Total pages in book: 18
Estimated words: 16502 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 83(@200wpm)___ 66(@250wpm)___ 55(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 16502 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 83(@200wpm)___ 66(@250wpm)___ 55(@300wpm)
He wasn’t bored yesterday. No, he was starved for sexual exertion. And something happened while Mr. Black was nearing his peak yesterday. When his desperation grew, along with his excitement, a new part of my empathy was unlocked. Not only did I feel his energy as if the emotions were my own, I was able to reflect them back like a mirror and drive those urges higher within Mr. Black. Make them louder. I had no idea I was capable of such a thing.
As if sensing my perusal, Mr. Black head lifts and we make blistering eye contact through the window. Heat thrums in my belly. If I went downstairs now, would Mr. Black use my body for his afternoon relief on one of the many lounge chairs?
No. No, I can sense his resoluteness from here. It heightens my own. We both plan to be faithful to Mrs. Black, and that means waiting for permission. I’ll never approach him unless I’ve been given leave to do so. Her trust is more important to me than my awakened needs.
I turn away from the window and pack a few outfits in my suitcase, leaving my remaining clothes behind. Twenty minutes later, I leave the room and go downstairs. A maid waits for me at the front door with a polite smile to escort me outside to the waiting black limousine that idles in the driveway. I’ve never seen one up close and I don’t expect the luxury when I climb inside. The cool, smooth leather feels so divine against the bare backs of my thighs, I stretch out on the seat and rub every inch of my exposed skin on it, purring in my throat.
It takes no time at all to reach Mrs. Blue’s house, and while I wish I had more time inside the limousine, I’m eager to find out what awaits me. The house is different in style from Mrs. Black’s. The Blue residence is extremely modern. The hedges are meticulously trimmed in various shapes, surrounded by rock gardens. Black granite steps lead to a door of fogged glass, which opens as I approach.
“Hello, Astrid,” Mrs. Blue says, sweeping forward and wrapping me in a hug. Today she’s wearing a bright red head wrap and a loose, black, ankle-length dress. She smells so incredible and her energy is so clean when she hugs me, I can do nothing but snuggle close and inhale. “I’m so glad you’re here early. The longer I waited, the more nervous I started to get.”
“That I wouldn’t come?”
“Oh, I knew you would come.” She steps back and looks me over with appreciation. “I’m just a little jittery now that the time has come.”
I reach inside myself for calm. Remembering how I was able to project emotions into Mr. Black yesterday, I attempt the same now, pushing my calm into Mrs. Blue and watch her eyelids flutter, her shoulders sag.
“My goodness,” she breathes. “Are you doing that?”
“Yes. I didn’t know I could until yesterday.”
She takes my hand and leads me inside, her attention still locked on me. “That’s quite a gift, Astrid. We’re so lucky we found you.” We enter the foyer and turn left, moving into a brightly lit kitchen and dining area, complete with water streaming down the wall and a floor-to-ceiling fish tank. “Mr. Blue will be down in a moment. We’ve spoken about what’s going to happen today. We’ve been speaking about it for weeks, in fact,” she says on a laugh. “I was hoping to give you a better understanding of…my hopes and expectations, if that’s okay.”
This woman is so genuine. Even on the compound it was rare to find someone with such a lack of guile, and I’m as relaxed in her presence as I was during the massage this morning. “I would love that.”
She nods. “Watching my husband with another woman has been a dark, secret fantasy of mine for a long time and I’ve reached a place in my life where I’m confident enough to embrace what I want without fear or shame.” A beat passes. “This isn’t just for me, though. Mr. Blue is a formal NFL player, you see. A very successful one—you might even recognize him.”
“We didn’t have television where I grew up,” I say.
“I see.” She pats my hand. “Well, he’s quite well known, and in his glory days, he was showered in attention and accolades. He’s my best friend and we have a wonderful marriage, but it’s very hard for an athlete of his caliber to go from the spotlight to a quiet life. All the fans and cheers fade away. I’m hoping…well, I wonder if someone like you might be able to give him a boost in that department.”
The blood in my veins pumps with purpose. “I can try.”
“Excellent,” she responds, pulling me in for a quick squeeze. “Now, don’t be alarmed if the next time you see me, I’m an angry, jealous wife. That’s going to be part of the fun, isn’t it?’