Over the next several weeks, I thought about the interaction and the progress she had made in overcoming the negative feelings about her illicit sex. While we didn't have any further deep conversations, I felt based on her demeanor that she had moved past the event. Indeed, part of me felt she had intended to deliver a message that parts of it she found enjoyable. After lots of thought, I decided I needed to test this theory, and slowly I formulated a plan.
The following Friday I took Abby to a top-end steak house that was heavy with meat, wine, and testosterone. I tried to get her to wear the dress I had picked out but she pushed back and I reluctantly relented as it wasn't crucial to my plans. Still, she looked very good in her more modest cocktail dress, and between the patrons and staff, she received at least a hundred appreciative looks. We left immediately after dessert, but halfway home I made a turn that confused her and it wasn't until we pulled up in front of Luther's that she realized there was more to the night.
"Oh really?" she said as the valet opened the door, but she got out without hesitation while giving the young man a nice view of her legs
Without protest, she allowed me to direct her to the area we had visited before, and I sensed some excitement in her step as we moved through the darker confines. However, she stopped dead in her track when we arrived at a table where Frank and Clemmy sat.
"Wow, this is amazing to see you guys," I said in a fake voice, trying hard to hold back a laugh.
"No kidding! Good to see you again," Frank responded as he stood and hugged my wife.
Of course, I had arranged the rendezvous in the hope that it would help clarify if she had signaled something, an acceptance or interest, during our intimate conversation. She rolled her eyes at me, knowing it had been pre-arranged, but dutifully sat on the opposite love seat facing the mature couple.
"You think you're so clever," she whispered in my ear the first chance she got after the waitress left.
"What do you mean?" I asked, feigning ignorance.
She wasn't mad, in fact, I think she found it amusing, and soon the conversation was going well with no sign of any concerns about our night in the tent.
The bottle of wine we split at the restaurant had gone down well and given us a mellow feeling, and as we chatted after downing several drinks, I knew Abby was feeling no pain. So, with a nod at Frank, which was a pre-planned action, he made the move.
"Why don't you beautiful girls trade places for a bit," he said in his well-mannered voice.
Abby looked at me, but it was more as a smirk than a sign of annoyance, and when Clemmy was almost to us, she started to rise and then made the short move across to the other sofa. The older woman immediately snuggled in close to my side and placed her hand on my thigh, close to my growing dick.
"You're a good husband," she whispered into my ear.
"Am I? I think I'm just one that gives his wife away," I replied.
"Darling, you have to quit treating her like a saint," she told me.
"Well, to me she is a saint," I replied, feeling the need to defend her honor.
"Trust me. She had the time of her life that night in the tent," she responded as her hand found my hardness.
"How do you know?" I asked, feeling she was just saying what she wanted to be true.
"I know," the older woman said and pulled my head down so we could kiss.
She held my head firmly in her hands as our mouths locked, and our kiss became quite passionate. When we finally broke, I looked over and Abby was in a similar embrace with Frank who also had his hand on her ass. Their kiss ended a few seconds later and my wife looked towards me with an impish smile that conveyed both vulnerability and guilt. However, her gaze didn't last long as Frank pulled her back and kissed her again.
"How do you..." I began to ask my older partner, but she stopped me by finding my lips again.
"I just do," she giggled when we broke.
"How?" I asked in a more demanding voice.
"I can't tell you," she answered.
"Why not? Tell me," I pushed.
There was a long pause as she stared at me before she finally said, "Okay, I'm going to tell you and you can be smart or stupid with what you're about to hear."
"Okay..." I replied, confused by her message.
"Since that night...that time in the tent. I've met Abby three times," she stated.
"What?" I replied in shock.
I had thought my wife had been so upset by that evening that I couldn't imagine her meeting with Clemmy. Although, as it sunk in, her recent behavior did offer some clues that I had been wrong about some things.
"Yes, hon... Now, you can never share that information," she continued, looking at me for affirmation.
"Okay," I said, feeling my mouth go dry.
"We've met once for lunch and twice for drinks and discussed everything," she explained, as my eyes grew large.
"And?" I asked.
"I told you. She had the time of her life," she said.
"I don't understand. She got very angry with me," I told her.
"Honey, no woman, especially a young one is going to admit to her husband that she loved sex with another man. You have to coax that out of her over time," she said softly as we cuddled.
"Did you tell her I arranged with y'all to meet here?" I asked.
"No sweetie. We thought it would be way more fun to just let it play out," she giggled.
"Y'all are bad. No...y'all are evil," I replied in mock offense, which made her giggle even harder.
"Tell me what she liked about it," I asked when the thought popped up in my brain.
"They fucked her," she answered.
"Yes, I know but what did she like about it," I continued, hoping they had shared that conversation.
