At Some Point

I looked at my wife in her black, sexy lingerie, thought about the smile she had on her face as she dressed and did her hair and makeup, the smile of a woman preparing herself for a date, a date she was looking forward to, wanted, needed.

"Hon, you startled me," she said when she looked up, realized I'd been standing in the doorway watching her get ready. "You could have coughed or something."

"S...sorry," I said, "I...I didn't want to interrupt, you look so...happy, like...like you have...feelings for him."

"Sweetie," she said, "of course I have feelings for him, he's my boyfriend. He...I mean...we...you know it doesn't change how I feel about you."

"I...I know, I just...you always look so excited when you're going out with him."

"I am," she said.

"I just...sometimes I wish you looked like that when we...when we went out," I said.

"I am excited when we go out," she said, "just in a different way. You're the most special person in the world, it's just...it's different with him, you know that."

I was about to say something but the doorbell rang. She immediately left the room, went to the door, didn't even bother putting on a robe. I followed, part of me guilty I wanted to see her greet him, part of me unable to hold back.

I entered the living room three steps behind her, entered just in time to see her walk quickly to him, embrace him, kiss him. Just in time to see his arms wrap around her, pull her to him, to see his hand on her ass. Their kiss was long and deep, like she forgot I was there.

Finally, it was like she remembered her husband was behind her watching her passionately kiss her lover, so she broke off the kiss, stepped back, almost out of breath. "Sorry," she mumbled, "got carried away. I...I need to finish getting dressed. 

She walked back towards me, gave me a guilty smile. "Sorry," she said again, looked back at him. "I'll be like ten minutes, he...he can get you a drink if you want."

We both watched her leave the room, both had our eyes on her ass, her black thong displaying it perfectly. I turned towards him to ask if he wanted a drink, saw his eyes on me, as if to say, that lovely ass belongs to me. No, he didn't say it, he wasn't cruel, but I knew he thought it.

"Can I...can I get you anything?" I asked him, aware my voice was higher than usual, that it rose at the end, that I spoke meekly, submissively.

"I suppose she's good enough," he smiled at me, "but I'll take a drink, too. You got that bourbon I like?"

I looked down, nodded. He'd asked me to buy several bottles of his preferred bourbon.

"Just a small pour, no ice," he said.

I left, brought him back his drink. He was sitting in a chair, an air of ownership. I handed him the drink, stood awkwardly. "Sit, you're pacing like a nervous cat," he said, nodding towards the couch.

I sat, he looked at me. "Did you pick it out?"

"The bourbon?" I asked, confused; he knew he'd told me what to get.

"No," he chuckled, "her lingerie. She said she was going to have you pick out some things, is that outfit one of them?"

"Yes," I mumbled.

"Good job; I like it; it shows off that lovely ass of hers."

"Thank you," I said, voice unsteady, "I...I thought..."

"You'd do as asked and pick out something pretty so you could stare at her body? I know," he said with a smile, "I know. Kind of the point, really, a reminder of what's what here, who is her man and who is her, well, who isn't her man."

"Adam," I heard my wife's voice, turned, startled; I didn't realize she'd come back into the room. She walked over to him, sat on his lap. "Be nice," she said.

She said she didn't like it when he belittled me, but I knew it excited her, too, it was open, obvious.

"I'm being nice," he said, wrapping his free arm around her, cupping her breast, "nice is setting clear boundaries, clear roles, clear expectations. Clarity makes things better, easier, understandable."

She looked at me, a shy smile, a guilty smile, a you know he's right smile.

"Well, we're off," he said, setting his drink down. 

"What...what time will you have her home?" I asked, feeling stupid at the words.

He shrugged. "At some point," he said, "at some point."