Hard Choice Road Ch. 01

Their relationship worked to perfection. Eric met several dominant men during this time. While none of the relationships lasted, they were rewarding and satisfied a need. Wren was always there with the support and love he cherished.

So long as the relationship rules were honored, Wren was accepting of his proclivities. Eric had grown very comfortable with their arrangement, particularly because it seemed Wren had no interest in a relationship outside theirs. Selfish as it was, it gave him a great sense of security.

This ended one day when Wren announced at dinner that she had met someone at a symposium, and he had asked her out. Eric was stunned and more than a bit anxious. Was it the matter-of-fact way Wren announced it, or was it simply that he had become so comfortable with the notion that Wren seemed to be 'his' only?

She watched as he did his best to hide the shock and subdue his conflicting emotions in the days before the date. When the day arrived, Eric watched her get ready, secretly sulking. He noted that she seemed to take extra time and care in getting ready. She preened doing her makeup and hair all before viewing herself in the full-length mirror, quite pleased with the results. As she adjusted her dress, she asked, "Is there a problem, Luv?"

"No, you look fantastic. Better than fantastic, actually."

Eric lied, and she knew it, breaking a relationship rule. She did look fantastic, that was true. No, Eric was jealous and did a very poor job concealing it.

She knew what was going on inside his head; he was incredibly turned on. The thought of her with another man made his manhood throb. He was undoubtedly jealous, yet the idea of his girlfriend fucking another man was hot. She knew his thoughts, believing she wouldn't be the type to put out on a first date, or was she?

She took notice of his "tenting" issue but did not mention it, kissing him on the cheek before leaving, and then she was gone.

That evening was the longest of Eric's life. He was consumed with thoughts of Wren and her new man and pictured them engaged in lurid sex. By the time she returned home, sometime after midnight, he was mentally exhausted. He faked sleep when Wren entered the bedroom.

He gave a fake yawn and rose from the pillow with a "Hey babe, how was your evening?"

Wren slid next to him, kissing him softly, her silken hair tickling his cheek. Her perfume mingled with her dates cologne and filled his nostrils. She pressed her lips to his ear and whispered seductively, "It was wonderful'" Her long fingers squeezed his throbbing tumescence.

"Was it?" Eric shuttered a reply.

"Mmm hmm, and it seems you missed me too." Wren cooed, stroking his aching manhood.

"Oh, fuck yes." he moaned.

"What a naughty boy, getting all hard thinking about me with another man."

"Did you." Eric's voice trailed off.

"Did I, what?"

"Did... Did... You know?"

Wren let out a small chuckle. "Use your words, counselor. Show me some of that Ivy League education."

"Did you fuck him?" Eric said in a hushed tone.

"Let me hear it, louder, Eric!"

"Did you fuck him?" Eric said, much bolder than before.

"There we go; that wasn't so hard, now, was it?"

"No," Eric responded a little more petulantly than he had intended.

"There's that attitude. I won't put up with your discourteous reply. Besides, what I do within the relationship rules is none of your business."

Eric gave a slight pout.

"That's it, young man. Jealousy is understandable, but disrespect is a whole other thing." Sitting on the edge of the bed, Wren pulled him over until he was straddled across her knee. She pulled down his boxers, which allowed her to trap his engorged manhood between her long, lean thighs.

Slowly running her hand over his firm, taut ass, something she always found extremely sexy. Eric waited in anticipation for the first blow.

"Beg me to spank your ass."

"Please."

"Please, what?"

"Please, Mistress, spank my ass."

"Good boy," Wren said, secretly pleased that he remembered to address her as Mistress.

Their domme and submissive play was not typically this spontaneous, but neither seemed to mind. Her fingers hovered over his bum, lightly stroking the firm flesh every so often.

For Eric, the wait was almost as delicious as the spank. SMACK! Wren's open palm hit his bare cheek after what seemed an eternity. She then rained blow after blow, sometimes in rhythm, before alternating to random whacks as his cheeks reddened. He held still, accepting each swing as Wren spread out her contact until his entire ass achieved an even blush. Finally, she playfully pushed him roughly to the floor, his bum burning.

Eric obediently began kissing her heels. Wren never understood his foot fetish, but she saw no harm in indulging him. After all, her closet was filled with shoes that spoke to her propensity regarding obsessive foot fashion.

