A Good Little Wife Goes Bad Ch. 01-02

'You have an absolutely fantastic arse.' he said with that bloody twinkly smile of his.

OK: maybe I'd have to settle for the second to last word before storming off, then. But the thing is, 'storming' is another thing that Jimmy Choos weren't exactly designed for, so, giving him a stormy scowl instead, I shoved past him and sort of tottered briskly off, head held high. If he'd wanted to, he probably could have kept pace with me with just a lively stroll... but he didn't: I looked back a few times, but there was no sign of him.

Needless to say, I headed straight for the MRT, to go home. (Oh: the MRT is what they call the tube, the underground, the subway: whatever, here.) On the train, all the tension flooded out of me. I'd got away with it! I'd escaped! I threw back my head and laughed out loud. A few of the people smiled a little uncertainly at me; the others either pointedly ignored me, or looked like they were thinking about changing seats at the next stop. But I didn't care: I was free!

When I got home, I was still feeling a little pumped, so I took a long bath, and played with myself until I had a wonderfully relaxing orgasm, thinking about what had happened.

That evening, I was all over Mike almost as soon as he walked in the door. 'What's brought this on?' he asked, at one point, but he had a silly grin on his face, and he didn't do any complaining. By the time that bedtime came around, I was so exhausted I fell into bed, happy to put the day behind me and chalk it all down to experience.

But I hadn't deleted his phone number...

Chapter 2

The next morning, after Mike had left for work, I couldn't seem to settle to do anything: there was some online banking I should have seen to, and some emails I wanted to reply to, but I just couldn't seem to get my head in gear. I kept going and making coffee: I was on my third cup, now: any more and I'd look like I had Parkinson's disease. And then, with a surge of excitement, I realised that I hadn't done the shopping I'd meant to, the day before. I could go back to Ion and do that! A fleeting thought crossed my mind that I might see Gorgeous, again, but, I thought, I can't let that rule my life; he's not going to decide what I can or can't do: that'd be like giving in to terrorists, or whatever.

Galvanised, I dashed into the bedroom to get changed, and, grabbing the first things I laid eyes on, slipped into them. (OK: so maybe they weren't exactly the first things: maybe they were the fifth or sixth, but I was still ready really quickly.) I ended up wearing a very pretty pink floral dress, with buttons from V-neck to hem, and my pair of 4" pink Louboutins to go with it (OK: so I've no brand loyalty; so shoot me!) Underneath, I wore a pink bra and pants set, that was quite a bit more see-through than the one I'd worn, yesterday; but that was neither here nor there: nothing was going to happen, today, and anyway, they were just the set I always wore with this dress.

There's no denying I was very nervous on the MRT, but I told myself that this was only natural: that if he were there, it would be so much the better, because it would give me the chance to totally blank him, so that he'd realise that nothing like yesterdays debacle was ever going to happen, again, and he knew exactly where we stood.

At Ion, I wandered around the shops, looking at tops, and skirts and dresses, but my mind keep wandering, and more than once I caught myself looking at things that were a lot more revealing than things I normally wore. Part of me justified this by thinking that maybe if I dressed a little sexier, maybe I could avoid incidents like yesterday's: but that was ridiculous, because I had no need to 'avoid' them, because nothing like that would ever happen again.

As lunchtime approached (which was when I'd been at Food Opera, the day before) I found myself glancing at my watch more and more frequently, and, yes: becoming more nervous. But I had to eat, didn't I, I told myself, and Opera was the obvious choice. And, anyway, as I'd told myself, earlier, confronting him (or, rather, ignoring him) now, and getting it out of the way, would be a hell of a lot better than spending the rest of my days in Singapore just waiting to bump into him. Just then, on cue, my stomach rumbled. Right: this was it. I strode purposefully off and made my way straight down to the food court: to where he'd been sitting... But he wasn't there. I wandered around the whole area, past all the counters, but he was nowhere to be seen. I felt a big letdown. I was disappointed... because, I told myself, I just wanted to get this out of the way.

Anyway, after completing a couple of circuits I just bought some Mee Goreng and sat down and ate it. After finishing the food, I bought a lychee drink and 'people watched' for a while. When 'yesterday's time' had long gone, and it was obvious that he wasn't coming, I got up, feeling cheated, and took the escalator up to where I'd been standing the day before. Careful to stay well back from the glass, and even making sure I was standing halfway behind one of the columns, I looked down to where I'd just been sitting. I thought I'd just have one last check before giving up entirely, and getting on with my shopping. Thinking that I'd caught a glance of a dark-haired white guy, right at the back, I leaned a little more over the railing, peering down, when

'Looking for me again?' whispered in my ear.

Of course, I did the whole cat on a hot tin roof bit, again: dropping my bag and everything. When I landed, I spun round and screamed 'JESUS FUCKING CHRIST! WILL YOU STOP DOING THAT!' causing everyone on the floor I was on, the floor above, and those down in the food court, to stare at me. I just stood there, arms akimbo, fists on hips, scowling at him, and hyperventilating like I'd just finished a four-minute mile.

'Er... A little tense, today, are we?' he said.

'Piss off!' I said.

He just laughed and bent down to get my bag, which, this time, I snatched right off him.

'So.' He said 'Were you looking for me?'

'Yes' I said, realising I'd look a complete fool, if I said anything else.

'And why was that?'

'So I could ignore you' I mumbled, realising, after I'd said it, just how idiotic that sounded.

He leaned a little forward, turned his head slightly to one side, raised one eyebrow, and, in a sing-song voice said 'Er... FAILLLL...'

'Oh, Fuck Off!' I snarled, spinning round to turn my back on him to lean on the rail, again.

