Xara's Story: The A-Z of Trophy Wives, #24

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.

 

The raven-haired beauty loved to dance, but her husband, thirty years her senior, hated it. But he indulged his young wife whenever his business commitments allowed. He'd find a table at the edge of the dance floor and watch as she danced with one man after another.

He loved to see her happy, and she felt safe and secure, able to flirt, knowing, however obnoxiously aggressive any man got, she'd be going home safe with her husband.

That changed when he went away for a week-long conference in Hong Kong. At a loose end, she gives in when her friend asked her to go with her to their local club.

After a couple of hours and rather more drinks than she usually had, Xara had almost forgotten her husband's absence. As she flirted, the danger signs mounted up.

• Language: English
• Publisher: D.D. Grey
• Release date: Oct 26, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223532378

Book preview

Chapter 1

Xara smiled to herself as she looked at the clock. Any second now, after all, Geoff was predictable. Sure enough, less than thirty seconds later, she heard him call from the bottom of the stairs.

Nick will be here with the car in ten minutes, are you ready?

She giggled to herself before she replied. It was a game they played. He was impatient, she was late. She wasn’t really late, and she certainly didn’t think she took that long getting ready when they went out. Geoff, on the other hand, could change into a dress shirt, tie and suit in nothing flat, run a comb through his short-cropped hair and be ready in less than ten minutes. He always looked good that quickly, and her mouth watered at the thought of what he’d looked like in those few seconds he’d been almost naked. Her husband didn’t know it yet, but he was going to get lucky tonight.

Who was she kidding? He knew it, he always got lucky when she dressed up and went dancing. Dancing was a big turn on for her, and it was one of the reasons he indulged her.

Just got to put my dress on. Wouldn’t want Nick to catch me in just my scanties, would you?

She could hear his loud sniff even from the foot of the stairs. He murmured something, but it didn’t carry. She was sure it was along the lines of at least you’re wearing underwear. She remembered how, just to test him, three months ago, she’d worn a sheath dress with spaghetti straps that she couldn’t wear a bra with unless it was strapless. She’d gone without, and he’d almost had a fit when he realized.

That memory brought a flush of warmth to her face, she’d enjoyed that night, dancing like that, and at the same time the way he’d taken her when they got home. She giggled, remembering how he’d not really waited ‘til then. No, he’d made the first move in the car as Nick drove them home. Inside the thin white lace bra she was currently wearing, her nipples hardened, and she could feel herself getting hot between the legs.

His impatience was, she knew, in part at least, an act. He knew she’d take more than an hour to get ready. Then he could wait downstairs, idly browsing through the business news on his cell, and no doubt sipping a couple of pre-dinner whiskeys. It wasn’t like Nick had to come far, their driver cum security guard lived in the apartment over the garage.

Satisfied she had every stray hair patted into place, and that her makeup was just about perfect, she checked herself in the mirror. Tonight, she’d put her raven black hair up in a bun, letting a few tendrils hang down to frame her face. It was one of her favorite styles, especially for dancing. It would stay quite neat for the whole night if she wanted it to. Alternatively, she could let it down and let her hair caress her shoulders.

The white bra had transparent straps, and the lace wasn’t that much more opaque than the straps. She could clearly see her nipples through the lace. They were standing proud and engorged, and she suppressed a shudder, knowing they would be visible in that state, making imprints in the front of her dress. Her panties matched the bra, thin, translucent, almost gossamer-like. In this case, the white was raunchy rather than virginal, just the effect she wanted under her dress. Satisfied with her look, she reached for the hanger holding her dress. The pale blue knit dress had a gypsy collar. She could start with it on her shoulders, covering everything, then as the night wore on, ease the neck wider to bare her shoulders. It was the reason she’d chosen the bra with the clear straps. The skirt was short, very short, which was part of the reason she’d gone bare-legged rather than pull on a pair of stockings. Stocking tops, particularly the hold-ups her husband preferred, would show under this dress, even with it tugged all the way down. Being a knit fabric, it would ride up with every step. Which made dancing in it dangerous in terms of the amount of leg she’d end up showing. Perfect, in other words.

Once she had the dress on, she made sure it was stretched as low as possible, grabbed her clutch bag, and headed for the door. She knew where Geoff would be, right at the bottom of the stairs, waiting for her. No doubt, his foot would be tapping in impatience, but she knew that was as much of an act as anything else. The foot-tapping would stop the moment he saw the dress, she was sure of that.

When she reached the top of the stairs, she paused. For some reason, Geoff wasn’t actually looking up. The pause was artful, and she waited there, a slow smile on her face, as some sixth sense made him turn to look. With his eyes on her, she took the first step down, and then the next, promenading rather than descending the stairs. She could feel the knit fabric sliding higher and higher on her legs with every step.

Fuck! Babe. You look good.

She grinned, and kept up her slow progress, not daring to glance down and see how far the skirt had ridden up. Geoff had always been a self-confessed breast man, saying he’d married her because she had the perfect pair. She, however, had always regarded her legs and butt as her best features, and she spent hours in the gym refining the look without putting on muscle bulk. She knew her thigh gap was the envy of her friends. It drew looks any time she wore a bikini on a beach. There again, her black hair stood out from the crowd of blonde bunnies wherever she went.

You like?

Fuck, yes! Give me a minute, and I’ll tell Nick we’re staying in.

Staying in?

Yeah, you look too good for me to take anywhere. You’re mine tonight, babe, all mine.

You promised me a night of dancing... she was only a couple of steps above him, and she paused. And you will deliver a night of dancing, or you are not going to get access to this... She swept her arms down her sides to indicate her body. His eyes tracked the movement. Capiche?

He nodded and grinned at her. It was a familiar game, one they often played, not every time they went out, but a lot of the time. As if he’d been waiting for the bedroom light to go off, they heard the crunch of gravel as Nick brought the car around to the door.

Your carriage awaits, m’lady.

Why thank you, kind sir. She stepped down to the floor level, then leaned up to give her husband a kiss on the cheek, not wanting to spoil her lipstick before the evening had started. Despite wearing three-inch heels, he still towered another three inches taller than her. Still deliberately playing the old-fashioned gentleman, he offered her his arm and led her over to the door. She smiled up at him and stood on the porch as he switched the lights off, set the alarm, and locked the door behind them.

The gentleman act was just that, an act. Geoff wasn’t really like that at all. He did hold the door for her as she got in the large Mercedes, but she knew that was to catch a glimpse of her underwear as her legs spread apart to allow her to get into the car. He was as randy as any guy would be. As she got in the car, she made sure her legs opened nicely to let him have a look. She caught the sly grin on his face before he looked up and winked at her. He knew what she was doing, just as much as she knew what he was doing. It was part of their ritual. She made a mental note to be a bit more decorous at the other end when they arrived. She didn’t mind flashing her husband, but she wasn’t going to be flashing anyone else.

Evening, ma’am.

Despite three years of trying, Nick still insisted on starting the evening out on a formal basis. During the day he called her by her name, but in the evenings it always started out as ma’am, never Xara. She pouted and then replied. Hi, Nick. How you doin’? She giggled her affected Southern accent, not really carried off.

Nick chuckled. I’m good. Ready to dance your socks off?

I’m not wearing socks. Too late, she realized he had been kidding her. Like she’d be wearing socks for a dinner date and a trip to a dance club.

Geoff got in the other side and half-turned to her. His hand dropped to clasp her naked knee and then slid up to just below the hem of her skirt, resting there. She felt his light touch and