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Finding Out About Mr. M (Part 2)

A frustrated wife can't stop thinking about her new neighbor.

Chapter 4 – Temptation.

One week later. 8:45PM.

Tom's occasional shift changes had turned into a regular thing over the past week. And as bad as it may sound, Jen kind of liked it. Her husband's 8-4 shift had been replaced with a 2-10, and that resulted in her rarely seeing him these days. And not feeling the slightest bit of sadness over seeing her husband less had to be a sign, right? That things were officially dead? 

She'd been thinking more and more about the conversation she had with her daughter last week. Jen finally accepted responsibility for the way things turned out in her life. As much as she loved Tom at the beginning of their relationship, he still lacked the vital qualities she needed. Unfortunately, she wasn't aware of just how important those qualities were at the time. Chalk it up to her youth or blindness of being in love or whatever, but she greatly regretted not being married to someone who had the mentality she desired. And to make matters worse, her sexual lust had only grown since the new neighbor moved in next door. And suddenly every guy at the gym was sexier to her as well. Their muscles looked more defined, their bodies more toned, and their confidence felt stronger. Everywhere she looked she saw men. Real men. Not forty-seven-year-old boys who played video games and ate fast food. She saw men who took care of their bodies, men who spent their time bettering themselves, and men who weren't afraid to tell women exactly what they wanted.

And Jen almost slipped.

It started at the gym three days ago. She was midway through her leg and butt workout when she walked over to the water fountain to get a drink and give her body a few minutes to cool down.

“What are you doing tonight?”

She reached out to grab a paper towel from the dispenser on the wall and wiped the sweat from her forehead. When she turned around, she saw a young man standing behind her. He was a tall, Italian looking, college-aged kid in a tank top and basketball shorts. His arms were chiseled and visible veins were bulging from his biceps and forearms. His shoulders were thick and wide but his body was lean. His face had a sexy, dark scruff and his black hair was wavy and curly. But as good as he looked, the confidence which oozed from him was what grabbed her attention.

“Excuse me?

“What are you doing tonight?” the young stud repeated.

She flashed him a courtesy smile before tossing her paper towel into the garbage can. “Umm...I'll be at home...”

“At home?” he grinned. “That doesn't sound very fun to me.” 

Jen took a step to her right but it was matched by this young man who continued to stand in front of her. “I'm going to take you out.”

She laughed as she looked into his dark, masculine eyes. “You're what?”

“I'm going to take you out,” he confidently repeated. “We'll grab a coffee and then go back to my place. Hang out for a while.”

She responded by raising her left hand into the air to show him her wedding ring.

“And...?”

“And?” she asked.

“Yeah... And?”

“Umm...I'm married, sweetheart,” she smiled before attempting to take another step to her right. He once again matched it.

“Is your husband out there?” he asked while glancing toward the weights.

Jen responded with a chuckle.

“Not a gym guy, huh?” he asked. “How does that work? You work hard to take care of your body but your husband doesn't?”

“We make it work,” she answered. She was lying.

The muscular college student grinned at her. “You seem like a real straightforward kind of woman to me. Someone who doesn't have time for games and bullshit. So I'm going to be straightforward with you too.”

Jen had a surprised expression on her face as she continued to listen.

“I'm going to give to you whatever you're not getting at home...”

Her jaw dropped.

“And when I'm done with you, you're not going to remember your husband's name.”

“You've got some balls, you know that?” Jen laughed.

“Oh,” he grinned, “you have no idea...”

Jen took a step back which was matched by a step forward from this younger man. This repeated until she found her back against the wall. The built, college kid was towering over her with his large frame.

“Anthony,” he finally introduced himself from only a foot away.

“Jen,” she quietly told him. “And I'm old enough to be your mother.”

He slowly took in her body with his eyes before peering back at her face. “You don't look like any mom I've ever seen.”

She instinctively bit her lip before glancing down at the floor. What was she doing? Why was she tempting herself like this? What good could possibly come from flirting with someone more than twenty years younger than her?

“When was the last time you got what you wanted?” Anthony asked.

“I have everything I need,” she answered with her eyes still positioned on the ground. She suddenly felt his presence draw closer as he reached his arm out and pressed it against the wall behind her. He was just inches from her at this point. He had the mom trapped against the wall, but even if he didn't, Jen wasn't going anywhere.

“No,” he quietly told her, “I'm talking about what you really want.”

Her eyes finally looked up. “And you're gonna give me what I want?”

A confident grin appeared on his face as he lightly shook his head. “No, I'm gonna give you things you had no idea you wanted. Things that never even crossed your mind before.”

“And how do you know what I want?”

Anthony smiled. “Every woman wants the same thing, but unfortunately, there aren't a lot of guys out there who can give it to them.”

“And what exactly is it I want?” Jen inquired.

The college student leaned in even closer until his mouth was hovering beside her ear. “To get fucked within an inch of your life.”

Jen felt a quiver shoot through her body. No one had talked to her like this in over two decades. Fucked within an inch of her life? Who says something like that? Confident guys...that's who. Guys who can actually fuck a girl within an inch of their lives, guys who know exactly what women want, and guys who give it to them. Guys who didn't just get off on their own orgasm, but on what they could make a woman feel. This kid was at least twenty-five years younger than her husband but their vast difference in confidence and self-assurance was staggering. She felt herself wanting to see if he could back up the game he was talking, but every part of her knew that was a bad idea.

She noticed Anthony's hand reach into his pocket before re-emerging with his phone. “Give me your number.”

She shook her head. “I don't think so.”

“You know what?” he told her, “I'll give you my number.”

The mom had a hesitant look on her face.

