The 1950s Hotwife Hits the Mob

A Hotwife Noir story on how Stella Lingold, the seductive matriarch of Maple Grove, coined the term "bedroom community."

Lance Reis Unsplash

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

Author’s note—if you know of something like this that really happened, then you should be the one writing the story!!! 😋

Look for more Maple Grove stories in the near future.

A Hotwife Noir tale

Maple Grove is called a bedroom community for a good reason.

Sure, today it’s filled with techies working remotely from home a couple of days per week and commuting to their tech corporation headquarters to make HR happy.

But back in the days of President Eisenhower, a woman named Stella Lingold was well-known in the community and it seemed every place where she spent more than five minutes became her bedroom.

She was only chest-high to most men but used her winks, smiles, and movements to overwhelm their masculinity.

Maple Grove had a fledgling college with a football team that didn’t know how to punt, block, pass, or run. But the guys had fun taking long bus rides to get their asses kicked on Saturdays in the fall. In exchange, they got pumped-up grades, free dinners, and plenty of beer.

But they had a game they won. Shockingly.

Time wears on, but some folks in the retirement community up on the hill still remember when the Maple Grove Bears defeated Northwestern on a Saturday. The Lozani Brothers were seen in town that following Wednesday driving a Porsche 550 and a Buick Roadmaster Skylark just for fun.

The Bentleys were kept safe on their estate and reserved for being chauffered to mass on Sundays and to the bank on weekdays.

Stella’s husband, Tommy, had explaining to do at home and why he lost $10,000. According to legend, he told Stella that the Bears were supposed to lose big, and one of the Lozani Brothers told him to put down as much as he possibly could because the payday was going to be hefty.

The whiskey that the Lozani Brothers served at their tavern helped Tommy decide to throw his money away.

Piles of cash were being bet by chumps that Maple Grove was going to suffer a catastrophic defeat with the longest string of losses in the history of college football.

Stunner of all stunners.

Northwestern lost by two touchdowns. It made for a feel-good story that Life magazine wrote up and Steve Allen chatted about on late-night TV.

Excuses came flying in faster than UFO sightings over New Mexico. The quarterbacks apparently had to leave early with a surprise stomach flu and the defensive linemen had a sudden attack of amnesia, forgetting how to tackle a running back.

Stella had her way of discovering what was in it for them.

She had never gone to college, but what did it matter?

Show some cleavage and fit into a hip-hugging dress and you get twenty-somethings to drop their jock straps like they were touching hot coals at a barbecue. Stella made her way to their practice the next week and sucked her way through the locker room like an investigative reporter on a hot lead. The team was all too eager to talk.

Back home a week later, Tommy broke out in a cold sweat and begged the Lozani Brothers to return his money, saying he was saving the big bucks as a downpayment on one of the nicest homes in town. He told them if word got out then his insurance agency would become the laughingstock of Maple Grove. Mario and Joseph Lozani had selective hearing loss.

He lay on the sofa, feeling sick when he got a glimpse of Stella walking through the living room fitting into her girdle and sliding a dress over her breasts and hips.

“Where you going?” he asked.

“Getting our money back.” Stella was Brooklyn-born and raised and feared no one.

“What? How?”

She had met Tommy when he was stationed in New York with the Coast Guard and let guys use her body for the R&R. “I told ‘em I’m going to make ‘em an offer they can’t refuse.”

Tommy tried sitting up. “Stella, they’ll—”

She sprayed her perfume, did her lipstick just right, and tied her scarf. “They’ll what?”

Her high heels spun her hips and ass like gears on a Mac Truck. “Don’t wait up.” She headed out the door and to the car, prepped for battle.