you cover me for the next thirty? I need to deal with a thing.”

“Everything okay?” he asked.

“Yeah, just… something came up with my wife. Minor emergency.”

He rolled his eyes. “I get it,” he said, holding up his own wedding band in commiseration. “Everything’s a fucking emergency.”

I smiled weakly at him, rang up the check for table 9, and carried it out. Elsie was gone, but Mikael was still sitting there, nursing his second glass of wine. “Thank you for coming, sir,” I said, setting the check down before him.

“You’re welcome, Drew. My… companion enjoyed the evening, as well.”

“Right.” I nodded.

“She went ahead to warm up the car.” Another power game. I started to wonder if maybe he did know who I was. I couldn’t be certain. I honestly didn’t care. I knew what was waiting for me down in B3.

“Very thoughtful of her.”

“Oh, I don’t think so. She’s been bad tonight. She’ll be punished for it. Have a nice night. And enjoy.”

Awkwardly, I left him, wondering if there was a world where I could ever have so much self-confidence. The guy didn’t seem to give a fuck that I’d think he was crazy. Who tells another man that his date would be punished? And yet with Mikael, it all seemed as natural as asking for a refill of water.

My heart thundered as I headed out the back of the restaurant, pulling off my apron and leaving it on the hanger. Breaks were normal. No one looked at me oddly, despite the fact that I kept thinking, They all fucking know!

The third floor of the garage was nearly empty. The Mercedes-Benz G-Class SUV sat in the very far back, away from any other cars and the prospect of getting dinged by anyone else. I saw a flash of red behind it, and as I drew closer, there she was, Elsie, waiting for me with a smirk.

“Hello, there,” I said.

“Hi.” Even in her heels, she was a tiny thing.

I moved around the car and held up her panties. “Not a conventional tip.”

She floated to me, placing a hand on my chest and staring up at me. We’d been together for so long, yet it was still amazing that I could see her for the first time. “I’m not a conventional woman.”

“No, you’re not. Elisabeth, right?”

She smiled at that. “You were eavesdropping on us.”

“Not like you were hiding a whole lot.”

She reached behind her and did something with her dress. A moment later, it was pooled around her ankles. “I’m not supposed to hide anything,” she said. “Master orders it.”

Naked, Elsie was exquisite. Her pale skin was unblemished, a creamy expanse from those shoulders to her small tits, her narrow waist, her dancer’s legs. Her nipples were hard and her bare shaven pussy was damp. Out of those compact lips, I could see the loop of the vibrating egg.

“What else did Master order?”

“For me to get my dessert,” she said, sinking down to her knees before me. I’d received countless blowjobs from this woman in my life, but this one was at the top of the list as one of the best. She wasn’t just doing this for fun, or even for my enjoyment. She was doing this at another man’s orders. I wasn’t going to last long.

Elsie never took her lips off of me. She used her fingers to pump my shaft and her eyes to lock me in on what she was doing. She had the advantage of knowing exactly what I liked, and she pulled out every trick.

When I was close, though, the wild card of the night entered. One moment she was bobbing on my dick. The next, she was gasping, her brow furrowing, her eyes fluttering nearly shut before she got control of herself.

Leaning on the G-Wagon, I couldn’t see behind me, but knew that he must have arrived. I could hear the vague buzz of her vibrator, if I listened close enough—or maybe I was just imagining it. Either way, when Elsie started to moan on my dick, I knew the egg was on. She started to suck faster, wilder, her eyes burning up at me in her need.

“Oh, fuck, that feels… uhh…” I groaned. I was close. I’d been close all evening. Watching my wife on an actual date had finally caught up with me. The fact that her date ended here, with him ordering her to service their waiter, was fucking wild. Had this happened before? Would it happen in the future? “Uh!”

I lost it. I pressed back against the SUV, pressed my palms against the back of my head, and started to come. Elsie pulled back, still staring up at me as I unloaded onto her face. Her eyes were bright. Her need was real. We didn’t do facials, but the version of Elsie with Mikael sure as hell loved them.

“Thank you for my dessert,” she said, sinking back on her ankles. She didn’t bother wiping the mess from the bridge of her nose, her cheeks, her forehead. I got the idea that she was ordered not to do that. The buzzing, however, was gone.

“Thanks for the generous tip,” I said. “You made my night.”

I didn’t tell her that I loved her, although my love was overflowing. I didn’t tell her that I’d see her later, or to stay out as long as she wanted, or to get naughty. I was the waiter again, and so I left her there, naked, covered in come, on the grimy floor of a parking garage sub basement.

I didn’t see Mikael, but knew he was around, lurking. I was happy that I didn’t have to deal with that. I hated the idea of being a cuckold, but an encounter like that would have shaken me more than I already was.

I went back up to Dahlias and pretended that everything was normal. No one looked at me twice, not even Jon, other than asking if I got everything sorted with my wife.

“Yeah, man,” I said. “Everything’s all smoothed over.”

***

This story started as more of a writing exercise than a cohesive and structured tale. It's actually a great example of how I typically approach writing. Many great authors outline a story before starting their first paragraph. I usually come up with a concept—man is on the wait staff when his wife is on a date—and see where it takes me. Believe me, I had no idea that this story would take the characters into the parking garage. I didn't even really know what kind of couple Elsie and Drew were, although I like the idea of a stag who pretends to be a cuckold. 

And before you ask whether Mikael knows that Drew is Elsie's husband, I honestly don't know myself. What do you think?