“Well. Good.” He squinted dramatically. “You’re not as out of focus as you’d led me to believe, but you’re still passable.”

She swatted his arm, faking offense. “Wow, thanks.”

His tongue flirted with the corner of his lips just a moment, the heat in his eyes going from warm to downright scorching. “I think you’re incredibly sexy. Way sexier than I’d let myself expect you might be.”

She flushed with relief. “Good. We’re on the same page, then.”

“So you think there’ll be a second date, or whatever this is?”

“That’s entirely up to my husband, but I’d like to.”

Sam took a moment to assess what she was feeling, making sure she was lust-drunk, not plain old wine-drunk. Nope, this high was all Bern. Bern, and Mike’s unseen, watching eyes. She put her hand to his side again, loving the heat of him, the feeling of trim muscle shifting softly under her palm. Again, he laid his own hand over hers, fingers rubbing her knuckles. He tapped her glass with his, a little toast to celebrate that the attraction was mutual, perhaps.

“So if it does happen,” he asked, “it’ll be at your place, right? Or a hotel…?”

“Our place. In our bed.”

“Ah, of course.” She sensed another blush behind that stubble, and if she wasn’t mistaken, his lips were darker, fuller. Her own felt the same. “And when would I actually get introduced to him?” he asked.

“You know, I’m not sure. I’m not actually sure you do, not until he ‘catches’ us. Though if that’s not okay with you, we can figure something out.”

“I think I’m down with whatever you guys have planned. Just curious. Part of me thinks it’s pretty low, getting with some guy’s wife without even shaking his hand… Then another part remembers the whole thing’s sort of fucked, so why worry about the etiquette?”

“He wants realism,” she said. “So the more mysterious and impersonal you stay to him, the better.”

“Sure. You know, for all I know, you’re actually a single woman with a pretty crazy kink of her own.”

Sam laughed. “That’d be a twist, huh? But I assure you my husband’s very real, and very much watching us.”

“Can I ask you some more personal stuff?” Bern leaned in closer as he said it, and Sam suddenly wanted to taste the beer on his lips.

She stroked his side through his shirt, tempted to touch his chest, his belly, but not finding the nerve. “Go right ahead.”

“I’m not real set in my ways, sex-wise. And I know this is like a performance for him, basically. Like live-action, made-to-order, designer pornography.”

She nodded, struck by the aptness of that analogy. “Yes, I’d say that’s exactly what it is.”

“What sort of sex do you think he wants us to have?”

“Well, obscenely hot sex. Sex for an audience.”

“Showmanship?”

She laughed. “That’s a good way to put it. It doesn’t have to be a porno-level performance, completely overdone and corny. But dirty talk, for sure. He’ll want a lot of that. A lot of me talking about how good you are, and how… you know. How big you are, and how much better you are at sex than anyone I’ve ever been with.”

“This is going to be great for my ego.”

“Think you can do that? The talking? Ideally you’d be really smug and kind of a jerk, and make me tell you how much better you are.”

“I bet I could. I’m not inhibited. Not that I’ve ever done it with anybody’s man watching… but yeah. I can be a cocky asshole. Short of actually making you feel, I dunno – demeaned.”

Sam smiled. “A lot of women would feel demeaned by the entire arrangement.”

“But not you?” Worry drew his eyebrows together.

She shook her head. “Like I said, I was the one who offered to make it real. Before now, it’s all been games.”

Concern gave way to curiosity. “Oh? How so?”

“I go out with a girlfriend after work, come home late, making excuses. That sort of thing. He accuses, I ‘confess.’ ”

“Turbo-charged sex ensues?” Bern supplied.

“Pretty much, and during it I tell him all about the made-up guy. Now, if you become a part of it, he gets to watch it for real, instead of just imagining. So make a big deal of yourself, if that makes sense.”

He smiled, the gesture warm and a touch confounded. “Makes as much sense as anything else about this proposal.”

Neither spoke for a long moment, their gazes flicking across each other’s faces. In that silence, Sam fell into a little trance, awed to realize she might do things with this man. Touch him. Kiss him. Have sex with him and explore the beautiful body promised by his fitted tee. She could imagine so easily having encountered him under innocent circumstances, at this same bar, out with a friend. This tall, handsome man with a low, soft voice and that sinful drawl. He could have offered her a drink, and she’d have told him thanks but no thanks and flashed her wedding ring, and felt all flattery, no regret. And maybe later she’d have remembered him as she walked home, and bitten her lip, indulging in a moment’s guilty pleasure, imagining what he might have been like in bed.

But they were beyond imagining now.

And with that thought, this mission changed. Before, her pleasure had been Mike’s. Now she felt a desire separate from his kink, a current wired directly between her body and Bern’s.

“Are we allowed to kiss?” he asked.

Cheeks burning with pleasure, Sam nodded and slid her hand farther around his side. She heard the little thud as he set his beer on the jukebox, then his mouth was lowering, closer, closer. A hot, thrilling sensation squirmed in her middle, and she hoped Mike was feeling this same pleasurable agitation. Then Bern’s mouth brushed hers, soft and uncertain. Big fingers, cool from his glass, touched her jaw, and he pressed his lips to hers.

She heard and felt a soft sigh escape his nose to warm her own, and she tilted her head.

You’re kissing a man. And he’s not Mike. Guilt and excitement mingled, a potent mix.

Yes, she was kissing a man, and he felt so different. Unnatural, but not in a bad way. His lips were soft and a touch hesitant, but he hadn’t spent the past five years getting trained in the art of kissing Sam as her husband had. If Bern made it to their bedroom, he’d be playing the role of the self-assured, gruff jerk. Let him be uncertain here. This was the time and place for doubt.

Though, strangely, Sam felt none, herself.

No tap on the shoulder or clearing of a throat stopped them, so after half a minute she trusted that Mike was enjoying the show, and she joined the kiss for real. She slid her hand up Bern’s ribs and over his chest – firm and warm. She laid her palm on his throat and kissed him back, showing him what she liked. He was a quick learner, and his respectful contact changed, mouth growing bold.

She stroked his jaw, wanting to feel his beard. She’d dated a guy with a goatee during grad school, but she’d long forgotten this soft scratchiness after all her years with Mike.

Bern tasted different as well, nothing to do with his beer. His skin would taste different, his sex would smell different, his sweat, his come… Her pussy tightened, intimate muscles clenching at the notion.

She wondered then how Bern was supposed to treat her.

Not as though he was in love with her, surely. Not unaffectionate, but not overly fond. Maybe even a touch callous. She didn’t think there was room in Mike’s fantasies for mutual respect, for kind smiles and caring. Bern wasn’t meant to treat her poorly, but he was supposed to defile her, essentially. He had to both worship and use her, and this kiss felt like neither of those verbs. It felt sexy and exploratory, borderline romantic. But for now, that was okay. The mere fact that a strange man was kissing her ought to fit the bill for this first outing.

Bern’s tongue slid against hers, sure and brazen. It told her, yes, he could do this. He could drive if they gave him the keys, and she’d be more than a willing passenger – she might just be an eager one. If they weren’t at a bar, in plain sight of the entire room, she wondered what she’d do. More than she would have guessed. She might even slide her palm down his front and cup him between his legs, and find out if he met Mike’s most key criterion.