“Maybe you're not feeling it at the moment,” Anthony said, “but that might not be the case two days from now. Just take my number and shoot me a text when you decide it's time for a change in your life.”

She slowly retrieved her phone from her yoga pants and handed it to the muscular kid who continued towering above her. He created a contact for himself before giving it back to her.

“Have a fun night, Jen,” he told her before making his way toward the locker room.

The second half of her workout was the best of her life.

---

But as Jen sat on the couch with her Kindle and the TV on in the background, her mind continued to gravitate to that phone number she received three days ago. Anthony was a college kid. He didn't have responsibilities, commitments, or any real concerns. He had one priority just like most college boys did: and that was to fuck. And isn't that what she really needed? Just to be fucked? Whenever she would fantasize about cheating, she always had a big, elaborate event planned in her mind. The guy was going to talk to her a certain way, her fantasies of being tied up and slapped around were going to be second nature to the stud, and she was going to leave his place feeling used but satisfied. But what were the chances of that actually happening? The more she thought about it, the more she imagined it going wrong. What if the sex sucked? Now she was just another cheater who broke her loyalty to her husband for a mediocre fling. What if she didn't feel satisfied when it was over? What if she felt violated and dirty? What if that feeling never went away? What if cheating and fantasizing in the erotica she read was significantly better than cheating in reality? She wanted a connection with someone. She wanted someone she desired on more than just a sexual or physical level. She wanted a man who could get inside her head and make her explore herself. But at this very moment, Jen would settle for a good pounding.

She was going to give it one last shot, and if this didn't work...well, then...she was all out of ideas.

10:17PM.

Jen heard the basement door open just as she expected. Heavy footsteps trudged down the steps as her husband made his way to the couch for another long night of video games. She peered her eyes from the dark corner of the room to watch him plop down in his seat.

The sound of the Xbox powering on quickly filled the room. This was it. This was her Hail Mary attempt. And Anthony's number was going to look a whole lot more appealing if this didn't work.

“Hey, baby.”

Tom's head quickly turned as his large body attempted to spin in his seat. “Jen?”

She slowly and sexily emerged from the shadows with a pair of cowgirl boots, ripped blue jean shorts, one of her husband's old plaid shirts which she tied off under her large breasts to expose her stomach, a backwards baseball cap, and a toy shotgun she picked up at Walmart. Jen googled 'Call of Duty cosplay' and copied the sexiest girl she could find. She even completed the costume with fake blood on her waist and light dirt on her cheeks. She was a sexy survivor in some post-apocalyptic wasteland which had been overrun by zombies, and the look in Tom's eyes was one she hadn't seen in a long, long, long time.

“Woah!” he remarked.

She smiled as she slowly strutted in his direction, spinning her plastic shotgun with each and every step she took. “Excuse me, stranger,” she shyly said to her husband. “Do you know where a lonely, desperate girl could spend the night?”

“This is no place for a girl like you to be all alone in the dark.”

Jen smirked as she made her way closer to the couch. Okay, so this wasn't exactly her fantasy. There weren't going to be leashes, or ball gags, or anything like that, but for the first time in years, Tom appeared to at least be into something she was doing. And if she could get him going this way, maybe he would be more open to exploring her own desires and fantasies.

“Thank you so much,” she smiled as she took a seat on her husband's knee. “How could I ever repay you for your generosity?”

“You can get on your knees.”

Jen's brain nearly exploded. “What!?”

“Get on your knees.”

She eagerly slid off her husband's lap and sank to her knees. 'Get on your knees? Get on your knees!?' He never said anything like that! He was never dominant, or controlling, or demanding at all! Maybe he was changing. Maybe he was changing for her! She quickly unbuckled his pants as Tom struggled to prop his hips up, allowing her to pull them down. A moment later she had his dick in her mouth.

She didn't care that he hadn't trimmed his pubic hair in God knows how long, or that those wheezing noises were back, or that she had to dress in this ridiculous getup to get him going. At this very moment, all she wanted to do was suck someone's cock.

“I'm gonna cum.”

Jen pulled her mouth off his penis and looked up at him with a surprised expression. “You're gonna what?”

“Cum...” Tom groaned as a spurt of semen flew from his dick and hit his wife on the cheek.

Jen quickly wrapped her lips around his manhood and allowed the rest to empty inside her mouth. Seconds later, it was over.

Tom slouched back against the couch with an exhausted look on his face. It was like they just had an all-night sex marathon...except they hadn't. Jen had given her husband a blowjob and he lasted twenty seconds, and now his cock was already limp.

She couldn't even swallow his cum. The taste from his awful diet was unbearable. It was so bitter and gross. She picked up a cup from the table next to her and spit into it before wiping her cheek with a napkin. That was it. She spent close to an hour dressing up, going to get that dumb toy shotgun, and finding fake blood...all for twenty seconds. Twenty seconds which had left her unsatisfied and unfulfilled once again. And she could already hear light snores coming from the couch.

She couldn't do this anymore. She had to look elsewhere. Jen marched up the stairs and headed toward her room. She didn't even get out of her costume before pulling out her phone and finding Anthony on her contact list. She took a deep breath and texted him from her seat on her marital bed.

“Hey.”

She hit send.

What was her game plan? Actually, she didn't have one. And that's what made this so exciting. For the first time in over twenty years, there was an opportunity for a man to lead her. She had no idea how Anthony would respond. Hell, maybe he wouldn't respond at all. Maybe he hit on dozens of girls every day and their interaction at the gym wasn't anything special for him. But she wasn't looking for an emotional connection from him. She wasn't going to get that from some early twenties musclehead at the gym. She just wanted to feel sexually satisfied for the first time in God knows how long. And part of her wanted to feel wanted. Nothing Tom did made her feel sexy or desired, but the way Anthony approached her at the gym made her feel special. She wanted more of that.

