The Hotwife Key Party: Willow (Chapter 6)

ONE MONTH BEFORE THE INVITATION ARRIVED

Adrian’s manager showed up at the dog park with his French Bulldog named Corky. Willow watched him from the sandy park, Pooter and Argyle tromping and sniffing and wrestling, Corky under his arm while he automated his Mercedes’s convertible top to close in case any Laurel Canyon birds wanted to shit on his leather upholstery.

When he got closer, she waved, and he headed her way, setting Corky down in the sand, but Corky didn’t run off, just trotted behind his daddy.

They kissed cheeks, and she said, “Hi, Hugo, don’t usually see you here on a Friday afternoon.” She stooped to pet Corky.

“A client canceled a meeting. I brought the Corkster out so Mindy doesn’t have to, then I’m going to play nine at the Hillcrest.”

“How is Mindy?”

Hugo shot the shit for fifteen minutes while the dogs played, talking about his new wife Mindy, an actress he’d met on the set of ‘Precinct K,’ back when they were shooting the pilot. He talked about shitheads he worked with, deadbeats and golf cheats, and speaking of cheating, guess who’s stepping out on her hubby?

She said, “Who?”

He paused, stone faced, gaze off on the sunny hills.

She said again, “Who?” concerned now Hugo was going into some cardiac event or something. She held his upper arm.

But then he smiled, “Oh, sorry, Willow, my mind just took a left turn there.”

“Well, we’re glad to have you back. What was the left turn?”

“Something crazy just occurred to me.”

“Oh yeah, what’s that?”

He presented her with a sales pitch like she was an up and comer and he wanted to represent her in the business. “Tell me: what are you doing for Adrian’s birthday?”

“I don’t know yet. It’s not even summer.”

“Well, it just occurred to me I’ve got the gift of a lifetime, a one-in-a-million chance.”

“A chance at what?”

He got close to her like he was selling Chinese watches out of his overcoat. Keep it under your hat, kid. “An A-list sex club is having a party.”

She stepped back like he farted, her nose turning up. “What the fuck is wrong with you, you perving out in your old age?”

“What? It’s not me perving out.”

“I feel like I need to wash my cheek now, you said that right next to my skin. I can smell dill pickle.”

He looked at her, unimpressed. “You missed your calling, math whiz, I could maybe have got you a spot at the Store.”

“Why would Adrian want to go to a sex club? Did he say something? Does he fucking want to?”

“Relax, relax, Willow. Me and him, we talked.”

“About sex clubs?”

Hugo laughed and covered his brow and eyes with his large hand, jewels flashing on his rings. “Oh, man, I shouldn’t have started with you. What was I thinking?”

She shook her head in disbelief, talking to the sky. “I come to the dog park to get some sunshine with my dogs after the LSE closed, and I find out my husband and his manager are some kind of seventies sex freaks.”

“Hey, Willow,” he said, matter of fact, jabbing a thumb into his chest, “you’re not going to see your boy here at any sex show. I still wear a towel when I schvitz. But listen, this is e-x-c-l, ah too long to spell. Look, it’s exclusive with a big capital E. A-list all the way. Top-notch, catered, the whole shebang.”

“Hugo, I’m not sending Adrian to a sex club for his birthday.”

“No, for both of you.”

“Me and him, going to a sex club?”

“Exclusive.”

“I know, you said that.”

Corky climbed up on the leg of Hugo’s pants, stretching his back out and looking for a treat. Hugo found one in his pocket and gave to him. He groaned when he stood again. “When we were in Tokyo, Adrian and I had a couple a sakes and Sapporos and we had a laugh or two. And I made some joke about banging the wife of the guy who ran the distribution market out there, and he—”

“I really need to chaperone when Adrian’s with you.”

Hugo smiled. “It was harmless. Anyway, Adrian says that whole thing turns him on.”

She stared at Hugo, not giving anything away in her eyes, meanwhile her scalp was prickling. What did Adrian tell Hugo turns him on? “Like I said, my husband and his manager are a couple of pervs.”

“Oh, maybe you didn’t know this about our friend. He likes the old 8mm stag films we watched in the day, wanton wives and all that.”

