Jennifer has no idea how her life will change when she discovers some racy hotwife movies and books. Suddenly she’s obsessed with becoming a hotwife! But things get way out of control when her husband uneasily suggests she pretend to be a hooker and he’ll be her eager john. Instead of meeting him as planned, why has she taken off with three huge black men?

~~~~~ PG Excerpt ~~~~~

I’d stopped in a bar for a drink after dropping Jennifer off on a street corner and driving around. I’d even watched a few innings of a baseball game on the TV behind the bar, above the liquor bottles.

I couldn’t concentrate on anything. All I could think about was Jennifer, dressed like a whore, on the street with a woman named Mercedes. Who definitely was a whore.

What had I done? I’d put my wife, the mother of our child, on the street looking like she was a hooker. What was wrong with me? Had I lost my mind?

I was in agony. My stomach hurt, my heart was racing, and I felt like throwing up. I started to feel faint and the bartender walked over to me.

“Are you alright, buddy?” he asked. “Do you need anything?”

I tried to answer him but found my throat seemed paralyzed.

“Let me get you a ginger ale,” he offered. “Do you need me to call anybody?” I gulped the soft drink and shook my head no.

“I’m just upset,” I finally got out. “I think I did something really stupid. My wife and I are playing a little game and she’s “Under the Bridge” with a hooker.”

“Buddy,” he stood back and stared at me. “You better go get her. She’s not safe, especially if she’s with one of the girls. A lot of them come in here, and I even like a few, but I wouldn’t trust them with anything important. Especially not my wife.”

I was frozen with fear, it was as though everything stood still for a moment. I was staring at the bartender, who wasn’t moving. The people around me had frozen in place, their drinks halfway to their mouths, some people in midstride. Nothing moved.

Suddenly, the world became animated again. Everybody was moving again, but they were moving at twice the speed they’d been moving before. Voices sounded like cartoon characters. The bartender moved away from me at speed, talked to a cocktail waitress for what seemed like a second, and mixed two drinks before the clock could tick again.

I figured I owed a little more than five dollars, but I left a twenty wedged under my glass, and bolted for the door. I pushed past people, men yelled at me and a woman squealed.

Out on the street I rushed toward “Under the Bridge” before remembering the car and turned around, catching the people behind me off guard. Again, men and women yelled, but I was running toward the parking lot and nobody cared to give chase. Seeing and hearing the commotion, people scattered in front of me.

The lot was in sight when I fell to my knees and slid before hitting my head on the pavement.

“Are you all right?” a woman asked. I barely glanced at her before I was up and running again. I used my handkerchief to wipe blood from my forehead, there seemed to be a lot of it.

I couldn’t find the car!

“What was happening to Jennifer? I love her so much.” I was gasping for breath. “I am so, so, so very stupid.”

I mentally beat myself unmercifully, before forcing my mind to calm so I could find the car. I wasn’t doing my wife any good like this.

Samantha Logsdon

Röst