Her phone buzzed.

“Hey, Jen.”

Now what? Was it on her? Did she have to steer the conversation in the direction she wanted? Did she have...

Her phone buzzed again.

“Send me something sexy.”

Her face lit up before suddenly growing serious. Shit! Cell phones barely existed the last time she was in a situation like this! This kid was used to girls his age who grew up flirting with phones and the internet.

Send him something sexy...send him something sexy...think, think...

Jen started typing...

“I guess it all depends on what you find sexy...”

Send.

Is that flirty? Or smooth? Or anything? Girl, you're so in over your head!

Her phone buzzed.

“You can start with that perfect ass of yours.”

She let out an audible gasp. Perfect ass? When was the last time Tom complimented her body? She wasn't needy but every girl likes to feel appreciated. She worked so hard to stay in shape and sometimes she wondered what exactly she was doing it for. But, this simple validation made all those hours of hard work and all those times she passed on pizza for a salad worth it.

Should I send a picture of my butt in jeans? Or maybe in yoga pants? I do love how my butt looks in them. Or...no...well, maybe in a thong? Or is that too much? You know who would know...

Jen immediately laughed at herself. Had she really just considered that? Had she really considered asking her daughter for advice on how to flirt via texting? She really was a dumbass sometimes. She slid off the bed and walked over to her dresser where she collected a black thong, black yoga pants, and a pair of red boyshorts before making her way to the upstairs bathroom. She needed plenty of options.

Five minutes later she was standing in front of the bathroom mirror, completely clean of the fake blood and dirt she'd gone out of her way to wear for Tom. She felt just as ridiculous scrubbing it off as she had putting it on. And it was all for for nothing. But enough about Tom. Tonight was going to be about her. She picked up her phone and started typing again.

“Option 1, 2, or 3...”

Send.

She loved how flirty she felt. Maybe attention was all she needed. Maybe she didn't actually have to go through with anything, but some validation once in a while would make up for what she wasn't getting at home. Maybe...

Her phone buzzed on the bathroom counter.

“Option 4.”

Jen furrowed her brow with a smile and began typing.

“What's option 4?”

Send.

Her phone immediately buzzed.

“Your sexy ass in a thong... With my name written on it.”

Jen smiled. There wasn't any hesitation or debating. Not for a single second. She quickly changed out of her costume and slid on her black thong. That was all she was wearing. She dug through her makeup bag, found her red lipstick, and turned her body so she could see her reflection in the mirror. Forty seconds later she had some college kid's name written on her ass, and for the first time in two decades, Jen felt owned. She felt like she belonged to someone. Anthony was probably just some asshole kid who had dozens of girls do this for him, but that only egged her on. She wanted to outdo all those other girls. She wanted him to be thinking about her and not those twenty-year-old coeds with their perfect, perky bodies. She looked just as good as any of those girls so why couldn't she feel as good as they did? If a hot little college girl was stuck in a bad relationship, she would leave it. But for some reason, Jen refused to do just that. She wasn't ready to leave yet. No, but at this very moment, Jen was ready to cheat.

She went to her camera and hit the forward facing button before finding the perfect position in the mirror. She looked good. Real good. Her ass was tight and toned but she wasn't a stick figure. She had some meat on her bones. And guys like that. But she didn't neglect the rest of her body at the gym either. She could see how good her back and shoulders appeared but she made sure to cover the side of her right breast with her arm. There's nothing wrong with keeping this kid wanting more...

She found the perfect angle with her back turned to the bathroom mirror at a slight angle, excluded her face from being captured, and took the picture.

Something didn't feel right.

Do something more. How many girls have sent him a picture like this? Stand out. Be memorable.

She switched the camera to video mode, raised it over her shoulder so it was recording the reflection in the mirror once again, and began twerking.

This wasn't her first time attempting to twerk. Years ago, one of the younger girls at work told her how she started doing it for her boyfriend and how it drove him crazy. So, like many things over the years, Jen ran home thinking she found the answer to her dead bedroom problem. She tried twerking for Tom but it didn't do anything. In fact, he seemed turned off by the entire situation when he told her to stop acting like a tramp. But Jen didn't care anymore. Tonight, she was going to be a tramp. Tonight, she was going to twerk her ass in the mirror with some college stud's name written on it. Tonight, she wanted to be bad.

She stopped the recording and watched the video back. A big smile formed on her face. She looked amazing. All of those hours doing squats and reverse hip raises had done wonders on her backside. And as she watched her toned, sizable cheeks bounce around in the video, she felt on top of the world. The word 'Anthony' was jumping around with every movement and that turned her on even more. Just like Bill back in her college days, this kid had gotten her to push her limits. He created a memory for her. She was never going to forget the time she wrote a college boy's name on her butt and recorded herself twerking in the mirror while wearing a thong. She added the video to their text conversation and sent it.

A minute later her phone vibrated.

“Good girl.”

Jen wanted to fuck this kid's brains out. She wanted to gag on his cock. She wanted him to record it all and show it to his buddies. She wanted them to see how naughty she was. What is was like to be with a hungry, sexually deprived older woman. She wanted to be everything those little college girls weren't.

Her phone buzzed again.

“4033 Deer Meadow Ave. Apt 3C.”

She went to the maps app on her phone. He lived eleven minutes away. She lived eleven minutes from her fantasy. She lived eleven minutes from a dominant, aggressive, sexy, muscular, young stud who could give her exactly what she needed. But instead of getting dressed and telling her husband she had to go to her parent's house for a while, she held the power button down on her phone, slid her finger to the right on the screen, and shut it off.

