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Serving It Up
An Interracial Hotwife Fantasy

by Jason Lenov

Swinging by the diner where his wife works, Peter stumbles onto a deeply unsettling scene. Rachel appears to be flirting with a customer. He can't stop staring and what's more unsettling is the arousal that fills him at the sight. He's relieved when he sees her admit she's married. But the scene haunts him and starts to intrude on every aspect of his life.
But when Rachel's behavior starts changing in mysterious ways it pushes Peter to wonder: is she craving the attention of other men? And what would happen if she found out that maybe he wouldn't mind that so much?

Chapter One

As the light turned green Peter checked over his shoulder for inattentive right-turners before breaking into a brisk walk across the street and toward the diner. It was a perfectly miserable evening. The sort of frigid mid-February weather that made him pine for the oppressive heat and humidity of summer he so hated.
He was glad he’d left the car home and walked to the gym from work. It was only twenty minutes and a great way to warm up before hitting the weights. He’d done his full ninety minute routine. He was a little sore, but the good kind. The timing had worked out perfect, too. Rachel was getting off work at eight and he’d be there just in time to pick her up.
A smile lit up his face as he thought of his pretty wife. He’d been bothered about her wanting to keep her waitress gig at the diner at first. He made more than enough to keep them comfortable. He’d always had it in the back of his mind that, once they married, she’d quit her job, stay home and tend house.
Not that he was a misogynist that wanted to keep her down. Not at all. She just had so much more potential that she wasn’t living up to. Taking orders and hauling plates of food was beneath her, or at least that’s what he thought.
But he’d come to understand that it was about more than just having a job for her. She wanted the independence her income brought. Wanted to know she was contributing. He should’ve realized early on she wasn’t the type to sit on the couch eating bonbons all day.
And that was fine by him. She was happy now. She’d been in a better mood the last few weeks. Had a few regulars who were big tippers. Won over a few of the grumpy old guys that sat nursing endless cups of coffee with her dazzling smile. If it made her happy then who was he to stand in the way? He turned the corner onto fifth and pulled his earbuds out. Pocketed them and tapped his phone to turn off the music he’d been listening to. The street was nearly empty and the only shop with it’s lights still on was the Greasy Beaver where Rachel worked.
As he walked closer he saw the familiar outline of his wife leaning against the counter, head tilted back in what looked to be an uproarious laugh. She had her arms crossed over her chest. His smile faded as he laid eyes on the gentleman sitting next to her. He was chuckling, obviously in on whatever Rachel had found so hilarious.
Peter slowed to a stop and stared. He watched Rachel’s hand drift up to her neck. Saw her glance sideways over her shoulder at the guy she was talking to and smile. His pulse quickened as he watched their eyes meet. The gaze they shared lasted just long enough to spike Peter’s adrenaline.
He knew that look on Rachel very well. The sweet smile with something simmering beneath. A look with promise. Potential. A look he’d never seen her give any man but himself. His throat closed up.
He wasn’t sure why he stepped sideways and into the shadow of the entrance to the bank. Felt a little foolish creeping on his wife from halfway down the block. But the back of his neck all the way down his spine was tingling. Even when the look faded from her expression it stayed in his mind. Even as the conversation seemed to become more casual he couldn’t erase the vision of Rachel’s eyes locked in the strangers stare. It electrified him.
At first he tried to shake it off. Jealousy, he had always thought, was a petty emotion. One he was very careful not to harbour and, if he did, even more careful not to display. But he realized quickly that wasn’t what had him all charged up. Was he a little jealous that she’d looked at a guy that way? Sure. But it was a shallow resentment he could let go of easily.
No. This was something else entirely.
The man stood up and knocked back the last of his coffee. Turned to Rachel with a dark hand extended. Tipped his head toward the door and asked her something.
The way Rachel chewed her lip and smiled shyly at him got Peter’s heart racing even faster. When she raised her hand and wiggled her wedding ring with her thumb, his blood ran cold as ice. It was clear the man, a very handsome and rather large black man, had made an invitation. An invitation to spend some time with Rachel that evening. Time that, by the looks of things, he hoped might take a romantic turn.
Rachel’s reply, drawing attention to the fact that she was married, was met with an unworried shrug. The man reached down, took her hand and gave it a shake, then leaned closer and whispered something into Rachel’s ear. Something that made her turn a very bright shade of red.
This, too, took Peter’s breath away. He would have paid a week’s salary to know what the man had suggested. Just thinking about the possibilities had him blushing, too. He could hear his pulse in his ears and feel his heart pumping in his chest. Another figure emerged through the door to the kitchen. Peter recognized Jerome, the line cook on the afternoon shift he’d met once or twice. A cheerful, outgoing guy who Rachel said always kept an eye out for her. Which Peter appreciated. As Jerome came to stand next to the stranger, they bumped fists and Jerome said something to Rachel that made her laugh again.
An odd knot started to form just below Peter’s stomach. Hot and kind of ticklish at first. Like he was enjoying watching this, for some reason. A knot that felt uncomfortably close to arousal after a while.
Peter didn’t have the space in his mind to parse what it might mean. The entirety of his attention was focused on the scene playing out inside. Rachel giggling at their quips. The guys laughing together. He wondered whether what he saw as occasional stolen glances by Jerome at Rachel were real or if his imagination was playing games. He also couldn’t ignore the feeling of his cock engorging between his legs.
It was the most utterly bizarre end to what had been a mundane day. And it drove him a little crazy.
The guys wrapped up the conversation. The stranger started walking toward the door. Jerome, though, leaned sideways, pressed his cheek to Rachel’s, then turned his head and kissed hers.
The icy cold that washed over him at seeing that collided with the heat bubbling up from his loins somewhere in the center of his chest. He felt like he couldn’t breathe. Got a little dizzy standing there and staring as the two left the restaurant. What really got him, though, and what he somehow knew would haunt him for a long time coming, was the way Rachel looked after them. Was that hope or longing in her eyes? Because from where he was standing it sure as hell looked like Rachel was entertaining some very inappropriate ideas. Ideas that, for some reason, he desperately wanted to hear about.