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Frisky Business
A Hotwife Fantasy

by Jason Lenov

Derek and Amanda get five days away from it all courtesy of Derek's boss, Andreas.
The sun and surf have a relaxing effect on Amanda. Derek's back troubles get better after a massage from Andreas' wife, Emilia.
Amanda and Derek are shocked when Andreas reveals they're swingers. But the idea of opening their marriage re-kindles a long extinguished fire in their relationship.
Amanda discovers the pleasures of a well-endowed lover while Derek watches in this scorching hot story about a couple diving head first into the hotwife lifestyle.

Chapter One

“Do we really have to do this?” My chest tightened as I looked across the table at Amanda.
“More coffee?” The waitress appeared out of nowhere brandishing a hot pot of the black stuff. Amanda forced a tight smile in her direction. “Please,” she said quietly. “And could I get a glass of water too?”
“Of course, hon,” the waitress, Deb, replied. “How about you sugar?”
I smirked at this. I hadn’t been called sugar in, well, ever, as far as I could recall. “I think I’m good. I’ve got it just the right colour.”
“Suit yourself,” Deb said. “Some dessert for you two?”
I smiled up at her. “Just the check thanks.”
After filling Amanda’s cup she winked at me, spun around and walked toward the back.
Amanda finished the last of her toast and jam and set her cutlery on one side of her plate. “I don’t want to do anything, Derek,” she said, her voice tight. “I just wanted to have a conversation.” She didn’t. What she wanted was an argument, she just didn’t know it. I wasn’t about to give it to her.
“Sweetheart I’m happy do more around the house,” I said, doing my best not to sigh. She hated when I sighed. Said it meant I wasn’t hearing what she was really saying.
Which was wrong. I heard and understood everything. It’s just that after the twentieth time you have the same argument, er sorry, conversation, you start to get a little tired of listening.
“This isn’t about you doing more around the house,” she said, her lips forming into a tight line.
“What? You just said…”
She shook her head. “This is what I’m talking about,” she said, her voice becoming a little shrill. “I keep telling you it’s not about how much you do or don’t do. It’s about you not acknowledging the fact that I am home day in and day out doing the same laundry and the same dishes and making the same lunches and I just…I feel like I get no credit for that. Like just because your job is at the office you think I’m sitting around eating bon-bons and watching soap operas.” She shot me a pointed stare.
I looked down at my empty plate. Studied the little leftover flecks of white and yellow eggs and the crust of toast I hadn’t eaten. Think, Derek. Think.
There was a trick to this. A magic word or sentence that would de-escalate our conversation. There had to be. Lately, finding what it was had been a crap shoot. I rubbed my hands together, drew in a breath and let it out slowly. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Amanda shaking her head. “What?” I asked.
“See? There’s that face again.”
“Face? What face?” I snapped, my patience fraying. “That…that look you get. That smirk that just…you just think this is all a bunch of made up stuff that I make up to make you feel bad.”
Oh god. Here we go.
I closed my eyes and tried to center myself. A tactic Terry, our therapist, had spent countless sessions trying to instill in me for just these sorts of moments. His voice echoed in my head. And how does that make you feel, Derek?
And again, this time snide and more nasal. And how does that make you feel?
I hated this. All of it. I loved my wife. Tried my best to make her happy. To stay cheerful even when work was shit. And lately it all just ended like this. Both of us in a snit, me in the basement with a beer in my lap watching the game and her furiously folding laundry upstairs.
I looked up and into her eyes. “Baby,” I said, reaching across the table.
She ignored my outstretched arm and turned her head to look the other way.
Deb chose that moment to reappear with the bill. She smiled at my obvious distress, as if to say fucked up again, huh?
I shot her stiff glare that I hoped she’d understand meant mind your own business. “Thanks,” I muttered, pulling my wallet out of my pocket. “You take your time now,” she said, glancing at the line up of people that were waiting at the door for a table. She flashed us a smile and walked away.
After she’d left I considered trying to resuscitate the situation. But this wasn’t the place to do it. The diner was getting more crowded and people were shooting us dirty looks for hogging a table. I looked at Amanda.
She was scowling and looking everywhere but at me. “Should we go?” I asked, sullen.
“Probably,” she replied and started collecting her purse and jacket.
I thumbed through the twenties in my wallet, threw a couple on the table and followed her out into the crisp February morning.
We drove home with a terse silence widening the space between us. Every time I came up with something clever to say to try and cut the tension I thought better of it. Amanda didn’t seem like she was in a joking mood and I wasn’t about to risk a full-on blow out by saying something that would set her off.
She got out of her car without a word as soon as we pulled into the driveway.
I sat in the car watching her walk toward the house and wondering if the whole week was going to be like this. Maybe we shouldn’t have pawned the kids off on my parents? Maybe we should have taken a family ski vacation. Running after three kids kept us busy and there was less time for conversations.
I’d just started to open the door when my phone pinged.
Derek it’s Andreas here in sunny Caribbean! If you get a moment call me.
A tension started to form in my gut. This was the last thing I needed. I’d been looking forward to a week off work since Christmas. I was elated when Andreas told me him and his wife were going down to spend time on his yacht. He was a great boss but demanding and ambitious.
I could only think of one reason he’d be asking me to call him. Work. I shuddered at the thought of having to tell Amanda that we wouldn’t be having a relaxing week at home after all, that I had to go to put out some fire or other.
This was the worst beginning to a spring break I could imagine.
Nonetheless, in addition to being ambitious and demanding, Andreas didn’t take well to being ignored. Not calling back was not an option. I pressed “dial” on the screen of my phone and pressed it to my ear.
“Derek!” Andreas’ voice sounded through the speaker, the “R” rolling in the back of his throat from his German accent.
“Hey Andreas,” I said, trying not to sound sullen. “Great to hear from you and thanks for calling so quickly.”
“No problem. No problem at all,” I lied, bracing myself for whatever request he was about to make. “Listen Derek we are having a bit of a situation down here.”
My ears pricked. A situation? Down there? Could this possibly mean this wasn’t about me going to the office that week. “What’s up? Anything I can do to help?”
“Well that’s why I wanted to talk to you. You see we were going to meet our friends from Austria but they had to cancel at the last minute because of sickness.”
“Oh I’m sorry to hear that, Andreas. Everyone okay?” I asked.
“Ya, ya, everyone is fine just not in good shape for travelling. So anyways that means that Emilia and me are here on our own. Bo-ring!” He followed this up with a raucous laugh.
I forced a chuckle myself. I heard him muttering to someone on the other end of the line.
“Sorry about that,” he said. “So anyways we have been talking here with Emilia and I was thinking that it might be an excellent time to chat about the project I was mentioning to you.”
I furrowed my brow, puzzled at what he meant. “Uh, sure. Are you sure you want to do that now though? Don’t you want to enjoy your vacation?”
“Ha! No Derek you aren’t understanding me. I meant if you would be interested you and your lovely wife could join us?”