She tried not to think about their forthcoming holiday of snowboarding and skiing and all those other unrelaxing activities on which Will thrived. The only thing that would make it bearable would be the knowledge that she would be spending it in a ski resort with Will and an attractive group of his friends, all of whom were physically capable to the extreme, and most of whom enjoyed proving their prowess in other, less snow-focused ways.
It was a thought that brightened her mood a little as she kissed Caleb goodnight and tried to remember which room she was sharing with Will. As she walked along the silent corridors, she checked her phone and saw a series of pictures sent by her husband.
The first was the one she had seen previously, where Will’s grinning mouth was around a woman’s exposed nipple.
The second was a more explicit picture of Will’s erect length being held by slender feminine fingers. The nails were painted in glossy scarlet and silver stripes that Emma thought looked quite fetching. She wondered how that design would look on her own fingers and decided to show the picture to her manicurist.
She flicked through the third picture: Will’s shaft slipping into a luridly glossy pussy. The pussy was trimmed with a scrub of brunette curls. The fourth picture showed a similar image, except this time there was a tongue lapping the wetness from Will’s shaft as it plunged into the brunette. Emma was puzzling out the mechanics of that shot, and had flicked through to the fifth picture, before she realised that Will had clearly managed to get two women into his bed at the same time. Two women at the same time? she thought. He had definitely won the bet this evening. She shook her head with admiration as she crept toward the door of their room and swiped her key-card through the lock.
Will was naked in the centre of the bed.
He was not alone.
Emma had been incorrect when she thought Will had managed to entice a pair of women back to his bed. There were three women with him.
Even as she was assuring the women that she wasn’t an outraged wife, on the verge of demanding to know what they had been doing with her husband, she still felt a pang of frustration that Will had been able to succeed at their bet so easily and all she had been able to manage by way of a stranger had been a single fuck.
She kissed her husband on the cheek and poured herself a bourbon. She was tempted to start undressing and ask if she could join in the fun before they all went their separate ways for the evening, but she couldn’t think of a way to phrase the question without sounding needy or depraved.
‘You’re back early,’ Will observed.
She laughed. ‘I’m back early because it was so difficult finding someone in this hotel who wasn’t a stranger. It seems like everyone staying here is either a former client of mine, a schoolfriend or someone I work with. I had a lot of difficulty finding a partner for the evening who wasn’t a stranger.’
She sipped the bourbon and grimaced at the sharp taste.
‘It must be something about this resort,’ one of the brunettes said.
Will glared at her but Emma encouraged the woman to continue.
‘We’re not strangers to Will,’ the brunette explained. ‘We’ve all worked for him as models in the past. That’s why the four of us hooked up here this evening.’
Emma’s brows narrowed as she glanced at Will.
Will opened his mouth to say something but Emma wouldn’t let him talk.
‘You’ve worked for him as models?’ Emma asked the brunette.
‘We’ve all worked for him as models,’ the brunette repeated. She giggled and said, ‘We’ve done other things with him in the past too, although I suppose you’d guessed that much.’
Emma put her drink aside and leaned close so she could kiss the woman with gratitude. Clearly pleased with this show of affection, the brunette returned E
mma’s kiss passionately.
Will still looked like he was trying to voice an excuse or an explanation but Emma wouldn’t let him speak. She was looking forward to a night of delicious pleasure with her husband and his three friends. And, afterwards, Emma realised she would also be looking forward to planning a summer holiday where she could bask in the sultry heat of a tropical beach.
Loving Myself
Heather Towne
When Jason died, my life went off the rails.
Jason and I had been high-school sweethearts, had gotten married (like we’d always planned) the day after graduation. He’d quickly fulfilled his dream of becoming a firefighter in the small Midwestern city we called home. And I’d gotten a part-time job as an assistant at a veterinary clinic, with the goal of becoming a vet when we had enough money to afford the schooling.
We leased a cosy apartment in a nice neighbourhood only a ten-minute walk from Jason’s parents. Since my parents had both died in a bank robbery when I was young, and I was an only child, Jason’s warm, welcoming family had become mine. I adored his younger brothers and sisters, and got along extremely well with his mother and father. They were a close-knit family, and they wove me into the fabric of all their activities.
I’d always been kind of shy, with low self-esteem (due to my parents being taken from me so early, I guess). But with my handsome, strong husband looking after me, and as a member of his fun-loving family, I felt, finally, like I actually belonged in the world. They were the most joyous two years of my life.
And then tragedy struck, again.