Her Fantasy Reality by Zenobia Renquist

Her Fantasy Reality by Zenobia Renquist

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Her Fantasy Reality by Zenobia Renquist


At a boring benefit dinner, Stacy keeps herself occupied by imagining erotic encounters with the other guests.

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Scene One

Company benefit parties should be considered one of the nine circles of hell, reserved for ass-kissers and busybody, social climbing housewives. Stacy was neither of those, and yet she had been consigned to the punishment anyway.

Of course, her husband Noah was seated at a head table, so they wouldn’t be able to slip out unobserved when things got well and truly boring. He was pretty high up in the company, just not high enough, which was why they were here. Noah needed to schmooze with clients and make himself look good, to get a promotion he’d more than earned through hard work.

Stacy thought of unicorns and puppies and anything else happy so her smile stayed in place as she greeted the other wives. She hoped her smile didn’t look as forced as theirs.

“Good of you to make it, Noah.” Tom Delane patted Noah’s shoulder and smiled. “We missed you and your lovely wife at the first two. Such a shame you couldn’t make it. Both events were amazing. Everyone had a great time.” Tom turned his attention to Stacy. “And you, Stacy.” He let his gaze roam over her. “That is a stunning ensemble.”

“Thank you. I saw it last week and had to have it. I’m just happy to find an occasion to wear it.” She trailed a finger over the silky fabric of her champagne-colored, floor-length halter evening gown. It had a split up to the top of her left thigh and an open back that left her bare from clasp at her neck to the crack of her ass.

Anyone standing beside her, and looking, would get to see an impressive amount of side boob thanks to the cut of her dress. And she knew Tom was looking. She pushed her abundant hair over her shoulder and shifted her weight so she swiveled to present him with more of her profile and a better vantage point. The move was practiced, intentional, and had the desired effect.

Tom’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. “I’m glad you had an occasion to wear it, too.”

“You don’t think it’s too much?”

“Not at all.”

The woman standing next to Tom said in a forced-congenial voice, “Wherever did you find such an…interesting dress?” She curved her hand around Tom’s upper arm and squeezed.

The woman’s obvious way of staking her claim almost made Stacy laugh. Stacy had no interest in Tom, or any other man in the room. Her aim was to show off, to make every woman there wish she looked as good as Stacy did. And she did look damn good.

Her brown skin was flawless, hairless, and glowing, thanks to her moisturizing regime. She’d visited her hairdresser earlier that day for a high fanned out ponytail ‘do that spread her black loose curls across her shoulders and down her back, accentuating the amount of bare skin she was showing.

She worked at her looks, and made sure when Noah wanted to display her, that she looked her absolute best. This was one of those times. Stacy took her role as a trophy wife very seriously. If she could make at least five women act like they wanted to claw her eyes out, she’d succeeded in her task. The woman with Tom counted as number one.

“I made it.” Stacy nodded at the woman’s expression of surprise. “I saw the design on the red carpet and just had to have it. I’m a seamstress by trade.” She ran her hand down Noah’s arm. “I made this too.”

Noah smirked with his hands out from his sides and did a slow turn to show off his bespoke dark-grey three-piece suit with navy blue shirt and a silver and blue tie. With his ice-blue eyes, slicked-back, light-brown hair, and goatee, he could easily be mistaken for a model. “Three days. I told her about the event and she had this waiting for me.”

The woman blinked and looked between Noah and Stacy. “Seriously?” She shook her head. “No way. Those are store bought. Have to be.”

Stacy inclined her head. “Thank you for the compliment, and no, we’re not joking. I made these. It’s the reason this dress fits so well.” She inhaled, pressing her breasts against the fabric so it shifted just enough to appear as though she might have a nipple slip. It wouldn’t happen, but the possibility had Tom’s eyes riveted to her chest. “This is what I do. I have an online shop for re-created fashions and costumes. I also do alterations.”

“You do really good work,” Tom said.

Reaching into her clutch, Stacy retrieved a business card and held it out. “If you ever need clothing, give me a call. I make all types, and can alter just about anything. Since you’re a friend of Tom’s, I’ll even give you a discount. What was your name, again?”

“Clarice.” The woman took the card and stuffed it in her purse. “I’m Tom’s fiancée.”

And Tom forgot that fact the second he got an eyeful of me. Stacy kept that sentiment to herself. “It’s nice to meet you.” She said to Tom, “You never mentioned getting engaged. Congratulations.”

Tom winced as Clarice gripped his arm. With a strained chuckle, he said, “It’s recent. You weren’t at the last benefit dinner, or else you would have met Clarice then. Gordon made a huge deal of announcing it.”

