tagMatureWhat Happens with Husbands

What Happens with Husbands

bymiss_claremont©

Based on a true story.

*

One night during a party I was invited to, I set out to seduce a tall, dark, handsome young man named James who's a screenwriter and owns a production company. I did some intern work for him as a production assistant on his independent movie. Who I ended up seducing instead that night was even better and yielded more pleasure than James could have ever hoped to give me.

I took a cab to the mansion and arrived around 9 p.m. After I handed the driver my fare, I walked up the winding driveway to the front of the house. As soon as I walked inside, the front parlor was buzzing with activity. Sexy downtempo music was playing in the background. People were dressed in their most stylish outfits, schmoozing and socializing with the "who's who" of the local film community. A lavish spread of h'or dourves was set up on the table. I was ravenously hungry and helped myself to some. While making some pleasantries to different people I recognized, I looked around for James.

I wore the sexiest outfit I could find that was appropriate for the occasion, but it was still tasteful enough that whoever saw me in it could only imagine was lurking underneath. I wore a deep blue-green blouse with long sleeves and a v-neck that showed off just a hint of cleavage and complemented the color of my tanned skin.

I wore a tight black pencil skirt that hugged my curves, showing off my ass and long legs. I also wore my nicest, strappiest pair of heels. My jet black hair was done up simply, nothing too fancy, and I wore just enough makeup to still look natural. I thought I looked fabulous and since I knew James had never seen me dressed up before, perhaps I would make enough of an impression on him that he would take me to bed that evening. I even brought some condoms with me in my purse, just in case.

I finally spotted James in the living room talking to a group of people. He wore a charcoal gray jacket, a black turtleneck, and matching gray slacks. He looked like he just stepped out of the pages of GQ Magazine with his model looks, elegant bearing, and cool, unflappable exterior. As soon as one of his friends was finished talking to him, I went up to him and tried to start a conversation.

"Hi, James," I said with a smile.

"Oh, hi," he responded nonchalantly, glancing at my outfit. "You look very nice."

"Thank you, so do you," I said, blushing.

"Thank you. Will you excuse me, please?"

He started to walk off.

"Okay..." I thought, puzzled. "What was up with that?"

For weeks James had baffled me. At one point I thought he was gay, but I was told by Linda, the makeup artist, that he wasn't. She told me she has never seen him with the same girl at any given time and that she came to the conclusion he wasn't currently looking for a relationship. It figures.

I had tried to make conversation with him several times on set during filming breaks, but he was either preoccupied with some task, or he didn't say very much. He was one of those "strong, silent types" who sat and observed rather than participated, unless it came to his film, of course, where he was the boss and ran a tight, efficient ship on set, overseeing the director, cast, and crew. He was a mystery to me and that's what attracted me to him in the first place.

Throughout the course of the night, I tried to subtly follow him and catch his eye any way I could. I did notice James glancing my way here and there, which he always did, even when we were working together on set. To my dismay, I saw that he already had a date, an annoying, garden-variety, typical Vegas blonde bimbo who was all over him. That disappointed me and squashed any hopes I had of getting laid that night. I did give him my business card and told him if he ever needed help on his next production to give me a call. That was the best I could hope for in my hopeless circumstances.

Sitting on a stool by the breakfast bar was a nebbishy, soft-spoken, older man named Peter. I had first met him at a mixer on the Strip one night where we struck up a conversation. I thought he was kind of cute in this nerdy professor way. He wasn't as good-looking as James, but he always had a kind word for everyone on the set. He was currently unemployed, but he did work as an actor on the side. This was his second film for James he had acted in, even though it was a non-speaking role.

He had light brown hair, hazel eyes, wore glasses, a purple argyle sweater vest, a lavender shirt, black pants, and loafers. I spotted him and he waved to me, motioning for me to come over to sit down next to him.

"Hi, Kara!" he said, smiling broadly. "How are you tonight?"

"I'm good," I said.

"You look very pretty."

"Thank you. How are you enjoying the party?"

"It's very nice. We filmed here, you know."

"Yes, I remember. Too bad I missed out on that shoot. This place is sick!"

"Have you explored the rest of the house yet?"

"No, I haven't."

"You should see it. I did when we were here. There's all these bedrooms, a huge bathroom, big walk-in closets, an office, a massive garage, a basement, it's incredible."

"A basement too? Wow!"

