Ann: The Married Years Ch. 37

There was just something so powerful in that moment. Some of it came from the idea that she was dominant. Even while on her knees, bowing in front of a man in what could be viewed as an act of submission, she knew all along she truly was the one with the power. It was part of what she considered her fetish, the obsession of playing with a cock. And whether she was stroking it or sucking it, she was the one that controlled it. She could allow him to cum, or she could deny it, taking great pleasure in both.

She took pride in it. She knew she was an incredible cocksucker, looking at that term with pride instead of it being demeaning in any way. When she taught herself to deepthroat a massive cock like her husbands almost at will, she felt she was the best at it. Just the idea that she practiced to be able to accommodate one of his girth showed the dedication she had to what she considered a craft. Hell, she had actually taught classes on how to be better at it. The party was the one day where she could show off those impressive skills, and she was looking forward to it.

That also had a bit of a vain streak in her. She'd worked her ass off the year before, shedding some weight and toning her body right after having the baby, specifically to look stunning for the group. Now, a year later, she wanted to hang onto the larger breasts that came with being a new mother for the very same reason. After that she'd let it go, knowing they'd eventually get smaller. Until then, it seemed a harmless thing to pump them for another month or so.

It wasn't harmless at the moment, however. It was a turn on. That was because Neil was running the machine. Once he'd attached it to her left breast and turned it on, he became obsessed with how it worked, watching intently as her tit pulsed beneath the clear cone, the milk squirting through a valve and into the small plastic cup. He began playing with the pressure knob, increasing it slightly, making it go faster.

"Oh my God!" Ann blurted out, the increased suction catching her off guard. "What did you just do?"

"I turned it up," he replied with a smile. "Why?"

"I... I didn't know you could adjust it," she said as she gripped the arms of the chair. "That's... fuck that's incredible."

"Incredible how?"

"My nipple is tingling. Fuck, that just made me so wet, James," she cooed.

When he turned it up a little higher, she threw her head back, closing her eyes, a playful hiss escaping her lips before she started to giggle. He turned it back down, finishing with that side and moving to the other, playing with the settings once more. When done, she was shaking.

"That was hot," she sighed.

Handing her the cup of milk, he nodded. "So are you. Now drink this."

"What? Are you serious?"

"No evidence, Pamela. Drink it, and put on the chain. We need to get going."

She found it oddly titillating that he made her drink her own breast milk, but she did, downing the contents like a shot she'd take at the party. He took the unit to the bathroom to clean it while she placed the tiny golden loops of the chain over each nipple, tightening them snugly. She'd missed having her nipples abused in such a way, unable to do anything like that while she'd been breastfeeding for fear of infection, or worse, that she might stop lactating for some strange reason. With the chain firmly in place, she slipped the dress over her head, struggling for a moment to get it to fit properly.

Glancing in a mirror, she checked out her reflection. Her hair was up high again, the leather choker back in place. She looked the same as she did the day before, which bothered her. She'd wanted to wear her new red dress, unsure of why he had insisted she wear this one a second day in a row. Then she got a look at her nipples. They were engorged, pressing into the thin, shimmering fabric, the tightness of the dress making them stand out more than she could remember.

Frankly, it was borderline obscene, and that turned her on. The more turned on she became, the harder they got, creating an erotic cycle. She knew with the way they were constricted and how she was feeling about them, there was little chance they were going to go down. She'd be showing them off all night. He knew that wouldn't happen with the other dress the way it was designed. It showed more skin in different areas, but it didn't hug her body as much as this one did.

"Put this on," he said as he handed her the holster for her weapon.

"Really?" she questioned, knowing she'd have to fasten it to her thigh again.

"You're my backup. I don't have time for you to fish that out of your purse if something happens. Strap it on."

She put the gun up against her pussy, trying to conceal it as best she could. But she knew he wasn't going to allow her to put the extension back on the dress to cover it up totally like the previous night. Once she had it in place, she tugged at the hem, hoping to cover it, unsure if it would stay that way as she walked.

