Trophy Wives

I know this one is long, but the way the plot wove into original sexual situations kept me writing. I hope you enjoy.

*****

Chapter 1: The Arraignment

"Would you look at her?"

I took a sip of my champagne and looked at my friend incredulously. We were in a banquet hall with probably 300 other people. We were all wearing formal wear, and there were more than a few women worth looking at. There was a lot of money in the room, and a decent percentage of it had gone into buying some very exquisite dresses.

Though most men in the room were over 50, the average age of the women was probably closer to 40, with very few at that age and most either in their mid 20's or mid fifties. And the women in their 50's had enough access to money to make sure that modern science kept them looking as young as possible.

Looking at Stephen, my friend, I tried to trace his look back to find exactly which woman he was talking about. My eyes took their time moving down his line of sight. I admit to being easily distracted, and after pausing at some great cleavage only to realize a second later that it belonged to a woman with a 58-year-old face, I understood I had to be more careful.

My eyes kept moving to find a pair of well tanned and toned legs descending from the shortest skirt in the room. Unfortunately she was attached to a 70-year-old man that wouldn't let her out of his sight. That turned into a theme I quickly saw (and already knew) as almost every gorgeous woman was sidled up to a decrepit old man.

This was a charity function at $5,000 per plate. The only reason anyone would come to this is to be seen as being both philanthropic and incredibly wealthy. In order to become wealthy, you needed time to acquire that wealth. You also needed to put in insane hours and become very demanding of people. This usually didn't mix well with marriage, and so these men either didn't get married or got divorced.

A decade or two later when they had millions of dollars, they didn't care much as beautiful women usually half their age and twice as good looking as their former wives clung to them like velcro. It made Stephen and I a little jealous, not that we didn't have beautiful women at our disposal, but that we had to work for it. I had a beautiful wife, and neither of us had gone past 35 yet, so we still looked good. How we got to this exclusive party I'll share in a minute.

Stephen was also young, but he fell into the multi-millionaire category with the rest of the people here and so women flocked to him also. However, he was even younger than I was, so he still had to work the relationship part of the women. Those that were just hungry for money, married the older men who were likely to die and who were not biologically capable of creating families anymore. Stephen needed to find a woman to be a mother and a wife and stay with him for a little longer than 5-10 years. They were harder to find, and so while he got a lot of tail, he had to endure the break-ups too.

So, it was hard for me to pick out exactly which piece of ass he was looking at now. My eyes scanned past the snack table where my wife stood, playing briefly with the idea that he was checking her out, bu continued past the bar and then across the fountain to the gem of the banquet.

She stood a little taller than the other women in the room. She wore an ankle length gown over her slightly tanned skin – dark enough to be exotic, but light enough not to imply any tanning beds. The neckline of the sparkling white dress dipped just low enough to let you know she could compete with any other rack in the room, yet was high enough to let you know that she had the sophistication not to. The thigh high slit along her right leg let you know she was no enemy of the treadmill. The back of the dress was completely open from her blonde hair down the beginning of her perfect ass such that if it dropped another half inch, you would see another kind of cleavage. With that being the case, I couldn't help but wonder what kind of underwear, if any, she might be wearing. The dress already confirmed that she wasn't wearing a bra, letting anyone who cared to know that her chest needed no extra help to stay up.

The dress did not show the most skin in the room, but with as many girdles, underwires, padding, and surgical implants as this room must have right now, the dress did let you know that this woman needed none of them.

"She was in Maxim a couple years ago," Stephen said once he could see I had found his mark. I was aware of this fact. I owned a copy of that magazine that my wife would never find. I had jerked off to that magazine on more than one occasion.

"You know," I began. "If you want to really get into the real estate business, I might be able to get you a deal on a certain bridge in Brooklyn."

It wasn't worth my time to explain why she was unattainable. I knew Stephen knew who she was and to whom she was married.

This charity ball was for being thrown by Howard Steller. He owned the hotel in which this banquet hall was located. He owned many, many other hotels. He was easily the richest man in the room, if not the state. He was also married to Jessica Kinitz-Steller, former NFL cheerleader, former Victoria's Secret model, former Maxim Model, and who had a standing one million dollar offer from Playboy if she ever felt her husband's millions weren't enough.

