Out of His League: A Hotwife Novel Read online

  “Seriously, though, dude. You’re a lucky guy. She’s beautiful, and she loves you. It’s only natural that when you’re with a woman like that, you start to doubt yourself, you start to question why she’s with you...”

  “Charlie, are you telling me she’s out of my league?” I chuckled.

  “Uh... no... that’s not what I...” he mumbled.

  But I laughed. “It’s okay. I know she’s out of my league. I’m pretty sure she still really loves me, though.”

  “Right. She does.”

  “I just think maybe it means that when someone comes along who is in her league...”

  Charlie laughed now, as though it was a new tactic to stop me from this constant refrain of paranoid delusions of cuckoldry. But then he said, “John—there’s something different about you. Did something happen?”

  “Different?” I prompted him.

  “You don’t seem so... down. So distressed. You talk about her maybe cheating on you, but you don’t seem so... I don’t know... terrified.”

  “I guess not.”

  “There something you want to tell me?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe over a drink or two.”

  *

  But this acceptance of the new driving force within me wasn’t all light and cheer. Even though I did find myself hopeful of discovering new signs that Courtney was perhaps having an affair, it still scared me—still made me feel deeply uncomfortable.

  It took until that Thursday morning for me to figure out what it was.

  When I woke, it was much earlier than usual. Five-thirty, the alarm clock said. I’m such a regular sleeper, it confused me waking at that time. Beside me, Courtney was gone from the bed. I heard a rustle in the dark.

  She was getting dressed, already. I propped myself up to watch her pulling on her underwear—black thong, black bra. Stockings, garters. So sexy, so beautiful to watch her, even in the low light levels of an October morning.

  It took me a few moments to remember she had a board meeting that day, explaining her early start.

  It took me a few more moments to realize that it was odd for her to be wearing stockings and garters period, let alone at this time of day. Let alone for a board meeting.

  I was rock hard in an instant, and it wasn’t merely from the fact that I was watching such a hot show. I felt a hot flush inside my chest, an intense heat. This was another sign of adultery, wasn’t it? I hadn’t even seen her in this particular lingerie before, and I don’t think I’d seen her in stockings since... well, before we were married.

  I watched her, and I pretended to be still asleep.

  I found myself thinking that another man would be peeling those stockings off her.

  She turned around, and the front panel of her panties seemed sheer to me.

  On went her dress—okay, it was conservative enough, businesslike. With a jacket on top, it wasn’t out of the ordinary. But my heart was threatening to burst through my rib cage just now.

  She spent an age on her makeup, brushed her hair again, gazed at herself in the mirror to make sure everything was right.

  Then she leaned over to kiss me and wake me and tell me she had to get going to the board meeting downtown or she’d be late. Filling my chest with her perfume—a new perfume. It smelled sweet, exotic, not quite her usual floral fragrance of choice.

  It made me think of adultery.

  The moment I heard the front door of our apartment close and knew that she was out of there, I was up and out of bed. I didn’t need to get up early, I was self-employed in the most flexible terms possible. But no way was I getting back to sleep that morning.

  I wasn’t sure what I was doing. I was a mass of panic and delight and horror and excitement, running around our apartment like a headless chicken.

  Should I follow her taxi in the car? See where she was going, whether there really was a board meeting for her health trust that particular day? What if I witnessed her meeting up with Harry Richards instead?

  A cup of coffee curbed my immediate stalker cravings. I sat down at our computer, and wondered if it was possible to find anything in her Facebook page, or her email, which might clarify just what the hell was going on with her right now.

  It just felt so terribly unethical to do something like that. Like, even if she was cheating on me, to dig into her personal space like that would make me instantly worse than her cheating.

  Well. At least I could try to find out a little more about exactly who Harry Richards was.

  Chapter 5

  Back in the early days of our dating, I probably would have dived right into her personal business out of sheer paranoia. Back then, I’d been so convinced that she had to be seeing other guys—not because she gave me any reason to be, but simply because it seemed so inevitable. Everything about our relationship felt temporary, like a dream from which I would one day wake. Maybe I was still waiting to wake up.

  But now, I knew things about myself. I knew that yes, okay, sure, it did turn me on thinking of her being unfaithful. I also wasn’t sure how I’d react if she really did do it. Also, there was my experience with Jason and how I’d felt when I discovered that I’d read the situation all wrong. The disappointment was crushing, and while I didn’t understand that emotion back then, I think I got it now.

  That was the paradox. I think I wanted to know, but at the same time, I didn’t. If I lived in ignorance, then I could have the best of both worlds: the excitement that she was being naughty, with the comfort that she was remaining true and that this was all in my head. I could already picture Charlie shaking his head at my bone-headed actions.

  So I stayed away from her emails and her Facebook account. It was an invasion of her privacy, and I also just didn’t really want to know. Yet? Or never?

  I did look up Harry Richards, though. I knew so precious little about him, and it was even tricky to look him up on Facebook and LinkedIn. Turned out Harry Richards was a pretty common name. It wasn’t until I remembered that he’d gone by “Henry Richards” when I had first seen him at Courtney’s office that I located him.

