Elizabeths Roman Awakening Ch 03

11.

The ristorante was elegant in its simplicity in the way that many Roman restaurants can be, and managed to convey its high class status with the attentiveness of its wait staff rather than lots of ornate fixtures. The group of six had been pampered by a helpful sommelier since being seated and as a result, all of the diners had a nice buzz going and there was much laughter and chatter all around. Only Anne and Joseph refrained from alcohol. It did not escape Michael's notice that occasionally Joseph's dark hand would casually rest on Elizabeth's sleek thigh, or that Joseph would turn to Elizabeth, lift her hair and lean close to whisper something in her ear.

Michael was extremely uncomfortable at first but noticed the overly familiar, almost possessive way Patrice treated Anne, sitting across from him. He thought that perhaps it was simply the social norm for Nigerians to be gregarious and fun loving. In fact, he had been to parties with Joseph's brothers which had been by his standards a little on the wild side, so tonight seemed restrained by comparison.

Across the table from them, Patrice whispered something to Anne, and she ran her hand gracefully across his chest and nodded her head in agreement. She spoke up saying, "Nigel, Patrice and I are going to dance." It was a statement rather than a request for permission.

Nigel looked at them and replied quickly, "Of course! Nothing would please me more."

The restaurant was exceptional, almost unique by Roman standards, in that it had a dance area courtesy of a mid 1980's expansion into an adjacent bar which had fallen on hard times after the collapse of disco. They were seated adjacent to tiny dance floor where tightly packed couples rocked out to a small combo covering current hits. As Patrice and Anne danced vigorously, Michael found himself unable to tear his gaze from them. Inexplicably, his face flushed and he had all the signs of sexual arousal, including a sudden erection. He became painfully aware of this, and felt annoyed with himself. Elizabeth rose from her seat next to Joseph and walked to stand directly behind her husband. She leaned over and kissed his cheek tenderly and whispered in his ear, "Darling, why don't you ask Joseph if he'd like to dance with me? He is all alone in a strange country and doesn't really know anyone outside the diplomatic corps here. Besides, as you pointed out, it might be good if he had nice things to say about you to his brothers back in Nigeria."

She excused herself to go to the ladies lavatory, and Michael leaned over to Joseph, speaking loudly so he could be heard over the rendition of "Proud Mary", just reaching its high volume crescendo. "Are you enjoying your time here on Italy, then Joseph?" he asked.

Joseph looked at him and arching an eyebrow, replied, "Well, I must admit I encounter rather more racial enmity than I expected. In fact, you and your lovely wife are amongst the few whites I have met here who didn't look at me with veiled distaste -- and sometime not so veiled! I am thinking of leaving here and recommending to my family back home that we should sign oil lease and mineral rights agreements with China rather than western companies.

Michael reacted with genuine concern, saying, "I am so sorry to hear that. Please don't assume we are all like that. May I add that I am very appreciative of your friendship with my wife. She speaks glowingly of you and has said that she really enjoys jogging with you."

Joseph smiled to himself thinking, that's not all she enjoys, as you may soon learn. Instead he spoke appreciatively of his new friendship with Elizabeth, whom they both could see wending her way back to the table. She leaned over and kissed Michael then handed him something and whispered, "Darling, my panties ripped somehow. Can you just stuff them somewhere without being conspicuous? Be a dear."

Michael reddened with embarrassment, but recovered shoving them in his inside coat pocket, then nodded his head, and whispered, "Liz darling, it just occurred to me how much you like to dance and what a terrible dancer I am. Perhaps Joseph would like to dance?"

Elizabeth raised a brow, and Joseph nodded his assent, then rose quickly from his seat. In a moment, they were off, making their way through the throng. When a fast number started, some of the dancers departed the floor, leaving Michael and Nigel with a clear view of their black dinner companions and their wives. Michael and Nigel continued to nurse their glasses of wine without conversation. They both admired their wives and their grace and energy with their dark dance partners. When another slow number started, Nigel leaned over to Michael and said smiling, "God, don't our wives look spectacular with their black lovers! Have they treated you to watching them in bed yet?"

