Her Double Treat Page 6

  But what do I want?

  If it’s just for Dex, then the woman doesn’t necessarily need to be open to threesomes, and I’m sure that’s much easier to find. But I definitely want the option to watch.

  Just the idea of watching him fuck a woman is giving me a semi.

  I’ve never had the urge to touch a woman, but I’d be willing to experiment. I think. So the possibility of a threesome should be there, I guess, but not guaranteed. I might chicken out when faced with a real life, soft woman’s body and all its mysterious bits.

  It’ll also depend on what Dexter is comfortable with. He might not want me involved. He might not even want me to watch. That thought takes a bit of air out of my sail, but I’m doing this for him, after all.

  No use worrying about what might happen if I never set anything up in the first place.

  I can’t really figure out if I’m trying to hire a hooker or advertise for a date. There seem to be quite a few “sugar daddy” sites that merge the two concepts into a semi-legal affair.

  As a young, flamboyant and adventurous young man I went on many vacations to Amsterdam, and I have no qualms about paying for sex. I think it’s a completely valid and honorable career. In my opinion, it should be legal around the world. Sex work isn’t going anywhere, we should at least give the men and women involved the right to be safe about it.

  The more difficult problem is that I don’t just want to call someone, have them show up and wham, bam, thank you, ma’am.

  I want Dexter to have the opportunity to meet her and make sure he’s sexually attracted to her. Establish some level of intimacy first.

  But I also don’t want her to think that she’s going to become a regular part of our relationship. I guess anything’s possible, but the plan is to give Dexter a treat, not alter our entire happy existence.

  I’m happy to pay her, but I also want it to be date-like.

  I’m warming to the idea the more I think about it and I pick one of the sugar daddy websites at random and sign up.

  We are…MM Couple. Ok, that’s an easy start.

  Birthday, easy. This isn’t so bad.

  Age, Education, Occupation. I feel like I’m back in my teens answering “ASL?” in chat rooms!

  Profile pictures.

  I don’t want to put Dexter’s picture up without his consent or knowledge. That would be asking for trouble. So I put a recent photo of myself up and figure whoever applies can make their judgment of Dex in person.

  Getting trickier…

  What are you looking for? A hookup. I think.

  And the really fun part: Description.

  Ok. Here we go.

  I’m a gay man who’s been happily married to a bisexual man for 7 years. We’re very low key and spend most of our free time enjoying all the glorious restaurant patios Long Island has to offer. When it comes to homes, we’re very handy. One of us builds, the other decorates. I’m searching for an anniversary present for my husband and would like to invite an open-minded woman out for dinner, drinks and a night of unknown pleasures. If you’re looking for some respectful, playful sexual exploits, send me a message. I’ll make it well worth your while, for the right person.

  I read it over and over and over again. It’s not bad, I think. We sound safe, and I’ve been honest. I don’t think I can do any better than that.

  I click “Confirm” and take a few deep breaths to slow my racing heart. Who knew this was going to be so exciting?

  CHAPTER 2

  Dexter

  I hate slow days at work. Especially lately. I don’t like where my mind wanders.

  I’m sitting in my office, appreciating the exceptionally comfortable chair Harley picked out, and daydreaming about my receptionist’s curves.

  Which is not only sexual harassment but it’s also making my stomach churn with guilt.

  I love Harley. I love Harley. I love Harley.

  This is a litany that I’ve taken to repeating to myself whenever I find myself staring too long after Fiona.

  I do love Harley. More and more every day. It blows my mind that we can still find new things to learn about each other, even after 7 years together. He makes me happy.

  Every day, I go home and listen to him gossiping about his clients and gushing over the room he’s designing. I don’t understand the majority of it, but he’s just so damn animated, it’s fun to watch him talk.

  He tries to ask me about my work, but he’s even more clueless about construction work than I am about interior design. But it’s sweet that he tries.

  I’m still in love with him and I can’t imagine my life without him.

  Until recently, I’d never been able to imagine my life with anyone else, either. But lately, I’ve been imagining Fiona in places of my life I have no business imagining.

  She’s the best receptionist I’ve ever had, and I should leave it at that.

  But she’s also incredibly sexy.

  I’ve always been drawn to people who are unapologetically themselves. That’s what first caught my attention when I met Harley.

  I had never once considered dating another man, but his utterly shameless flirting and undeniable sense of self had me reeling. He’s remarkable. Always has been and, if I’m not wrong, he always will be.

  Fiona is the same way, only she doesn’t flirt audaciously with me. She’s very professional, which only makes me feel more like a scumbag for fantasizing about her.

  But she owns her body. She has a very unique sense of style.

  She holds her own in a very male-dominated industry and keeps my entire team in their place.

  All my past receptionists had either cowered under the attention of the men, gave it back in spades in a way that was completely unacceptable in a work environment, or shouted sexual harassment at the hint of every smile.

  Fiona is a beautiful woman, and she’s not shy about it. She wears tight dresses and high heels and smiles back at all the men.

