Hotwife Confession Journal Entry 06

It was well established that Fridays were a work-from-home day for me, but it seemed strongly implied from Greg's after-work plans he meant we would be leaving directly from the office. I spent a fair amount of time this morning in my walk-in closet. Simultaneously trying to not wake Tom, while trying to put together an outfit. It needed to be ok for a day at the office but would also befit an evening out. The result was that I was feeling a bit thrown together.

After a couple of hours of productive time at my desk, I noticed the office building was still quiet. It seemed Thursday was a false start to the new year. Sure, some people had taken the whole week off for the holiday. However, plenty of folks had come in yesterday for meetings and to coffee-badge in. Today however, most of those who made the effort yesterday were gone today. Even Greg was strangely absent.

Sammie had come in though. She gave me a warm hug as she noticed me already at my desk when she arrived. With so few people in the office, she accepted my invitation to setup her laptop in my office. We shared a comfortable silence, chatting only occasionally, while getting work done. There was no pressure for updates on my tawdry doings. I suppose we knew we would get around to girl talk when the time was right.

Midday came quickly as I worked through my to-do list. New emails were sparse and no meetings scheduled. I looked to Sammie.

"How's it going over there?" I asked.

"Pretty good. All caught up. Inbox is quiet," she responded, gradually taking her eyes away from her laptop as she finished reading something.

She looked at me and then over her shoulder to survey the open floor-plan outside the glass wall of my office.

"I was thinking of going home. It looks like most people are taking an early weekend," Sammie said.

I nodded in agreement and gazed generally in the direction Greg's office is on the far side of the floor. "I thought I had evening plans, but now I'm not so sure."

"Oh, really! So, things are still going full steam ahead?" Sammie nudged.

I smiled. "Yeah," I started cheerily, and met Sammie's gaze. "Last night Greg texted me about going out tonight. I should be exhausted and ready for a quiet weekend but...."

"...but hot new romance can be very energizing," she finished for me.

I nodded again. "My whole household has been in a rut for a while. Pizza Fridays. Going to bed early. Falling asleep to something streaming on the TV. I've wanted to get out more. Tom makes an effort," I acknowledged. "We get out for the occasional date night. Sometimes we even coax my teenagers away from their video games to join us for dinner at a restaurant. But..." I blew air a deep breath out. "...the last couple of days have been electric. It's like I'm running on pent up energy I didn't know I had. Eagerly racing from one thing to the next."

"So, what did you tell Greg?" Sammie asked, breaking me out of my introspection.

"Huh?"

"When Greg texted about going out... What did you say?" she asked.

Greg's text had just been an instruction. A reminder, almost. It read simply, 'Tomorrow, as agreed,' and had the hotel reservation information. There was no question or invitation to respond to. I suddenly realized that I had not texted back at all.

"Oh, gosh. Sammie, I didn't say anything," I said, pulling out my personal phone.

I opened my texts with Greg and confirmed the last text was as I remembered it. No response from me. I started tapping.

Text to Greg (Personal), "Where are you?"

I looked up at Sammie with a slight panicked look.

"What were the plans supposed to be?" she asked.

My phone dinged a text alert.

"Uh, dinner, I assumed. Then...uh... a hotel reservation," I admitted.

"Oh!" Sammie acknowledged with some understanding. "A nice hotel?" she asked.

"THE nice hotel, Sammie," I emphasized.

I looked down at my phone and read the new text.

Text from Greg, "I'm working from home, sort of. Where are you? Don't you work from home every Friday?"

Text to Greg (Personal), "I'm in the office. I thought we were going out after work."

Text from Greg, "I hadn't heard from you. I was starting to think you couldn't come or wasn't interested. I was about to cancel the reservation."

Text to Greg (Personal), "Your text said, 'Tomorrow, as agreed.' I just thought, ya know."

Text from Greg, "Thought what? You have a life and fam, Nancy. I was very hopeful, but about to cancel the reservation. I can't expect you can just go out whenever. You being married. We haven't really talked about that. This is a lot of fun, but you have a life. I'm not trying to mess anything up. Please know, you're in total control. I'm just trying to match your energy."

Me? In total control? The notion seemed laughable on a number of levels. And what was that thing about matching my energy? Greg had said something like that at his house the first night, hadn't he? What was that all about?

