© Copyright 2017 - Jackie Rabbit - Used by permission
Storycodes: MF; MMF; M/f; agreement; loan; wife-swap; cuckold; fantasy; spanking; public; bond; cons/reluct; X
"So Mike dear..." I asked my husband while we were settled down on the couch watching some mindless television show, "..what made you choose such 'nice' clothes for me to model for you?"
"I like the way you look in them?" my blindsided husband responded without conviction.
"Then why haven't you ever suggested something like them before? You used to seem to like me to dress more conservatively, most especially around Jack, which I thought I understood until just the other day."
"I think Jack has everybody he works with thinking you look like a supermodel all the time, so to perpetuate this little lie he has 'required'... that is he asked me to make sure you're equipped to look the part on your... ahh... little trip with him." Mike then noticing my expression change as I locked eyes with him, but apparently clueless as to why.
"Oh, that's rather flattering" I opined. My husband Mike stepping in it pretty badly by implying that I ordinarily don't look all that good, with the further implication that I require some "dressing up" to be presentable for Jack's nefarious purposes. I might not dress like a supermodel at all, I surely didn't eat like one, but it was poor form to point that out to me on top of all the stress this situation has already put on me.
"What other unbelievable things am I known for in this secret life of mine with my other husband?" I asked. It was a good point to consider even without my sarcasm if we were to pull this little charade off.
"I didn't mean it like that" Mike defended, but it was already too late for that...
"I talked to Jack" my husband told me the following day, "and he agrees with you that it would be a far better plan to get your stories straight at some point before you two get on the plane. He suggested dinner someplace quiet so you two can go over potential scenarios together, maybe even while wearing one of your new dresses to see if they have the look he was boasting about to his coworkers."
"Just the three of us on a date with me 'struggling' to look like a model? It sounds charming" I quipped.
"Jack doesn't think it makes sense for me to be there, you two need to get your lines straight, and he thinks I would just be a distraction to that goal... I think it was 'supermodel' anyway, and in case I haven't told you lately you look perfect no matter what you wear, or don't wear."
"...You haven't and thank you." I responding to his compliments almost automatically while my mind crunched over what he had just accidentally let slip out, both his tone and the actual words he had used. Completely gone in one swift swoop was the man who didn't even like other men looking at me in that manner, he preferring more professional looking clothes that hid my assets in public rather than ones that advertised them. All of that was apparently out the window now, I now dressing to impress, maybe not another man directly, but indirectly dressing for Jack's employer to maintain the illusion that I was his...
"You need to tell Jack to call me himself and ask if he wants a 'date' with me, open communication and honesty are both very important to healthy marriages you know" my barb intentional and not missed by my intelligent husband.
I wanted to shock Mike away from what he had just let slip so that he didn't dwell on it, this another clue to this puzzle I was trying to put together in stealth. He ordinarily wasn't all that easy to misdirect on things like birthday and Christmas gifts, but when exactly had he ever allowed another man to ask me out on a date, let alone encourage me to go while buying me provocative clothes to wear? This was obviously uncharted territory for all of us and some allowances had to be made for all this insanity, but "required" is a certain word with certain connotations, free choice not being one of them.
"Ok, I'll tell him... smart ass!... Hold on, who said anything about a date?" my husband asked belatedly.
"What would 'you' call it when a handsome man asks a lady out for a quiet and imitate meal with equally intimate conversation?" I asked rhetorically while thinking 'mission accomplished'. "Love, honor, and obey", and "sometimes misdirect for his own good" should have been in there someplace I was beginning to think.
I might have been obligated to "obey" my husband in the strictest sense of the word, (although that vow was intended more for a sense of committal rather than any true legal authority over me), but there was nothing stopping me from learning a thing or two about this man of mine that would serve me well in the future. This situation was just a little too crazy to take at face value, and the mystery only deepened the more I got into this...
"HI, this is Jack" I heard on my phone a short time later, he apparently feeling just a little worried as our departure date was fast approaching, my true husband well within earshot and listening intently.
