Anonymous by Giselle Renard
Hannah and her husband Nathaniel have always shared one particular fantasy—he wants to make love with another man, and she wants to watch.
When Hannah loses her job to a crumbling economy, she soon finds that an idle mind is indeed “the devil’s playground.” She latches onto the delectably naughty idea of bringing a third into the bedroom, but inviting a man they both know to join them could have far-reaching negative consequences. What they need is someone else. Someone anonymous.
After a hot night of ménage sex with a stunning escort, Hannah becomes obsessed with finding out the identity of their mystery male. Even when Nathaniel unexpectedly introduces another vibrant young man into their relationship, Hannah remains possessed by her fixation.
To what lengths will Hannah go to discover the real identity of “Mr. Anonymous?”
Teaser Sneak Peek:
“I want to suck another man’s cock,” he said.
She smiled. “I want to watch you.”
“I bet you do.”
After setting her glass down on the coffee table, Hannah crossed her bare legs over her husband’s lap and laughed. “I can’t believe we’re talking like this. It’s so naughty!”
She ran her fingers down the front of his already unbuttoned shirt and leaned in to kiss his neck. He smelled like wet pine after coming in from the rain. She kissed him again, kissed his cheek this time. Every peck left a pink mark on his flesh. Tonight, she’d paint him with lipstick. Her lips would be her brush, and his skin her canvas. She’d been waiting all day, and now this dirty talk was gearing her up for an evening to remember.
“Sorry again about dinner,” she said with a deliberate pout.
Nathaniel shrugged. “Hey, it’s not your fault the power went out. I wasn’t all that hungry anyway.” Leaning toward the coffee table, he stacked some cheese onto a cracker and popped it in his mouth. Hannah felt awful that finger food was the best she could do after promising him a meal to die for. She nuzzled his chest as he chewed. From the time he’d walked through the door, she suspected it wasn’t food Nathaniel had on his mind. Her husband wasn’t usually a dirty talker, but he’d sure gotten into it tonight. Maybe it was the candles. The whole atmosphere of the power outage fostered creativity.
“What else do you want?” she asked. “If we had another man here right now, what would you do to him?”
Nathaniel made an Mmm sound deep in his throat as Hannah pulled his shirttails from his navy blue trousers. “Are you undressing me?” he asked.
“Are you avoiding the question?” she answered.
He kissed her forehead, leaving a dab of wet warmth in his wake. “Have you ever known me to avoid questions?” He chuckled as she pushed his shirt down over his shoulders and teased his pert nipple with her tongue. “Oh, you do have a talent for that.”
“You like it, huh?” She leaned across his chest and bit the other nipple as it stood erect. “Well, then, you’d better keep talking, mister. I want to see it in my mind.” Sitting up beside him, Hannah looked out across the candlelit living room. Her gaze fell into the rocking chair under the vast window of the sunroom extension. “If there was a handsome young man, like that guy Jameson from your office…if he was sitting in that rocking chair over there, what would you do to him?”
“What would I do?”
“Yes, what would you do?” Hannah chuckled as Nathaniel rose from the couch and wandered toward the window. “I’m waiting for an answer, Mister ‘I’m secure in my masculinity.’ How would you make that boy come?”
Nathaniel set his thick fingers against the shining oak of the rocking chair. With his back to Hannah, he raised his head to the raindrops drizzling down the great window. She hoped the electricity would never come back on; this naughtiness was much more entertaining than anything on television. Her insides sizzled.
Turning, Nathaniel met Hannah’s gaze from across the room. “If he was sitting in this chair right here?”
Hannah squirmed in her seat. Her panties were wet just thinking about charming Jameson, the young gay go-getter in the grey cubicle across from her husband’s. “Yes, if he was sitting there naked, all dark and delicious, what would you do to his flesh?”
“The first thing I would do,” Nathaniel replied, walking around the chair, “is touch his face.”
She squealed like a schoolgirl. “You would?” Grabbing a throw pillow, Hannah hugged it close to her chest. “Oh, I’d never have guessed that. Where on his face? And what would you touch him with?”
Nathaniel rolled his eyes. “With my finger, you little minx.” He looked down into the rocking chair as though Jameson were really seated there. “I would brush my index finger down his cheek.”
Hannah cooed at the thought. “I’ve never touched a black man’s stubble. I wonder what it would feel like. Would it be fuzzy, do you think, or sharp like yours?”
“I imagine it would feel like mine,” he said, running a hand across his blondish five o’clock shadow. Nathaniel had an exquisite face: a squared jaw, a dimpled chin, a Greek nose, and a scorching look in his grey eyes every time a dirty thought crossed his mind.
“What would you do next?” Hannah asked, squeezing the square pillow closer to her chest. “I’m sure you wouldn’t spend the whole night touching his face.”
Standing upright beside the rocking chair, Nathaniel stuck his thumb in the air and wriggled it. “I’d put this in his mouth.”
“Oooh…” Hannah chuckled. “I thought you were going somewhere else with that.”
Her idea seemed to bring a blush to her husband’s cheeks. Swinging her feet up onto the couch, she hid her smile behind the throw pillow and let out a throaty giggle. “Nathaniel, you’ve gone all shy on me!”
“Never,” he said with a wink…
About the author:
Giselle Renarde is a queer Canadian, avid volunteer, contributor to more than 100 short story anthologies, and award-winning author of dozens of electronic and print books, including Anonymous, Ondine, The Red Satin Collection, and My Mistress’ Thighs. Ms Renarde lives across from a park with two bilingual cats who sleep on her head.
Canada just got hotter!