Hotwife Tales: Brie

By C.K. Ralston

Brie Berenson is on an inside sales desk for New Century Electronics. She gets the chance of a lifetime to move into the much more lucrative world of outside sales, but that would mean being out of town, on the road, usually three nights a week.

Her husband, Joel, is a hard-driving young editor and opinion columnist for small market newspaper, but he has big aspirations as far as being a freelance article writer for the big east coast political magazines. The young couple doesn’t have any children yet; they are holding off on that, waiting to save up more money for a bigger house.

Brie is a gorgeous woman, with a slight past. She had a couple of wild years back in college, before she met Joel and settled down.

Will her new job unleash her old demons, if she takes this promotion? And what will Joel say about her nights spent alone, on the road in Portland, Seattle, and Denver?

Will he trust her judgment as to what going too far means? If he does, will she be able to rein in her desires enough to satisfy her husband’s “road rules”?

Or will this newfound freedom of Brie’s signal the decline of their once happy marriage? Read this volume of Hotwife Tales and find out!

(Author’s word of caution: if you don’t care for novels containing graphic depictions of all sorts of sexual acts including lesbian encounters, fellatio, cunnilingus, anal sex, and double penetrations, don’t buy this book. Believe me, you won’t like it!)

• Language: English
• Publisher: C.K. Ralston
• Release date: Apr 1, 2016
• ISBN: 9781311652799

C.K. Ralston

"I write what I have seen, and what I have done." C. K. Ralston

Book preview

Hotwife Tales

Volume V

Brie

C.K. Ralston

COPYRIGHT

Brie, Hotwife Tales, Book Five

Copyright © 2016 by C.K. Ralson

Smashwords Edition

Licensed material is being used for illustrative purposes only

and any person depicted in the licensed material is a model.

Book Design by Kelly Shorten

All rights reserved

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any

form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including

photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and

retrieval system, without written permission from C.K. Ralston.

Published in the United States of America

This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to persons

living or dead is entirely coincidental.

Prologue

Brie’s Big Opportunity

I want you to discuss this thoroughly with your husband, before you accept, said the Director of Sales as she sat across from him. This is a big opportunity I’m offering you, Mrs. Berenson, but outside sales work isn’t for everyone. There would be weeks when you’re on the road a lot, away from home. Not every husband is going to be comfortable with that.

We don’t have any kids yet, Brie countered, wanting this promotion more and more, as she thought about it. We’ve agreed to hold off on starting a family for the foreseeable future, so that won’t be a problem.

I’ll be honest with you, Brie, John Davidson, the Director of Sales, said, leaning forward in his big leather-upholstered chair and putting both elbows on his desk as he continued to look at her appraisingly, you’re a stunning young woman, physically. And you’re not even thirty years old yet. A woman traveling her territory, by herself—who is as attractive as you are—is bound to get a lot of attention from the various men she’s going to meet.

He sighed and plunged ahead, saying, I’ve been introduced to your husband at the company Christmas party a couple to times. He seems like a nice young man. I don’t know how solid your marriage is, but this is bound to put a great deal of strain on it. Not every marriage can take that kind of pressure.

Our marriage is very strong, she responded, hoping that was as true as she thought it was. My husband, Joel, has total faith in me, as he should have. I love him very much. I’d never be tempted to cheat on him; no matter how many nights I was out on the road!

Good, good, he said quickly and somewhat dismissively, standing up behind his desk.

Clearly, as far as Davidson was concerned, this meeting was just about over. He said, Listen, this is Friday, why don’t you take the rest of the afternoon off and go home? Spend the weekend discussing this with your husband, and let me know if you want the job on Monday morning, alright?

Sure, that sounds fine, Brie told him, leaning across the desk to shake his offered hand, but I can tell you right now that I’ll be accepting it.

I hope that you will be, Davidson said. You have the most stellar record of any person in the inside sales/sales support group, and I’d like to see if that acumen for customer service and being personable on the phone translates into you becoming as strong an outside sales person as you were an inside sales person.

John Davidson was in his late fifties or early sixties. He had a haggard, worry-worn face and watery blue eyes. And his nose displayed the blue-veined, reddened appearance of a man who abused alcohol regularly to help ease his anxiety.