'Careful' he said 'You don't want to unintentionally give someone a treat, do you?'

With a gasp, and an involuntary glance down to the food court, I hurriedly stepped back from the glass... and crashed right into him. But at least I stopped the latest 'Fuck Off' from escaping my lips: I figured that I'd wasted enough of my witty rejoinders on him, already.

He steadied us both by putting his hands on my arms. I could feel that his face was in my hair... and that my backside was pressed into his groin. 'Jesus, Bella: way to go: you certainly know how to ignore a guy, don't you?' I thought to myself, 'If you ignore him any harder, he'll probably cum in his pants.'

I didn't know what to do: I didn't want to step back to the glass, and I couldn't move backwards, at all... and my heart was racing, and I was finding it hard to catch my breath, and my throat felt tight... So I just stood there.

He was slowly moving his hands up and down my arms, sending goose bumps and chills scudding up an down my body. I shivered.

'Like I said, yesterday, Bella: you have an absolutely fantastic arse...' he whispered, thrusting his hips gently forward and nuzzling into my hair.

I moaned slightly, leaning my head back and pressing my bottom back into him. I was so hot! I could feel my pussy pulsing. What the fuck was happening here: I'd gone from a standing start to 60 in about 3 seconds. Since when had I turned into a Lamborghini?

'I think we should stop...' I mumbled.

'Why? Don't you like it?'

'Ohh yes' I moaned 'That's why we should stop.'

'But, I though we'd decided that you needed to have a little more fun.'

'No: you decided that.' I murmured.

'Really? I thought that you decided it when you chose to show a complete stranger your pussy and your arse when they were only covered by the thinnest layer of silk.'

I gave an involuntary jerk and moaned softly.

'You really enjoyed showing yourself off to me, didn't you?' he whispered.

I felt my head nodding.

'I think you'd probably enjoy showing yourself off to others, too, wouldn't you? And, perhaps, showing a little more... I think that I'd like that, as well.'

I felt limp, like a wet dishcloth, in his arms, and my panties, between my legs, were like an even wetter dishcloth: I could feel the cold air conditioned drafts wafting up my skirt. I couldn't gather my thoughts; all my body was aware of was its arousal. He pushed his erection into my bottom: this hard rod pushing me forward. I had no choice but to step to the barrier, with him joined to me.

I looked down to the food court where there were quite a few people eating.

'Let's give them something to look at' he whispered playfully. He reached down with one of his hands and caught the front of my dress.

'What are you doing!' I gasped. But I knew, because I could feel him undoing the bottom button of my dress.

'Shhh' he whispered quietly.

Down below, there didn't seem to be anyone aware of what was happening on the balcony, but I knew that wouldn't last long. I could feel my cheeks burning... but I made know move to stop him.

At that moment, someone who looked like a local guy, who was sitting with another, glanced up, and I could see he was trying to make sense of what he was seeing, which was some guy fiddling with some woman's skirt. He looked puzzled. I could feel George's hand slide up and begin to undo another button. I swallowed. My breath was coming in short gasps. The guy below said something to his friend, who, then, also looked up. They exchanged glances, and then, both now grinning, looked back.

I knew that they wouldn't be able to see anything more because of the button(s) that were open, but I was probably showing quite a lot anyway. I leaned my head back against G. and half closed my eyes, watching the guys, below, from beneath my lids. Button, by button, my dress was unfastened, until I could feel G's hand at my waist and knew that they were undone all the way to there. But my dress was still closed. I was still decent: I wasn't showing more than I had been, before. But this was just so 'naughty', I guess: having your dress open to your waist in public.

From their expressions, it was obvious that the guys, below, couldn't believe either their eyes, or their luck. They kept looking around to see if anyone else had noticed: but no one had. The column I'd originally been hiding behind blocked the view from one direction, and only a few tables were at the right angle to see me; there were others at those tables, but they were either facing the wrong way or just hadn't looked up.

I felt G's arms release me, and his hands slip down to the outside of my thighs. I knew what was going to happen next: the grand opening ceremony, and I was shaking like a leaf at the prospect. Slowly, very slowly, I felt my dress being bunched at the sides: it was splitting open in a vee, like the curtains at an old fashioned theatre. I could hardly stand: my legs were shaking so much. My head lolled forwards, and looking down my body, I could watch my skirt disappearing and also see my audience. Both guys had their mouths open: they were practically drooling.

I realised, with a shock, that G was now holding my skirt at both my hips, and that it was completely open: these strangers, maybe 30 feet away, were staring at everything I had below the waist, and that it was only covered by a tiny pair of semi-transparent, clearly soaking wet, panties. I realised that my landing strip of pubic hair must be visible, my slit, and, if their eyesight were keen enough, the bump of my very erect clit. Anyone else who happening to look the same way would be able to see the same thing. Anyone. I shuddered. How could a 'good little wife' ever do such a thing in public!

Then G quickly slid his hand down and across my abdomen and brushed his fingers over my clit. That was all it took for me to have the most Earth-shattering orgasm of my entire life. In public. Watched by complete strangers.

I cried out when I came, and if G hadn't grabbed me, I would have collapsed. The noise caused a few more people to look up from below, but, by then, my dress had fallen back into place and all they could see was a man helping a lady who, apparently, was having some sort of fainting fit. I was vaguely aware of the guys below giving each other high-fives as G whispered 'Come on: if you can walk, I think we'd better go, before you do something that gets us both arrested.'

In a daze, my legs feeling like they belonged to two other people, I began to fumble with the front of my dress.

'No. Leave it: it's more fun, like that... And the day is still young...'