If you met my wife, you would think she was a sweet and docile little housewife.

Sweet; yes. Little; obviously. Housewife? Certainly. Docile? Not with me.

She’s blond, blue-eyed, and Danish. Things weren’t too bad when we lived in the countryside in Connecticut, but when we moved down to Washington D.C. she seemed to change.

Suddenly, she had a social life; she met friends of her own, we went to dinners, we entertained at our house.

Gertrude is a bright, personable woman. She engaged with everyone, she listened to them, everyone loved her; it made me proud to be her husband. I was glad that we had moved; she had been suffocating in that big, empty house.

We were at a dinner party for the birthday of a friend of mine from work.

There was good food, good cheer, and a liberal amount of champagne.

Somebody put some music on.

“Come on, dance with me,” Gertrude said to me.

“I don’t want to,” I answered her; no one else was dancing, I didn’t want to embarrass myself.

So my foreign wife danced by herself, in the midst of the small crowd in the living room. There were only about six of us, but Gertrude seemed to be the only one uninhibited enough to let herself move with the music.

Our hostess, Celine, began to dance as well. I couldn’t tear my eyes away; they were both so lovely, and there’s something very sexy about a dancing woman.

They faced each other, swaying slowly and gracefully, careful not to spill their wine glasses. The rest of us spoke together as before, but all of our eyes watched the women in the middle of the room.

Gertrude grinned at me and turned her attention back to her new friend. They danced a little closer; within a foot of each other. They began to match each other’s movements; it was wonderful, spontaneous, and sexy.

The recording ended, and everyone sat down. The evening got late, people began to go home. Finally, it was just the four of us.

As we stood to leave, I shook hands with my host and hostess. Gertrude, in the European fashion, kissed them.

But as she embraced Celine, she lost her balance slightly, and they stumbled together, laughing. There had been some champagne consumed, remember? And then Gertrude kissed Celine again; on the mouth.

I just stared, looking forward to getting Gertrude back home and into bed.

Then she kissed Tom, taking his big head in her small, pale hands, she unabashedly kissed him on the lips. Well, it was his birthday. She looked tiny in his embrace, his hands massive on the small of her back.

My little wife broke away from my colleague; “Oh, I forgot my purse,” she said, and went back into the living room, followed by Celine. Tom said something about the weather as we waited for them to come back.

“Darling,” Gertrude said, “I’ll be staying here tonight. You go on home.”

I stared at her speechlessly.

“Go on, it’s Tom birthday, and we didn’t bring them anything, so I’ll stay here tonight. Go on home, Morgan.”

I looked at Tom; he was staring at my wife as shocked as I was. I looked at Celine; she looked back at me with a grin. I didn’t know she was grinning for me or at me.

And then I was headed for our car, alone. The door closed behind me with a click like thunder.

We had been spicing up our sex life with stories of infidelity; I particularly loved Gertrude’s stories of fantasy affairs with black men. Now she had decided to really do it.

I lay in my bed, alone; unable to sleep, thinking of my wife with my friends.

Celine and Tom were a young African-American couple, in their late twenties. Both of them were good-looking. Tom was big and strong. Celine was only slightly shorter, with long legs and slim hips.

I thought of my wife, my petite blond lady, sucking Tom’s black cock; it drove me nuts. It was a long, dark, lonely night for me.

Gertrude came breezing in late the next morning as I was having breakfast in the kitchen.

“Good morning, darling! Did you sleep well?”

“No. what about you?”

“Oh, you know what I’m like; after a few drinks and some good sex, I sleep like a log. Celine said I snored.”

I sat silently fuming.

Gertrude laughed and tousled my hair; “Don’t be like that! It’s what you wanted.”

“What do you mean?”

“You wanted me to have another affair with a black man. And now I have!”

It really was nice. Would you like to hear about it?”

“No.” I lied.

“If you didn’t want me to stay, you should have said so last night,” she told me. “Anyway, I really like Celine and Tom, and I’m glad I did.”

She poured herself coffee and sat down calmly. There was silence.

“All right,” I finally said. I can’t bear it when Gertrude is angry with me.

“All right, what?”

“Tell me about it.”

“I asked Celine if she would like me to stay when we were in the living room just before you left. We had all had a little bit too much to drink, you know. I was very excited by the idea, and I told her it would be a great birthday present for Tom.

“After you left, no one seemed to really know what to do at first. So I put the music on again, softly because it was late, and I danced while Tom watched. It was incredibly fun; Celine is so pretty, don’t you think? We held onto each other and kissed. I knew that Tom would find that very exciting. Then we took our clothes off, like a strip show. So we were naked.

We danced some more and hugged and kissed each other. You should have seen it, Morgan! Celine has such a lovely figure, and her skin is so smooth. I kissed her breasts, and she held me close against herself.

I looked over at Tom, and I smiled. He got the message and took his clothes off. He’s a very handsome man, Morgan. And very ... very handsome.

“We went to the bedroom after that. It was fantastic, just fantastic. I never even knew that I would like it like that, with another woman, I mean. Tom did us both proud. He did me first and then Celine.

“What do you think of that, Morgan? Do you think you could please two women? It takes a special man.”