I thought I was being smart.
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Inviting Mr. Carter over for dinner seemed like a good idea, a way to impress him, to show I had a stable home life, a mature relationship, someone supportive by my side. I even told Lucía I thought this could be the night everything changes, that if I played it right, maybe I’d finally get promoted.
Lucía raised an eyebrow and smirked when I said that.
“Then let’s make sure you play it right,” she said. “Starting with what you wear.”
She chose the beige pants, tight around my thighs, a little clingy in the crotch, no underwear. Then she handed me the apron, a thin, frilly, lacy little thing with a bow at the back and straps that made my shoulders look narrower. I asked if she was serious.
“You said you wanted to impress him,” she replied, already doing her lipstick in the mirror. “Be a good host.”
She wore the red dress… the one that hugs her hips like it’s been painted on, with a slit so high you can see the start of her thigh tattoo when she walks. Her tits looked incredible, lifted and round like they were fighting to be let out, and she didn’t wear a bra. I noticed the way her nipples poked through; she didn’t cover them, didn’t care. Her hair was down, dark and glossy, curled just enough to make her look dangerous. She looked like sex, like something no man should be left alone with.
She never dresses like that for me.
When Mr. Carter arrived, I opened the door with a smile, trying to act confident. He shook my hand quickly, muttered a hello, and then his eyes went right over my shoulder.
“Wow,” he said.
Lucía appeared beside me and offered her hand like royalty. “Pleasure to meet you. I’ve heard so much about you.”
Mr. Carter didn’t shake it. He leaned in and kissed it, his eyes never leaving her chest.
Lucía giggled and stepped aside to let him in.
I started to offer him a drink, but Lucía cut in before I could speak.
“Why don’t you be useful and grab us both something, baby?” she said, walking past me toward the couch. “Red for me. You know which one.”
I swallowed and nodded. “Y-yeah. Of course.”
I went to the kitchen and poured while they sat down. Lucía crossed her legs, her dress sliding up her thigh so high it barely covered anything. She didn’t fix it or pull it down. Mr. Carter noticed. Of course he did.
When I came back with the drinks, she took hers without looking at me and handed the other to him.
“Oh, he’s well-trained,” Mr. Carter chuckled.
“You have no idea,” Lucía said, sipping her wine. She tilted her head and locked eyes with him. “I’ve been working on him for years.”
They laughed. I tried to join in, fake a chuckle, but they were already onto something else. Mr. Carter complimented her dress. She said thank you and stood up to give him a twirl. She twirled right in front of me, showing off her ass in that tight red fabric, the outline of her thong visible as the material stretched.
“You look incredible,” he said, not even pretending to hold back.
She smiled and walked over to him, sitting down closer this time… closer than I’d ever seen her sit next to another man. Their knees touched. She leaned in when she spoke. She brushed imaginary lint off his shoulder and touched his wrist when he made a joke.
She wasn’t being polite. She was flirting.
And not subtle flirting either. It was blatant, open, shameless teasing right in front of me. She never acts like that with me. She never laughs like that at my jokes, never sits that close, never looks at me like that.
“You should feel how soft this dress is,” she said, grabbing his hand and placing it right on her hip.
He didn’t pull away. His hand stayed there.
I cleared my throat. “Um, dinner’s almost ready.”
She looked at me like she’d forgotten I was there.
“Oh good,” she said flatly. “You set the table, right?”
“Yeah. I- I did.”
“Perfect,” she smiled at Mr. Carter. “He’s very eager to please.”
“Bet he is,” Mr. Carter said, glancing at me. “You trained him well.”
Lucía laughed and took a long sip of wine. “He’s still learning. But he’s cute when he tries.”
I wanted to sink into the floor. My cock was hard, humiliatingly hard, pressing against the front of my pants, visible through the apron. I turned toward the kitchen so they wouldn’t see, but I could feel their eyes on me anyway.
Dinner was tense. Not for them. For me. They laughed the whole time, shared stories, flirted more with every bite. Mr. Carter talked about his travels. Lucía asked if he worked out. He said he did. She bit her lip and said, “It shows.”
I watched her drag her tongue across her wine glass before sipping. I watched her stare at him like he was the only man in the room.
Then he spilled a little wine on his shirt.
Lucía gasped and stood up instantly. “Oh no,” she said, walking around the table. “That’s going to stain. You need to take this off.”
“It’s fine, really,” he said, laughing.
She reached out and grabbed the bottom of his shirt. “No, seriously. Take it off. I’ll help.”
Mr. Carter peeled the shirt over his head. His chest was VERY toned, hard and tanned. Lucía’s eyes devoured him. She ran her hand across his pecs and down to his abs slowly, like she wasn’t even pretending anymore.
“You’re going to ruin your pants too if you’re not careful,” she said, her voice soft and slow, dripping with suggestion. “Come. I’ll help you clean up.”
She grabbed his hand.
I stood up. “Lucía… ”
She turned and shut me up with a look. Cold. Dismissive.
“No, baby. You stay here. Dessert won’t make itself.”
“But… ”
Her smile got sharper. “You want to impress him, right? Then do what you’re told.”
She walked away with him, holding his hand, leading him down the hallway like it was her house, not ours. Like he was her date, not me.
The bathroom door closed behind them.
And I just stood there. Alone. Cock hard. Apron tight. And the worst part?
I was already reaching for the sugar and eggs….
(To be continued….)
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