I looked off to the side at the patio area and saw there was a beautiful reflecting pool with candles lit all around it. People sat on plush, white leather sofas and chairs, chilling and having a good time. I turned back to Peter and listened to him talk for a while. Even though he had a tendency to talk a little too much, and I knew he was married because of the ring on his finger, he started to become very attractive to me, especially now since I failed to get James to notice me. Peter was the next best thing, in my mind. I always had a fetish for older men anyway and he seemed so prim and proper. I knew enough by this point in my life never to judge a book by its cover and that Peter had a hidden naughty side underneath that intellectual exterior.

"I'm going to get something to drink," I said. "Do you want anything?"

"Oh, no, no," he said, shaking his head vehemently. "I don't drink."

"Really? That's too bad," I said, a hint of seductiveness in my voice. "I'll be back."

I went through the kitchen to pour myself a cup of booze, but to my annoyance, most of the liquor bottles had been consumed already. I ended up making an impromptu White Russian out of some Smirnoff that was left over and Kahlua. I returned to talk to Peter, sipping on my drink.

James came up to the front of the room to make a speech and to show off the trailer for the film. Everyone congratulated, cheered, praised, and applauded themselves for all the hard work that went into production. Shortly after the presentation was done, Linda came over to give me a hug and poured champagne for those of us nearby to celebrate. She was drunk as a skunk, but I was more than happy to oblige of the champagne, since the White Russian I was drinking was a little too strong for me.

"Did you see me in the trailer?" he asked me. "It was a really quick shot, though."

"No, I didn't. Which scene was it?"

"It was the scene where I get shot and killed."

"Awesome! Too bad I missed it."

I took a sip of champagne and wondered if he liked me or was attracted to me in any way. Since he didn't drink and I couldn't very well get him drunk, I thought I should use my powers of persuasion to get him to fall into temptation.

"Why don't we explore the rest of the house? You could show me around," I suggested.

He nodded. "Alright. Let's go."

We walked through the courtyard into the other part of the house where the other bedrooms and the bathroom was. The bathroom was absolutely sumptuous with a huge jacuzzi Roman tub and shower.

"Check out this bathroom!" I said, walking into the shower, marveling at how huge it was. "Pretty sexy, huh?"

He followed me inside. "Party of six?" he teased. "Yeah, you could easily fit that many people in here."

I arched an eyebrow in amusement. "Yeah, you could. I think it's amazing, although this house would be a little too much for me."

"Yeah, it would for me too," he said as we stepped back out of the shower. "We can only dream about having a house like this someday, right?"

"Well, you never know," I said wistfully. "Some dreams come true."

We walked through some other bedrooms, occasionally saying hello to other people who were wandering around the rooms as well. We climbed up the stairs to the master bedroom, which had a huge balcony that had a breathtaking view of the Strip. The lights of all the casinos glittered brightly like fabulous jewels of all kinds of different colors in the darkness.

"Wow!" I exclaimed in amazement. "Look at how beautiful the view is from up here!"

He nodded. "It is incredible."

We sat down on a couch for a few moments, chatting and looking out at the view. I still wasn't sure if he was feeling me yet.

"I wish I brought a coat. I didn't think it would be this chilly, but it is October now. It's not 110 degrees anymore." I wrapped my arms around myself, shivering. "Do you want to go back inside the bedroom where we can have some more privacy so we can talk?"

He hesitated for a moment. "Sure...okay. I do agree, it's a little chilly out here. Plus, I don't want you to catch your death of cold."

"Not unless I warm up first," I insinuated.

He grinned slightly.

We went back inside the bedroom. I closed the sliding glass door behind us. I also closed the other door which led back into the hallway and locked it so no one could disturb us. In the background I could hear the faint sound of music and the voices of other partygoers, but for all intents and purposes, we were totally alone.

He sat in the leather armchair in the corner while I laid on my stomach on the bed, dangling my legs up in the air. As we continued our conversation, I switched positions so I was laying on my side, making sure I hiked up my skirt slightly so he could get a good view of my legs and fingered the area between my cleavage from time to time, hoping he would get the hint.

"Can I tell you something in confidence?" I asked. "You won't tell anyone, will you? It's kind of embarrassing."

"Don't be embarrassed. Your secret is safe with me. I won't tell anyone."

"I like James."

"That's certainly understandable. Judging from the work I've done with him, he seems like a nice person."