Wren's own needs soon became overwhelming, and she pulled Eric up. Wrapping her long legs around his waist, the look in her eyes told Eric all he needed to know as his manhood glided along the soft folds of her womanhood. Gently holding her waist, he slid deep into her sex in one fluid motion.

He held still for a time, enjoying the feeling of her warm wet tightness. Soon he began to propel himself into her with rhythmic undulations. Her body rapidly stiffened as she let out a long sigh of pleasure. Eric kept his stiff manhood deep, pausing only long enough to allow Wren to recover before returning to a more rapid pace and bringing her to the climax of pleasure once more. Finally, he grunted in pure pleasure as his passion erupted deep inside her, but not before sending her over the brink of bliss for the third time.

They collapsed into each other's arms before drifting off to a peaceful slumber. The last thought on Eric's mind was how Wren never did answer his question. Did you fuck him?

Soon after, he proposed, and within a year, they married, their relationship rules firmly established.

Wren had yearnings that Eric was unable to fulfill. His trysts with dominant men outside their marriage continued. She never made a fuss, accepting, as always, their agreement. Being dominant was unnatural for him, and she knew he would never be successful in that role. To her credit, Wren never once complained. Now she was wondering if the marriage had been a mistake.

Wren was peering over Eric's shoulder, taking in the city's skyline, when she noticed a well-dressed man approach the bar. She had spied him earlier at the reception, tall and dark with a massively toned physique all wrapped up in a perfectly tailored Ermenegildo Zegna suit. The man exuded robust and self-assured masculinity. Eric noted her gaze, and it was far too late for her to look away before he also turned to look at what had garnered her attention.

"Oh, that is Malcolm Malak, one of the firm's top clients," Eric said, oblivious to his wife ogling another man.

The dashing man at the bar took a sip of his drink and, displaying an incredible sixth sense, turned to stare directly at her. He smiled. She wanted to quickly turn away, embarrassed at being caught gazing like a doe-eyed schoolgirl, but his look radiated power, and try as she might, she could not take her eyes off his. She was mesmerized as if by a vampire's gaze in an old movie.

He moved towards them like a lion stalking its prey. "Crap" she exclaimed, almost spilling her drink.

"What?" Eric asked, puzzled.

"That handsome... your company's client. He's coming to our table."

"What? But I barely know him; we've met maybe twice before. Why would he come to our table? Are you sure? I don't think he can even see me?" Eric uttered in unusual confusion. He turned back to face the stylish man's oncoming approach.

Oh, I don't know, maybe he's coming over because your wife can't keep her eyes off such a gorgeously fit specimen of manhood, but she kept the thought to herself, saying instead, "I have no idea."

The man's large hand grasped her husband's shoulder firmly. Eric's eyes lit up, and she wasn't sure if from surprise or possibly pain, as the man's grip looked to be very firm.

"Hello, if I remember correctly, it's Mr. Powell?" The incredibly dapper man said with a tilt of his head.

Eric rose to shake his hand, but the man's firm grip held him in place. "No, please sit. No need to be formal; we are all off the clock," the man said with a wide smile.

Wren doubted this man had ever punched a time clock in his life. The idea of this man working the nine-to-five seemed ludicrous.

Instead, Eric rotated his head and awkwardly offered his hand. "Yes, Eric Powell, junior associate."

The man's handshake looked as unyielding as the grip on Eric's shoulder. "You worked on the Celab case. Fantastic job, well done. That was one of my business partners' acquisitions. He sings your praises, and he is a man not easily impressed."

"Thank you. It's a pleasure and an honor to meet you again, Mr. Malak. We met last year at the Summit conference." Eric replied with a bit of awe in his tone.

An 'honor' Wren thought, grovel a bit more sweetie.

"Yes, indeed we did," Malcolm said with an inflection that struck Wren as though he didn't care.

Eric began to babble. She found this odd; she had seen him both in court and in public and knew he normally had a firm handle on the English language. Now he seemed totally in awe of the man standing before them, and she found this both amusing and a bit arousing. She also noted that Eric's face was at crotch level with Malcolm's. Could he be checking the man out?

Malcolm ignored her husband's babbling as he continued to focus his gaze on her. Eric was all the while unaware of this as the two exchanged glances.