“Friend, Hugo? He’s my husband.”

“He’s my client.”

She scowled, skeptical. “Did Adrian put you up to this?”

Hugo looked shocked. “What? No, I swear, Willow. I just got wind of this shindig and I didn’t think of Adrian at all. Then I come to the dog park, I run into you, I remember Adrian said some shit when he was tipsy. He said you guys don’t do it, swing or anything. But I think your man’s got the bug.”

She scratched her head, looking at Argyle and Pooter, Argyle climbing on Pooter’s back and trying to hump him. Adrian wouldn’t set her up this way, get Hugo to ‘mention’ a sex party. That was more something she’d do to Adrian. Adrian was a straight shooter, while she liked to play rough.

She said, “Did you tell Adrian about this party?”

“No, I just heard about it.”

“And you could get us in?”

“Whoa, Willow, hoochie mama, what a change of tune. Yeah, I could get you in. It’s me Hugo, one call and it’s done. Remember: exclusive. A-list, the highest of high end.”

“Hygienic?”

“Like a operating room.”

She looked up to the sky, replaying every dirty little thing she and Adrian had roleplayed, knowing how much this sort of thing really did turn on the wonderful man in her life. She said, “Don’t tell him about it.”

Hugo raised a bushy eyebrow. “Why not?”

“I don’t yet,” she said, chewing her cheek. “I’m thinking…”

* * *

ONE MONTH LATER

Adrian said to her, “I’d do just about anything, Miss Willow, to see you shake your tushy at a Hollywood sex party.” And with her sitting in his lap facing him, he patted her cheeks like bongos, and she wiggled and danced, getting her cheeks shaking in her booty shorts. Adrian was hard, his erection pressing in the exact right spot.

She cupped her hands on his face. “Why don’t you show me?”

He took in his grip the hair hanging down her back and guided her head rearward. He loved looking at her long neck. She let him. He said, “Stand up and get those shorts off.”

She giggled and bit her lower lip, then rose to stand on the couch seat, her sock feet on either side of Adrian’s thighs. She made a long show out of untying her waistband drawstring, swaying her hips, mesmerizing Adrian. When they were loose, she changed tune, saying, “Hey, no peeking, turning around in place—almost staggering off the couch by accident—facing the sleeping dogs and Doris Day. She thumbed down her shorts, sticking her bottom out until she felt Adrian’s nose press into one of her butt cheeks. Then the shorts dropped to her knees, and she stepped out of them, foot-flinging the shorts at the TV, turning to Adrian again, her hands covering her sex.

He said, “You’re not wearing panties.”

“No bra, no panties. Just a horny, horny housewife waiting on the couch for her big, strong husband to come home.”

“He’s home now, baby. Why don’t you show me what you’re hiding?”

She flashed her hands away for a second, giving him a glimpse of her lady before covering it again.

Adrian smiled. “Forget begging for the party, now I’m begging you to show me that pussy again.”

“You can see that for free,” she said, peeling her hands away, letting him look. “I want to see what my Adrian will do to get me to go to some, what was it?—hotwife party.”

“I told you I’d do anything.”

She said, “How about this?” and moved her hips forward, her muff pushing into his nose and guiding his head to tilt back against the couch.

“That’s easy,” he said, voice muffled. “I’d do this to get you to pass me the salt.”

She giggled and withdrew. His vibrating voice down there tickled. But she moved back, this time resting her pussy on his mouth, towering over him, her muff like a bushy mustache under his nose. She said, “Can I tinkle in your mouth?”

She saw only his eyes watching her, narrowing with displeasure, brows scrunching down low.

She chuckled, trying to sound innocent. “What? I’m not going to, but could I?”

Adrian tried to keep a straight face, then blurted out laughing, his lips buzzing on her vagina and getting her head rocking back. She held his head with her hands on his ears, humping her pussy on her husband’s face. “Oh, fuck, that’s good. Oh, wow, keep doing that.” And Adrian thought she was joking, which made him laugh harder, but the effect of his increased laughter setting off rockets in her tummy and behind her eyes. “Ooh, ooh, oh, that’s good, oh god, oh god…”

He continued to laugh, but got over it, pleasuring her with his tongue.