Aside from this obvious signs that Davidson was a closet alcoholic, he reminded Brie of her own father back in Michigan. He was about her dad’s size and had his coloring, along with being about his age.

I won’t let you down, Mr. Davidson, she said as she got ready to head for the door. I’ll do great in outside sales, I just know I will!

I think so, too, Brie, or I wouldn’t be offering you this chance, he said. But I’d hate to be the one responsible for screwing up your marriage, just so that you could make more money.

....

Will traveling so much really put that big a strain on my marriage? Brie asked herself the question as she drove home in the much lighter than usual Friday afternoon commute traffic.

Of course, she knew why it was much less hectic than it normally was. It was only three, instead of the five or six o’clock it usually was when she fought her way home on the LA freeways.

There was still a lot of traffic to deal with of course. Was there ever a time on the LA roadways when there wasn’t much traffic?

Four in the morning, maybe, Brie thought as she drove.

She wondered if Joel would be as thrilled about her new job as she was, now that she’d had time to think about it. Things really were okay between her husband of four years and her; weren’t they?

There was the decline in their sex life to consider, of course. Their love-making for the last year or so seemed to lack…was zip an acceptable word to use in describing how lackluster and routine their less and less frequent sexual unions had become?

She glanced in the rearview mirror and saw what she always did; a radiant blonde girl with huge green eyes, a gorgeous face and a thick mane of silky, golden hair cascading all the way down onto her slender shoulders. What was it that Davidson had said about her less than a half hour ago, in his office?

"‘Stunning’, ‘attractive’; those were the words he used to describe me," she muttered under her breath as she switched lanes to put her in line for the next exit.

I suppose that’s more than fair, she thought as she took the off ramp which led to the part of Montebello that she and her husband lived in. It was almost in Whittier, but not quite. I was held to be the prettiest girl in my high school class, back home.

The house Joel and she had managed to buy was a small one, and her father had almost had a heart attack when she’d told him how much they’d given for it, two years ago when they’d first bought it. The place had two bedrooms, one bathroom and modest sized yards in front and back.

By the time she pulled up in front of it at just after four, she had really begun to worry about how Joel would react to her being out of town so much. They hadn’t really had much of an opportunity to discuss it, of course.

Morey Stein’s sudden retirement as West Coast Sales Manager had been both unexpected and abrupt. He had simply made the announcement from out of the blue last Monday and tendered his two-week notice.

The surprise move had thrown the whole sales side of the company into chaos. She knew there had been discussions at first of going outside the organization to replace Morey, but it had been decided to promote Brad Fischer into the soon-to-be vacant job instead.

That had left his old territory open, and there had been some talk of tying to find an experienced salesman, perhaps from a competitor, to take over the open spot. Her being called into Davidson’s office this afternoon and being offered the job had been a true shock!

She and Joel had discussed the possibility of her being promoted into outside sales a couple of times before this. But those talks had been of maybe someday variety; more in the realm of wishful daydreams than of firm possibilities, really.

Now it was real. Come Monday, she could be the new salesperson in charge of the Northwestern United States. All she had to do was formally say ‘yes’ and the job would be hers!

It’ll be a lot more money, that’s for sure, she thought as she paced about nervously in the front room of her tiny house. I’d make twice the money I did last year, at least; maybe a lot more.

Joel would find that part very attractive, she knew. His current job as an editor and opinion columnist for the San Gabriel Star didn’t pay a lot. And he had an article pending with a big east coast magazine, The New Statesman, a competitor of Atlantic, and The New Republic.

Whether or not they were going to publish it was still up in the air. They had demanded changes, and he had made them—grudgingly—but he had made them.

The magazine paid a lot for accepted articles, compared to what he was now making at the Star. And their buying it and publishing it could also provide the entrée into to world of book publishers which her husband feverishly sought.

Joel was a political junkie. What he really wanted to do was write for the LA Times at least, not the lowly Star. Actually, he wanted to write for the Washington Post or the New York Times and to publish best-selling books about politics and what went on behind the scenes with major candidates and campaigns.