  I found his LinkedIn page first. His hair was shorter in his profile image, cut down to almost nothing at the sides and buzzed along the top. He had been a pilot in the Air Force until just recently, and there were plenty of photos of him posing in front of a fighter jet, his helmet tucked under an arm. He’d earned a few medals over his ten years of service, had fought in Iraq and Afghanistan, and was now working for a defense contractor on some drone projects, apparently.

  I searched his past for some connection that he may have had with my wife, but the only thing I could find was that they’d gone to the same college. If I was hoping to find old pictures of the two of them cozied up together—and I was pretty certain that I did—I came up blank.

  By the time I tore myself away from my internet detective work, it was late morning and I was behind schedule on my project. The thought of working alone, though, while my wife may or may not have been at her day-long board meeting with the sexiest lingerie I’d ever seen beneath her dress, was too much. I swung by Home Depot and picked up a couple of day laborers to help with some of the construction work—not because I needed them so much as I needed their distraction.

  It worked. Mostly. We talked in a broken mishmash of Spanish and English, understanding one another enough to crack jokes and talk about international soccer. I got more work done on the frame of the new addition I was putting in than I was hoping. And there were stretches of time when I wasn’t thinking about Courtney and her new perfume.

  But then, there were stretches of time when I was, too. The thing that kept coming back to me was the premeditation of the whole thing. If, indeed, she was having an affair, this was no longer a spur of the moment thing. She couldn’t use the excuse that everything had happened in the heat of passion. She had told me about this board meeting a couple weeks ago. She had purchased her sexy lingerie—including the first ever garter belt that she herself had bought—in ad
vance of today. Whatever she was up to, it had been planned.

  I didn’t know how I felt about that. It got me hard, absolutely, but it also felt like I’d had some really bad food the night before.

  Around 4, Courtney texted me, reminding me that she would be late tonight. Without thinking, I responded:

  [Me]: That’s okay. I’m meeting Charlie for drinks. Will be out late. You’ll probably beat me home.

  [Courtney]: Oh, thanks for the heads up. Have fun! Give Charlie my love.

  See, here is the fucked up part. I just gave her an excuse to stay out late, to not worry about making excuses for coming home. I was enabling this affair as much as she was doing it. And on top of that, it was thrilling when I pressed send.

  I did check the health fund website and learned that there was, indeed, their annual board meeting, although search as I might, I couldn’t find a schedule. By six o’clock, I wondered if it was over now. I wondered if she’d slipped away to meet up with Harry. I told my workers to clock out, dropped them off where their cars were, and headed out to meet up with Charlie.

  *

  Charlie’s client had opened a harbor-side sports bar named Smitty’s, and on a Thursday night, it was packed. Televisions were everywhere, broadcasting Thursday Night Football and playoff baseball, with hockey on a few, and SportsCenter filling the rest. Everyone seemed ready to begin the weekend a day early.

  Charlie had staked out a spot tucked away in the corner of the bar. It was good enough that we could watch the football game, but also look through the large windows to the dark waters of the harbor beyond. Even the outdoor porch space, between those windows and the water, were packed with people huddled beneath the heat lamps.

  “This place is popular!” I shouted as I took a seat next to Charlie. A beer sat in front of the seat that he’d managed to keep empty, rich and golden and exactly what I needed.

  “Yeah, it’s doing pretty well,” Charlie said. “How was your day?”

  I picked up the beer and drank almost a third of it in one go.

  “That well, huh?”

  “It’s been some day, man,” I said. “I’m pretty sure Courtney’s with her...guy.” ‘Lover’ was more appropriate, but who uses that word these days?

  “What makes you say that?” Charlie asked.

  “You’re not going into psycho-analysis mode, are you?”

  “I’m just asking, as one friend to another. As a guy who cares about you both.”

  “Well, she’s supposedly at a board meeting today. That health fund thing that she’s on now.”

  “Right,” Charlie said, sipping at his beer. It was hard not to get self-conscious as he looked on.

  “Well, I saw her getting ready this morning. Let’s just say it looked like she was preparing for more than just a stuffy board meeting. She wore stockings, Charlie. With a garter belt. She had new perfume. She looked...”

  “Sexy?” he offered.

  “Too sexy. She’s only ever worn something like that once or twice, and only because I’d bought it for her. And this stuff was new, man.”

  “Maybe she put it on to surprise you later tonight?”

  “Maybe...” I said uncertainly.

  “Or maybe she put it on to give her some confidence at the board meeting. She’s the only woman on the board, right? Liz does that sometimes, too. It’s like she’s got this secret beneath her clothes. Says it gives her confidence.”

  “I guess.” I sighed. He was right, of course, and I’d considered both of those things.

  “But you don’t want that to be the explanation,” Charlie said, vocalizing the exact thing I was thinking at that moment.

  “I—”

  “If I told you that I know she’s having an affair, how would you feel?”

  He may as well have punched me in the head. My vision blurred. My brain rang. For a second, the entire bar and all of its noise disappeared, replaced by the reverberating phrase: she’s having an affair, affair, affair...

  “You...” I raked my hand over my face. “You know?”