Michael's eye popped open wide and his jaw dropped. He hardly knew how to respond to such a provocative and unexpected comment. He blurted out, "Lover? Lover? What the fuck did you . . .? I mean, Uhhh. My Elizabeth would never be interested in something like that. What the hell are you talking about?"

Nigel patted him on the wrist reassuringly, "Calm down old man. I'm sorry for offending you! I thought you knew of our situation and just rather assumed you were doing the same thing with Joseph. Really, you must admit they look incredibly sexy together out there. Just look at the way Joseph is holding your wife. Why, it's as though they truly are lovers. Look at his dark skin against her paleness. Honestly, look the way his hands move over her body."

Michael looked more intently at his wife and the powerfully built Joseph, having had his attention called to them. The Alto sax player held the last notes of the song, "Meglio Stasera: It Had Better Be Tonight," and as he did, he saw Joseph dip Elizabeth, one hand supporting her back and the other firmly cupping her buttock.

The contrast between their skin colors was especially striking since Elizabeth's dress was backless and her alabaster skin seemed almost luminescent on the dance floor. When Joseph assisted her back to a standing position, his hand slid down her back and was stopped only when it caught in the material an inch above the swell of her petite derriere. Michael found himself unaccountably aroused by this and his dick even twitched spasmodically, depositing a little squirt of precum on his Y-fronts.

Another energetic ballroom-style number started, and the two couples began whirling around again. As Patrice and Anne danced, they came quite close to the table where the husbands were sitting. Her short dress twirled enough for Michael to see a curious tattoo high up on Anne's right thigh. It depicted a large, upward pointing symbol, a spade such as one might see on a card deck. The spade was solid black with a capital letter "Q" left open in the middle. Michael stared at it several seconds, just to make sure, as the couple danced close to the table.

When they moved away, Nigel saw Michael continue to stare. He piped up saying, "I see you looking at Anne's "Queen of Spades" ink. Striking isn't it? It means what you might imagine it means -- she is announcing to the world, and especially black men that she is a hot wife, and accepts black men only inside her. Can you honestly sit here and say you wouldn't like to see your Elizabeth carrying one of her own some day?"

Michael blurted out, "Hey, look! What . . I mean, what the hell are you saying. I ought to punch your lights out. This is ridiculous. I told you Elizabeth would never go for something like that, even if I wanted it, which I do not! In the first place, she's hardly sexual at all. I mean . . . Well, she is practically frigid in bed. I hardly ever make her . . . "

Realizing he had revealed too much information, he quickly bit off his words and fell silent. Nigel rushed right into the conversational gap, exclaiming, "Dear boy, that's all the more reason to encourage Elizabeth to become sexual with your black friend there. I guarantee she won't be frigid after a few nights with him. In fact, she will be just the kind of hot wife my Anne is. Believe me, we started out just the same way and now look at her. It's the most exciting thing a husband can witness. Think of this simply as a most erotic way to improve your marriage."

12.

The air in the club grew sultry. Nigel had waited for a few minutes, changing the conversation current. He was letting his words sink in. After a few more minutes, he turned to Michael conspiratorially and whispered, "You know old chap, I saw the way you were looking at our young Nigerian with his hands all over your wife. Your tongue was practically hanging out. Admit it, you're at least thinking a little about seeing that little wife of yours with a strong black bull between her legs!"

Michael swallowed hard, and nodded slightly, the added, "Well, even if I was thinking that -- and I wasn't -- even if I was, how would I . . . you know . . . How would that happen?"

Nigel secretly smiled at his new companion. He could see that there was a glimmer genuine interest there. He said again in a conspiratorial tone, "Why don't we meet for coffee tomorrow morning and I will help guide you through the steps. I will be happy to work with you to make your fantasy a reality. In the meantime, here's something to pique your interest. I promise, your manhood will be rock hard after seeing it."

Nigel quickly scrawled out a web URL on his business card and gave it to Michael, then added, "The password is 'cuckboy', can you remember that?" Michael nodded and absent-mindedly stuffed the card into his back pocket.

Looking across to the dance floor, Nigel caught the eye of a suddenly attentive Joseph who in turn whispered something to Elizabeth. She glanced at her husband with a look combining equal measures of puzzlement, disappointment, and even a little disgust. She suspected of course what had been going on, and what the husbands had been discussing. She didn't think Michael would be easy to manipulate, and she had very mixed feelings about the possibility in any event.