“Hoo, wow, Adrian, I almost came there.”

She dropped down again to sit in his lap, legs folded out to the side, holding his face and kissing him, liking the taste of her own pussy on his lips. She smacked his lips three times, then said, “Can I say no to a guy when I’m there?”

“What do you mean? At the party?”

“Like if he has a sunburn. I hate sunburns. Like if his skin is peeling…” She shuddered and gave him an exaggerated ick-face that got him chuckling. He tweaked her nipple.

She rocked on his hard bulge again as his tweaks became caresses. “I could say no if I get skeeved, right?”

“Of course, baby. You’re my angel, and I wouldn’t want anything to upset you. Anything at all.” He toyed with a lock of her hair and she could see in his eyes he meant that. But she knew that already. She wouldn’t have married a man who couldn’t show care and emotion.

She said, “You’d really want to do this?”

He thought about it—actually considered it. She marveled at this man who had a high sex-drive and a solid kink who could still negotiate the treacheries of indulgence and not wanting to Leeroy Jenkins in headlong to some unknown sex party. He said, “We don’t even know what this is. So, no.”

Hm. He gave up too easy, and now she had to encourage him. She lifted the impressive gold card, glimmering but showing fingerprints already. She flipped it over. “There’s an email address. Are you going to respond, s'il vous pla”t?”

Adrian drew a deep breath, looking up at the ceiling. “Not if you’re skeeved, Willow, no.”

“I didn’t say I was. I mean… Would you want me to go?”

He looked at her with a get-serious face. “In a perfect world, yeah, I would.”

“Your world’s not perfect?” She put the card down and rubbed his shoulders, rocking in his lap again, trying to get him turned on so he would agree to what might be the most legendary birthday gift of his entire life. One he would never forget.

He dropped his hands and rested them on her thighs. “Absolutely perfect.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Sounds like you want me to go.”

“I definitely want to know more.”

It shouldn’t be this hard to convince him. This was his kink. She said, “And if you like what you hear?”

“Still up to you, Willow.”

“I know that,” she said, growling with exasperation. “I want to hear the lusty talk from you, the dirty talk. You’re being pragmatic—which, by the way, tells me you really are contemplating this.”

“I am,” he said, laughing. “I am contemplating it. It sounds like you want this more than I do.”

She pouted, pooching out her lower lip. “I just want you to convince me. I want horny Adrian to beg me to go.”

“Oh, I could do that. I could do that in a heartbeat.”

She challenged him, gathering the fabric of his shirt in her hands like they were lapels of a jacket, threatening him the way a gangster on his TV show would. “So do it.”

He closed his eyes and gave his head a small shake, like a vain actor getting into character. She giggled and smoothed out the fabric she’d scrunched. He opened his eyes, and they settled on her, smoldering with lust. “I would get so fucking rock hard to see you there.”

She whispered, “You’re already hard, baby,” and got close to his cheek, kissing his ear as her hand slipped between their bodies and squeezed his erection.

“Imagine how hard that rocket’s going to be if I see you laid out in a Hollywood bed, some bronzed wannabe with a perfect body and a huge cock is climbing over your naked body…”

“I’d be so wet for him,” she said, barely audible but her lips right at his sideburns.

“He’s working for me. He’s working my beautiful wife the way I want to see her worked.”

“Uh-huh.” She shifted and got two hands undoing his zipper. “And you’re watching?”

“I’m right there watching. Watching you suck his cock, watching you make love to it with your perfect mouth. But you’re not pleasuring him, you’re pleasuring me, getting him nice and wet ‘cause your Adrian wants to see your face when this beautiful no-name fucks your tight pussy—”

She gasped, a real honest gasp, getting turned on by Adrian’s delightful sexual imagination, taking his cock out and finding it slippery and wet, her husband turned on by the ideas in his brain—ideas that centered around her.

“He’s so big, Adrian. Oh, baby, he’s not going to fuck me with that thing, is he?”

Adrian growled and grabbed her ass, humped his hips so high, he lifted her right off the couch seat. His cock surged a wild gush of pre-come into her already slippery grip and now she was sure they’d be going to this exclusive sex party.