"HI Jack, I recognized your voice!" I reminded my other husband in unnaturally cheerful fashion, his tone awkward despite we having talked on the phone often enough. Those conversations had been benign though, "what time is dinner?, should I bring anything?", this one most certainly not.
"I have reservations at Michelangelo's for tonight, corner booth in the back, very private."
"That's nice, who are you taking?" I asked as I turned my back on my listening husband. I had no intention of making this easy for him, I one hundred percent in the position of power with both of my men at the moment. Such opportunities only come along so often, and it would be foolish to squander this one needlessly, and further stress applied to both of my men might just force another important clue to slip out.
"I have other plans tonight" I lied.
"...Oh... OK, how about tomorrow then?" Jack getting the rules of this game rather quickly, but he was after all a smart man, not to mention highly motivated. This was like dancing to me, I for the time being having the lead as I had what Jack not only wanted, but needed.
"Tomorrow would be fine. What would you like to see me in dear?" I asked in a softer and more intimate tone ordinarily reserved for my husband, Jack's pause on the other end making me smile.
"I umm, I umm, I don't know... Mike told me you two had gone out shopping and you had... that is he had bought you some..." Jack stumbling through our conversation awkwardly.
"Husband of mine, you're going to have to get far more comfortable with your wife's new wardrobe at the bare minimum to pull this off you know. What if your boss asks you what your favorite thing is in my closet and you come up with something I don't even own? I'll make this easy on you for our dinner date tomorrow this one time, slutty, sexy, or conservative like I used to dress for my other husband?" I asked as if arranging an illicit tryst for real.
"Jack dear, are you still there?" I asked sadistically with my smile I'm sure coming through his phone just as clearly as possible.
"Ok then it's settled, I'll go middle of the road, and I happen to like your black jacket, it's cut looks especially flattering on you with your recent time at the gym."
That night I luxuriated in the bath and did everything a woman needs to do on a somewhat regular basis if she wants to look good for her man, (or men), not to mention fantasizing about our upcoming trip to the islands while writing in my journal and toying with myself. Mike took notice of my preparations later that night, but I was most certainly not in the mood, my preparations in anticipation of my date with the other man now in my life.
Jack picked me up right on time in his little Porsche the following night, I wearing the mini dress Mike had bought for my upcoming second honeymoon along with the color coordinated matching underthings I just "had" to have, I even taking the rare time to do my hair, makeup, and nails to near perfection. It was well out of character for me, but that was the whole idea. If my guys wanted a supermodel, (or at least as close to it as possible for myself), I would give them one. "Dress up and pretend", I thought to myself, I taking my long coat with me but stashing it in the back of the small car as the heat was on and the engine warmed up, my dresses' scant material not up to protecting me from the chill of late fall all on it's own should the car break down.
It was hard for me to know that night which man was more flustered with my new look, my husband whom had bought the dress and watched in stunned silence when I descended the stairs in it all made up like a model, or our friend who was taking me to dinner looking about as desirable as I possibly could, for him.
Had Jack ever seen me in a mid thigh mini before, I wondered to myself as he opened the door for me? Certainly he had seen me many times in a one piece bathing suit, but rarely one on one, and not while wearing serious heels along with all the other trimmings designed specifically to get a man's attention. I had felt his eyes on me when I had slipped into the low seat, the move hiking my little dress naturally, but I didn't want to make eye contact with him to let him know I had caught him being essentially what most women would think is a normal man. Once out of our driveway and on the road his eyes didn't know whether to check me out or pay attention to the road, this new dress doing wonders for my ego with both men who had seen me in less, but under different circumstances.
I had to begrudgingly admit that Jack was right, Mike would have been awkwardly in the way!
I eventually felt empowered to try some constructive torment on my other temporary husband, so I pulled my left foot up on the seat and made to adjust the binding on my high heel, the move causing my already short dress to ride up to my hip and Jack to momentarily drift in his lane he became so distracted.
"What's wrong handsome?" I teased in an innocent soft voice, Jack's peripheral night time vision in the dashboard's scant light as we drove into the country rather impressive all things considered.
"You did that on purpose" he accused, although he was smiling when he did so.