  “I just wanted to know how you’d feel. Honestly.”

  And there was the disappointment, frustrating and confusing as it was. I threw back my beer, drained it, and slammed it onto the counter. Charlie was already signaling for another.

  “Okay, so honestly?” I said. Charlie nodded. “You asked a while back whether there was a chance that I wanted her to have an affair. And I think that a part of me does. Isn’t that totally fucked up?”

  “It’s...unusual,” Charlie admitted. “But look, John, I happen to know a thing or two about you.”

  “Oh, you think?” I said, trying to lighten this conversation some.

  “You are a man who lives in constant fear that one day, his wife will find someone better because you think that that someone isn’t you, because you’ve created this ‘perfect guy’ who’s the embodiment of every want and desire that Courtney has ever had, all wrapped up into one. Am I in the right ballpark, at least?”

  I scowled. “Right enough. But we figured out all this in therapy.”

  “We did, yeah, and I’ll tell you now what I told you then—you’re discounting Courtney and her own feelings for you. With your fatalism, you’re basically removing her own free will, like she can’t choose this stuff for herself. Like she didn’t already choose you. Maybe Courtney’s Adonis exists somewhere out there—maybe it’s even this Harry guy—but what makes you think that she’d just throw all the love she’s got for you away?”

  “I guess that’s just it, though,” I said, feeling my defenses go up. “If she did meet someone...if she ever felt like she was stuck with me, that she’d settled or something—”

  “And I’m telling you, man, that she’s not settled. That’s not how she thinks. She’s a smart girl—smarter than you, that’s for sure. Do you really think she’d lose her head because some hot guy hits on her?”

  Even the question sent a shiver through me—and not entirely a negative one.

  Charlie noticed. “See there, what was that?”

  My face lit up. “I don’t know. I guess I...sort of, kind of...like the idea of her losing her head if a hot guy hits on her.” Shit, that sounded bad.

  “And I think that is a defense mechanism you’ve developed to deal with all the attention that she gets. If you are already prepared for her to cheat on you, then if she does, you’ll be more prepared to deal. And over time, you started to get turned on by that scenario.”

  “Is that your professional opinion, doc?”

  Charlie groaned. “No, it’s my opinion as a friend. Because you know where that behavior will lead? To you somehow sabotaging your marriage. Like you almost did with Jason. Courtney’s smart, remember? Smart people don’t like being told that they’re not—”

  “I’m not saying that she’s not,” I said.

  “Sure you are. You’re saying she’s no smarter than an animal, driven by animal instincts.” He tapped his head. “We developed these things to help us deal with those instincts, and she’s got a bigger one than most.”

  “You’re right,” I nodded. Took a huge swig to finish up my beer. The bartender had another one down in front of me before I’d even finished wiping my mouth on the back of my sleeve.

  “These are really on the house?” I asked Charlie under my breath.

  “Uh-huh,” he grinned and hunched his shoulders guiltily. “Don’t tell anyone at the APA, will you? They’d probably toss me out on my ass.”

  I downed another swig of the cold stuff, feeling the burn of the bubbles on the back of my throat, letting the sensation dull the low throb of disappointment that seemed intent on embracing me that night. “I’m game if you are,” I said.

  Smiling, Charlie said, “It’s all a bit of a gray area, really. Steve, the owner of this place was a client, sure, but a while ago. He’s not now. I guess he feels I had something to do with the fact he no longer needs therapy.”

  I laughed. “Sounds like you need to be a l
ittle less good at your job, Charlie. You know—customer retention and all that.”

  He laughed with me. “I guess I could use a few lessons in that.”

  “Here’s a tip: don’t become best buddies with your clients, or they’ll expect to use your services for free.”

  Charlie nodded, but looked at me seriously for a moment. “You are always welcome to use my services for free, Johnny boy. But remember I’m your friend more than your shrink.”

  “I remember,” I said, lifting my beer for a silent toast in his honor.

  “And it’s your friend right now telling you to let it go with Courtney, right? Chances are you’re misinterpreting what’s going on with her. You know what’s she’s really like.”

  I nodded, feeling more than a little sheepish.

  And picking up on my body language, he said, “You’re really disappointed, aren’t you?”

  I shrugged, and somehow—despite the fact that Charlie had apparently persuaded me to stop being so paranoid, and to stop questioning my wife’s integrity and devotion—in that final moment of that particular conversation topic, I think I genuinely startled him.

  Up until that moment, I think he hadn’t really believed I might want Courtney to actually be unfaithful. My response to his “solving” my problems came as a real surprise to him.

  After that, we didn’t talk about Courtney, or my strange new fascination. It was a pleasant evening catching up, talking football and so on. Even talking about work seemed like some kind of diversion from all my recent heavy thinking about my wife.

  As we finally prepared to part ways for the evening, though, each ordering a separate Uber car to take us in opposite directions down the freeway, Charlie said something that made me think.

  “You seem like you’re waiting for the next step in your business, John boy.”

  “Huh?” I asked him.

  He looked at me, all earnest. Hard to argue against whatever he said whenever he looked at you like that. “You know Courtney is always amazed at how well you’re doing flipping houses.”