"It's not that outlandish," Stephen insisted, taking a sip of his drink and ignoring my doubting stare. "All these old guys have arrangements with their hot young wives. I mean, look at those two." He motioned to the couple I had noticed earlier with the woman wearing the incredibly short skirt clinging to the arm of a 70+ year-old. I looked further up her body to see her impossibly thin waist and incredibly large (and incredibly fake) breasts.

"Do you think he keeps her satisfied?" Stephen asked. "There's no way. That guy probably has just enough blood flow to get up once a month, and then maybe only for five minutes if he has enough Viagra pumping through him. You think that will keep her happy?"

"I think his yacht and Ferraris keep her happy," I said.

"So when she gets revved up tooling around in a fancy car, or gets all oiled up to lay out on his yacht, how does she satisfy her other desires?" He paused to take another sip but then answered his own question before I could. "They bang the pool boy and the gardener. And you know what? The old guys know it, and they don't care. As long as their trophy wives come with them to banquets like this and wear sexy nighties to bed and walk around during the day in bikinis and give them a blow once a month, they don't care what else they do. Besides, if they don't let their wives fool around with other men, then those women are just going to find another old man who will. Trust me, it comes with the territory."

I wondered if I should ask him how he knew, but I guessed I already knew the answer. He had undoubtedly played his part as a "pool boy" or "gardener" once before and heard the story. I looked across the room at Jessica laughing it up with a few men, and then to the other side of the room where Howard stood talking business with some associates. I shook my head. Yes, Howard was 64, but he was a fit 64, and I doubted he would want another man fooling around with his wife.

However, I was uniquely close to the man, and he had told me about many of his health problems. He always related them to me in a fatherly sort of way, trying to prepare me for what was to come, but because of that advice, I knew he had his sexual problems. It made me wonder what that kind of marriage would be like. My wife and I had watched porn together and had read the erotic stories where couples lived in an open marriage. We joked about it and thought about it, but we never pushed it any further than that.

I had also read about the men who liked to watch their wives with other men. I didn't really understand that pleasure completely, because it seemed like a jealousy fit waiting to happen. Watching someone else enjoy your wife was supposed to be a power trip. They were getting something that you could have any time you wanted, and once they were done, he wouldn't get it again, but you would. It was like letting someone borrow your sports car so that when they gave it back and told you how amazing it was, you could then say, "Yes, I know. Now go get your own."

The more I thought about this, the more I thought Howard fit that mold. I couldn't see him letting his wife sleep with other guys whenever she wanted, but I could see him picking certain guys for her, and then watching them together.

"What I wouldn't give to have one night with her?" Stephen's fantasy brought me out of my contemplation for a moment.

"What would you give?" I asked.

"Huh?"

"What would you give for a night with Ms. Maxim?"

He looked at me, suddenly sobered up, trying to determine if I was serious. "I would repay your admission to this banquet," he stated.

That was pretty generous - $10,000 for my wife and I, as far as he knew. This is where I should probably explain how I was even there, since my wife and I were easily the poorest couple in the room. Together we maid 6 figures a year, but we knew we would never pull down 7 or 8 like some of the people in the room.

I was a lawyer, at least that is what my business card said. And, for most of the time, I was a real estate lawyer. That was how I knew Stephen. He started flipping houses right out of college. After a few years at it, he was doing several deals a month. He needed a good lawyer, and I was it. He went from flipping houses to flipping motels to flipping hotels. That was how he knew Howard. They had done a few deals together, which I had overseen.

To Howard I was more of a gopher. I did a little legal work for him when he needed some paperwork, but mostly he gave me odd jobs. I had been a head hunter, finding him several of his current employees; I had prevented the condemnation of one of his older hotels until he could fix it up; I had helped him with his divorce, his will, and his prenup for his current marriage; I had even coached his grandson's little league team.

