Naomi's Story: The A-Z of Trophy Wives, #14

By D.D. Grey

They're young, beautiful, with fast cars and luxury homes—with absentee, older husbands. Bored and lonely, each of our trophy wives has her own solution.

 

Two months after their marriage, Geoff had been promoted to run the British office of his company. It was a massive promotion, and she couldn't ask him to turn it down. Now, she was four thousand miles away from her family and friends, with the Atlantic Ocean between them. Skype wasn't enough—especially with the time difference, and with Geoff working every hour possible to make his job a success, Naomi was left to her own devices.

From talking to her family online, the pretty blonde quickly found her way to chatting to total strangers. As a game of truth or dare evolved, Naomi grew ever more daring until she was asked to expose herself from her back window. She agreed, thinking the garden was empty—little realizing her contact was sitting on the deck watching her, his cell running off her own wireless signal.

• Language: English
• Publisher: D.D. Grey
• Release date: Sep 21, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223415879

Book preview

Chapter 1

When her cell beeped with an incoming message, Naomi looked at the clock before picking it up. After seven. She sighed, she didn’t need the distinctive tone to tell her the message was from Geoff. Her husband had been a work-alcoholic before getting the promotion. Now, despite being the width of the Atlantic from home, he was even more so. With a resigned sigh, she looked at the screen of her cell.

Sorry, babe, need at least an hour to finish this. I’ll grab a takeaway on the way home for myself, assume you’ll have eaten. Miss you. XXX

Miss you! Miss you! Of course, you fucking miss me, you’re never fucking here!

She felt her face heat as she blushed at her own outburst. There was nobody to hear her. The company had rented them a lovely detached house, right out in the countryside. There were no neighbors, and since all her family and friends were the other side of the pond, there was no likelihood of anyone hearing her. Even so, she looked around guiltily and then rolled her eyes at her own stupidity.

At least she’d only just started preparing the salad to go with the steaks she was going to cook once Geoff got home. There was no point in cooking just one of them, so she left the meat in the refrigerator, scrapped the salad, and messaged him back.

Again? Jeez. Pick up Chinese for two, then. I was going to do steak.

She deliberately didn’t end the text message with kisses, wondering if he’d understand the subtlety, or not. A minute or so later, she regretted being so curt, after all, it had to be a real problem to cause him to be this late, and it was his job. The promotion, two months ago, wasn’t one he could turn down, and she’d been excited about it too. The chance to spend six months as a tourist in England, a country she’d never visited, was a thrilling prospect. Finding out they were dropped into an, albeit lovely house, ten miles from anywhere, had been a mood killer. Driving on the wrong side of the road felt a step too far too, so she was isolated. She found the roads narrow, and altogether too busy. Even out in the countryside, there seemed to be traffic on anything the British called a main road. Compared to her native California, even the major roads wouldn’t have passed as anything other than byways. It wasn’t his fault, not really.

She wasn’t surprised when it took him several minutes to reply. If his work was that urgent, then no way would he respond quicker.

I said, sorry. Chicken or vegetarian? Xxx

Another sigh followed the previous one, and she texted back a simple answer. It was clear he’d picked up on her subtle message. Damn! It was one of those times she’d wished he hadn’t been quite so sensitive.

Chicken! Xxx

This time, though, she did add the kisses, preferring some company later on, rather than a frosty cold shoulder because she’d upset him. She hadn’t had to calculate decisions like this since they were dating!

Okay, stuck here ‘til eight, eight-fifteen. By the time I’ve been to Ng’s, it’ll be nine when I get home. Love you. Xxx

She glanced at the large TV set in the corner of the room and shook her head. At this time of night, there wasn’t much on she could watch. English soaps left her cold. She’d already exhausted that route. As far as she was concerned, the quiz shows were pale imitations of their US counterparts, or incomprehensible, at best. It was too early to Skype anyone back home—the time difference meant it was still part of the workday afternoon on the East coast, and lunchtime on the West. Sure, they had satellite TV, but the American shows she’d got used to had been on six months ago back home. The ones that would have interested her, she’d already seen.

Discarding the TV book, she reached for her cell. After checking that Geoff wasn’t online on Skype, she logged out of her ordinary account. She didn’t want him to see her come online and then duck off again. He wasn’t the suspicious type, but it paid to be careful. Once offline, she quickly logged back in under the assumed identity. The one Geoff didn’t know about. Just to be careful, she’d blocked his account on this account. He didn’t know it existed, nor could he find out. She’d even made sure to exclude this account’s details from her password manager. Its password was unique and one that had no relationship to anything he knew about.

She scanned down the list of people she’d contacted before, but for the moment, none of them had the little green circle next to their name that told her they were available. That was a bit of a blow. However, it was too early in the day for her American friends, the ones she’d made with this account. It was also a little early in the day for most of the English friends she’d made. They tended to be night owls.

Leaving her cell on standby, she fired up the TV and started paging through the on-screen TV guide. The British satellite and cable provider was good, but, as always, there wasn’t much in the way of American TV she hadn’t already seen before crossing the Atlantic. She sighed and switched the TV off. A moment later, as if the events were linked by more than just coincidence, her cell chirped with an incoming Skype call. She grabbed her phone and made sure she answered it in voice mode only, having checked it was still logged in under her fake name.

Hi, Steve.

Hiya, Maria, my favorite American friend.

Your only American friend, if I remember our conversation a couple of days ago.

So how are you?

She smiled to herself. An American would have asked How you doing? As always, the polite phrasing from the English never ceased to amuse her.

I’m good....

I sense a but there, perhaps not as cute as yours...

Like you’d know! I’ve been online for less than two minutes, and you start with the sexual innuendos.

Hey, I can’t help it. I think you’re sexy, and you have a fabulous figure, including that cute butt.

You have no idea what I look like, so how could you possibly know I’ve got a cute butt?

Well, I know you’re a brunette with green eyes.

Before she could stop herself, a bark of laughter erupted from her throat.

Ah, that told me something. So, you’re a blonde with baby blue eyes.

Naomi swallowed hard and tried to think of a reaction that would stop him realizing he’d hit the mark with his second guess. She was usually sharper than this and wouldn’t have reacted to his first answer.

No answer, so you are a blue-eyed blonde. Great, just my type. Especially when they have a nice cute butt.

One, I’m married, so I’m not your type, and two, leave my butt out of the conversation. Why are you so fascinated with the shape of my butt?

Because it’s cute like the rest of you.

I’ll kill the call if you don’t stop trying to chat up my butt.

Oo... Now there’s a thought... Okay, I’ve stopped, Maria.

Thank you.

So, if you’re talking to me, where’s hubby?

Where he is anytime I’m talking to you. Working late.

So, there you are, all alone, dressed in your sexiest lingerie, showing off your gorgeous assets, and hubby’s not there to rip those scraps of lace off and ravish you on the couch, on the kitchen table, on the stairs...

Stop it. I am not wearing... She realized the mistake the moment she said it.

Oh, so you’re braless, and commando under that dress. Easier access.

Naomi could feel herself blushing. That had not been what she’d been about to say at all.

I was saying I was not wearing scanty underwear for him. I’m dressed normally, thank you very much.

Normally? Please do tell. He deepened his voice and deliberately sounded hoarse. What are you wearing? It was a perfect parody of a dirty phone call.

Naomi couldn’t help laughing. The other times she’d spoken to him, the conversation had been similar, light and fun. Perhaps not quite so flirty as this time, but it was, after all, a Friday night, party night. She decided to play along.

What I’m wearing is for me to know, not for you to find out.

"Oh, do tell.