"Maybe I should just shove it up my pussy," she sighed as she stood in front of the mirror.

"No worries, Pamela. No one will see you going in with this on," he said as he held the fur coat open for her to slide her arms inside. "And once the play starts, they'll lower the lights. No one will know.

She'd borrowed her neighbor Samantha's fake fur again; the one she'd worn to the plant to surprise Neil outside. The one she'd worn with nothing underneath but stockings and a garter, using it as a blanket on the hood of her car when he fucked her behind the massive building. It was an elegant coat; one that made her feel the same way. Slipping it over her shoulders, she closed the front, a sense of confidence coming over her.

"I'm ready James," she nodded.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

They were heading to a local theatre company that was putting on a rendition of Dickens' A Christmas Carol. She'd been looking forward to it for weeks, as it was planned well before Neil had decided to make a weekend of their anniversary and stay at the old Inn. She thought the play was going to be her present, and he ended up making it even more magnificent by giving them a couple of days alone, just the two of them.

Once he told her they were spending the weekend, she devised a plan, wanting their time to be more of an adventure. It wasn't something they could do often anymore because of the baby. It seemed rather selfish to be coming up with sexual scenarios they could role-play when she should be concentrating on her child. There never seemed to be enough time to carry out the elaborate things her mind might come up with. But the getaway gave her an opportunity, and she didn't want to pass it up.

Sitting in the passenger seat of his car, she felt like a Bond girl about to embark on a dangerous mission; the debonair spy driving them toward unknown peril. She loved that they were in his 300ZX, as it was more of the sports variety. The way he was whipping it from lane to lane was making her giggle. She was glad he had changed his mind at the last minute, deciding not to drive hers. Still, she knew Bond had proven more than once he could drive anything and make it look sexy.

Neil looked incredibly handsome, a new dress shirt to go with his tailored suit. He'd even replaced the traditional tie with a bow variety, surprising her that he actually tied it himself in front of her, and it made her wonder when he'd learned to do it. Just watching him adjust it in the mirror made her weak in the knees; when he put on his holster, she practically came. He looked the part as much as he was acting it, and that was an incredible turn on for her.

"God this is so much fun," she thought as she looked at him driving. The fact that he put so much effort into it for her, even though he never knew they were going to do it ahead of time, astounded her. "He's so into this for me."

He was into it for himself too. If she would have asked him at that moment, he would have told her how much fun he having. He also would have confessed how lucky he felt having a wife that was so playful, and so full of life. He never imagined being able to do the things she allowed him to do. That she came up with most of the ideas only made them more exciting.

Pulling up in front of the theatre, she was a bit shocked to find that they had a valet service. She was more stunned when he actually decided to use it.

"We can just park. I can walk from the lot."

"We're supposed to be sophisticated socialites, Pamela," he said as he set the parking brake. "It's part of our cover. Just go with it."

She smiled, loving how he was doing everything the way Bond would. And Bond would have used a valet. It also appealed to her that he kept calling her Pamela. The character was actually named Pam Bouvier, which wasn't exactly the sexiest moniker ever given a Bond girl. Hell, the other female lead in the movie had the exotic name of Lupe Lamora. She was a Latina bombshell, and by comparison, the Bouvier character seemed a bit blander. But that appealed to her because they were more alike, and in the end, she ended up with Bond. Somehow, Neil calling her by what he assumed would be her full name made her feel sexier. Or maybe that feeling was naughty, like the subtle difference between being called Anna instead of Ann.

The young valet opened her door, helping her out. She stood on the sidewalk waiting for Neil, who took the ticket and placed it in his inside coat pocket. Holding out his elbow, she took it, letting him lead her inside.

It was a small theatre, able to hold no more than eight hundred people. And all of them seemed to be in the lobby at the moment, as the place was packed. She clutched his arm tighter as they sat down, finding the thrill in doing something so out of character. Not the role-playing. She took that in stride; becoming used to the idea of pretending to be someone she wasn't to satisfy her sexual appetite. In a way, that they were doing it in a theater seemed appropriate. After all, they were acting.

