My Hot Wife's Double Life - Chapter 3: Chapter 3

I glanced outside and did a double take—Sophia's husband was out cold on the balcony daybed. Hadn't even noticed him conk out. No wonder Sophia was getting bold.
I turned to Emily with my best puppy-dog eyes. "Babe, can I skip this one?"
"Ask Sophia. You lost fair and square," Emily shot back, grinning like she'd won the lottery just watching me squirm.
Sophia's smirk could've cut glass. "No passes. Spill."
I exhaled hard. "Fine. 19 cm. Measured it in high school like a weirdo."
Thank God the third round went to Emily. Her question? Ever fantasized about another woman?
Piece of cake.
"Obviously. Like those AV actresses who—"
"You pig!" Emily swatted my arm, laughing.
By round four, I finally scored. Payback time.
I locked eyes with Sophia. "Anything goes?"
She flashed a Cheshire grin. "Sure. Oh wait—that was your question. Next round!"
"Son of a—!"
They were tag-teaming me, and loving every second.
We played past ten. With Emily's help, Sophia had me filleted open—every secret laid bare.
Later in bed, I grumbled, "Sophia's a shark. And you fed her."
Emily giggled, snuggling closer. "Don't pout. She barely visits. Maybe she's just… unwinding."
"Uh-huh. You're still getting punished."
A sharp swat to her backside sent her kneeling.
Emily's cheeks burned, but she didn't protest.
That night? Far from PG.
Next day, I'd just hauled in the groceries when Emily cannonballed into me.
"Honey, I got it! Base salary's $3K even if I sell nothing!"
"Real estate? You sure?" I frowned. Last night's… distractions had wiped it from my mind.
"Yes! Sophia took me today. She'll mentor me. Let me try?"
I caved, not about to rain on her parade. Still, the market chewed newbies alive.
As I headed out for deliveries, Emily emerged in her "work uniform": a white blouse and a skirt that barely qualified as clothing.
"Since when does sales require a leg show?" I muttered.
"It's standard! Look—" She hitched the skirt, revealing sheer stockings.
My grip on the doorknob turned white. Table. Now.
Emily shoved me back, flushed. "Later! I'll be late. Tonight."
I smirked. "Fine. I'll pick you up."
At 5 PM, I called.
"Sorry, I've got a client viewing tonight. Go home first," Emily said.
"Night viewing?"
A pause. Then Sophia hijacked the phone.
"Relax, Ethan. It's a doctor with a packed schedule. I'll return your wife in mint condition."
I choked. "Uh. Thanks?"
"Just thanks? How about… thanking me in person?"
I hung up so fast, the phone sparked.
By 9 PM, Emily was MIA.
Then my phone blew up. Lucas—my trust-fund jerk friend—had texted:
"Drinks. Two smoking-hot realtors. Prepped for you. Just take 'em to a hotel."
Attached: a sneaky video and an address.
Realtors?
My stomach dropped. Like watching Emily stripped naked in public.
I tapped the video.