"And this beautiful woman would be?" Malcolm asked, releasing his crippling handshake while firmly grasping Eric's shoulder. His eyes ran up and down Wren's lithe body.

"Oh, sorry, this is Wren, uh, my wife. I mean, this is Wren, my wife. Wren, this is Mr. Malak, one of the firm's most valued clients."

Wren smiled at her husband's apparent nervousness.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Wren," Malcolm said.

"The pleasure is mine, Mr. Malak," Wren replied.

"Eric, you certainly married far above your pay grade," he said with a smile, but his eyes never left hers. His voice betrayed no malice, just good-natured fun.

Wow, that's bold, Wren thought. She liked it, though, as the compliment sent a tingle down her body from head to toe.

"Ahh yeah, I mean well, ooh, ahh, uh, mmm. She is nice." Eric stammered.

Wren used all her willpower not to roll her eyes.

"Nice? Far more than nice. She's a beautiful woman and bound to bring a smile to any man's face. May I sit with you both? There's nothing worse than being seen drinking alone." Marcus took a seat without waiting for a reply.

Again, damn audacious, Wren observed, liking the man more every second. She had been a late bloomer with a long, athletic body and a geek girl to boot. So, praise of her appearance was still hard to accept, though she enjoyed it, nonetheless.

"Ahh, sure, of course; please sit, Mr. Malak," Eric replied after the fact.

"I can only take so much business talk, and my company at the guest table was dull--no offense to your fellow partners or coworkers. Let's not be so formal; please, call me Malcolm, at least for now.

"None was taken, Mr. Malak. Ah... I mean Malcolm."

"No significant other, Malcolm?" Wren asked with a coy grin as she looked about the room.

Malcolm took a long slow sip of his martini before replying, "No, unfortunately, my busy schedule doesn't give me much time for a significant other. Life is so hectic these days, don't you agree?"

"It can be," Wren answered.

"We all need to make more time for our pleasures." Malcolm smiled.

"And what are your pleasures, Malcolm?" asked Wren.

"Sailing when I can get away. Trying to take up flying as time permits."

"Impressive leisure pursuits."

"How about you, Wren, your interests?"

With that, Wren and Malcolm engaged in lively conversation, leaving Eric a third wheel.

Wren talked about her work and career plans, growing up in the bay area, and college. Her love and obsession with cycling. Malcolm went on to tell of his other interests and passions. His boyhood in South Africa and university in the UK. How he started a software company at nineteen while still attending Cambridge. His goal was to own a football team or what Americans would call soccer. He confessed to being a workaholic and confirmed bachelor, stating that his business empire was the center of his life.

They both laughed as Malcolm described his worldly adventures, including a few misadventures.

Wren loved the sound of Malcolm's deep rich voice; it carried a subtle authoritarian tone while still conveying warmth. Time flew by for the pair.

Eric had long since become a bystander in the conversation. Like a spectator at a tennis match watching the volleys between the two players on the court. Occasionally, he managed to insert a comment or observation, but his contribution was minimal at best.

"Look at that; I've dominated the conversation," said Malcolm. "I tend to do that. We need a refresh on our drinks."

"None for me, Wren said. "Two is my limit. I am not a big drinker."

Malcolm held up two fingers and motioned towards Eric and himself as the waitress nodded acknowledgment.

Wren could tell by the look on Eric's face that he would have preferred to refrain from another drink. He was already feeling the effects of three very strong Manhattans, but Malcolm's assertiveness proved too much, so Eric just nodded in agreement.

Underneath the table, Wren placed her hand on Eric's thigh. She felt the beginnings of his manhood spring to life.

Wren knew the thrill generated by the man's forceful personality was the cause of her husband's stiffening manhood. It was as though he was cheating right in front of her, and the fact she was practically flirting with Malcolm at the same time was making his manhood even harder.

Not usually the flirting type, Wren wished she was more skilled in the art of seduction. The lack of proficiency in the feminine wiles had its roots in her being a geek girl raised for most of her life by a gay father, try as he might. She knew a man like Malcolm could have any woman he wished, so she basked in the moment, enjoying his attention, even if it was suspect.

Wren and Malcolm continued their banter as Eric looked on, getting harder under her touch with each passing moment. Harmless, she mused to herself; what is the worst that could happen? Eric was conflicted, but she knew jealousy was in the mix. Great, she thought, maybe it will make his blood boil. At home, or better yet, on the way home, perhaps he would pull over on some dark, deserted street, and primal instincts would take over, and have his way with her, roughly. The thought, as improbable as it was, almost made her giggle.