Text to Greg (Personal), "Thank you. You're sweet. I get sorta swept up. I am totally planning to go out with you tonight if you're still up for it."

From Greg, "That's great! I'm excited. I can probably check into the hotel remotely whenever. The hotel has a really nice restaurant. We could do drinks and something to eat. It will take me a bit to get ready but I could meet you there or pick you up on the way downtown. Whatever is safest."

He was being careful of work boundaries. That was good. I looked out my window at the parking lot.

Text to Greg (Personal), "The building is practically deserted. I would love a ride. When can you be here?"

Text from Greg, "Is 3 ok?"

Text to Greg (Personal), "Perfect. See you then!"

I checked the time. That was still a few hours away but still better than a full afternoon killing time.

"Well," Sammie, chimed in.

I forgot she was patiently waiting for me to finish my text conversation.

"We are still on. He's picking me up at 3. Dinner, drinks,... and a room," I smiled.

"Wait, he's picking you up here?" she questioned.

"Yeah, the place is deserted. It seems safe," I responded.

"Nanc', this is a swanky place. It should be a fabulous night out. Don't you want to dress it up a bit more?" she ventured.

I looked at myself and shrugged, "I left the house this morning assuming it was a workday first, then a little night out. I know the place is 'swanky' but what was I supposed to do? I tried to dress it up but still keep it appropriate for the office. I know the result is..."

"...kind of a hodge podge," Sammie finished.

I shrugged, again. The point was obvious. I had to just settle on unmatched basics for underwear, a neutral blouse, a sensible skirt, admittedly well worn, dull work shoes. The whole outfit is not worth recounting but the one thing I thought dressed it up was a pair of expensive black, glossy pantyhose, purchased by my optimistic husband years ago. I have an extensive collection of that.

...

We chose a high-end local boutique, that had all the amenities of a nice department store but with an exclusive feel to it. Not my first or second choice for shopping but it was close by and we had limited time.

Sammie pulled a couple of options off the racks. I shook my nose at several. There were sale signs on some of the flashier dresses, so we gravitated near the sales. Even so, the price tags were jaw dropping. Sammie pulled down a shimmery gown. I admired it. The fabric felt luxurious, and hung clean and sleek. No fluff. It could be my style, I supposed. I had never worn anything like it but it was eye catching, on the hanger at least.

"It looks like a New Year's gown," I offered, suggesting it was perhaps too glamorous.

"Precisely why it is on sale. Besides, when was the last time you got dressed up for a New Year's Eve ball?" she challenged.

"Precisely, never," I retorted.

"Then tonight is your night," she concluded, and we made our way to the dressing rooms, shadowed by an elegant saleswoman who had already presented us with a pair of champagne flutes while browsing.

The dress fit perfectly. It was full length. The black fabric shimmered with a silvery weave throughout. I looked at myself in the mirror and noticed the slit in the side went all the way to my hip. I could see the panties I had chosen nearly at random this morning, not having anymore fun options. That was no good. I checked my front. The neckline draped elegantly to my cleavage, but my trusty work bra was showing. Also, no good. I sulked, feeling a little defeated.

"The dress is perfect and the leggings work," Sammie encouraged from behind me. "Where did you even get those?"

"Tom bought them for me ages ago. I just took them out of the package this morning. They're Italian, I think. He had to buy them off a UK website and paid in British Pounds," I mused, admiring how the supreme quality, black, high gloss, pantyhose worked well with the dress.

"Well, those stay. But the underwear and shoes need to go," she concluded.

She disappeared back into the store. The salesperson returned with two more flutes of champagne. I sipped while I waited. I finished my second flute before Sammie returned and the saleswoman handed me the second, meant for Sammie, with a wink. She took the empty one and indicated she would be back with another round.

Sammie returned with a pair of heels in one hand, some manner of coat draped over her arm, and a couple of pieces of tiny fabric in her other hand, clearly the underwear she intended me to wear.

The champagne helped, but I was comfortable changing in front of Sammie. I worked myself out of the dress and hosiery, then put on the bra and panties.

"Sammie, I can't!" I protested.

The panties were fun. A black G-string. The tiny straps went high over the hip and completely disappeared in my ass. The tiny piece of fabric at the front was very sheer, leaving nothing to the imagination. The bra had thin straps and demi-cups with sheer fabric to match the panties. The bra offered virtually no support.

