Rajiv Allon leaned back in the Starbucks booth. Summer, his radiant wife, sat beside him, her warmth and scent anchoring him in this delicious reality.
"I don't know why Joe's so eager to meet us," Rajiv said, his voice low, teasing. "And he specifically asked for you to come along." He raised an eyebrow, watching Summer's reaction. Her white Chanel dress clung to her curves, the neckline offering a tantalizing glimpse of her full breasts, her bare legs crossed elegantly under the table. Her blonde hair cascaded over her shoulders, catching the light like a halo, though her playful pout was anything but angelic.
Summer tilted her head, her large, hazy eyes narrowing with mock suspicion. "Mmmkay? So what's he want with me here, huh?" Her voice was sultry, her lips curving into a smirk.
Rajiv leaned closer, his hand brushing her thigh under the table. "Haha, you two got some little secrets I don't know about?" he teased, his tone dripping with mischief.
Summer's delicate face flushed a deep pink, her eyes flashing with feigned anger. She swatted his arm, her touch light but electric.
"Rajiv! You're awful," she huffed, crossing her arms, which only accentuated her plump chest. "I'm a good wife, you perv." But her pout softened, and Rajiv caught the glint of amusement in her gaze. They had no secrets—Summer knew his cuckold fetish inside out. He'd confessed it early in their marriage, half-expecting her to recoil, but she'd listened with a curious smile. She'd drawn a firm line, though—her principles kept her loyal, even when he'd playfully urged her to explore a lover's touch. That restraint only fueled his fantasies, making her untouchable allure all the more intoxicating.
"Come on, babe, I'm just joking," he said, his voice softening as he fondled her round thigh. "But, y'know… if you and Joe did have something going on, I'd be pretty damn excited." He winked, his pulse racing at the thought. Summer rolled her eyes, but her lips twitched, betraying her amusement.
"Hmph! Pervert," she muttered, turning her head away with a cute pout. "I'm ignoring you now." Her playful defiance sent a rush of heat through him, and he was about to tease her further when a familiar figure strode into the coffee shop.
Joe Norris was impossible to miss. Tall, broad-shouldered, and exuding confidence, he wore a fitted Ralph Lauren gold shirt that hugged his athletic frame, his dark hair styled with effortless charm. His business acumen, backed by family wealth and connections, had made him a millionaire before thirty, and his single lifestyle was the envy of every man Rajiv knew. Joe's philosophy was simple: why settle when you could savor the "spice" of countless women? Rajiv remembered Joe's drunken rants about waking up tangled in a sea of naked beauties, each with a different hair color, a vision that had stuck in Rajiv's mind like a forbidden promise.
"Raj, buddy, hey!" Joe called, his grin wide as he approached their table. His eyes lingered on Elise a fraction too long, taking in her curves with an appreciation that wasn't entirely innocent. Rajiv's heart skipped, not with jealousy, but with that familiar, wicked thrill. Joe had been his buddy for years, a partner in late-night bar crawls and business deals. Rajiv had leaned on him when courting Elise, sharing every sweet detail of their romance, and Joe had lapped it up, toasting their love with too many glasses of wine at their wedding. He'd even jokingly demanded to join them in the bridal suite, earning a laughing shove from Elise as they'd kicked him out.
Joe Norris leaned back in the booth, his Ralph Lauren gold shirt catching the light, his grin as magnetic as ever. "And… Oh! Miss pretty Su…missive," he said, drawing out the word with a wicked smirk, his eyes locked on Summer.
"Hey, shut it!" Summer shot back, laughing, her voice a sultry melody. "Who's Submissive? It's Summer, you douchebag!" Her pout was playful, her hazel eyes sparkling with mock indignation as she tossed her blonde hair, the strands shimmering like spun gold.
"Aye, aye, aye! My bad," Joe said, raising his hands in an exaggerated apology, his charm practically radiating. "You're so damn hot, your name must be Summer." He winked, and Summer giggled, her cheeks flushing a soft pink.
Joe leaned forward, his gaze sweeping over Summer with unabashed appreciation. "Haven't seen Buddy Summer in forever, and damn, what do we have here? A big, hot star with a stunning figure." He flashed a grin at Rajiv. "Looks like my buddy Raj has been putting in some serious effort to carve his beloved wife into that masterpiece!"
Joe Norris was a magnet for women, and it was no mystery why. His tall, chiseled frame, his easy confidence, and that smooth, playful tone could unravel even the most guarded heart. Countless beauties had tried to tie him down, to claim his wealth and charm for themselves, but Joe danced through their desires like a flame, untouchable and insatiable.
Rajiv took a sip of his iced Americano, the cool bitterness grounding him in this fantasy, and leaned forward. "What's so urgent, man? You couldn't tell me over the phone, and you specifically asked me to bring Summer to meet you here."
Joe shifted in his seat, his grin faltering. "Yeah, buddy… I, uh, do have something urgent."
"Huh? What is it?" Rajiv pressed, his curiosity piqued. Summer tilted her head, her lips parting slightly, her gaze flicking between the two men.
"Hmm…" Joe's eyes darted to Rajiv, then lingered on Summer, a rare hesitation clouding his usual confidence. Rajiv raised an eyebrow. This wasn't Joe's style. After years of friendship, they had a tacit understanding—no bullshit, no beating around the bush. Seeing him falter now was… intriguing.
"Go ahead, what's the matter?" Rajiv said, his voice firm. "Hesitation's not your style, Joe."
Joe exhaled, waving a hand as if to shake off his nerves. "Well… fine! fuck it..." he said, his tone regaining its edge. He leaned forward, his gaze locking onto Rajiv's, then sliding to Summer with a bold glint. "I want to borrow Summer to be my girlfriend for just a few days."
"WHAT THE?!" Rajiv and Summer shouted in unison, their voices cutting through the coffee shop's hum.