On Holiday with the Hotwife by Chase Lily

On Holiday with the Hotwife by Chase Lily

Author:Chase, Lily
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: anonymous
Published: 2023-01-27T00:00:00+00:00


Chapter 4

The Piper

I’m standing in the doorway of the en suite, watching her get ready. She’s gone all out and is wearing a tight white halter-dress and bride-style white garter belt and stockings with lace panties. Bent at an angle over the bathroom counter, she leans toward the mirror, perfecting her makeup.

“I don’t think he wants lipstick on you,” I say as she smooths on a precise coating of candy-pink. “He ruined his shirt removing it last night.”

She gives me a side-eye in the reflection of the mirror. “Oh, Rob… you sweet summer child. I all but guarantee he wants lipstick on me specifically so he can wipe it off—the guy’s every move is a power-trip.”

She sets aside the lipstick and is now doing some incomprehensible thing to her eyelashes.

I fold my arms and lean against the door jamb. “Did you make this much fuss over our first date?” I ask, keeping my tone light.

Her crooked smile and the sly narrowing of her gorgeous eyes tells me she’s got my number.

“Jealous?”

I shrug. “I mean… well, yeah—a little bit. Not in a horrible way. Forget I said it. I was just curious.”

She sets aside the stick-thing she was poking her lashes with and comes to me, sliding her arms around my waist and looking up at me.

“Babylove,” she says, “on the night of our first date in 2003, I can assure you, I was a fucking nervous wreck… putting the perfect crimp into my hair, slathering my bare shoulders with glitter-gel, and making sure my hip-huggers drooped at exactly the right level to entice you.” She gives me a soft kiss, careful not to mess up the lipstick. “I was dead-gone on you, and praying my slut of a roommate wouldn’t turn your head before I could make it down the stairs.”

“Oh god—I remember Tiffany. I wonder whatever happened to her?”

Jane delivers one more tiny kiss and returns to the mirror. “According to Facebook, she has three kids and is flogging some meal-replacement-shake MLM.”

There’s a knock at the door of the suite, and fucking hell… you wouldn’t think a knock could have BDE, but it does, because it’s exactly two raps: bam, bam! Isn’t three or four the standard? Maybe the “shave-and-a-haircut” rhythm? A single rap might be mistaken for someone just bumping the door. Two makes it clear it’s a knock, but with the absolute minimum commitment.

“I’m almost ready,” Jane says in a tense whisper, fluttering her hands around her head. “Can you let him in?”

I go and open the door, and he’s standing with both hands in the pockets of his jeans. This time the t-shirt is black.

“Evening, Bob,” he says, breezing past me before I invite him. I decide there’s no point in correcting him anymore—I’m ‘Bob’ now. Fine.

I shut the door and follow him to the living room, sitting on the sofa across from the one he’s claimed with his ultimate-manspreading stance.

“Jane’s, uh… she’ll be another minute. Just gussying herself up.”

“Gotcha.”

He reclines, sprawling one beefy inked arm across the sofa back.



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