"I can't wear stuff like this. My boobs are too big," I continued my protest, as I stepped into the heels Sammie placed before me.

The shoes fit and would match the dress nicely, but the spike heels required a good deal of balance.

"Look I get it, but its fashion over function when it comes to sexy flings. Trust me girl, you've still got it. You just haven't been out there for a bit to show it off. Everything fits perfect and it will all come together," she encouraged.

Then she leaned in and popped the price tags off the bra and panties. Then did the same for the dress hanging on the wall of the dressing room.

"You are taking it all. Here, just make sure the cover fits ok," she said, as she handed it to me.

The saleswoman returned with two new flutes of champagne, just as I slid the coat on and adjusted it. My glass had emptied again. The saleswoman smiled at me and handed me my new glass. I felt ridiculous in heels, revealing underwear, and a long, light cover to go with the dress I was not wearing at the moment.

"It's quite the look, huh?" Sammie teased at the saleswoman.

The saleswoman smiled.

"You'll make quite a lovely impression," she offered, trying to be supportive of a sale but not overstepping any boundaries of professionalism.

Sammie snapped the tag off the coat, added it to the others she collected, as well as the price sticker she must have peeled off the bottom of the heels before I even saw them, then handed it all to the saleswoman.

"She will take it all and be wearing it out," she instructed the, now quite enthusiastic, saleswoman. "Would you mind arranging a full makeup as well?"

My heart fluttered at the bill she was racking up for me.

"Of course," the saleswoman returned and she let herself out of the space.

Sammie looked to me. "Now put yourself together. You need some smokey eyes to complete the look, and we have just enough time."

She was not exaggerating. The woman at the makeup counter gave me a full face of makeup, while Sammie worked my hair into a complicated braid that kept my hair off my neck and shoulders. There was no time for a blowout at a dry bar. I checked my reflection in a mirror and took a sharp inhale. The effect was reminiscent of a 1920's flapper girl. I felt so glamorous, suddenly not regretting the huge bill I just put on my credit card.

...

Greg texted he was nearly at the office while Sammie raced us back to the building. She pulled up to the building, let me out, and just barely made her escape before Greg pulled into the parking lot. He found me standing alone, waiting.

He parked in front of me and got out of his car awestruck.

"My god, Nancy. You look incredible!" he said.

Greg looked pretty sharp himself. He was in a well-tailored suit and tie. I was suddenly quite thankful for the impromptu makeover.

"This is how you came to work today?" he gaped. "I missed out."

"I most certainly did not," I corrected. "And you will be missing absolutely nothing," I quipped.

"Then how?" he asked, as he took my hand and formally guided me around the car to the passenger door. He opened it for me.

"A lady can have some secrets, can't she?" I offered with a mysterious air to my voice.

As I stepped into the car, the high slit on the left side of my dress opened up and exposed a long glossy leg and heel. Greg was transfixed. I slid the rest of the way into my seat, careful to collect the rest of the gown into the car.

"Yes, I suppose so," he said, dazed. Standing over me, he was getting an eye-full of my cleavage as he slowly closed the door.

He hastened around the car and off we went for out elegant evening.

...

Having valeted the car, we took a couple of seats at the bar in the restaurant, as they readied an early table for dinner. My white wine came in an oversized glass, disguising the heavy pour it contained. Seated at the bar, my stool facing the empty one next to me, I confirmed what I suspected in the car. There was no hiding the full length of my leg in this dress while seated. I could sense the light breeze from the ceiling fans all the way up my hip. Greg returned from the dining area to my left, having just tipped the waitstaff to give us a table earlier in the day than they were prepared for. As he approached, he got a nice view with my left leg crossed over my right. It occurred to me, this was probably exactly what these pantyhose were designed for and probably exactly what Tom had envisioned when he was buying them for his wife.

"So stunning," Greg offered as he neared me.

"Really? I'm glad you approve. I admit, I haven't gotten a good look at myself."

I picked up my phone and offered it to him.

"Would you mind taking a picture?"

