John gets a photo from Semra... And then a Facebook notification from Monica

It was now eleven o’clock. The night was in full swing. The police patrolled the old docklands which were now home to the clubs and bars while me and Francis stood outside the ambulance. My mind should have been on the job, or at least on Francis’ small talk. But I was constantly checking my mobile.

My suspicions had been true. But I brought this on myself with past actions. Semra had informed me of her plans with Monica. That she was going to pretend to be free, single and that she was more than willing to mingle. Nothing too bad, she had promised me.

I believed Semra, and had no major qualm. I trust my wife to play, and not break any boundaries. Slight indiscretions only ignited dark desires in me.

It’s just… I don’t trust her boss. Monica is trouble in its female form. If Semra was to get in any trouble it would be because of Monica and her harlot ways. But I couldn’t deny the excitement.

I was suddenly brought out of my thoughts by a snarling Francis. “Fuck sake, John. Since you told me your Semra is out, you’ve not left your phone alone.”

“Just checking the weather for tomorrow. While I’ve got the house to myself I thought I’d do the garden.”

“I think of better things to do with my free time.”

My heart froze as I felt my phone vibrate in my chest pocket. I didn’t want to check it while Francis was about. I needed to get rid of the fat git. So turned to my chubby tech. “Fran?”

“Yes.”

I smiled. “Hungry?”

“Always. Why?”

“Before it gets to the witching hour, fancy nipping to Geno’s and getting us a Veg Hot?” Geno’s is a pizza parlour, the best one in town and only hundred years up the street. But out of perving range for Francis. I gave him a banknote. “Here’s a twenty.”

“Do I ever. Extra chilli boss?”

“Damn right. I’ll obviously call you if anything comes in.”

“And I’ll come running.”

“Waddling, Francis. Waddling.”

He smiled and gave me the finger, then waddled into the crowds like the goose he was. I glanced down at my phone and opened the message. Semra was pouting in the arms of some young punk who must have been a little more than a student. It was harmless but, I couldn’t deny there was a pang of jealousy in me. He was handsome in a geeky way. Stylish glasses and a neat hipster beard . He didn’t have a long face though - which Semra had always told me she looked for in a man. I don’t know… ask her. But the fact I had one made me feel smug. And a little more secure.

But I couldn’t deny it continued to play on me. Gnaw away at me. Imagining this young fuck tapping up my wife. His youthful hands feeling their way around with growing confidence. All young bucks like an older woman. MILF, cougar or whatever they call it now. Semra is not quite there yet, but must have had ten years on this goon.

What was I doing to myself? What was I letting my wife do to me? Or more precise… what was I letting my wife do to others...

I would like to say that the pizza was immense. It probably was. And although I ate two slices I couldn't really taste much. My mind, and seemingly taste buds were elsewhere.

My phone vibrated to a Facebook notification from Monica. I felt more than curious, and accepted. I got a message reading, “You’ve got a hot wife.” I was about to type back when she shared a video...