"Of course I did. Can't blame me for having some fun with this, can you? Want to feel it 'Jack', or do we have some other pet names for each other that I should know about? I just shaved them for you by the way" I further taunted in an over the top offer to any man other than my true husband, this costume like dress empowering me to act as one might expect one dressed like this should.
"I... I shouldn't."
"Shouldn't, can't, or won't?" I goaded, "it's my leg and you can touch it if I say so other husband of mine."
"Your trying to make some kind of point, aren't you?" Jack asked.
"Yup. And your boss won't ever pick up on your reluctance to even put your hand on me after we've allegedly been passionately married for a year now."
Jack apparently conceded the point and reached over with his open right hand and slowly traced his way from my ankle upwards as his eyes didn't leave the road this time. It was a slow and savoring action that made me tingle, he working his way up toward my knee and the general area I ordinarily shave to on a regular basis being fair haired as I am. He didn't stop there though, (and I didn't stop him either), he tracing his way ever so slowly toward my neither regions on the inside of my left thigh, he stopping himself a scant inch from the hem of my hiked short dress.
"That's a nice leg" I heard him say with a giggle, as if he were confirming something he had always thought was true, but was unable to prove conclusively until now.
"That's very sweet Jack, but for general information purposes I don't ordinarily shave that part", Jack's foreign hand still in place and now I the one getting flustered, my provocative offer to tease Jack into some confidence with my body failing miserably.
"Oh? I wouldn't have guessed that, but I suppose that's good to know."
I felt myself blushing in the dark car, and on top of that I needed to correct our little miscommunication less such intimate 'facts' come up in conversation somehow down in the islands and my "husband" caught not knowing the condition of my most intimate parts.
"I meant my upper thighs Jack, long dresses and skirts for the office and all of that. For that matter, what DO you guys talk about when I'm not around?" I asked, I suspecting he already had some inside information about what Mike and I did together. The depth of that intimate knowledge for the first time caused me some concern though, what if Jack knew EVERYTHING due to Mike's boasting, men being men and liking to brag about such things?
.What if Jack was privy to the blindfolds and bindings and various other intimate things we did as husband and wife, not to mention the disproportional effect those things had on me? Once bound and blindfolded, (or even simply pinned to the bed by my wrists), I became a different woman, a wanton and fully submissive woman capable of things that prim and properly dressed girls just didn't do. Such "forceful" things were the switch that turned me fully on, I leading Mike to discover those things about me without actually asking him to do them outright, but to his credit he rather quickly got the message. Men are simple creatures in that manner, I having no problems with Mike having those proverbial keys to my lock box to use as he willed, it was after all fun for both of us, but what if he left those "keys" carelessly lying around someplace and another man picked them up and discovered their true purpose?
"We're almost there" Jack announced, startling me out of my brief daydream while not answering my question.
"Excuse me?" I asked, the tension obvious in my voice.
"The restaurant, we're nearly there" he reiterated reasonably, I thinking for a moment that he was referring to the positioning of his intrusive hand that I had yet to ask him to move...
He had to free his hand from my bare thigh to shift the little sports car anyway, he swinging into the parking lot and dropping me at the covered entrance after opening the door for me gallantly, I thinking I could get used to all this fuss. My own husband used to open doors for me, and pull out the chair as well, but that was back when we were courting, now I usually cooked and cleaned up afterwords while the boys watched, and almost exclusively opened my own doors...
If Michelangelo was the quintessential renaissance man, what better place for my own personal renaissance that a restaurant named after him, although that in itself was an oversimplification. Jack's description over dinner of this fictitious wife he had fabricated (after he had pulled out the chair for me to sit in before our waiter could himself) was all but impossible to carry out in the flesh, he selling me as a combination of chef, rocket scientist, and demure maid like servant depending on what room I was in and the time of day. Even without our alleged sex life, (that Jack suspiciously hadn't brought up yet), I realized no one woman would be able to pull this larger than life act off...
"Do we have pet names for each other?" I asked with trepidation, almost dreading the answer, but needing to ask anyway for obvious reasons. We already knew each others birthdays, and "our" anniversary was a no brainer, as was "our" address at Jack's house, my own true address on the same street and just a few digits off.