My wife and I got into this banquet hall for free. She was a psychiatrist and she always left these things with half a dozen new clients. She asked me to try to get free invites to these dinners as often as I could, and once I let Howard know, I had a life time free pass to any banquet he threw.

"It's worth 10k to you?" I clarified to my friend.

Stephen chuckled. "Kevin, you're out of your league here. I know you have skills, and I know you and the old man are close, but you can't do this." Stephen had started using me for odd jobs, but our friendship made payment for those jobs difficult. It was nothing for Howard to sit down and write me a 4-digit check, like he was paying me for mowing his lawn, but Stephen, actually being a couple years younger than I was, made it weird.

"I only have two questions for you: Do you have your checkbook, and are you wearing clean underwear."

Stephen shrugged his shoulders. "Yes and yes."

"Whatever happens tonight," I prepared him, "you and I never talked."

"Deal," he laughed and we shook hands on the arraignment.

He nodded his head and raised his glass to me as I walked off. I spotted my wife again to make sure she would be busy for a while, and I saw her fishing for a business card from her purse. She was doing her thing, and I knew I had at least fifteen minutes.

Howard was now by himself at the desert table trying to find the lowest calorie piece of cake he could. He was still in good shape by my eyes, but everyone looked good in a $2,000 tux. I knew he swam laps every day in his pool, and I had been at his house enough to see him in his trunks. I'm sure he was in better shape in his youth, but even if he wasn't a killer in bed anymore, he had a handsome enough face that Jessica wasn't just with him for his money.

He spotted me ten feet off and had a powerful handshake waiting for me. "Mr. Taylor, you're looking well tonight. Your wife and you having a good time?"

"Only the best," I replied, raising my glass to the host. "I assume Jessica is enjoying herself as well?"

"Always, though who knows with whom."

I grinned. This was going to be too easy. "Do I here a twinge of jealousy in your voice?"

Howard laughed. "Those men are no competition for me, young man."

I knew the men he was talking about, but I moved to stand beside him so we could both face his beautiful wife. It would help if he was looking at her throughout our conversation instead of me.

"No one in this room is," I complimented him.

"Present company excluded?" he asked for clarification.

"I would never dream of it," I replied. I had actually dreamed of it quite often.

Howard laughed. He knew that every warm blooded male that had seen his wife dreamed of her. He then paused in thought. If I had learned any psychology from my wife I would bet that he was thinking if his wife ever dreamed about other warm blooded males.

"I'm sure you keep her happy," I interrupted. I used the word "sure" instead of "know" because I wanted that seed of doubt to be planted.

"I hope so," he replied, allowing that seed to grow. "I wonder sometimes if she doesn't want more, though."

"You trust her?"

"Impeccably. She loves me too much to fool around."

"Why would she?" I needed him to vocalize the reason.

"She's a flesh and blood woman in her prime. I should give her more."

"Then give her more."

Howard looked at me, and I needed all my skill to interpret that look. It was stern, but every look Howard gave anyone was stern. If it was too stern, I needed to stop right now. But I saw the hint of a question in his eyes, and I continued.

"It's wrong if she goes out and looks for it, but is it so wrong if you give it to her?"

It was time for Howard to talk, and I waited for him.

"You've heard of the 'arrangements' that other men in my position have in place."

I nodded my head and smirked. "Garbage," I replied, knowing his likely feelings on the subject. "There is a big difference between giving your wife your credit card and telling her to get something nice for herself and going out and buying something yourself so you can give it to her."

"Have I ever told you that I like the way you think," Howard smiled.

Again I could see this man's mind working. As I predicted, he was a man who enjoyed having power over a situation. The scenario as I described it gave him the power and it gave his wife satisfaction. And there would be no question who was providing that satisfaction. It wasn't her going out and getting it for herself and it wasn't some guy giving it to her. It was Howard providing for his wife.

"But, like I said before, she won't do it. She loves me too much."

I shook my head. "Don't think of it that way. Ask yourself if she loves you enough to do it."

"I don't follow."

"Tell her this is something you want. You not only want her to be happy, but you want to experience that happiness with her. You want to watch. You want to relieve your youth with her. It would make you extremely happy to see her experience the pleasure you know she wants. You can even play it off as a fantasy of yours that you want her to fulfill. If she loves you as much as you say, she will do it."