For the six thousandth consecutive night, Jen went to bed frustrated.

Chapter 5 – Cleaning Service.

5:45AM the following morning.

Jen had been staring at her bedroom ceiling for hours. It was slightly illuminated from the moonlight penetrating through the window, but she would've been up regardless of how much light was coming in. She figured out the problem. She was a wimp.

Women left marriages all the time for small things. Little fights and minor turn-offs resulted in brutal divorces on a regular basis throughout the world. Yet, here she was, not having been sexually satisfied in seventeen years, but afraid to leave her marriage for some reason. It wasn't her morals. If it was, she wouldn't have flirted with Anthony last night. She was afraid. She was afraid of the unknown. Afraid of having to start a new life all on her own. Her husband wasn't very reliable; but he was still there. And having someone is better than no one, right? And what about Ashley? Jen's parents divorced when she was twelve years old and it devastated her. She made a promise to herself that she would never do that to her own child. All she wanted was to roll over and snuggle into the arms of a strong man. Into the arms of a man who loved and cherished her. Someone who she still craved emotionally, mentally, and physically. But when she looked over to her left, the spot on the bed was empty. Tom had fallen asleep in the basement instead of coming up to bed. She wasn't going to leave him. She knew that. So she had to accept her situation for what it was and stop feeling sorry for herself. Jen closed her eyes and attempted to fall asleep.

Later that same day. 5:15PM.

Jen was standing at the kitchen counter, chopping up celery for the soup she was making when suddenly two firm, strong hands roughly slammed down on the granite countertop to her sides. She felt a body lean in and gently press against her back as a pair of warm lips softly caressed her neck.

“How was your day, sexy?”

Her face lit up as she continued slicing vegetables on the wooden cutting board. Those arms which had been to her sides were now making their way along her body. They started with her shoulders before moving down to her hips and ending with her butt. That was the norm in her marriage. Even after twenty years, her husband couldn't keep his hands off her ass.

She smiled as she watched those hands regain their place on the counter. Her husband was leaning into her again, his bulge poking against her backside. It was 5:16 PM and he was ready to go. Just like he always was. Day or night, summer or winter, sickness or in health...he just couldn't get enough of her. She finally set the sharp knife down on the table and spun to face her spouse. When she did, she felt two hands grab her butt and propel her body into the air. Her hubby picked her up and was now carrying her toward the bedroom, making out with her the entire way.

Dinner could wait. Ashley would understand. She was well used to the way her parents were by this point. Mom and Dad just couldn't keep their hands off each other and the cute teen thought it was romantic. She grew up dreaming of meeting a man who would one day treat her the way Dad treated Mom.

Jen landed on the bed and immediately felt her yoga pants and panties yanked down. Seconds later her husband had his head in his favorite spot. And when she reached out and grabbed a handful of his thick, luscious hair, a deep, powerful voice resonated through the bedroom.

“I heard someone's been a bad girl.”

She smiled as she pulled his face back into her vagina, letting his wet tongue flow over her throbbing clit. “I can't help it, Daddy.”

The feeling of pleasure vanished as she opened her eyes. There she saw her man kneeling on the bed, slowly unbuckling the belt from his dress pants. Her heart raced while she watched it slide from the loops and hang from his masculine hand.

“On all fours...slut.”

Jen obediently obeyed the order and eagerly waited for her husband to do what he did best. And that was to make her fantasies a reality. Every week there was something new and different. Different places, different scenarios, different toys, different head games...but some things stayed the same. Like the way he made her feel. She felt vulnerable yet completely protected at the same time. She knew her man would take care of her, but she had no idea how far he was going to push her. It was that constant excitement which drove her crazy. And when she felt his leather belt slowly drop around her neck, she knew she was going to be in for it. She braced herself. Three...two...one...

It tightened.

The brunette tried to breathe but couldn't. She felt her husband's thick, fat cock stretch her tight pussy as her head was firmly yanked back by the leash around her neck. She could see her hubby's gorgeous face hovering over her as the pounding increased in ferocity. A long string of spit fell from her man's mouth and she eagerly parted her lips to accept it. Every fluid, every body part, every single ounce of her husband was a treasure. She just wanted more. And as the hammering continued, she felt the world around her start to darken. She was being choked so tightly and fucked so roughly that the room began to spin. It was like watching clothes in a washing machine. Around and around and around they went. Everything spinning...and spinning...and spinning...

Buzz.

The load of laundry was done as Jen opened the washing machine door and piled the wet clothes into a basket. She laughed to herself as she realized what had happened. She'd actually fantasized about being married to a completely different man, who fucked her properly, all from staring at a washing machine. She was going crazy...

She tossed the garments into the dryer and headed back upstairs. She'd yet to check in on Ashley. Today was day one of her weekly cleaning job at Ryan's house and she still couldn't believe that girl was being paid to clean. She could barely find a passable route through her daughter's room most of the time. There were clothes, and bags, and boxes scattered everywhere, but maybe cleaning for someone else would be different. Maybe it would be good for her. Jen pulled out her phone and texted her daughter.

“Everything good?”

Send.

Seconds later she heard the unmistakable sound of a text message being received in the kitchen. She curiously wandered into the room and saw a green case face down on the counter. Her daughter had forgotten her phone.

You know everything's fine. Just relax. Ashley is a grown woman and can take care of herself. Stop being overprotective.