  But she’s a boss, even if not in the title. She doesn’t take any nonsense and makes sure everyone does what they’re supposed to.

  When most of my men meet her for the first time, they figure she’s just like all the others. But she had the entire yard whipped into shape and doing her bidding within her first week.

  When clients come in demanding to see me and I’m not around, she charms them and gives them enough information to make sure they leave happy. I’ve been actually toying with the idea of getting her to take on more client conversations. She has a way of communicating the progress of our projects that gets the clients excited.

  When they talk to me, they tend to either look confused or anxious. I’m a great builder, but not the world’s best communicator, if I’m honest.

  Fiona has been a godsend.

  And here I am, imagining how smooth her skin would be to touch. How soft her lips would feel to kiss. How warm and welcoming she’d be if I…

  I love Harley. I love Harley. I love Harley.

  The weirdest thing is that she’s worked here for just over a year now, but it’s only been the past month that I’ve noticed her in a different light. Nothing has changed, I don’t think, but lately, whenever she enters my office it’s like the air is filled with electricity.

  Harley knows that he’s the only man I’ve ever slept with. He’s always told me to be honest if there’s anything he can do to give me what I desire.

  I desire him. He’s been the greatest sex of my life, on so many counts.

  Understanding what to do with an extra penis and no vagina was easier than I would have ever imagined. It’s strangely erotic, knowing exactly what he’s feeling.

  I never really knew if what I was doing to women felt good, or if they were just faking. I had no way to imagine what they were feeling.

  But with Harley, I know what it feels like to have your dick sucked, your ass pounded, and your balls grabbed. Of course, we have our own likes and dislikes, but I can
imagine. And the imagining makes the sex so much more powerful than I ever experienced with a woman.

  I still very much desire him.

  But a mouth is a mouth, and an ass is an ass, and neither of them has the same warm, velvety feeling of home-coming that sliding into a hot, wet pussy has.

  Harley isn’t what you’d call excessively muscled, he’s slim and well-formed. But he’s hard. Everything about him is hard, except his lips.

  Women are soft. And curvaceous. There’s so much more to grab hold of. You have to be tender with them.

  The noises they make are soft. Gasps and whimpers and pleading.

  Listening to Harley is an incredible turn-on. He’s got the dirtiest mouth out of anyone I’ve ever met, and I could lose myself just hearing him come.

  But he’s not soft.

  And sometimes, I miss soft. Just a little bit.

  Fiona looks very soft.

  I would never, ever make a move on her, but I can’t seem to stop my mind from imagining what would happen if…

  As if she could hear my thoughts, Fiona herself knocks at my door.

  Clearing my throat and adjusting my pants, I wave her in.

  “Hi Boss,” she says, with a smile on her face making it sound more cheeky than reverent. “The Coopers signed off on the kitchen upgrade this morning and the pool builders called to tell you that the pavers are ready to be installed at the Smith’s.”

  She hands me the paperwork to sign and I carefully avoid looking at the soft cleavage I know is peeking out from the neck of her dress.

  “Thanks, Fi. I imagine that means the landscapers will be calling to complain today. Put them through to me if they get too aggressive.”

  “Aw, don’t worry about me. I can handle them,” she smiles wide and heads back out the door.

  I watch her walk, her curvaceous hips swinging and calling attention to her ample, soft behind.

  She can handle the landscapers, I know.

  It’s her lecherous boss that I worry about. I wonder if she has a boyfriend. She doesn’t talk about her personal life much.

  Actually, the more I think about it, the more I realize I know very little about her except what a good job she does. And how phenomenal she looks in a pencil skirt.

  I think back to her unique style. I do remember her talking about making her accessories, and I wonder if she’s interested in design. I bet she’d get along with Harley. Maybe if I introduced the two of them, I’d stop imagining her naked...

  Except for that now I’m imagining them both naked, at the same time.

  There’s no way in hell Harley would be a part of that! He thinks vaginas are completely foreign, man-eating caves of terror.

  When we first started dating, he used to ask me all sorts of questions about women. Are they hairy down there? Do they really smell like musk? How far can you stick your arm in one?

  He’s a ridiculous man. And I love him.

  If I never see another vagina in my life, I’ll count myself lucky because I know he’ll never stop bringing joy and entertainment to my life.

  Smiling to myself, I put Fiona out of my mind and concentrate on organizing the details for my 7th wedding anniversary.

  CHAPTER 3

  Fiona

  I left my boss’s office with a special sway in my step, just for his appreciation. Not that he’d notice, of course, but a girl can try.

  His wife must be something. I’ve never met a man so completely and utterly immune to my charms. It’s become something of a challenge to me, just to get him to notice that I’m a woman.

  I’d never do anything about it. He’s married.

  And god knows I need this job.

  I bet Dexter would never gamble away his wife’s life savings, I fume.

  Everything had been going along nicely in life until Jacob dropped that bomb on me. All the money we – more specifically, I – had been saving so that we could move into a nicer apartment, gone.

  One weekend in Atlantic City with the boys and all my dreams for the future had come crashing down around me.

