Victoria's Story: The A-Z of Trophy Wives, #22

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.

 

All her life, she's been teased about having a secret, but now with her husband out of town, she's got one—a real doozy.

Putting on her sexy gear, she heads for her regular pickup point, a singles bar where she has a 100% record. Every time she walks through the door, she walks out with a guy.

Now though, in her sexy black underwear under her little black dress, she's got a problem. Her husband's employees are there, and given the regular clientele of the bar, there's no way they can't guess what she's after.

However, they give her a choice, something different than picking up a cell and calling her husband. Victoria had been aiming to find a guy, a stranger. Now she's got four, and none of them are going to be strangers for long.

• Language: English
• Publisher: D.D. Grey
• Release date: Oct 19, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223270768

Book preview

Chapter 1

As soon as she heard Grant’s car pull off the driveway on his way to the airport, Victoria sprang into action. She’d been sitting on the couch, languidly studying a magazine before tilting her head back to kiss him goodbye. She’d freighted that kiss with as much loaded promise as she could, and felt him shiver as he recognized the passion she was implying. She’d meant it too but knew he would be in Europe for a fortnight.

Now, with him gone, she headed straight upstairs. She was already stripping off her casual clothes, her tee, and shorts as she headed into the en-suite for a shower. She’d worn a nice lacy, black, set of lingerie, just in case her husband had wanted the quickie she’d have been happy with, before leaving for the airport, but he’d ignored her suggestions. She sniffed. Typical. Just before a trip, he was always tightly focused on business.

The warm spray from the power shower felt good on her skin, and she stretched as she turned under the stream. As she ran her hands over her breasts, her nipples tightened, demanding attention. She ignored her body’s incessant cry. Rather than bring herself off, she left them alone, knowing it would help keep her on edge for later. Encountering moisture that wasn’t water-related lower down, she left that alone too, before turning off the shower.

Leaving the shower, she patted herself dry and then wandered back into the bedroom to sit down at her dressing table and sort out her hair. That took quite a while, over half-an-hour, because, for once, she’d decided to wear it up rather than letting it hang down loose and straight. The elegant bun, together with the ringlets that framed her face, cried out for large hoop earrings. She added in a silver three-inch pair, before adding a chain that dangled a large amber bead into her cleavage. The weight bounced against her chest as she moved. It was designed to draw eyes down to her breasts, and she licked her lips in anticipation. Her husband hadn’t been interested in her body this afternoon, but the black lace was designed to attract any man. She put it back on, snugging it into place.

The black top she pulled on was onion-skin tight. Where it stretched to accommodate her breasts, the thin material went translucent, showing off the lace pattern of her bra. If she looked closely enough, she could see the dark red of her nipples. She shivered at how good she looked, dressed in a way Grant rarely, if ever, saw her. The top had been part of a fancy-dress sorceress costume she’d worn for a party a year ago. The rest of the costume was tacky and had gone in the bin almost straight away. She’d thought the top looked sexy, so she’d hung onto that. Grant had liked it too, she remembered coming home that night and the way he’d ravished her just inside the door. She shivered at the memory and resolutely pushed it away.

No witch’s outfit tonight, no, she was dressing for an entirely different purpose. Her short denim skirt wasn’t just short, it was worse than that. Standing straight, it covered her, but if she bent over, it would flash the back of her panties. Perched on a barstool, if she let her knees part, the black lace at the front would be visible. She’d never quite had the courage to go commando under this skirt, but she’d be flashing beaver if she did. Her shoes were open-toed sandals, but they had three-inch heels. That emphasized the toned shape of her legs, without looking like stripper shoes. She was tall enough to eschew platforms, but the heels added that little bit of height. It all added to the appeal to the look she was going for.

Just as she finished getting ready, her cell pinged with a text. She grabbed it quickly and read the message.

Flight boarding. Love you. Call you tomorrow. XXX G

She smiled, well, at least Grant was on his way. There was nothing now to get in her way. She sent a quick text back.

Have a good flight. Missing you. XXX V

It was true, she was missing her husband, and if he’d still been at home, she wouldn’t be getting ready to do what she was about to do.

* * * *

The bar wasn’t too busy when Victoria walked in. As was her habit, she scanned the room to make sure she couldn’t spot anyone she knew. As usual, having driven all the way across town, there wasn’t anyone local to her. She straightened her back, arching it a little to make her breasts stand proud, and sauntered over to the bar. Strutted might be a better description, she put everything into that short walk.

The bartender watched her approach. He recognized her, this was a place she came to often enough. His knowing smile told her he knew why she was here. She guessed he might well like to put a move on her himself. Still, from her behavior on her earlier visits, he knew she wanted action earlier than he could deliver. She was not the type of woman to hang around until the early hours to wait for the staff to finish up.

The usual?

Please. She slipped him a twenty to cover the drink before any of the nearby guys had a chance to offer to buy it for her. She knew it might well be the last drink she bought for herself tonight. She hoped so, given the amount of effort she’d put into her appearance. No, the twenty had a different purpose. Paying for her first drink and waving away the change as she now did ensured the barman would look after her. If anyone tried to buy her a double, or mickey her, she’d know in short order. The only time that had happened, she’d thrown the double vodka enhanced martini in the guy’s face and called him on it. The barman had then thrown him out. She’d got a round of applause for that, as well as a couple of other offers, one of which had finished off her night quite well.

Tonight, the pickings looked a little sparse. Still, it was early, and things would no doubt improve as the night wore on.

Here you go.

Thank you. She gave him a bright smile and sipped her martini. He was good, and the drink tasted just like a standard martini, although this one had very little alcohol in it. Safety dictated she remained sober, and in any case, she wanted to ensure she banked some decent memories tonight, not the hazy ones drink would have fogged. Perching on the barstool, she hooked one heel behind the stool rail, and let her other leg stretch to rest her toes on the bar rail. From experience, she knew that showed off the length of her legs to best effect, while at the same time, forcing the skirt to rise up enough to expose even more of her thigh. She kept her shoulders back, pushing her breasts out into the tight top. It was a studied pose, one crafted for a single reason. It might be obvious, but it was effective.

In any other bar attached to a hotel, any of the men in the bar could have assumed she was hooking. Here, though, was notorious for one thing. It was a pickup bar, a singles place. It was one of the reasons she came here. She also always wore her wedding and engagement rings too. One look at those would tell anyone she didn’t need to make money that way. That diamond was worth more than the one-year-old car she’d parked outside. Anyone who could wear rings of that quality wouldn’t be hooking. The fact she was so obviously married might put some guys off, but it was like a honey pot to the rest.

Like the guy sidling along the bar toward her, right now. He looked easy on the eye. Late twenties, rather unruly crop of black hair, and piercing green eyes in a rugged face. As he approached, she gave him a careful once-over, matching the one he’d given her before he’d made his approach. Six-foot-tall, and he kept himself in trim. His large hands showed signs of callouses, so he worked hard for his living, rather than picking up those muscles in a gym. That was, from her point of view, a plus point. She wasn’t into the self-obsessed kind of gym rats she often encountered.

Ma’am.

She raised an eyebrow as she smiled. The softly drawled word seemed out of place in a modern bar, but at the same time showed a sophisticated edge to what otherwise she might have thought was a simple workman.