The Secret Lives of Housewives (10 page)

He returned to Paul's Place, and as he watched the list of “who's logged on” he saw that Up4ItAll had just logged in. Ah, Up4ItAll. They had often had fun together. The last time they met, she'd told him her name was Eileen and that she was into rape fantasies. They'd talked for hours about inventive ways he might tie her up and then, when he was really hot, he'd jerked off while she described how powerless she felt. He wanted to picture Loverlady214 tied and at his mercy but he didn't know enough about the way she looked. Convincing her to buy a camera was one of his next tasks, but it would wait. He had lots of patience.

Angie and Tony spent the afternoon at his brother's house. Everyone raved about the twins as they played in the small sandbox in Frank's backyard, and they all watched Frank and Linda's three cavort in the small above-ground pool. While the women talked about the kids and made salads and snacks, the men warmed up the grill and chatted about their latest construction project, converting a large, detached garage into a studio apartment.

On the way home Tony mentioned that he might stop in to see Jordanna after they got the twins to bed. “After all,” he said quite reasonably, “you'll fall asleep quickly anyway. I want to see how her media room is shaping up.”

Be a good sport.
“Okay. If you want. I was hoping to have some time just for us.”

“We've got the whole day tomorrow,” Tony said.

Yeah. With two ten-month-olds. Through slightly gritted teeth, she said, “You're right. Just help me get the babies down, then say hi to Jordanna for me.”

E
ve's phone didn't ring until early that evening. She was stretched out on her bed watching the DVD of
An Affair to Remember
with a cat curled up against either side of her legs. She liked to call her bedroom “country casual” with a red, white, and blue crazy quilt bedspread and cute curtains with blue and gold stars all over them. The air smelled of the potpourri she kept in small floral dishes around the room.

She pressed the mute button on the TV remote, picked up the receiver, and stared at the familiar number of Mike's cell phone.

“Hi,” she said. “It's great to hear your voice.”

“It's great to hear yours, too,” he said, sounding unusually soft and sexy.

“Mmm,” she purred. “You sound all warm and fuzzy. Are you at home?”

“Diana sent me out to the video store to pick up a film for us to watch tonight, and for once the kids didn't want to come along. I'm parked in the lot at the elementary school and I'm free to talk for a few minutes.”

She kicked the cats off the bed and curled up. “That's wonderful. How was your day?”

“Fine. Where are you?”

“Home, silly. You called me here.”

He chuckled. “I know that. I meant, are you in your bedroom?”

“I'm on the bed watching a movie. It's Cary Grant—”

“What are you wearing?” he asked, interrupting.

“Wearing?”

“Sure. Are you in your nightgown?”

“I'm wearing shorts and a T-shirt. Why?”

“I want to be able to picture you.”

“Why?”

“Stop asking why and just roll with it,” he snapped. “I'm sitting here with a raging hard-on and I want to be able to picture you.”

“Oh.”

He paused, then said softly, “I'm sorry I was a little short with you just now. Since we can't be together next week I thought this might be the next best thing.”

“We can't?” she said, realizing that she was sounding like some kind of idiot.
Pull yourself together.
“Oh, right. You're going to be out on the coast all week.” In the past he might have taken her along, but this time he was going alone.

“Right. So I got to thinking about us and…well…I wanted to be with you, if only by phone. Would you do something for me?”

“Sure.”
What in heaven's…?

“Would you take your T-shirt and underwear off so I can picture your beautiful breasts without anything covering them?”

Phone sex. He was doing phone sex. It should have felt a bit sleazy, but as she pulled her shirt off, she realized that her body was responding. “Okay. I took off my shirt and my bra.” She had no idea whether she was supposed to be saying anything.

She heard his long, soft sigh. “Yeah. I love your tits. I can see them now, all white and full, with those beautiful nipples.”

Her nipples puckered in response to his words. She tried to think of something to say now but she was totally tongue-tied.

“I'm really hot for you right now,” Mike said, his voice slightly hoarse. “My cock's very hard. Does my talking like this turn you off? Be honest.”

“No,” she whispered, realizing it was true. She didn't mind, as long as he was getting pleasure. And she was, too.

“Does it make you hot?”

Should she admit it? “Yes.”

“That's great. Why don't you take off the rest of your clothes?”

On the screen Cary Grant and Deborah Kerr were standing at the rail of the ship trying to appear uninvolved, but she knew that the purser had pictures of them together. She heard Mike's heavy breathing and pulled off her shorts and panties. “I did it.”

“Are you wet?”

“That's sort of embarrassing, you know.”

“Yeah. It's supposed to be. Are you wet? Tell me.”

“Yes,” she admitted.

“Good. Very good. I'm unzipping my pants and taking my cock out. It's so hard and I can feel the warm air on it. It's extra exciting, knowing that someone might be walking their dog and see me.”

“You have to be careful.”

“I am, but I'm really horny for you. Would you touch your breasts for me? That way I can dream that they're my hands on you.”

Come on, this is silly
, she thought as one hand touched her flesh. It was soft and warm. She felt her breathing quicken but she pulled her hand back.

“Touch them like you do when you're alone and hungry.”

Masturbation. “I never have.” She knew that most women masturbated, but not her. It wasn't something that nice girls did and she didn't know how. She felt humiliated and her enthusiasm for this phone sex thing was waning.