What was unusual was that they were in a theatre at all. They'd go to the movies every now and then, but they hadn't been to a live performance in years, the last time being before they were married. And that was in Iowa, of all places. To be where they were was electrifying. If that was all he'd done for their anniversary, she would have been thrilled. That they were now using the show as a backdrop for their latest carnal adventure only added to the experience.

"This is going to be a memorable night," she said as she looked around the huge lobby, waiting for the doors of the theatre to open.

"I think you're right," he smiled, turning her slightly to open the front of her coat.

"Wh... what are you doing?"

"Taking off your coat," he smiled. "The beginning of the distraction I was talking about."

"But... James," she said nervously, catching herself as she almost called him by his real name, "...what about my gun?"

Eyeing the thick points sticking out from her chest, he smiled before turning her around to stand behind her. Leaning in as he pulled the fur over her shoulders, he whispered, "Trust me, Pamela. No one will be looking at your legs. Not just yet, anyway."

She almost felt naked, the heads of men whipping around to catch a glimpse of the woman with the curvy body in the shining silver dress. Most women gazed in the direction as well, wanting to see what caught the eye of their significant other. Basking in the moment, she did a little pirouette for her husband, lifting her back leg at the knee as she leaned forward to kiss him, showing off her bare back and hint of the crack of her sexy, shapely ass in the process.

"God, I feel sexy," she sighed, batting her big beautiful brown eyes at him seductively.

"You are sexy." Draping her coat over his one arm, he held out his other and she latched on again, wanting everyone to know who she belonged to.

The doors finally opened, and they were able walk into the actual theatre a few moments later. The large curtain covering the front of the stage matched the plush maroon seats. It was an older place, but very well kept, the ornate light fixtures and decorative molding throughout the room reminding one of a simpler, yet more elegant time long ago.

They had tickets for center row, although the row was toward the very back of the theatre, their seats near the middle of the thirty or so in that particular section. Ann followed Neil down the tiny aisle between them, excusing herself as they passed several people that had sat down before them. She took great care to keep her legs close, not wanting to flash the toy gun hidden near her pussy. Then again, she needed to take great care not to flash her pussy, as she wasn't wearing anything underneath the short dress other than the holster.

Sitting down, she crossed her legs, hiding her crotch in the most ladylike fashion she could muster. She took a deep breath, hoping to relax, thankful that where they were sitting would mean no one would likely be crossing in front of them to find their seat.

Neil perused the playbill, reading about the adaptation they were doing, the troupe of actors involved, as well as a history of the theatre itself. He was also attempting to determine the order of the play, discovering they were doing the performance in three acts.

"We'll make our move during the beginning of the second act," he said, pointing to the booklet in his hand.

"What move?" she wondered, suddenly puzzled.

"On Sanchez! Why do you think we're here, Miss Bouvier, to watch a play?"

"Of course."

"Fuck the play. We're not here to have fun."

She became wide-eyed, not realizing they might actually be doing something silly during the performance. "You're serious?"

"Absolutely. He's going by the name Franklin Stevens."

"Are you sure?" she laughed.

"Positive. He's playing the 'Ghost from Christmas Present'. He'll be coming on the stage at the start of the second act, and that's when we'll do it."

"Do what... shoot him right there on stage?" she whispered, leaning in close for fear someone might actually overhear them, finding it hilarious he was taking the farce so far.

He spoke back in hushed tones, finding the worry on her face precious. "Yes. What is with you? We have a mission; we're taking him out. That's the job."

"Okay, what exactly is our escape plan? You don't even know where they parked the car... you used a valet."

"MI6 has that covered. I'll take him out, and in the chaos I bolt. That's where you come in as a distraction."

"And just how do I do that?"

"Leave that to me. I'll explain that before the second act begins."

"This is a pretty shitty plan, James. You bolt and I'm left here to die?"

"No, you're left here to take the heat off of me. I'll slip you the valet ticket and the keys, and we'll meet back at the Inn. From there we'll go our separate ways."

"And just how are you getting back to inn. Hitchhiking?"