"What guy would agree to this?"

I laughed. "You underestimate the attractiveness of your wife."

Howard gave me one of his stern looks. "What guy would let me watch?"

"You don't tell them," I answered. "No guy, if they knew you were watching, would put forth the same effort toward your wife as they would if you weren't watching. They would have stage fright and perform worse than you ever have."

"So they will think my wife is a whore?"

"On, one hand, what do you care what they think? On the other, who says you can't tell them afterwards. They will understand they were used, and any ideas of giving your wife a call back will disappear from their mind. You will impose your control on the situation."

"But how does one go about setting this up?" Howard sounded frustrated. I could tell the idea greatly appealed to him, but he couldn't put the dots together. That is what he paid me for.

"You are not going home tonight, are you?" It was rhetorical. "This is your hotel, and I am sure you are staying in the penthouse on the top floor. I've seen the room. There is a large walk-in closet. There are two bathrooms. There is a balcony. Each of these offers a secretive vantage point that gives visual access to the whole room. You can go and have a talk with your wife, pick someone here tonight, and go upstairs to your room to wait for her to bring them up."

Howard nodded through the whole process, thinking on how he would present this to his wife. And then I saw his mind get to the part where it has to be presented to the guy. I stepped in.

"This also gives your wife a chance to play the seductress. Lie to the man to get him upstairs, or tell him the truth. If he is hesitant, your wife gets to work her charm. If he is bold with her, thinking he is taking something from you, that just allows you to slam him harder at the end of the night when you let him know you were in control."

Howard nodded, agreeing with everything I said; however, there was one key issue that had yet to be unaddressed. "If I am to do this tonight, who would I pick? Most of these men could not satisfy their own wives, much less mine."

"Not everyone you know is an old fart," I laughed. "There are at least a few single good-looking bachelors in attendance tonight." Actually, I could only think of one.

"Is your friend Stephen Barkly here tonight?"

This was too easy. It took all of ten minutes to earn my ten grand. "I think I saw him here earlier. If he hasn't spoken to you yet tonight, he probably hasn't left yet. I'm pretty sure he's not seeing anyone right now."

Howard was half listening to me, half scanning the crowd. He saw Stephen after a few minutes talking to some other real estate guys. "Son," he said to me, "if this works out, I owe you. I'll be in touch next week."

I watched him walk briskly toward his wife, and I downed the rest of my champagne glass and went in search of my own woman. As much as I wanted to watch my plan unfold, I did not want in any way to be implicated in what was about to happen. If anyone saw me watching Howard and his wife and then Jessica and Stephen, people might realize Howard had just been talking to me. If something went south, Howard would not blame me, but others might. I just decided to enjoy the rest of the evening.

Chapter 2: The Penthouse

Unfortunately, my plan to get my friend laid was thought up on the spot. I didn't have a way to get me into the penthouse or to mount cameras or anything else. But what I did have was an eye witness who owed me $10,000 and a story.

The banquet was on Friday night, and the next day, Stephen called and insisted that he take me out to dinner that night. I okayed it with Peggy, my wife, and she said she was thinking of going out with friends anyway.

Stephen was able to make money in the house flipping business because of his attention to detail, and he left none of it out as he recounted the story to me over a $200 steak dinner.

* * *

Jessica sauntered up to Stephen as he was talking to men who were as close to being his peers as he could find. They were 40-something businessmen whom Stephen had done deals with before. None of them were old enough to have their own trophy wives and they all stopped and stared when Jessica walked into their midst.

"Excuse me gentlemen, but I need to talk with Mr. Barkly for a minute."

The men stumbled over a few responses as Jessica smiled at Stephen, grabbed his upper arm, and pulled him several paces away. Her ample chest was pressed into his side as she whispered sharply into his ear. "Howard needs to see you upstairs in five minutes. Here is a key to the penthouse." She pressed the small elevator key into his hand. "Do not be early. Do not be late. Bring a bottle of champagne."