Peter knew how to do things discreetly. On a warm Sunday afternoon, he took a young woman out to lunch and spent a little time on the beach, all the while giving her the most suitable signals to arouse her spirits. They kissed and took a long walk on the sand, enjoying the vivacious activity among hundreds of beach-goers. And once they finished with their personal time, Peter dropped her off at her home in the suburbs. They shared their last kiss for the day before she got out of her car and waved goodbye as he drove away. And Peter did all of it without his own wife knowing about it. He definitely had some experience in keeping things a well-kept secret.
The woman besides his wife had shown some attraction to him, and he admired her weakened state. He couldn't help it. He was a handsome man with short brown hair and stellar physique. If he didn't accept her offer of stroking his ego in secret, he would have regretted her lack of attention afterwards. And he felt glad that he had the opportunity to know who she really was.
It took him at least thirty minutes to return home in a Los Angeles suburb. Everything appeared to be normal on this sunny and warm afternoon. No clouds, no traffic rush, and no interference with his main objectives. Everything seemed to love alone very smoothly, at least for now.
Peter expected his wife Maribel to be home at this time. The twenty-seven-year-old man inspected his shirt to see if he could find any lipstick, and much to his delight, he didn't find any. He parked on the driveway and looked to see if he could find Maribel inside the house. He called her home as soon as he closed the front door. She didn't answer. He looked everywhere on the first floor and didn't find a trace of her so far.
When he walked up the stairs and entered the master bedroom, he finally found her fully clothed. Maribel was seated on the bed with her arms folded across her chest. Her frown made her appear pessimistic about something, and Peter didn't know exactly what it would be.
He stood right on the open entryway and asked, "What's the matter?"
The red-haired woman stood up. "I want to teach you a valuable lesson."
"Did I do something wrong?"
She took one step forward. "I'd like you to meet someone. He's a friend of mine, and I'm sure he'd like to know you a little more."
Peter suddenly heard footsteps from behind. He turned around to see a tall Native-American man at the center of the hallway. He had long black hair and wore a pair of blue jeans. He looked to have been at least five years older than both Peter and Maribel. His little smile didn't appear normal as it almost conveyed a rather sinister facade which may have illustrated something about his own character.
Maribel proclaimed, "Peter, I'd like you to meet Joe."
Peter raised his hand to shake Joe's own, but the other man didn't move a muscle. His devious little grin didn't dissipate from his face.
Peter cleared his throat and lowered his hand. "So, you're one of Maribel's friends, huh?"
Joe didn't say a word, but did take one slow step forward. Peter began to feel more uneasy. The moderate mixture of sunlight and shadows flooding the hallway turned Joe's brawny exterior into a brooding presence in Peter's line of vision. The husband had trouble finding what to say next.
"So, my wife says that you'd like to know me. Why is that? Am I a celebrity all of a sudden?"
Joe finally said something with a smooth baritone voice. "No, I'd like to know why you're the right one for me."
Peter felt confused. He tried to fake a laugh, but failed. "What do you mean by that?"
Joe stepped closer to the open entryway. Peter had to move backwards into the master bedroom to let Joe in.
Maribel whispered in Peter's ear. "Take your clothes off."
Peter raised his eyebrows at her. "Why would I do that?"
"You better do what I say. Otherwise, Joe is going to be very disappointed."
One momentary look at Joe, and Peter already understood the true nature of his little smile.
Peter shook his head. "I can't do it."
Maribel grabbed his arm. "It's going to be okay. He likes to be gentle at first."
All of a sudden, Joe pulled Peter away from his wife. Peter could feel the Native-American man's tight grip on his right arm.
Joe's fierce stare almost made Peter weak in the knees. "Take your clothes off. That's all you have to do. It's very simple."
Joe didn't let go of Peter, who tried to pull himself away from the other man. Peter looked at Maribel, who now stood just a few feet away from both men. A little smile formed on her face. It didn't look remotely innocuous in Peter's perspective. Her grin appeared more ominous, just like Joe's own.
She wagged her finger at her husband. "Don't break the rules. Do what he says and you won't do anything wrong."
Still nervous, Peter began to shiver. He tried to look away from Joe's portentous gaze.
The Native-American man chuckled. "It looks like I'll have to do it for you."
Joe kept a firm grip on Peter's right arm while unfastening the latter's belt and flinging in the corner.
Peter stood still, feeling afraid that retaliating against a complete stranger would be the downfall of his overall reputation. Joe pulled at Peter's shirt and took it right off of him. He looked down at the shirtless man and licked his lower lip. The slow movement of his tongue made Peter take quicker breaths.
"Maribel, I don't think I should do this."
His wife made a hushing sound. "Don't talk. Just do what he says."
She leaned against the wall and observed everything that unfolded between Peter and Joe. Joe pulled down Peter's blue jeans and boxer shorts before throwing them in the same pile as the rest of the apparel.
Maribel's husband was now naked in the bedroom. Southern California's warm temperatures prevented Peter from shivering due to a bitter cold. He did, however, tremble at the fact that another man examined his bare body with curious eyes.
Joe slowly nodded. "I like what I'm seeing."
Peter was afraid to ask, but he did, anyway. "Are you going to take me?"