But she had to be overprotective. Who would look out for Ashley if she didn't? Certainly not Tom. She grabbed her daughter's phone, slid it into her pocket, put on her fleece, and headed out the front door. It was chilly on this early November evening. Not cold, but chilly. The snowstorm prediction wasn't accurate but the sun was already beginning to go down despite the fact daylight savings wasn't until tomorrow. She journeyed across the grass and to her neighbor's front door before ringing the bell.

The door opened.

“Hi, Ryan.”

“Hey, Jen,” the tall, handsome businessman answered. “Come on in.”

She smiled as she walked into the house and slipped off her shoes on the entryway rug. “Wow! Look at this place!”

“Yeah, it's coming along,” Ryan said as he shut the door behind her. “Thanks to your daughter...”

Jen smiled again as she watched her neighbor stroll back to the kitchen table in his black dress pants and partially unbuttoned light blue dress shirt with the sleeves rolled hallway up his arms. There was a cup of either coffee or tea on the oak surface next to an open newspaper.

“Tea?” he asked.

She shook her head. “No thanks, I'm good. Where's Ashley? She left her phone at home.”

Ryan shrugged his shoulders as he took a seat. “She's around here somewhere,” he told her before raising the newspaper up and resuming his reading.

She gave him a curious glance before slowly heading toward the hallway. There were paintings on the walls and a very nice table in the passageway. It didn't look overly expensive, but it was classy. Tasteful, if you will. She promptly found herself in the living room where she was met by gorgeous leather furniture and a large television in the middle of a beautiful entertainment center. Everything looked clean and presentable. Maybe Ashley was actually doing a good job. Maybe her daughter had a knack for cleaning which she was unaware of.

“Hey, Mom.”

Jen turned around with a smile at the sound of her daughter's voice. But then her jaw immediately dropped.

Ashley strutted into the room in a black french maid outfit which looked fitted for a girl half her size. The black one-piece ended in a mini skirt which had white lacing along the bottom of it. It barely covered her butt and left plenty of skin between the fishnet stockings she was wearing which ran up to her mid-thighs. Her black high heels cracked with each step on the hardwood floor and the cute white and black headpiece she had in her brunette hair bounced with every stride. Just like her mother, Ashley had an impressive bust which was on full display at the moment. The top of the one-piece came down low enough to leave the upper-half of her breasts exposed.

Jen couldn't believe what she was looking at. Ashley's hands were both covered by fingerless, white lace gloves, and she was carrying around a feather duster. She began cleaning around the television like nothing was going on.

“Ashley...”

The teen stopped and turned to her mother.

“What are you wearing?”

“It's my cleaning outfit,” the girl smiled.

Jen was trying to control herself. “Did Ryan make you put that on?”

Ashley quickly shook her head. “No.”

“So, why are you wearing it?” she calmly asked. She could feel her blood pressure continuing to rise.

“He told me there was a cleaning outfit in his closet. He didn't make me put it on or anything.”

“So, why are you wearing it?” Jen repeated.

The teen looked off to the side. “Because it makes me feel sexy...”

“Go change.”

“But, Mommmmmm...” the girl whined.

“Go change!” she loudly repeated.

She watched her daughter storm toward the stairs and ascend the steps. Her hands started to shake. She was on the verge of losing it. Jen took a deep breath and hustled down the hallway, back into the kitchen.

“What the hell is that!?”

Ryan looked up from his paper with a curious expression.

“Seriously?” Jen furiously asked. “Like you don't know what I'm talking about?”

The neighbor gave her a dismissive look before turning his attention back to the newspaper.

“Hey, dickhead!” Jen snapped.

He didn't react.

She stormed over to the table and yanked his newspaper down. “Hey! I'm talking to you!”

Ryan just stared at her.

“Why did you make my daughter dress up like some kind of whore?”

“I didn't make her do anything,” he responded before raising the paper back to eye level.

“She's a child,” Jen informed him.

“No, she's not. She's eighteen. She's a woman.”

“You're a predator,” Jen told him. “You're probably thirty years older than her, you disgusting pig...”

Ryan lightly chuckled to himself as his eyes continued to descend the newspaper column he was reading.

“When my—” Jen cut herself off. 'When my husband finds out about this,' is what she really wanted to say. Yeah, she could say it. Tom would have to freak out about this. He wasn't passionate about too many things these days, but what father isn't protective over their own daughter? Especially when they were dressed the way Ashley was!

“When my husband finds out about this, he's going to lose his shit!”

Ryan's eyes didn't leave his newspaper.

“Do you get off on this?” Jen continued to berate him. “Paying teenagers to clean your house for you while they dress like little sluts? You sicken me! You wealthy assholes are all the same! Thinking you can do whatever you want as long as you pay people! Well, guess what, Ryan? My daughter isn't for sale!”

“You need guidance.”

Jen took a step back. “What did you just say to me!?”

“Guidance,” he slowly repeated. “You need it.”

She felt the left side of her face twitch. She wanted to pick up that cup of tea and smash it over this cocksucker's head. How dare he speak to her like that! “I happen to be a successful woman—”

“I'm not talking about your career,” he interrupted. “I'm talking about your personal life.”

Jen was tired of talking to a newspaper. She took a few steps forward and forcibly lowered the business section down to the table while glaring at her neighbor. As she began to open her mouth, the sound of footsteps grew closer in the hallway behind her. She turned to see her daughter dressed in a pair of jeans and a hoodie.

“Home! Now!”

“I have to finish cleaning,” Ashley told her.

“Now!!!”

“I'm not done yet...” she whined.

Jen looked back to her neighbor and watched him tilt his body to the right as he retrieved his wallet from the back of his dress pants.

“She's not taking your money,” she scowled at him before turning back to her daughter. “We're leaving!”

