Overnight

I watched my wife fasten the ankle strap of her heel around her leg, careful not to snag her nylons. The way she was leaning over, her breasts almost spilled out of her dress. It was all purposeful; designed to tease me now; designed to entice her lover later.

"You know he won't like it if I tell him you were leering at me like that," she said without looking up.

"I...I'm sorry," I said, quickly looking down.

"I can't get his, will you help me?" she asked.

"Of course," I said, dropping to the floor.

As I was fastening the buckle, my skin tingling when it touched her nylon covered ankle, she spoke softly. "Hon," she said.

I looked up into her beautiful, blue eyes. "Y...yes?"

"It's not me you need to apologize to," she said.

"Addy," I swallowed, "please."

She looked at me, a mixture of love and resolve. "Go on," she said, nodding.

Knowing she knew what I wanted, I leaned down, kissed each of her feet, careful, reverent. 

Half an hour later, I stood quietly off to one side of the room when she welcomed him with a deep, passionate kiss. When she broke it off, he looked at me, a questioning look on his face. "Why's he look like that?" he asked.

Addy look at her lover, looked at me. 

"I...I need to apologize, Sir," I said softly.

"Apologize for what?" he asked, eyes narrow, his arm possessively around my wife's waist, rubbing her hip and upper thigh.

"I...I was...I was leering at her," I said.

"You were leering at my girlfriend?" he asked.

"Y...yes, Sir," I said, "I...I'm sorry, I...she's just so...so pretty."

"And so you couldn't help it?"

"N...no, Sir," I said.

"Who does her body belong to?" he asked.

I looked at my wife; she was pressed against him. I could read her face, knew she felt bad for me, knew it was uncomfortable for her to see her husband humiliated like this, but knew she responded to it, too, sexually, knew how turned on she was seeing her lover dominate any situation. 

"Y...you," I whispered.

"She's spending the night," he said. I saw her eyes go wide; he'd never kept her overnight before.

"But..." His glare silenced me, the flush in her face silenced me. His power, her excitement. "Of course," I said, afraid of him as I always was. Afraid, excited, helpless. "Do you...do you need a bag?" 

She looked from me to him, unsure. He smiled, snaked his hand down her thigh, toyed with it. "No," he said, "no need. This is what she's wearing out, this is what she can wear home in the morning."

I saw her blush, knew what she was thinking, the shame, the walk of shame coming home to her husband the next morning wearing the same thing she left in, disheveled.