Chapter 2: Sounding Him Out

Words : 1982 Updated : Aug 21st, 2025

As a married woman, Lana Hayde knew exactly what that damp patch meant. She did not want to admit it. She even told herself the wet spot had been there before she sat down. Flustered, she slid her hand beneath her skirt. A slow glide of her middle finger made her shiver; there was no mistaking the source. How... how could this be? Earlier, absorbed in the video, she had not noticed the change in her body. Now that she did, she found it unbelievable. Was she actually longing for that sort of thing to happen to her? Impossible. It was just a physical reaction. She would never crave something that shameful. She tried to steady herself, but the effort unraveled. Breath snagged in her chest; she was on the verge of tears. Only after several long minutes did she manage to calm down. She slipped out of her strappy nightgown and, naked, headed for the closet. Just as she reached for the doors, she realized the curtains were still open. The building across the way was about sixty feet away, yet worry clawed at her. She pictured some man with binoculars greedily drinking in the sight of her. One arm crossed her chest, she edged over and pulled the curtains shut. She took two tissues, patted herself dry, then chose clean clothes: a plain black slip and a pair of blue-and-white panties. Dressed again, she used fresh tissues to wipe up the wet spot on the chair. She sat back down, frowning at her closed laptop. Besides wondering if the man behind the camera in that video was her husband, she couldn't stop wondering how her body had gotten ahead of her like that. As far as she could remember, she rarely reacted this strongly. Even without Taylor Rathbone touching her, she was already soaking wet. She sighed and asked herself, "Am I a bad woman at heart?" That made no sense. Since their wedding, she had never once done anything to betray her husband. She was certain she never would. But what if her husband brought it up himself? Images from those dozens of clips paraded through her mind until her thoughts tangled. After sitting there for a moment, she opened the video she had saved to her phone. The scene had been shot in a hotel room. Besides the person filming, there were two men and two women inside-two married couples, as their chatter revealed. One couple taught school and was trying partner swapping for the first time; the other couple worked at different companies and had done partner swapping many times. After about three minutes of banter, the men started having sex with each other's wives, all four laughing and talking as they went. During the action, the cameraman spoke three times. "Peter, your wife is pretty wild!" "This angle is great. You can see everything clearly." "You guys are killing it. I'm pumped just watching. Haha!" Lana replayed those three lines more than a dozen times. The more she listened, the surer she felt the voice belonged to her husband. Unfortunately, the camera never once caught his face. As for the couple, she did not recognize them, and she had no idea whether Taylor had a friend named Peter. She turned off the screen, poured herself a glass of warm water, and stepped onto the balcony. The night wind had a bite to it, flipping her hem now and then. Afraid the neighbors might get an eyeful, she stayed back from the railing. If her husband had that sort of kink, he probably would not mind other men looking at her. Maybe he even wanted it to keep happening. Not thirsty at all, she kept taking small sips anyway. Close to eleven, while she sat on the sofa, the door opened. Taylor came in, saw his wife on the sofa, and, tipsy and smiling, asked, "Honey, you're still up?" Hearing his voice and thinking of those three lines, Lana felt certain the cameraman was her husband. She managed a shy, awkward smile and murmured, "I was waiting for you." "You're the best. Love you most." He came over, bent down, and brushed a kiss across her lips. On any other night, she would have been delighted. Tonight, she just wasn't feeling it. A cold dread gnawed at her: what if her husband wanted to share her with other men? "Honey, I…" "What is it?" "I… I want to talk to you about something…" "Go on." "Are you…" Seeing her falter, Taylor asked, "What are you trying to say?" "I just wanted to ask if you're going to shower." "Reeking of booze. Of course I'm showering." "Then go. I'll wait for you in bed." She stood and walked toward the master bedroom, looking crestfallen. Taylor staggered into the bathroom. When he finished showering, he came into the bedroom naked. He smiled at his wife, who was propped against the headboard with her phone, then, soft around the middle, he went over to the closet. He pulled on a loose pair of shorts and flopped onto his back, tired. "Honey, there's something I need to tell you." Hearing her, Taylor turned his head. "Tell me. I'm listening." "Another man almost saw me naked." "What happened?" "Here's what happened." Lana stole a glance at his crotch. "After you left, I realized the slip I was wearing was dirty, so I took it off. When I reached for another slip, I noticed I'd forgotten to close the curtains. I worried the people across could see, so I hurried over. Just as I went to pull them shut, I caught a glimpse of someone across the way with binoculars pointed at me. I wasn't wearing anything. The window frame hid me from the waist down, but I can't shake the feeling the top half of me was already on display." As she spoke, her gaze kept dropping to his shorts. Watching the slow swell there, she knew he was getting excited. As she neared the end, he tugged the sheet up to cover his lower body, as if to hide it. That told her what she needed to know: he did have that kink, the thrill of letting other men look at her. When she finished, Taylor asked, "Are you sure he had binoculars on you?" "Yes. And I think he saw me." "Then next time you change, remember to close the curtains. Don't make that mistake again." "I thought you'd go over there and confront him." "I want to, but a man like that will never admit it. Just be careful from now on." "Honey, do you think there are people who don't mind… you know, sharing?" When she trailed off again, Taylor asked, "What are you really trying to say?" "Nothing. I'm tired." She set her phone on the nightstand, slipped under the covers, and nestled against him like a kitten. The furrow between her brows wouldn't go away. Several minutes later, noticing him still staring toward the window, Lana asked, "What are you looking at?" "I'm wondering if that man peeps at you a lot." "Very likely." "Maybe he peeps even when we're having sex." "Would you be angry?" "Of course." At his emphatic answer, she slid her hand beneath the covers. Her fingers found him hard as iron, and a bleak sadness washed over her.

Chapter 2: Sounding Him Out

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