Free Hot Dates: Becoming a Shared Wife by Kirsten McCurran Page A

Once he’d put his arm around my waist he’d never removed it.
    He chuckled. “It’s just a lucky guess.”
    “I’d better keep you around if you’re so lucky.”
    I stayed with roulette for another half hour or so and my winning streak held. As I moved to place my bets, Charles’s hand strayed to my butt more than once, and I didn’t move it. His casual touches had me going. I couldn’t help wondering what it would be like if he had free reign with my body. Charles suggested we try another game, but I told him I needed a break. I wondered where the hell my husband was. He never replied to my text about leaving the bar. I collected my winnings and tried giving the chips to Charles, but he flatly refused. “I can’t keep all of this,” I insisted. There had to be almost five hundred dollars in chips in my hands.
    “You won it all. I just stood here,” he said.
    “But it’s too much money.”
    “You earned it, hon.”
    Charles stood firm and used his hand on my hip to steer me away from the table. His use of the endearment hon wasn’t lost on me, nor that he told me I earned the money. I wondered if what he really meant was that I would be earning it. That this man might think he could buy me so easily—that maybe I was some kind of slut—made my panties damp. It went right to the heart of why doing this excited me. It wasn’t all for Dave. Breaking the mold of the good little suburban wife and mother appealed to me.
    We moved through the casino floor and my question of Dave’s whereabouts was answered. I saw my husband sitting in front of a slot machine, but paying no attention to it. He was fully focused me and Charles. His eyes tracked us as we walked toward one of the lounges, looking every inch like a couple on a date. How long had Dave been watching us? And was he enjoying what he had seen? I couldn’t stare at him to read his face, but Dave winked and that was just what I needed to know it was okay to keep going.
    I had begun to relax with Charles, but now knowing my husband was watching us those nerves flooded me once more. It didn’t help that Dave refused to be specific about what I should do tonight. I tried to recall that night with Shane and Lisa and how everything just flowed. But that had been easy because it just happened.
    Dave trailed as Charles led me into the trendiest bar the in the casino, which centered on a large, glowing oval bar with chrome accents. High top tables were scattered throughout and padded benches lined the walls with tables placed in front of them, too. A DJ played muted ambient music and lighting was dim—mostly provided by recessed fixtures that glowed in soft pastels like the bar. Charles took my hand as we threaded through the crowd and we found a spot on the bench toward the back.
    The couch was barstool height and it was tricky to maneuver in my short dress without flashing Charles, not that he would have minded, I’m sure. I tugged at the hem of my dress as I settled in, but I just could not get it to hide my lacy stocking tops. Charles smiled as he took note, but was polite enough not to comment. I spied my husband taking a seat at the bar. The view was imperfect, but when there was a gap in the crowd he would be able to see us. Our eyes met just briefly, before a cocktail waitress moved to our table.
    “I’m Tricia. What can I get you guys?” Tricia was a petite, curvy redhead. The white satin bustier which comprised the top of her outfit offered up her breasts for anyone who cared to look, but Charles only glanced at them for a moment.
    “We’ll have two dirty martinis,” he said, ordering for us both.
    “I think you’re trying to get me drunk, sir,” I said, after Tricia departed.
    “Do I need to?”
    I tried very hard not to blush, but did not fully succeed. It was the most overt statement of his plans that he’d made. “That all depends on what your intentions are, doesn’t it?”
    “Yours too.”
    “What do you mean?”
    “I may have