She could hear his gasp. “You've never masturbated? You're such a hot, sexy woman and you're always so aggressive with me that I just assumed.”

“Well, you're wrong,” she said, feeling tears gather. She wasn't like other women. It was okay when she was pleasing him but doing something just to please herself was wrong. Anyway, there was probably something wrong with her. If only there were a female equivalent of Viagra…“I just never did.” It wasn't the kind of thing nice girls did.
But I'm not a nice girl,
she told herself.
I'm dating a married man.

She heard his laugh through the phone. “That's wonderful. Masturbation is so much fun. This can be your first, and I'll be here with you, if only at long distance. You'll love it.” She swallowed hard. When she remained silent, he continued, “It's your body and you can touch it if you want to. There's nothing bad about it. Guys do it all the time, and I think most women do, too. Why not you?”

Why not? It just wasn't nice. “I don't know,” she said, her voice tiny and shaky.

“There's no reason why not. So are you touching your tits?” Should she admit it? “If you aren't, please do it. For me.”

Tentatively, she reached for her breast again. She stroked her flesh, swirling her fingers over the white skin the way Mike did, staying far away from her nipple. That seemed dirty somehow.

“Now pinch your nipple.”

She trembled, torn between the need she felt and the shame. “I can't.”

His voice got lower and softer. “Of course you can. Think about last week and how you love it when I play with your tits.”

A thrill went through her despite herself. “I wish you wouldn't use that word.”

“You mean tits? It's a great word. And quite dirty. Would you prefer boobs?”

She huffed out a breath and smiled in spite of herself. “Of course not.”

“Okay, so pinch your tits. Do it for me.”

She pinched her nipple and gasped as a shard of pleasure darted through her, making her lower lips swell and her juices flow. It was okay. She was doing this for him.

He laughed again. “I can tell from your breathing that you did it. Does it feel good? Admit it.”

“Yes,” she said softly.

“Great. I'm touching my cock, wrapping my hand around it. It's so hard. Would you slide your fingers between your legs for me?”

No way!
“I couldn't.”

“Why not? You're excited, wet, hungry, and you know what you want. Why can't you do it for yourself?”

Why not? “I don't know.”

“Right. Again, no reason. So do it.”

Her hands still trembling, she slid her fingers through her pubic hair and found her wetness.
God, this is so bad, but it's for Mike. And it feels so good.

“Can you feel your clit? Find it and stroke it while I stroke my cock.”

Clit. Cock. Tits. She never used them, but the words were making her hotter and hotter. She needed this, and she let her fingers explore. When she touched her clit, lights exploded in her head.

“Does it feel good?”

She was beyond caring what he thought or what was right. “Yes,” she purred. “Oh, yes.”

“Good girl. Find what feels the best and do it. My cock is dripping and I'm getting close to coming. Do you think you can make yourself come?”

She came so easily when Mike stroked her that a few strokes of her own fingers and she knew she was close to orgasm.

“Come on, baby,” he purred. “Do it for yourself. Rub your fingers over your beautiful cunt.”

“Stop saying those words,” she said, panting.

“Why? They make you really hot. I want to get you off.”

Her fingers had taken on a life of their own, rubbing faster and faster. Her body shook so hard she could barely hold the phone. Despite her initial reluctance, she was going to come.

“I'm so close,” Mike purred, “but I know how to hold off, keep myself on the edge. I'll be able to hear from your breathing when you come, and I know you're close, too. Rub, baby, rub your beautiful pussy. Do you want to stick your fingers in? Prop the phone on the pillow beside your head and stick your fingers inside while you stroke. Trust me, I know just how you like it.”

She did as he told her to, pushing two fingers of her other hand into her channel. Then she came, hard, spasms rocking her entire body, a small moan escaping into the phone.

“I can hear you come. Oh, baby, so good,” he said, his breath making hoarse sounds through the phone. “I'm going to come…right…now!”

As her body slowly quieted she heard rustling as Mike settled. “That was fabulous, baby,” he said. “And your first time, too. God, that was great.”

It was, but she wasn't sure she wanted to admit that to anyone right now so she remained silent.

“This will give us something to do in the evenings while I'm away. I can't wait. Gotta run now. I'll try to call you Monday evening from my hotel.”

She didn't know what to say. Part of her was deeply troubled by the feelings he'd awakened, but another part wanted to giggle at how good it felt. She settled for, “Okay. Good night.”

“Good night, baby.” The line clicked in her ear. When she calmed she noticed that Minnie had climbed back onto the bed and curled against the bare skin of her legs. She'd never noticed the softness of Minnie's fur against her skin before but now it was as if all her nerve endings were super sensitive.

What had just happened to her? She wasn't like that, or hadn't been in almost seventeen years. But even then she hadn't been such a wanton. She heard Mike's words echoing in her head.
It's your body and you can touch it if you want to. There's nothing bad about it.
That made so much sense, but all her upbringing yelled in her ears.
It's bad, dirty, disgusting.
It wasn't. It had felt good. She'd have to think about it. Later. Right now, she just wanted to dream about Mike, who somehow morphed into Cary Grant. She un-muted the TV, and in a haze of sexual fulfillment, watched the man on the screen, her fingers idly playing in her pubic hair.