She loved her husband deeply and the sudden thought occurred to her that the whirlwind nature of her yielding to Joseph was all happening too fast and represented a clear danger to her marriage. In particular, she frowned slightly as she thought of the number of times Joseph had already finished inside her despite her initial insistence that he use protection. She grimaced as she considered that she might already be in a difficult situation in a foreign country where there were really no options. She was deeply conflicted and suddenly wanted to cut short the evening.

As they returned to the table, Elizabeth fanned her face, but Joseph took her hand and continued to hold it as though her husband was non-existent. Only when they were seated did Elizabeth forcefully break the contact. Michael noticed this and smiled a drunken little smile at his wife, who was now looking darts at him. She cooled off a bit when the conversation turned to how much fun the dancing had been, and how loud the dance floor had become. Joseph controlled most of the conversation and after several more minutes of amusing banter spread his hands and offered, "Well, my friends. The hour grows late and we all have much to do in the morning, I am sure. Shall I call for the Chauffeur?"

Amidst weak protests, they all eventually agreed that although the night had been fun, perhaps it was time after all. The wait staff were pleased, for although they knew they would be getting huge gratuities from the free spending black man, it was after all 2 A.M.

As they emerged from the restaurant, Michael still felt a mixture of a slightly drunken haze and sexual tension. The haze was certainly the effect of too much grain and the lingering effect of hearing Nigel's explanation of the hypersexual relationship in his cuckold marriage and the suggestion that Michael could have the same thing if only he could persuade Elizabeth. His heart raced as he considered an image of his wife, with her legs spread open for their host of this evening. At the same time, he too was conflicted. On the one hand, the prospect -- however remote -- of Elizabeth becoming what Nigel had described as a "hotwife" was deeply erotic. It made his member stiffen against his briefs and twitch persistently. Against this was the thought that Elizabeth could never be persuaded to participate in such an arrangement.

He could feel that the night had grown cold, cold enough for him to see his breath in the street lamp they walked under. Ahead of him on the steep stairway to the street, he saw Patrice and Anne and could not help but notice they walked so close together that their breath actually mingled and merged into a single mist in the post-midnight darkness. He wondered again for a moment whether that could ever be a vision of what might be possible with his wife, but as excited as the thought made him, dismissed the idea, knowing deep inside that she would never be open to it.

Still, he thought idly as they filed into the Mercedes limo, if perhaps he could encourage things in just the right way as Nigel had proposed -- a little word here, a little suggestion there -- he might be able to sway her to at least flirt with the tall Nigerian who had already reached the street level and was holding the door open for the entourage. The sudden thought of this made him tingle inside.

Once in the car, the warmth made Michael feel cozy and a bit drowsy. Across from them, Patrice and Anne were whispering. Within moments, they were kissing deeply, his wide lips covering hers in an open mouthed kiss. Every time they passed a street lamp on the Via del Tritone, he caught a long glimpse of the couple and Nigel looking on. This time, Patrice's hand squeezing Anne's breast; the next, Patrice kissing her exposed neck, her head at an angle; and the next, Anne squeezing what was obviously his large erect cock snaking down his trouser leg.

As the limo was alternately bathed in bright illumination from the traffic lamps and deep shadow traveling between them, the car interior became a series of moving snapshots that made Michael swallow hard and his heart race. When they finally arrived at the Via del Corso, the trio alighted. Patrice gave a hearty handshake to his host and kissed Elizabeth on the lips. After the door closed the remaining trio rearranged themselves, with Elizabeth now sitting in the place just vacated and Joseph facing them.

He smiled and said softly, "It was a lovely evening. Thank you for allowing me to host you and enjoy your company. Mrs. Perry, I truly enjoyed dancing with you very much."

Seconds later, Joseph's iPhone rang. He looked at the caller's ID, and then said, "It's Patrice. One wonders what the man wants?"

He began chatting in an African dialect, which Michael thought he recognized as Ijo, but understood not at all. Joseph seemed very focused on the conversation, so Michael turned to Elizabeth, and whispered quietly, "Darling, I want you to do something for me. Can you without asking why?"

