A very welcome guest, Part 3

As the night fell, and the evening drew to its close, the three of us found our regular rhythm of sitting on the terrace and chatting, over food and drink. Real friendship was growing between Cristina and my wife, Lucy. As I watched them talking, watching Lucy’s mouth as she smiled between her words, watching Cristina’s eyes sparkle and dance as she listened with genuine interest to Lucy’s every word, I wondered just how we had got here… how did Cristina create her power, this hold that she has over me? When we are together, I feel confident, brave and strong. She doesn’t let me worry or feel scared by the risks we take. But then when I come back to myself, it all returns. The guilt, the anxiety and the nerves. But watching Cristina talking now with Lucy, I’ve never seen her act more natural, more relaxed. How does she do it? She has us both wrapped around her little finger. <span>
We all knew that Monday morning was just around the corner. An early start for us all, and most importantly, Cristina’s first day of her new job. I had figured that I would not hear from Cristina tonight. We both needed to relax and recover from the excitement of the weekend, and Cristina had told us both how important this job was to her. She had crossed the Atlantic for this opportunity, it wouldn’t make sense for her to turn up tired on her first day just because she couldn’t leave her new man-toy alone for the night.

A glass of wine turned into a second glass of wine, but where on any other night, that may have turned into a second bottle, or perhaps some spirits instead, we all kind of felt it safest to break off for the night and slowly we each set off up towards our beds. Cristina stood up, giving my wife a friendly peck on the cheek and me a soft smile. “I’ll see you guys in the morning. Lucy, are you still ok to give me a ride in the morning? Save taking two cars, and I’m still not sure of the way”

“Oh, yeah, of course. No probs Cris.”

“Thanks. Good night.”

“Good night sweetheart.” I couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow. Terms of endearment like that are saved for very close friends with my wife… they were getting close. I smiled to myself at the idea. I’m willing to accept that my imagination is completely predictable, but the thought of them being close made me feel safer, more confident. Of course, I also harboured the same perverted thoughts as just about any many would at seeing his mistress kissing his wife, even if just on the cheek.

Brushing teeth, washing faces and the general bathroom rituals all took place and I had hoped to head off down the hall quickly and at least say a proper good night to Cristina, but it wasn’t to be… my wife kept me in the room, talking about tomorrow, what time I’d be home, groceries to pick up, blah blah blah… We ended up both crawling into bed from our separate sides, having a quick cuddle, a short little kiss for the sake of good manners and flicked the lights out, rolling apart and slowly falling asleep. I had a quick last little thought for Cristina. Our relationship had started 72 hours ago, almost exactly, as we had stripped and fucked in the room just down the hall, as my wife slept drunk on the terrace.

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