All of that might still be a long way off. But this article could be the start on the road to that career.

He had been mailing off think-pieces to major magazine, both print and online, for years now, ever since he had been a student at UCLA, where they had met. And this was the closest he had yet come to a breakthrough.

At five-thirty, his old beater of a Buick pulled up in the carport beside the kitchen and he got out wearily and stretched. She smiled as she studied her husband through the window, thinking for the millionth time how handsome he was; at least she thought he was.

All through high school and through most of college, she had dated a certain type of boy or man. Almost all of them had been clean-shaven, intelligent, and unassuming types.

Joel had scruffy black hair and a goatee which he kept impeccably trimmed and maintained. He also wore an earring, and she’d thought that was so hot, when she’d first been introduced to him!

He was much more bold and brash in his demeanor than most of the other guys in her life had been, and she’d found that to be strangely attractive as well. Joel came across as being opinionated, brilliant, and unafraid.

She, on the other hand, was by nature rather shy and reserved. It had taken her a long time to come out of her shell and learn to project the friendly, outgoing side of her personality to the world which dealing with the public required.

Her job in customer service and inside sales had helped. After a few years of dealing with demanding clients over the phone, she had mastered the art of calming them down, discovering exactly what it was that would make them happy, and then delivering on her promise to make things right.

Brie had discovered that that’s all there really was to sales. It was no mystery: find out what the customer wanted and fulfill his desires, and he’d be a satisfied, repeat client in no time!

The back door opened and Joel entered the kitchen. He looked at her and demanded, What are you doing home already? It’s Friday; the traffic’s usually much worse on Fridays.

Sit down at the kitchen table, and I’ll make each of us a cocktail, she smiled at him excitedly. I have something to tell you, and I think you’re really going to like it!

....

The Pacific Northwest, huh, he responded neutrally, when she had finished laying out all that had happened at work today. I guess that means Washington and Oregon for sure.

Also Idaho, Wyoming, Montana, and Colorado, she said.

That’s a lot of travel, he noted somewhat sourly, sipping at the greyhound she had poured for him.

Well, there aren’t many major electronic firms in Wyoming and Montana, so I won’t be going there nearly as often, she assured him, taking a small sip of her own vodka Collins. It’s primarily Oregon, Washington, and Colorado that I’ll be calling on, with some emphasis on Idaho, around Boise.

He thought about that for long moments, before asking, How much travel are we talking here, babe?

Probably three nights a week, most weeks, she admitted, with me flying out Sunday afternoons a lot of the time, to give me a full day on Monday in whatever state I’m working, to make sales calls.

That’s a lot of nights away from home, honey, he said doubtfully, finishing up his drink and getting up to make another.

It’ll be at least twice what I’m making now, maybe a lot more, she countered.

That stopped him in his tracks on the way to the kitchen counter which held the vodka bottle and the mixers. He thought about that for a full half a minute, before asking, "Twice, really, you’ll be making that much more money?"

Yeah, the guy I’d be replacing had been knocking down over eight-five thousand a year, just on commissions and regular pay, she told her husband truthfully. And he got a lot more money in the form of cash bonuses, for exceeding his sales quotas all the time.

"So, it’s probably going to amount to at least a hundred grand a year?" He asked incredulously.

She shrugged and finished her drink, saying, It should, if I do well.

That’s a huge difference, he said thoughtfully, making them both another round.

....

Unlike most other nights of late, they ended up naked in bed together. They had drunk a few more cocktails; then wolfed down a delivery pizza, ordered from Round Table to celebrate her new job, and adjourned to the bedroom.

After engaging in a bout of the almost scripted-feeling, perfunctory love-making that passed for sex between them nowadays, Brie lay cuddled in her husband’s arms. She hadn’t orgasmed, but he had; par for the course for them, too, lately.

But I guess this is what it’s like, when you’ve been married for a while like we have, she thought, trying to be philosophical about her sexual disappointment.

She was largely able to dismiss her sexual frustrations from her mind and focus on her upcoming new job, and the vast increase in income it would bring them. Turning to Joel, she said, "We might want to start thinking about buying a bigger house. And we should definitely be able to put a lot more aside toward the kids’