The Tenant: A Very Naughty Hotwife Novel Read Online Free PDF Page B

pleased with herself. I could tell. She had a smugness behind her smile.
    John graciously pretended not to notice the food was from a deli, nor did he ask for recipes or ingredients or praise her cooking. But after several glasses of wine, I became the drunkest person at the table, and was immediately suspicious. Suspicious of his complicity in her lie.
    I watched them. They became embroiled in a conversation about some legal decision that had been made in a case that affected marketing, and after a few minutes I had no handle on the conversation whatsoever. John became very animated as soon as he realized that Anna was a formidable conversational partner, capable of navigating legal terms and complicated legal questions without batting an eye.
    I poured myself more wine.
    I couldn't tell if I was miserable or delighted, watching John and Anna, who seemed to be constantly moving closer and closer to each other, looking deeply into each other's eyes.
    Don't be fucking idiot, Brian. No one is looking into anyone's eyes.
    They did though, seem to be doing just that.
    I liked the idea of Anna thinking of John as a sex toy. I liked the idea of Anna thinking about him paying his rent by making her come; I like the idea of her sucking his cock, taking it up the ass, screaming in pleasure as he filled her completely. Working it off when she couldn't get the toilet fixed in a timely fashion (I filed this idea, which had only just occurred to me, away for later use).
    I did not, I realized miserably, pouring my sixth...or maybe seventh?...glass of wine, like Anna talking to John excitedly about legal matters I could not understand. I did not like the way they were leaning their heads together, making private jokes in legalese. I didn't like the way she was smiling for him.
    I was getting grumpier and grumpier, when John seemed to pick up on my foul mood. “We're being really rude,” he said. “It's like that when I go to my sister's place – she's a musician, right, and they start making all these jokes like, I can't believe Edwin started off that concerto in D-flat...and I'm like, ha ha ha ha ha.” He imitated nervous laughter, and made a face not entirely different from my own expression.
    Fuck, I really wanted to dislike the guy. But it was hard.
    “What is it you're in, again, Brian?” he said, making a gesture toward the wine I had placed, rather piggishly, on my side of the table. I nodded that he could have some.
    Anna's face had fallen a little: she had been enjoying her rigorous – and private – discussion with John.
    “I do computer science stuff, mostly coding for websites.”
    “You freelance, right?”
    I always hated admitting this, because everyone listened to my answer and then sort of looked at Anna like: you poor dear .
    “Yeah,” I said, and I was sucking in my breath to say more about it, defending it automatically as I always did.
    But John shook his head, pouring wine. “Man, that's cool. I wish I knew how to do something like that. One of these days, everyone is going to figure out lawyers are full of shit, and I'm gonna be out of job. But coding...everyone needs that. And,” he added, raising his eyebrows with his eyes on the wine. “It would be nice to make my own hours.”
    He smiled.
    I had to hand it to him, he was a really nice guy. A nice, upstanding, successful, charming guy.
    And hot. An athletic, muscular man. 
    In truth he looked more like the kind of guy a woman like Anna should be with. There was the ethnicity thing, which was weighing heavier on my mind than I wanted to admit to myself that it did: they looked like two people who belonged together. And maybe I was imagining things, but Anna's personality seemed to have changed around him.
    Stronger.
    Less demure.
    More...black.
    But there was also some kind of rapport between the two of them. The Anna I used to know, who got really involved in discussions, whose eyes lit up at the first whiff of intellectual debate, whose face