“But, Mom...”

Jen stormed over to her daughter and roughly grabbed her by the arm, rapidly leading her out the front door.

“Mom, stop! Stop!”

It was like Jen couldn't even hear her. She was flabbergasted by what she'd seen and just wanted Ashley out of there. She continued to drag her across the grass and into their house.

“What's wrong with you!?” Ashley shouted.

“What's wrong with me?” Jen asked with a shocked expression. “What's wrong with me!? What the fuck is wrong with you!?”

“I was trying to do my job!” Ashley yelled in the family room entrance.

“To prance around some pervert's house dressed like a whore? That's your job now!?”

“God,” Ashley huffed, “this is so unfair!”

“Grounded!” Jen announced. “One week!”

Ashley's mouth dropped. “For what!? This is such bullshit!”

“Two weeks!”

“I didn't even do anything!” the teen yelled.

“You swore,” Jen told her. “Keep it up and it'll be three.”

“But you swear all the time!” Ashley shouted. “What the hell, Mom!?”

Jen moved closer to her daughter before lowering her voice. “I can swear all I want because this is my fuckin' house, and you'll live by my fuckin' rules. And if you have a fuckin' problem with that, then you can spend the rest of the fuckin' year in your fuckin' room.”

Ashley turned her head to the side and screamed. “Ahhhhhhhhhh!!!”

“Three weeks!” Jen told her as she watched her daughter hike into the kitchen and stomp toward the stairs. “Say something else! Go ahead! I'll make it a month!”

Jen heard Ashley's thumping, angry footsteps climb the steps before the sound of her bedroom door slamming shut ended them. She couldn't believe it, but she needed her husband. She needed Tom.

10:22PM.

Headlights appeared through the windows as Jen sat at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee. For the first time in at least a decade, she was eagerly anticipating seeing her husband. A minute later, heavy footsteps trudged into the kitchen.

“Oh, hey...”

“Sit down,” Jen told her husband, “we need to talk.”

Tom took a seat across the table from his wife. “Something wrong?”

Jen chuckled. “Yeah, Tom...something is very, very wrong.”

Something was wrong alright. Something was wrong with their sex life, and their marriage, and their lack of love for each other. But there was no point in having that discussion now. It was time to talk about Ashley.

“Our new neighbor hired Ashley to clean his house.”

Tom nodded his head. “Okay...”

“And when I went over there today, I saw her cleaning...”

Tom continued to look at his wife; confused by whatever point she was trying to make.

“She was dressed like a french maid.”

Tom didn't react.

“Like a slutty french maid,” Jen clarified herself. “Her butt was practically hanging out and half her breasts were exposed. It was ridiculous!”

“He made her wear this?”

Jen took a deep breath. “Not exactly...”

“Not exactly?”

“No,” Jen huffed. “He told her there was a cleaning outfit upstairs and Ashley put it on. But he coerced her!”

“How'd he coerce her?” Tom asked.

“By implying a maid costume was part of the job!”

His confused look hadn't gone away. “But he never said it was, right?”

Jen glared it him.

“Honey, Ashley's a grown woman. She isn't a child. If she decides to dress a certain way, then that's her decision.”

Her jaw was on the floor. “Wait... You're taking his side!?”

“Whose side?”

“Our asshole neighbor's!” Jen yelled. “You're taking his side!?”

“I'm not taking anyone's side,” Tom told her, “but getting mad at our daughter for making her own decisions isn't right.”

“She's your daughter, Thomas!” Jen shouted. “You're supposed to protect her!”

“She isn't a kid anymore, Jen,” he rebutted. “She's eighteen.”

“Unfuckinbelievable...”

“Do you have to swear all the time?” Tom asked. “It comes off so trashy...”

She began to seethe. “Trashy? Trashy!? The neighbor had our daughter parading around his house like a fuckin' whore, but I'm the trashy one!?”

“What do you want me to do, Jen? Go fight the guy?”

“Do something!” she loudly told him.

“We aren't cavemen,” Tom rolled his eyes. “We live in a civilized society. Our daughter made a decision. It's really none of our business.”

Jen couldn't even respond.

“Are we done here?”

She nodded.

Tom got out of his seat and quickly disappeared into the basement.

Jen continued to sit in her chair and stare at the oven off in the distance. She couldn't even get her husband's support on this. Not only did she run the house and take care of everything, but now it was her sole responsibility to look out for their daughter as well? What exactly was the point of being married to Tom? He couldn't even make her cum! The least he should be able to do is look after his own child! She just wanted to scream! Well, it was all on her now. She had to play the role of the father as well. She needed to go confront this piece of shit who moved in next door before he did something else to Ashley.

Chapter 6 – Guidance.

One week later. 6:24PM.

Jen was a mess. She had no idea how to approach the next door neighbor, and even worse, Ashley hadn't spoken to her in a week. If this was what life was going to be like once her daughter went off to college, then Jen was going to strongly consider a divorce. She felt so lonely. There was no one to talk to, no one to confide in, no one to gossip with, and no one to look forward to seeing every day. It was just a boring routine which consisted of going to work, then the gym a few days a week, and finally home to an empty house. She'd almost texted Anthony a handful of times over the past seven days, including sending him a picture of her taking the majority of her long, purple dildo down her throat. Sure, it looked ridiculous when she viewed the image, but she just wanted someone to be impressed by her. Someone to be thinking about her. Someone to call her a good girl after following an order. Was wanting that so bad? Was there something wrong with being submissive? But now she couldn't even have that. She still had to go next door and tell this asshole what the deal was. That was a man's job! It was something her husband should've already done! God, everything was so frustrating!