  In hindsight, it likely wasn’t one weekend. All the times that tips were bad or money went missing from his locker...I should have realized money seemed to disappear around him faster than a speeding ticket.

  But I had put up with him because it seemed like what I was supposed to do. Be in a relationship. Make sacrifices.

  Screw sacrifices. I’m done making sacrifices. I have no idea whose couch Jacob has moved onto and I don’t care. I’m tired of taking care of his lazy ass.

  I can’t afford it anymore, even if I had been interested in letting him stay around. Not with my savings making the rounds in Atlantic City and a car on the fritz again.

  I’ve felt more alive in the past month since I kicked him out that I have in years.

  I’ve always wanted to have my own apartment, and now our shared space is all mine. I never felt like I was alone when Jacob lived with me, even if he wasn’t at home. I had to be “on” all the time.

  Now I have dance parties and walk around naked and sometimes I even leave the dishes in the sink until morning. Jacob was a neat freak. It got under my skin.

  Looking back, I can’t believe we stayed together so long, we were just completely different people.

  I love going out with friends for drinks and, somewhat ironically under the circumstances, Jacob was a serious introvert. Weird for a bartender, I know. I’m a spur of the moment, adventure seeker and he’d be happy getting stoned and watching movies all day.

  The sex used to be good when we were drunk all the time. When I stopped drinking every night of the week, I realized the sex was boring. So boring, I found myself pulling away from his touch.

  A shudder runs down my spine even now, at the thought of his hands touching me.

  Things have been off for a long time, and now that he’s gone, I feel like myself again. I feel like I can do anything. The world is my oyster!

  Only I have no money to do anything and pit at the bottom of my stomach when I think about how I’m going to make my bills this month. Having my own apartment is great. Paying the rent all by myself (not that Jacob contributed much) not so great. I’ve always been good with money and I hate this feeling more than anything.

  I love my job here, but after a year or so, I’ve realized there’s not really any upward mobility options. Dexter is amazing and he lets me take charge and accept new responsibilities whenever they make sense, but there’s only so much a receptionist can do.

  The pay is good, but I live and work in the Hamptons. Good is not good enough here.

  I’ve started looking around for side jobs or ways to make some extra cash. It’s embarrassing. I shouldn’t be struggling like this, but I’m just going to have to suck it up and do what it takes.

  I wonder if Dexter and his wife are country club members. I used to work the bar at a club when I was going to school, but I’m not sure if I could live with the dread of running into my boss at my second job.

  I want him to see me as a woman, not as some young girl who can’t live off a reasonable salary and needs to flirt with rich men to make ends meet.

  That’s fine for a student, but I’m trying to establish myself here. I need to look the part at all times.

  Even if I do kind of need to flirt with rich men to make ends meet.

  One of my girlfriends suggested getting myself a sugar daddy.

  I’m not going to lie, the idea appeals to me.

  It’s not quite like getting paid to have sex. Even if it was, I’m not sure I’d really care.

  I’m single! I feel like I’ve been repressed for years and finally, I can get out and explore what the world and its men have to offer.

  I’m only 24 years old. I’ve been a serial monogamist since I first started dating and I want some excitement now. Relationships were fine when I was so busy going to school and working to notice how dull they were.

  Bu
t now it’s just me, my day job, and my free time. I want to get a little wild. Have sex with a man who isn’t my boyfriend. Maybe kiss a girl, see if I like it.

  Why not get pampered a little bit by some man who feels good about spending his money on the women he dates? And perhaps learn something new from someone more experienced between the sheets.

  I sit at my desk thinking about my options.

  I feel a little nauseous when I think about my empty bank account. It’s tempered slightly by the idea of being single and free.

  But a warm glow starts trickling down to my core when I consider meeting an older gentleman with loads of money and a bit of kink lurking below his dapper appearance.

  I’m taking the idea seriously, I realize, with a bit of excitement.

  Normally, around this time of day, I’d be looking for ways to make myself even more indispensable to the company, but since there’s nothing really important for me to be doing, I open up an incognito window in Google.

  Sugar Daddy, I type into the search bar.

  I can feel my cheeks burn and my pulse is racing. I cannot get caught doing this at work.

  The entire first page of Google is full of different sites, like dating websites, but where the girls might get a little extra compensation for showing up?

  I pick one at random. I’m glad that you can see some of the profiles before signing up. I hate it when you can’t test the waters before giving away your email address.

  There are some good-looking men on here. I’m sure half of them are fake pictures or pictures from 20 years ago. But that’s true of any dating site.

  I glance across the pictures and read a few intros. My eyes keep returning to one photo though. It’s the only photo on the profile, which is a bit of an alarm bell, and surely a man that handsome can’t be real.

  He reminds me of a young Jude Law. Yum. I wonder if he has an accent.

  I click on the picture to see his description.

  MM Couple.

  Darn. I knew he was too good to be true, I think.

  From a very young age, I’ve found men attractive. Not just because I’m a straight woman who likes men, but I really like men. I love their hard bodies and their dicks. I love how they smell and how hairy they are.