“I’m sorry I missed it. There was a conflict with kids’ competition.”

“Kids?” Clarice looked Stacy up and down. “You have kids?”

“Yes.” Stacy smiled wide, placing one hand on her slim waist. “Boys—twelve and ten. They play cello and piano in their school jazz band. The competition was the same night as last month’s benefit and our kids always come first.”

“Twelve and ten? Did you have your first one when you were twelve? You can’t be more than twenty-five.”

Stacy laughed, genuinely. “Oh, thank you, dear. That’s good for my ego. No, I had my first when I was twenty-eight.” She lowered her voice and leaned in close, “Don’t tell anyone I’m forty. I keep saying I’m thirty. I like to make people think Noah robbed the cradle.”

Clarice gaped at her while Tom chuckled.

Noah slipped his hand around her waist. “Sweets, there’s an hors d’oeuvres buffet. You missed lunch, right? Go get a snack.”

She looked in the direction he indicated. Several people were gathered around a long table of varied finger foods and pre-poured drinks. “Looks delicious. Did you want anything?”

“Surprise me.” He kissed her cheek and gave her butt a pat.

“Sure.” She smiled at Clarice. “Coming with?”

Clarice shook her head. “No, I’m saving my appetite for dinner.”

“I should do the same. I don’t want to even think about the amount of exercise I’ll have to do to work off tonight.” She put an extra swing in her hips as she walked away, knowing Clarice was watching.

Noah would be watching too. He loved when Stacy wore outfits that showed off her body so people could see how good he had it. Her dress choice of the evening wasn’t just to infuriate the women. Though it was a special bonus to bask in the murderous gazes of the women who beheld Stacy. She could hear them gnashing their teeth and the sound resembled applause.

Tonight’s dress choice was meant to get Noah hot and bothered. Stacy showed off just enough skin to pique his interest and would flirt just the right amount to spark his jealousy. Combine and let stew over the length of a benefit dinner, and Noah would be ready to rip the dress off her the moment they arrived home. With the kids visiting their grandparents this weekend, that all but guaranteed sex against the front door, and on the couch, and possibly the coffee table, before taking it to the bedroom where they could really have some fun.

Noah would be in top form and employing every trick, to remind her that she’d married him, that she belonged to him, and that she shouldn’t be looking at anyone else when she had him. Thinking about the many ways he would impress those lessons on her body made her panties wet. This evening couldn’t end fast enough for her.

She stopped to assess the food offerings. Someone bumped into her and wetness hit her back. “What the hell?” She looked over her shoulder at the man carrying a small plate and wearing an apologetic smile.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I wasn’t paying attention.” He gave a strained chuckle. “At least it missed the dress, right?”

“Could you get me a napkin?” She snapped, not trying to play cordial while whatever had dripped on her was wending its way down her back to the top of her ass.

“Here. Let me uh… get… uh… Excuse me.” He leaned over and put his plate down before reaching past Stacy.

She thought he would grab a napkin. A surprised squeak escaped her mouth when he slipped an arm around her waist and pulled her back.

His hot mouth landed on her skin, followed by his tongue. He licked along her spine, removing the sauce, and sending Stacy’s libido into overdrive.

She nibbled her bottom lip as he trailed his mouth to the edge of her dress, making tiny flicks of his tongue at the top of the crack of her ass. She wiggled to invite him to go lower. Deeper. She wanted to feel his tongue on her rim.

He said in a husky voice, feathering his breath across the upper curve of her ass, “I think I got it all, but I’d better check to be sure. You don’t want to be sticky.”

“No, I don’t.”

Cupping her hips, he slipped his tongue beneath her dress to dance against her tailbone.

Stacy’s clit throbbed. She wished the man, whoever he was, would stop teasing her. Just yank her dress down and lick her asshole the way she wanted. The way he wanted, if his nibbling licks were any indication.

The man lifted his head and she met his gaze over her shoulder. “Maybe you should do it instead.”

Stacy blinked a few times and reality reasserted itself. The man stood with a napkin hovering above her back, wearing a sheepish expression that made him appear younger than he probably was. She snatched the napkin from him and dabbed at the sauce, getting to it right before it touched her dress.

“Sorry, again.” He retrieved his plate and walked away.

She turned to the table and stuffed the used napkin beneath one of the serving platters. This evening needed to be over sooner rather than later, if she was fantasizing about complete strangers licking her. Or maybe she was projecting. She glanced back toward the head table and found Noah engrossed in conversation with one of his colleagues.

Would he have even noticed some man with his face stuffed between her ass cheeks if it had really happened?

Her Fantasy Reality by Zenobia Renquist
Buy from Amazon Kindle