"Yeah, but I don't know that much about him. What do you know about him?"

"Not much, really. He's really quiet."

"I know! He's too quiet. I'm glad someone else noticed that! I'm glad it's not just me."

"No, no, he is. He just thinks a lot of the time. Thinking is good. I do a lot of thinking myself, actually."

"About?" I laid back on the bed, crossing and uncrossing my legs slowly. I could see he shifted uncomfortably in his chair.

"Uh, different...different things," he stammered. Clearly it was working and I was getting to him. Good.

"So, how long have you been married?" I asked.

"Too long," he said. "Twelve years."

"Your wife didn't want to come with you to the party?"

"No, she didn't. I tried to convince the other half to come, but she didn't want to. She's not interested in stuff like this."

"Oh, that's too bad. I'm sure she would have at least liked the house."

"It is a beautiful place."

"Like I said, it's a little too much for me. It's like two homes in one! It's kind of impersonal in a way."

"Maybe because this is a model and no one really lives here."

"It is? That could explain why."

"Imagine how much the electric bill would be in a place like this? My God."

I set my drink down on the bedside table, switched off the lamp, and stood up. "Let's help them save some electricity, shall we?"

I turned off the light in the bathroom and the closet.

"There," I said, satisfied. "That's better."

I looked behind me and saw there was an XM Radio controller. "Would you like to listen to some music, Peter?"

"That would be great, Kara. What kinds of stations do they have?"

"I dunno," I said, peering at the screen, bending slightly forward so he could get a good view of my ass. "Different ones. What do you like?" I looked over my shoulder to see his reaction.

"I like...uh...I like anything, really. I don't really have a preference. Why don't you pick something?"

"Alright," I said, turning back to the screen. "Let's see if they have a station that plays lounge music, or something like that...oh! Here's it is."

I pushed the button and the voice of Julie London came on, singing "Wives and Lovers". The irony was so thick you could choke on it.

"Ah, Julie London," I remarked. "She had a sexy voice, don't you think? Very low and sultry."

"You know about Julie London?" he asked. "I'm surprised you know about her at your age."

"There's a lot of things you don't know about me," I responded flirtatiously, taking another sip of my drink. "Besides, I like music like this. Better than that shit they play on the radio nowadays."

"If you like, I could give you a ride home tonight. I don't live that far from here."

I laid back down on the bed. "Could you? I don't live that far from here either. That would be so nice. Thanks! It cost me twelve dollars in cab fare just to get here because I didn't want to take the bus and be late for the party. Your wife won't worry that you'll be out too late?"

"Twelve dollars? Ouch! No, she's probably asleep by now. We have separate bedrooms. Besides, it's not that late. It's almost 11:30."

"Wow, separate bedrooms? That's absolutely sad."

"Not really. We have to because of my snoring. When you get to a certain age sex doesn't become as important."

I rolled my eyes. "Oh, come on, Peter! That's so depressing! How can it not be as important? You're a man, aren't you?"

He laughed. "Last time I checked, yeah."

"How old are you anyway?"

"I'm 43."

"That's right, I remember you saying that at the mixer. I'm 28."

"You look younger than 28. You look about 21 or 22."

"I know, that's what everyone says. Thank you for noticing. But how can it not be as important, though? Help me understand."

"Well, in the beginning you do it all the time, and after a while, the passion just slowly dissipates. It just takes a back seat to other things that are more important. I love my wife, though. I wouldn't trade the relationship I have for anything else in the world."

"Awww, that's sweet. I don't know, maybe because I'm still young, it's just difficult to comprehend sex taking a back seat. That's just sad. I hope that doesn't happen to me when I get married!" I took a sip of my drink.

He shook his head. "It's not always that way for everyone. It just depends on the couple. I'm sure that won't happen for you, though."

"I know it wouldn't happen for me," I said adamantly. "I'd make sure my man was happy and satisfied so he wouldn't have to go anywhere else."

"I'm sure you would," he said. "I could sense that about you. I'm pretty astute about being a good judge of character."

"Really? What can you sense about me?"

"I just sense that you're a very nice person, very genuine. When we first met at the mixer, there were a lot of phony people, but not you. That's why I sat down and talked to you for that very reason. That's why I'm sitting here talking to you now."