"I told you, I have that covered. All you have to do is get everyone's attention while I make my escape."

Trying to find some logic in what was a preposterous tangent he'd gone on, she said, "I don't see how you're going to get from here to the door without someone tackling you."

"I'm not going to shoot from here. When they dim the lights to start the second act, I'm going to get up, walk to the aisle, and then take out my gun. From there it's easy and I'm gone. All you have to do is get the attention off of me."

"I'm afraid to ask how I'm supposed to do that."

"You do it by getting the attention on you. That shouldn't be hard. You had everyone looking at you in the lobby, didn't you?"

"Yes, but somehow I think a gunshot is going to trump my nipples, James."

"I'm sure you'll think of something, Pamela. You weren't sitting at a desk when you worked for the CIA. You were a field agent, just like me. Just remember, if anything goes bad, you'll have to take out Sanchez yourself, even if it means something happens to you. All that matters is that we complete the mission. He cannot, under any circumstances, leave this theatre alive." He gave her a quick kiss on the cheek, patting her on the thigh, leaving his hand there as they settled in for the start of the play.

It took a while for that to happen. While she waited, she looked at her own copy of the playbill, studying it. She went down the list of actors and actresses, finding the aforementioned Franklin Stevens.

"Leave it to Neil to find someone with the same initials as Franz Sanchez," she thought, actually remembering the full character's name from the Bond flick closest to her heart other than Goldfinger. Her hand covering her mouth and nose, and she actually snickered. Shaking her head ever so slightly, she wondered. "What the fuck are the odds of that?"

She put all of that out of her mind once the curtain went up. The lights not only dimmed, the entire theatre going dark until a single spotlight hit center stage, highlighting a desk in an office. From there, and actor walked in and took off his old, tattered coat and hat, hanging them both on a coat tree by a door.

It was evident early on that it was going to be a magnificent rendition of the play. The cast members were incredible; the dialog crisp and flowing naturally. The sets were very professionally done, and the wardrobe department had outdone themselves. Ann sat there, breathless, transported into another time. While she knew the story, she became riveted by the characters. Smoke filled the stage when the first of the three ghosts appeared, a voice booming from the shroud.

"Even the special effects are impressive," she thought, wondering what else might be in store before the night was over. She felt like a little kid, being subjected to a magical world for the first time.

She was so into it she was disappointed when the curtain closed to end the first act. When the lights went up, she had to blink a couple of times to allow them to adjust. She felt Neil taking her by the arm, helping her to her feet, joining many of the other people in the audience standing to stretch.

"Have you thought about the distraction you're going to make," he asked bluntly, bringing her quickly back to the game they were playing.

"Uh... no," she said honestly, actually wondering for a second why they were still doing it. She was enjoying the performance on stage so much she kind of wanted to just suspend the one they were doing until after the show was over.

The look in his eyes told her that wasn't going to happen, which didn't really shock her. One of the things she loved most about her husband was the way he would commit to things she wanted to do. And here she was the one that set the ball in motion. She set up the mission as it were, by asking him to become Bond. Now that they were in the middle of it, he wasn't the kind of man that would quit until they finished, just like the character he was playing.

Yes, she was certain if she asked him, explaining the reasons why she wanted to wait a while to continue, he'd be okay with it. But she also knew it would alter what he had come up with on the spur of the moment. He was only doing what she hoped he would when she came up with the idea to begin with, improvising his way through the weekend as Bond. It was a bit unfair of her to complain or become upset that he was doing exactly what she wanted.

With all that in mind, she knew the answer she'd given him wasn't a good one. He confirmed it when he said, "Dammit, Pamela, do I have to think of everything?"

"I'm sorry James. I just got preoccupied with the play, that's all. I can come up with something."

"I can't take that risk. We've got fifteen minutes before the next act starts, and our best chance is at the beginning or the end of an act. I want to do it at the beginning. It gives me the best exit strategy. There will be less people in the lobby because they're all going to the bathroom now. They'll be in their seats. If we wait until the end, some might get up early to go, and I'm screwed."