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It was a typical Tuesday night for Myra and Sam, their weekly ritual of trying new bars and soaking in the ambiance of unfamiliar places. Tonight, the air buzzed with low conversation and soft jazz, the glow of dim lights making the golden hue of Myra’s dirty martini glisten enticingly. They’d chosen a sleek little lounge tucked into the corner of downtown—a place neither of them had ever been but immediately loved.
Myra perched gracefully on her barstool, the hem of her skirt teasing the tops of her toned thighs. An attractive men sat to her left, laughing at something she’d just said. Her voice carried like a melody—playful, confident, effortlessly charming. Sam, seated to her right, had one hand resting on her bare thigh, just beneath her skirt’s line, his fingers lightly tracing patterns on her skin. It was a casual touch, but it said everything.
Sam adored watching Myra in her element. She had this magnetic energy about her, a way of commanding attention without demanding it. While Sam preferred to stay in the background, happy to people-watch and soak in the atmosphere, Myra thrived in the thick of things. She could glide into a conversation, charm a stranger, and leave them feeling like they’d just met the most enchanting person in the room.
The man, Charles, as he introduced himself—was visiting from out of town, here on business. His handsome suit hung neatly on his frame, his polished manner contrasting with the casual vibe of the bar. Charles had a sharp jawline, an easy smile and a steady demeanor that balanced his personality. Myra leaned forward as she sipped her martini, her eyes sparkling as she bantered with him.
Sam chuckled softly to himself, admiring how easily she made the conversation flow. He envied it sometimes—the way she could slip into someone’s world and make it feel like home.
After a few minutes, Myra excused herself to use the restroom. Charles shifted in his seat, turning awkwardly to Sam. “Your wife is amazing,” he said, the admiration clear in his voice. “Thanks for bringing her tonight.”
Sam nodded with a polite smile, his fingers now idly tracing the rim of his beer glass. “Yeah, she’s something special,” he said, his tone a mix of pride and understanding.
Charles stood as well, excusing himself to the restroom with a quick nod.
As the minutes ticked by, Sam glanced at Myra’s phone, still lying on the bar. He had thought to text her, just to check in but with her phone still on the bar, a check in wouldn’t do much. It was unlike her to take this long. The hum of conversation around him blurred into the background as the seconds stretched uncomfortably long.
Just as he started to feel the first tug of worry, she appeared. Myra walked toward him with her hips swaying, her hair slightly tousled, her cheeks glowing faintly pink. There was something in her eyes—a glimmer of mischief, of satisfaction. She slid onto the stool beside him and leaned in close, her scent intoxicating, her energy electric.
Before Sam could say anything, she cupped his face in her hands and kissed him. Not a soft peck on the cheek or a casual brush of lips, but a deep, passionate kiss that caught him completely off guard. Her tongue grazed his, and he felt a jolt of heat course through him. He tasted something faintly sweet, something familiar but out of place.
When she finally pulled back, her lips curved into a knowing smirk. Sam blinked, momentarily stunned, his mind racing as his body betrayed him. His chastity cage tightened almost painfully, a silent reminder of his helplessness and the control she wielded so effortlessly.
Charles returned a moment later, slipping back into his seat with the same easy smile he’d had earlier. His eyes briefly met Sam’s—just long enough to make Sam’s stomach twist with a mixture of curiosity and unease. Myra, ever composed, turned back to Charles and picked up the conversation as if nothing had happened.
Sam leaned in closer to her, his voice low but edged with tension. “Did you? Did he?” he asked, his eyes searching hers. Her smirk deepened, her lips brushing his ear as she whispered, “Yes, love.”
Sam swallowed hard, his heart pounding as she turned away, her focus fully back on Charles. The rest of the room faded into the background as Sam sat there, processing the flood of emotions—desire, jealousy, excitement—all tangled together in a way that left him wonderfully breathless. I am so lucky that Myra is my wife, what an incredible woman he thought to himself, glowing with pride.