"Well, that's kind of you to say so. Thank you. Yeah, I haven't let the Vegas B.S. get to me. I've seen what it can do to people. I've seen people get completely caught up in it and it's ruined them."

"I haven't let it get to me either. I've lived here for years and I've managed to keep my equilibrium."

"So, that means you haven't done anything really crazy?" I took another sip.

"Like what?"

"Well, if I may ask...may I ask you what's the wildest thing you've ever done sexually?"

"Um..." He thought for a moment. "I was part of a sandwich once."

"You mean you had a threesome?" I asked, instantly curious.

He nodded.

"Oh, my God! Seriously?" I sat up on the bed. "Peter, I would never figure such a straitlaced man like you would have ever done something like that!"

He nodded. "Yep, it was when I was younger. It was with two women. I enjoyed it."

"Was it a lot of work? Did they mess around with each other too?"

"Yeah, they did. It was a lot of work, but that's when you have to step back and be the voyeur. I like being a voyeur. I like to watch."

"You like to watch, huh?" I asked, raising an eyebrow, lying back on my stomach. I raised my legs up in the air again and was able to remove one shoe at a time with my feet. I kicked them off onto the floor. He watched my movements, swallowing hard.

"You seem nervous, is everything okay?" I asked coolly.

"Oh, yeah, I'm...uh...I'm okay."

"If I was in that situation, I'd want it to be with two men so I could tell them what to do."

He smiled. "So you have an inner dominatrix."

"I do. I am a dominant person, but once in a while I like to play the submissive."

"I'm usually the submissive."

"I figured that about you," I said, raising my cup almost as I if was giving him a toast and took a sip. "So I'm assuming this threesome happened before your wife?"

"Yeah, it happened before I got married."

"Nothing ever happened during your marriage?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, you would never cheat on your wife, would you?"

"Oh, no, no, no. I love my wife. It may seem strange to you, but I'm happy with the situation we have." He frowned slightly. "We're happy, at least, I think we're happy."

I took another sip and stared at him incredulously. "You think you're happy?"

"I mean, we are, we are," he repeated nervously. "We can just communicate our affection to each other without saying anything. Every so often we feel the need to make love, but it doesn't always happen."

"Hmmm," I said, frowning. "I still say that's sad. Don't you miss it?"

"What? Sex?"

I rolled my eyes again. "Yes, Peter. Sex. Duh!"

"No, like I said, not really. It's not something I think of all the time."

"Sure," I said sarcastically. "I believe you."

Before he could respond, "One Mint Julep" came on the radio.

"Oh, my God, this is One Mint Julep! It's from the Down With Love soundtrack. Come on, Peter, you have to dance with me!" I got up from the bed and started dancing.

"Really? I haven't seen that movie yet. I can't dance, Kara. I haven't danced in years. I have two left feet. I'd rather just watch you."

"Oh, yeah, that's right," I said, twirling around. "You like to watch." I winked at him.

He blushed. For a few moments he watched me dance seductively to the fast Latin cha-cha-cha beat of the song, clearly enjoying my movements. I could tell it excited him, seeing me so relaxed and happy.

I grabbed his hand and pulled him up. "Come on, Peter, I'm tired of dancing by myself! Dance with me, please?"

He sighed. "Alright. Just for a little while."

We danced together and to my surprise, he was actually pretty good.

"See! You can dance, Peter. Give yourself more credit."

"You really think so?" he asked, spinning me around. "No one's told me that in a long time."

"Well, someone should tell you," I said.

"This is fun, isn't it?" he asked, laughing.

I laughed too. "Yes, it is!"

At the end of the song, he dipped me and for a moment we stared into each other's eyes as we slowly stood back up. I could hear his heavy breathing and I waited anxiously for him to kiss me. However, he did not and sat back down on the chair.

"Peter, what's the matter?" I asked, standing in front of him. "Did I do something wrong?"

"No, of course not, Kara. It's not you, it's me."

"It isn't you, Peter. We were just dancing, that's all, having fun."

"I know, but - "

"But what? Don't you like me?"

"Of course," he said, nodding. "I think you're a very nice person, like I said before."

"I mean, don't you like me?" I said, putting extra emphasis on the word "like". I gave him an intense stare, being as seductive as I could. "Well, I will admit, you are very sexy and attractive, and I do see you have that sparkle in your eyes. I could tell when we were walking through the house that you were hinting subtly that you wanted me."

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