woman just a little younger than me. Early thirties, perhaps. Immaculately presented and clearly someone who knew how to carry herself. A tailored navy suit held itself perfectly to her curves, her smartly straightened hair framing her naturally beautiful features.
“Mr Hatfield’s just finishing his previous appointment. He’ll be with you shortly.”
The door clicked open as she finished speaking and Max Hatfield guided a young woman out, his hand placed affectionately on the small of her back.
She turned to kiss him lightly as she left. Whispered something and giggled as he patted her behind.
“I’m sure,” he laughed. “I’m sure. I’ll see you in a couple of days. Daisy will make your next appointment.”
I felt so incredibly out of place. She was every bit as poised as Daisy. Seemingly endless curls of blonde hair cascading down her back. Her suit in the same cut and style, but in scarlet.
I almost wanted to run, but there was something about him that seemed oddly reassuring. I knew even then that I wanted to be under his tuition.
“Your next appointment, Mr Hatfield. Emma’s here for her interview.”
“Ahh. Excellent. Come through, Emma. Let’s have a little chat, shall we?”
I’m not sure what I’d expected from a Hotwife Coach. Perhaps someone a little less elegant. Perhaps someone a little more brash. Max Hatfield was somewhere in his fifties. Six one, probably. Comfortable in his tailored suit and an open collared shirt. Surprisingly confident.
I was the very opposite. An absolute bundle of nerves and embarrassment.
He asked Daisy to bring tea and an appointment form as he led me into the room.
“I think Emma’s going to be signing with us very soon.”
He smiled, knowing that I was already under whatever spell he was casting on me.
Max Hatfield’s office was sleek and elegant. Lots of hard glass and metal. An incredibly masculine environment for a man who needed nothing other than his own presence to demonstrate that he was genuinely in control.
A few pieces of carefully chosen art hung on one wall. Images of elegant, assured women. Clearly chosen to coordinate with each other. Most of them around my age. All of them clearly presented to demonstrate their availability.
I wondered whether this was about Max Hatfield simply finding women to suit his own tastes. To provide for his pleasure.
Six floors up, I could see the city skyline from the window behind his desk. And on the other wall a huge red curtain. Perhaps hiding another window, the whole length of the office. I wanted to pull it back and look down on the ordinary people. Imagine myself back out there. Shopping. Drinking coffee. Meeting girlfriends for an afternoon of chatter and catching up.
“I usually find that the best place to start is you telling me about how things are at home. Come and sit here. Let’s talk.”
Max Hatfield pointed to a chair facing his desk. He sat across from me. Very much as I imagined interviewing for a secretary position or some such might be. I wondered how he did that. How he explained his enterprise to the people who worked for him.
“I see that you’re married. Let’s start with that.”
I explained our situation. Our comfortable life, the way that Ken provided for me beautifully. The way that he adored me and had since we were in our late teens. We’d grown up together, enjoyed more luxuries than most. A happy life that many would be envious of.
“But sex, Emma? Tell me about sex.”
Daisy entered with the tea. Left the tray on Mr Hatfield’s desk and placed a bundle of papers in front of him.
“Sex is kind of rare. We had a lot of fun when we were younger, but the spark sort of left us a long time ago. Ken needs it occasionally, but it’s not often. Not any more.”
I explained that Ken had spoken many times about me taking a lover, but that it wasn’t something I felt confident about.
“And he’d enjoy that, would he? Knowing you were with someone else?”
I
“Mr Hatfield’s just finishing his previous appointment. He’ll be with you shortly.”
The door clicked open as she finished speaking and Max Hatfield guided a young woman out, his hand placed affectionately on the small of her back.
She turned to kiss him lightly as she left. Whispered something and giggled as he patted her behind.
“I’m sure,” he laughed. “I’m sure. I’ll see you in a couple of days. Daisy will make your next appointment.”
I felt so incredibly out of place. She was every bit as poised as Daisy. Seemingly endless curls of blonde hair cascading down her back. Her suit in the same cut and style, but in scarlet.
I almost wanted to run, but there was something about him that seemed oddly reassuring. I knew even then that I wanted to be under his tuition.
“Your next appointment, Mr Hatfield. Emma’s here for her interview.”
“Ahh. Excellent. Come through, Emma. Let’s have a little chat, shall we?”
I’m not sure what I’d expected from a Hotwife Coach. Perhaps someone a little less elegant. Perhaps someone a little more brash. Max Hatfield was somewhere in his fifties. Six one, probably. Comfortable in his tailored suit and an open collared shirt. Surprisingly confident.
I was the very opposite. An absolute bundle of nerves and embarrassment.
He asked Daisy to bring tea and an appointment form as he led me into the room.
“I think Emma’s going to be signing with us very soon.”
He smiled, knowing that I was already under whatever spell he was casting on me.
Max Hatfield’s office was sleek and elegant. Lots of hard glass and metal. An incredibly masculine environment for a man who needed nothing other than his own presence to demonstrate that he was genuinely in control.
A few pieces of carefully chosen art hung on one wall. Images of elegant, assured women. Clearly chosen to coordinate with each other. Most of them around my age. All of them clearly presented to demonstrate their availability.
I wondered whether this was about Max Hatfield simply finding women to suit his own tastes. To provide for his pleasure.
Six floors up, I could see the city skyline from the window behind his desk. And on the other wall a huge red curtain. Perhaps hiding another window, the whole length of the office. I wanted to pull it back and look down on the ordinary people. Imagine myself back out there. Shopping. Drinking coffee. Meeting girlfriends for an afternoon of chatter and catching up.
“I usually find that the best place to start is you telling me about how things are at home. Come and sit here. Let’s talk.”
Max Hatfield pointed to a chair facing his desk. He sat across from me. Very much as I imagined interviewing for a secretary position or some such might be. I wondered how he did that. How he explained his enterprise to the people who worked for him.
“I see that you’re married. Let’s start with that.”
I explained our situation. Our comfortable life, the way that Ken provided for me beautifully. The way that he adored me and had since we were in our late teens. We’d grown up together, enjoyed more luxuries than most. A happy life that many would be envious of.
“But sex, Emma? Tell me about sex.”
Daisy entered with the tea. Left the tray on Mr Hatfield’s desk and placed a bundle of papers in front of him.
“Sex is kind of rare. We had a lot of fun when we were younger, but the spark sort of left us a long time ago. Ken needs it occasionally, but it’s not often. Not any more.”
I explained that Ken had spoken many times about me taking a lover, but that it wasn’t something I felt confident about.
“And he’d enjoy that, would he? Knowing you were with someone else?”
I
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