Jack smiled before he answered, it was a handsome smile as I studied his eyes like a lover might less someone ask some specifics about both their color and imperfections, my nearly empty second glass of wine in hand. Jack would be a good lover, although an out of practise one to be sure (I decided in my alcohol infused randy mind). He would be just as playful and adventurous in bed as he was at the dinner table or around his pool. Humor and thinking outside the proverbial box were his obvious natural gifts, but his eyes told me something new as I studied him with this illicit thought fresh in my mind, the echo of his warm hand still on my inner thigh...
"Sweet cheeks" he answered after a dramatic pause, I blushing at the compliment. "I have this 'habit', or fondness if you will of giving you a little tap on the butt sometimes when I want to get you moving, not a full blown over the knee spanking, more of a light swat of affection" he explained reasonably, as if that made it acceptable.
I stared while I felt the smile creep to my face, wondering at how long Jack had been studying my backside's spankability, and if this fictional "habit" of his represented a real world desire to paddle my bottom in the flesh for some perceived misbehavior other than simple tardiness.
I answered my own foolish question a second later as my cheeks flushed and I slipped into a mini daydream:
...In it powerful and confidently sitting Jack bid me to lay across his legs, and I then did so for no reason that I could fathom, as if resistance to his will was unthinkable. Then I imagined him flipping the little dress up I was presently wearing and exposing my panties to all who cared to notice right there in the corner booth of the very nice and upscale Michelangelo's. He then sliding them down to my ankles with the intrusive fingers of one hand as the other held the hem of my tiny dress firmly at the small of my back and preventing even the slightest modesty. My dream captor then twisted the lacy bindings about my ankles until my legs crossed, he then hoisting my improvised bonds aloft ( along with my bare legs) and forcing me off balance, I putting my hands out instinctively to prevent falling from his lap and onto my head...
Staring Jack still sitting across from me in the restaurant then cleared his throat, startling me out of my daydream just before his dream bare hand landed firmly on my exposed backside, my hands held well out of his way by his clever use of my off balance against me. Both Jack and I for a brief second were left staring at each other, we each left wondering if I were loosing my mind...
"...Anything else?" I asked, I doing my best to conceal my little erotic daydream and the vacant stare one as observant as he couldn't help but to notice. There was an obvious message in my little daydream, Jack had the potential to casually expose everything I worked so hard to keep hidden from him since this little insanity had first been brought up.
"Well..." Just then the waiter approached to take some plates from the table, Jack holding his tongue until he was out of earshot.
Jack then resumed his description of the perfect wife, only this time her, (that is my), bedroom preferences, which of course were instead his bedroom preferences for me. I felt the unintentional smile again creep to my face, (I just terrible at hiding my thoughts when drinking), but it really made perfect sense. If I were built up to be a maid in the living room, and a chef in the kitchen, a full blown noisy and submissive nymphomaniac in the bedroom made sense in Jack's man centered fantasy world, the real world irony being on that score he wasn't all that far off.
"You do realize that those traits are contradictory, don't you?" I asked reasonably, ignoring the implicit hypocrisy of my question while at the same time discounting the possibility that he had heard Mike and I going at it on one of his too drunk to go home sleepovers.
"A chef in the kitchen? I'm flattered, but one has to lead to be a successful chef. A demure maid about the house, or more likely a demure French maid? OK, I'll give you a pass on that one, you and every other man that is. A rocket scientist? Again I'm flattered, but I could be replaced at work tomorrow, they know it, and so do I".
"I think the perfect woman can play many parts, and I happen to think that a woman such as yourself can easily pull this little act off, it's only for two weeks" Jack offered reasonably.
His words were a high compliment, with just a touch of envy, and I wondered for not the first time why this man didn't have a wife of his own and had to settle for a borrowed fictitious one instead.
"Just two weeks?" I asked with some incredulity.
"It will be a blast" Jack opined with false optimism, but I noticed that his wordsweren't exactly a direct answer to my question...
story continues in Indecent Proposal 3
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