It finally came to her. Keep it simple. She was going to go next door and ring the doorbell, tell Ryan she'll call the cops if he ever talks to her daughter again, and come back home. Oh, and she was going to get an apology too. That was for damn sure! She grabbed her winter coat and headed out the door.

Be firm. Be demanding. Tell this asshole how it's going to be! You're the one in charge! Not this creepy pervert. You're a strong, brave, independent woman. Show this dickhead you deserve just as much respect as any man!

Jen rang the doorbell.

Her mouth opened. And it stayed open. As she just stared...

Ryan answered the door in just a pair of orange, athletic basketball shorts. There was visible sweat running down his toned, lean, shirtless body as he used a towel to dry off his thick, brown hair. Her daughter was right. Their neighbor had abs. Abs and veins. Thick, prominent veins which ran down his arms and biceps. His chest was chiseled and muscular. He was perfect...

“Jen?”

Her head snapped to attention. “Umm...h...hi...hey.”

The businessman smiled as he took a step to the side. “Come on in. It's cold out there.”

Jen quickly scurried into her neighbor's house and stood on his gray entryway rug.

“Just finished a workout downstairs,” he told her before shutting the door and making his way into the kitchen to pour himself a glass of water.

Jen kicked off her shoes and followed him into the kitchen. “I wanted to talk to you.”

He leaned against the counter and raised a clear glass to his lips, waiting for his neighbor to say whatever was on her mind.

“I would like an apology.”

Ryan finished his long sip before glancing up at her with an amused expression. “An apology?”

“Yes,” Jen reiterated while standing in front of the kitchen table, “an apology.”

“For what?” he asked.

“For the way you took advantage of my daughter.”

Ryan walked over to the table before taking a seat. He pointed to the chair next to him and looked at his guest. “Sit.”

Jen followed his order.

“How about you tell me what's really going on?”

“Excuse me?” she asked.

“With you,” he calmly specified. “What's really going on, with you?”

“This isn't about me,” Jen stated, “it's about my daughter.”

“When was the last time someone talked about you?”

She responded with a curious reaction. “What?”

“With your husband, or your daughter, or your friends. When was the last time the conversation was about you?”

Jen thought to herself for a few moments before shrugging her shoulders.

“Remember last week when I told you that you needed guidance?”

She nodded.

“Here we are,” he started, “a week after you stormed out of my house, furious at me over what your daughter was wearing. Yet, your husband never confronted me and now you're here, sitting at my kitchen table, asking for an apology...”

“Which I still want.”

The good-looking neighbor let out a soft, almost arrogant laugh as he set his glass of water down on the table. “I'm not going to apologize to you.”

“Why?”

“You think you want an apology?” he grinned.

“I know I want one.”

Ryan slowly shook his head. “Jen, you don't have the slightest clue as to what you want.”

She raised her eyebrows.

“And you want to know why?”

She waited for him to reveal the answer.

“Because you don't have anyone guiding you.”

Jen opened her mouth but was quickly cut off.

“Are you familiar with the concept of hypergamy?”

She shook her head no.

“Hypergamy is the notion that people are always in pursuit of the wealthiest, best looking, highest status person they can attain. Whether they're married or not.”

Jen rolled her eyes.

“It can be wealth, looks, status, or power...but people are always looking to trade up. Especially women.”

“That's ridiculous,” Jen dismissively replied.

“Is it?” he calmly asked.

“Yeah,” she answered, “what about love, loyalty, respect, children...?”

Ryan nodded his head. “I agree. It's a rather outdated concept, isn't it? You're a working woman with a good job,” he told her as he held his hand out to acknowledge her presence, “not some housewife without an education or the ability to support herself.”

“So, what's your point then?” she harshly asked.

“My point is while women have shifted their desires and what they value in men as we've progressed as a society, some things can't be changed.”

She furrowed her brow. “Like what?”

“Your primal urges,” he answered.

“My primal urges?” she laughed.

Ryan took another sip of water before setting his glass down on the table again, still shirtless. “You see, Jen, all women want the same thing.”

“And what's that, Mr. Know-It-All?” she asked.

“To submit to a man she deems better than herself.”

Jen audibly gasped. “That's the most sexist thing I've ever heard!”

“Is it?” he smoothly asked. “You're not attracted to men you deem better than you?”

“Better than me? And what qualifies a man as better than me?”

“It's different for every woman,” Ryan told her. “For some it's success, for others it's power, or intelligence, or sense of humor, or physical prowess. No woman has the same list of things that makes her tick, but, Jen, every woman has something that gets her going. Every woman gets off on the idea of submitting to a man she looks up to.”

“This is nonsense,” she groaned while shaking her head.

“What type of man do you fantasize about?”

Jen laughed. “That's none of your business.”

He pointed his finger at her and grinned. “My point exactly.”

“What point?”

“The answer wasn't your husband,” he smirked, “because like most women, you're with a man you don't look up to.”

“You don't know the first thing about my husband.”

“Is he unpredictable, Jen? Does he keep you guessing? Do you feed off his drive and ambition?”

She looked down at the table.

“Not everyone can make six figures,” he told her. “Not everyone can have seven percent body fat or an amazing personality. Some men are just men. Average Joe's, if you will. They aren't particularly creative, or intelligent, or good-looking. But every man, every real man...has drive. He wants to better himself. He wants to push himself. Whether it be his career, in the gym, with his hobbies, or whatever motivates him. Women see that, and they want a piece of it. They want part of a man who's going to take them along on a ride. They want to feed off his intensity and motivation. Jen, every woman wants a man like that. A man she can brag to her friends about. A man she looks up to the way she looked up to her father when she was a little girl. 