Her introspection was interrupted by a change in Malcolm's tone. "Let me be upfront with you both. This is not a chance meeting."

The comment should have made her uneasy. Instead, another tingle swept over her body; she inhaled, then asked comically, "A stalker?"

Malcolm lifted his hands, palms outwards, as he laughed. "No, no, nothing like that. You are an extremely attractive couple, after all. No doubt you two get noticed quite often. I make a habit of observing things. Call it good business acumen. Wren, I couldn't help but notice you are an avid people watcher yourself."

Wren felt a slight blush across her cheeks on being called out for her guilty pleasure. Observing others was such fun, and she never tired of it. She found people and their interactions interesting. The more out of the ordinary the person, the more intriguing they always turned out to be. She grew up being shy and mousey. College and the real world had made her much bolder for sure.

"People and their actions are fascinating," Wren replied with a kittenish smile.

"Indeed! May I ask a personal question? If you don't mind."

Wren and Eric looked at one another for a long, silent moment. Who is this man? Rich, well, to do for sure. Handsome and oh so sexy. Forthright, apparently so.

Eric was still in thought when Wren responded.

"That would depend on the question, Malcolm."

"Fair enough."

Eric certainly had an opinion on the matter but deferred to his wife. The conversation had already formed cracks in his always-in-control persona. He was extremely sexually attracted to this man and was doing his best to hide it.

Wren could read the internal conflict in his eyes.

Wren had no desire to share private information with anyone, much less a person they had just met, even if they were wealthy, powerful, and very attractive. All the more reason to be suspicious in her mind. She couldn't deny Malcolm had a commanding presence, confident and assertive. Wren thought we humans may have become more civilized, but deep down, we are still driven by primal caveman instincts.

She noticed Malcolm always maintained eye contact when he spoke. His eyes were always focused on hers. The same was true when she spoke to him. It made her wonder how many kind, sensitive, and fantastic guys never got the girl because they couldn't look them in the eye.

Curiosity is a powerful draw, and as Wren pondered her answer, her mind flooded with all the things Malcolm could wish to ask. At that moment, her inquisitiveness took over, along with her hormones. What the hell? Let's give the man what he wants and, at the same time, Eric and I a thrill. At best, it will be fun; at worst, they could refuse to answer. He can't sue us, can he, verbal contract or not? Eric would have to be counseled on that aspect.

Wren sipped the last of her gin and tonic before setting it back down on the napkin. She tilted the glass watching the ice cubes rotate about the bottom.

She looked at Eric and smiled. "Shoot," she said as casually as she could.

After a long pause, Malcolm tilted his head ever so slightly and looked directly at Eric, "Amber Wilson is a colleague of yours, isn't she, Eric?"

The inquiry hit Eric like a brick.

He took a breath. "Amber, I mean, Ms. Wilson and I were hired at the firm about the same time. We worked on the Remy case together a few years ago. She transferred to our firm's Miami office a while back. It was a big promotion and required her to relocate." he said.

Wren detected guilt in his voice.

"I was just looking for an affirmative but thank you for the synopsis."

Wren could tell Eric was cursing himself, way too much information, and he knew better. Never offer any information that's not required. Basic law, 101.

She noted how this man filled her husband with fear and lust, both at the same time. She wondered why mentioning Amber should have made him look guilty.

Malcolm continued, "I believe you two discussed a mutual interest."

Eric grimaced slightly. "Well, we discussed many things naturally in the course of our work."

"This would have been outside of work and more of a personal nature. At her going away bash, to be specific. That great little pub on Wynn Street."

Wren noted Eric's look of increasing consternation, as did Malcolm.

Malcolm taking pity on Eric, said, "I believe Ms. Wilson left you with an opportunity and a business card?"

Eric could only nod in the affirmative. He had sent the email to the address on the business card months ago. So long ago, he had given up on getting a reply. He assumed either Amber was just playing him or this coterie she claimed existed had decided he wasn't worthy.

Wren raised a brow and looked at her husband inquisitively.

"The card had the email address?" continued Malcolm.

"Yes."

"You did reply to the invitation, didn't you, Eric?"