Don't Look Now by Richard Montanari Read Free Book Online

happened upon the couple having sex in the MetroPark, the two thrashing around in the leaves, so fully consumed by their passions that they didn’t hear the twelve-year-old Matty Heller nearly fall off his bike and scramble behind the boulders that surrounded Squire’s Castle?
    As he pulled on to I-90 he concluded that the whole thing had been decided for him long before he realized that anyone else had anything different in their diapers than he did.
    The fact that he liked to watch strangers was one thing. But when had it begun with Andie? When had he started to think about his wife in those terms? They had been married for two years before it had even crossed his mind, and even then he hadn’t dared discuss any of it with her.
    Because Andrea Della Croce had been raised a ‘good-a Catholic-a girl’, as her grandmother would often remind them when they were dating. Which meant, of course, that every chance that Andie got she would screw Matt Heller’s eyes out. Over the years they had tried every position, had played around with a ‘marital aid’ or two, had even made love in their semi-private backyard in Shaker Heights on a few warm summer nights. But for the most part, the kinky things were relegated to the back of Matt Heller’s mind.
    Yet Andie
did
have her moments.
    Twice they had gone grocery shopping, in a manner of speaking, by driving to a west side Heinen’s. Andrea wore a short skirt and a very thin tank top, while Matt took a separate cart and walked the store behind her, fielding the looks Andie’s perfect legs and soft, pendulous breasts would fetch. Both times, the escapades had heated their sex life for weeks afterward.
    Matt was certain that there wasn’t one of his male friends – single, married, divorced or otherwise – who didn’t envy him, didn’t want to do the Sealy samba with his sexy wife.
    Andrea Heller was a shade over five four and very well proportioned. She had a tiny waist, a Pilates-toned body. Although her hands were petite and young-looking, she rarely painted her nails. This was a cause of great concern for a woman who made her living in the cosmetics business. Her skin was an alabaster white, her hair a rich brunette that complemented the natural red of her lips.
    Of the few times they had gone out to play – mostly when they were out of town, usually nothing more than a casual flirtation in a bar while Matt watched – Andrea’s outfits were planned down to the smallest detail. Like what kind of shoes she wore. How short her skirt should be. Would she wear a slip, hoop earrings, nylons, a bra, jewelry.
    Matt Heller was a pro. A voyeur’s voyeur. In his six years as a civil engineer he had helped design huge multimillion-dollar municipal projects with less attention to detail than a single Andie Heller outfit. But he wanted more. It was time.
    He wanted …
what
?
    When he rounded the corner and saw his wife standing in the lobby of the Terrace Room Restaurant, wearing a blond wig, he knew.
    For Matt, of course, the fantasy began the moment he saw his wife in the lobby.
    For Andrea, this first time she walked the edge of her
own
fantasies, it began midway through dinner.
    Their waiter, an Italian-looking kid about twenty-five, couldn’t seem to keep his eyes off Andie. Lots of extra butter for their table. Lots of extra rolls. Gallons of water. Much repartee. Matt could see that the attention was not lost on his wife. Andie seemed to arch her back a little more often when the waiter was around.
    Matt waited for him to leave. ‘Are you flirting to turn me on?’ he asked.
    ‘What do
you
think?’ Andie raised her wine-glass to her lips.
    ‘I’m not sure. I’ve never had a blond wife before.’
    ‘Do you really like it?’
    ‘Are you kidding?’ Matt whispered. ‘Of
course
I like it. I’m just a little …’
    ‘Shocked?’
    ‘Yeah.’
    ‘Me too.’ Andie laughed and threw her head back, knowing that every man in the restaurant wanted to take her to bed;