“You're delusional.”

He lightly laughed as he leaned back in his chair with a slight smirk. “The first door to your right when you walk upstairs is my bedroom. In the closet you'll find a maid outfit.”

Jen looked at him stone-faced for close to thirty seconds. Slowly by surely she began to crack until she was roaring laughing. “Oh my God, you can't be serious!”

Ryan continue to stare at her with the same confident expression he had from the moment she stepped into his house.

“You think...” she laughed, barely able to speak, “that I'm going to clean your house!? Oh my God!”

He took another sip of water.

“You're too much!” she continued to laugh before standing up and starting toward the door. She suddenly stopped.

Eight minutes later...

Jen was standing in front of her neighbor's upstairs bathroom mirror, adjusting her french maid outfit to show as much cleavage as possible. As good as she looked, the appearance of disbelief was still planted on her face. How'd this happen? Why didn't she just walk out the front door? Why didn't she leave his house and forget about their ridiculous conversation? Why did she stop, walk up the stairs without saying a word, and retrieve the maid outfit from his closet? And it was the same outfit she freaked out about and eventually grounded her daughter for wearing just a week ago! What kind of hypocrite was she? But, more importantly, why did all of this make her feel so good?

Was Ryan right? Were her primal urges something she couldn't control? Her neighbor was right about one thing, and that was the fact she didn't look up to her husband in the least. In fact, she looked down on him. And she'd been looking down on herself for ending up with a man like him. A man who acted like a child and didn't remotely resemble the type of guy she used to dream of being with. Isn't that what every woman wants? No matter how old they get, every female wants a strong male figure in their life. Someone who can lead and protect them. Someone they can look up to and respect. Someone who pushes them to make their own lives better. Tom didn't do that, but Ryan did.

Was it his house? Or maybe his success? Or what about his body? Yeah, his body definitely had something to do with it. She respected men who cared about their own health and well-being. But there was something more. Something she couldn't quite put her finger on. It was his confidence. She fed off of it. The way he explained his thought process to her in such a calm, efficient demeanor. He wasn't talking down to her, but he never showed a hint of weakness. Every speed bump she tossed in his way was smoothly bypassed. It was like his voice had a trance on her. And she realized one thing as she looked at her reflection in the mirror. She wanted his approval. Desperately.

One hour later...

She finished folding the last of her neighbor's workout clothes and placed them in the basket next to the dryer. Over the past sixty minutes, Jen had vacuumed, swept, dusted, ironed Ryan's work clothes, and folded the large load of laundry which had been sitting in the dryer machine. And each time she completed a task, she strutted toward the next one with a bounce in her step. Why? She couldn't explain it. She just felt good doing things for a man. She wanted him to look at her with a sense of approval. To see her as an equal. But at the same time, she didn't want to be his equal. She wanted him to be better than her. Ryan was right. Jen was seeking the approval of a real man.

She carried the basket of clothes up the basement stairs before heading up even more steps on her way to Ryan's upstairs bedroom. She decided to take a peek inside his closet after putting the garments into their respective dresser drawers. Dress pants, dress shirts, ties, belts, suits, and dress shoes made up the right half, while casual shirts and athletic shoes filled the left side. Up on the top shelf were folded jeans and sweaters. It was the closet of an organized man who had his shit together. It was the polar opposite of what her husband's closet looked like. First off, Tom didn't own any dress shirts or pants other than the one pair of khakis and that awful gray polo he would wear if he absolutely had to. And his closet was full of childish t-shirts and scattered clothes on the floor. It was just so messy and unorganized. In fact, for the first decade of their marriage, she would clean and organize it every few months. She eventually decided to scrap that occasional task due to its lack of appreciation. A medium sized black, wooden box jumped out at her as she peered to the lower left corner of his closet. Jen slid it out and looked inside. Her eyes instantly lit up.

It was full of the toys Ashley told her about.

“Like anything you see?”

Her head snapped in the direction of the voice. Ryan was leaning against his bedroom wall, staring at her with a t-shirt on this time.

She hesitantly lifted the ball gag from the top of the pile of toys and raised it to show her neighbor.

“That's a favorite.”

“Of yours?” she asked.

Ryan slowly shook his head.

Jen felt herself quiver. She looked back inside the box. “What's your favorite?”

“What do you think my favorite is?” Ryan asked.

She thought to herself as she moved a blindfold to the side. A pair of handcuffs suddenly emerged from the box.

Ryan smirked.

Jen was wet.

“The house looks nice.”

She tried to hide her smile but couldn't. She was glowing. Was that all it took to make her feel this way? A simple compliment? Just someone who appreciated the work she'd done for them? Tom always seemed to expect everything she did. The cooking, the cleaning, her sexual advances...it was all just expected. Married or not, she still liked validation.

“Good job.”

It was like she was six years old again. Back in the days when a 'good job' from her father was the highlight of her week. Male appreciation was so important to her and she had such a lack of it in her life. She didn't need her husband to make more money, to lose eighty pounds, or to become an amazing conversationalist. What she truly needed was someone who made her feel like a woman. And appreciating the work a woman puts in, especially inside the home, is worthy of compliments.

Jen glanced down and pulled out a black leather paddle before holding it up. “What about this one?”

Ryan was gone.

She could feel his presence vanish from the room. That strong, powerful, dominant aura which followed him everywhere he went was gone, and she already felt herself longing for it. She changed out of her maid outfit and hung it back in her neighbor's closet before sliding the box of toys back into the corner. The married mother made her way down the stairs, looking for her neighbor as she journeyed toward the front door. He wasn't anywhere to be found.

To be continued.

 

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