Even in the dark, he could sense her frowning in puzzlement. "Uhhh. Ok. I suppose so. What's this favor?"

Michael licked his lips and leaned close. "When our host finishes his call, I would like you to switch seat and sit beside him. Then tell him how much we enjoyed the evening and give him an appreciative kiss -- a very appreciative kiss if you see what I mean. Can you do that? I want him to have a favorable impression of us. It would help enormously to cement my dealings with his family. I know it's asking a lot, but . . ."

He was sweating profusely now despite the coolness of the evening. If Elizabeth went for this, then perhaps she could be persuaded to do other, even bolder things.

Elizabeth frowned. This was rather a strange and unexpected surprise. She voiced her objection, insisting, "Michael Allen Perry, are you crazy?" She gripped his sweaty palm and continued, "Are you sure you want me to do this? What if he wants something more than a kiss? What if he touched me or got the wrong idea?"

Michael tried to clear his head to respond, and started to say something but then simply shrugged his shoulders. The Nigerian Prince finished his call, then explained in an even voice that Anne seemed to be having labor pains, and laughed that Patrice was probably over-reacting as this was his first breeding.

13.

Now, on hearing this frank description delivered in such a cavalier manner, Michael's jaw involuntary dropped and he was speechless. It suddenly hit him that his wife was definitely still fertile and perhaps encouraging her to become flirtatious with this virile looking Nigerian was the last thing he should be encouraging. He felt Elizabeth preparing to move from her position beside him to the opposite seat. Suddenly clear headed, he reached for her arm to restrain her, but too late as with one fluid motion, she was nestled thigh against thigh with their host.

Elizabeth patted Joseph's thigh lightly and looked steadily into his deep brown eyes. She smiled and spoke loudly enough for both men to hear over the steady thrum of the engine, "Your Highness, both my husband and I want to thank you for this wonderful evening. I can't remember the last time I danced so much and had so much fun! Michael wanted me to express our appreciation in some way, and well, please don't think me too forward, but . . . well, this was Michael's idea . . ." Her voice trailed off and as the limo came to a stop at a traffic light, she reached over, turned Joseph's face toward hers and to Michael's astonishment, she offered him her lips which were slightly parted. Joseph broke the kiss momentarily, then looking deep into her eyes kissed her more forcefully.

Michael swallowed hard and felt his member stiffen, then pulse, leaking precum into his briefs. He watched as his wife's mouth opened and in the garish light he could see her sucking Joseph's thick tongue. The light changed and the big Mercedes pulled away quickly. Joseph grabbed Elizabeth's slender arms, ostensibly to steady her and it doing so pulled her close again. As the African prince's dark hands slid up and down Elizabeth's pale, slender arms Michael's heart began to race and he found it hard to swallow.

Although she had needed no coaxing to deep kiss Joseph, Elizabeth felt a sudden chill run up her spine and a wrenching nausea as she looked over to see Michael's eyes drill into her. A message, unspoken but shared by their 18 years together was being delivered. The realization that her marriage could be in serious peril, and her whole way of life could be in jeopardy made her grow rigid with fear. Despite the incredible sexual blossoming she had experienced with Joseph, her heart was filled with remorse, her mind overwhelmed with doubt.

Her unconscious brain was doing an instant calculation, asking herself whether anything -- no matter how wonderful it had felt in the moment -- could be worth losing her husband, or her respectable position in her community back in Indiana, or perhaps even the love of her family and their daughter. She shook her head unseen in the limo's dark interior, but the decision had been made for her. She wanted no part of this, nothing more to do with the prince or his manipulation of her man and her marriage.

Despite this, their host had no sense anything had changed. Joseph turned toward Michael, smiled and said softly, "It is very generous of you to share your wonderful wife. As you perhaps know from your many visits to my homeland, it is considered a gracious gift to acknowledge a superior member of the tribe by gifting him with your woman. I must say it is unexpected from a westerner, but I am honored by your generosity."

At this Michael's eyes widened to the size of saucers, and his jaw dropped open. He stuttered as he tried to find words.