He stepped back to get the full view in frame. I held a careful pose. Trying to look elegant, with my exposed leg and cleavage both visible to the camera. I rested my left hand on my thigh, wine glass in my right hand. Greg snapped a few shots. Then returned my phone as he resumed his seat next to me. He took a sip of his scotch and rocks. I flipped through the shots. I had to feel a bit proud of how nice I looked. It felt really good. I noticed my engagement diamond really caught the light in one of the images and I kept that one, deleting the others.

"You seem to enjoy being on camera," he observed.

Greg slid to the edge of his seat so he could place a hand on my thigh. I knew he had been waiting to do that since we got in the car. His touch made me warm.

I attached the image to a text to Tom, "Going out after work for a bit. I hope you approve. Let me know, otherwise please DO wait up!"

I sent it, silenced my phone, and placed it down.

"Not typically, Greg. No." I leaned in to whisper to him, "But once I accepted being filmed doing impossibly obscene things in your living room, the possibilities seemed endless."

Just then we were invited to our table.

Once seated, I ordered another glass of wine and a light meal to pair with it, based on the server's recommendation. Greg and I sat admiring each other for several moments from across the table.

"Do you mind if I ask you a personal question?" he said, breaking the silence.

"I think we are close enough for that," I smirked.

"What...have you been telling your husband? If anything?" he asked, cautiously.

It was a risky move. If I was a guilt-ridden wife, who was swept up in an escapade that was barely 48 hours past crossing the line into sexual infidelity, discussing my husband might well have brought me to my senses and sent me running for the door. The facts were, that without the complete honesty with my husband, his enthusiastic encouragement, and the amazing support of Sammie; that emotional response would have been a likely outcome. Even with all that, a small war still simmers inside me. I am journaling this all out for that very reason, aren't I?

"Oh, I tell him quite a bit," I answered, taking a sip of wine.

I thought I was being forthcoming but immediately realized that response could mean either I was telling Tom quite a bit of lies or quite a bit of truth. A reasonable person would simply assume lies.

"I guess what I mean is, what is this? You and me," he pressed. "We've had a lot of quality time together, these last few days. I imagine it's not easy getting out of the house for an evening like this."

"Not easy," I started thinking of both the emotions involved as well as the effort to keep getting ready for these jaunts. "Greg, I think we are two consenting adults. This is new and thrilling. I am thoroughly enjoying it. I hope you feel the same way." My eyes checked around us and continued, "Yesterday, I consented that you would fuck me today. And here I am. I hope you will take full advantage of it."

I leaned back in my seat, wishing I had a lit cigarette to complete the confident, casual, flapper girl look. Holding my wine glass nonchalantly would have to do. I resumed answering Greg's question," As for my husband, I think you understand that my family and my career are very important to me. Those have to come first. You are being great and respectful of both. If you can keep that up, that goes a long way to helping this remain fun. But I want to be clear, this has to remain harmless fun. As soon as it's not, it ends. Completely and permanently. I don't want to fall in love with you, as easy as that might be. I want to be responsible with your emotions as well. Please tell me if this gets complicated for you too. Otherwise, this can continue as long as it works for both of us. But understand, my family and career are off-limits."

Silence hung for a bit. It felt like the conversation took a stern turn. I was just trying to firm up those boundaries I promised myself I would.

I felt obligated to ease the tension. I leaned forward, letting my dress open a bit at the front.

"I hope that's ok, because this bra was not cheap and I assure you it, along with everything you see in front of you, was prepared specifically for your enjoyment tonight."

I placed my hand on his, my wedding rings sparkling in the dinner lighting.

"You're amazing, Nancy," he smiled, seeming to admire the view. "I look forward to thoroughly enjoying you tonight."

"You better. I expect to take a few days off after this. So, make it count."

Greg gave me a devilish grin. He intended to. How nice.

...

Dinner was lovely. We dined and drank. Greg signed for the bill, and we made our way to the hotel elevators. Once the door closed, we embraced. There was no rush to the passion tonight. No apprehension either. We kissed and groped in the elevator with sensual ease, knowing we could let things build naturally. We locked fingers as we held hands in the hallway to our room.

Once inside, I marveled at the room. It was lovely. Greg had ordered more wine for the room. It was waiting, chilled and open for us. I tossed my cover to a chair and held my arms out beholding the lovely space. I turned to Greg, and he closed the space between us. He pressed his face into my exposed cleavage and kissed the skin at the top of my breasts. I ran my fingers through his hair.