Argumenting

"But listen," I realized and tossed out there, "what gets me is when you're so hot that you just can't stand it and have to have me - never mind any accoutrements of lingerie or mutual flirtation - that's when I get really, really turned on. If anything, it's your passion that ignites mine, and my going out of my way to ignite yours just diminishes my mood."

Tom answered, "OK, that's not terribly surprising - I haven't exactly been totally asleep - and it explains a lot about your not wanting the lingerie thing, since that would mean you're after me, not the other way around. 'Tell you what - it won't be tonight, because that would seem staged, but sometime, and sooner rather than later, I'll try to accommodate that side of you more often."

"Well, it sounds like it will still be somewhat forced, which will ruin it, won't it?"

"Ah, that's where I need your help - my take is that you need to work on relaxing your rational side and just going with the flow. If you think I'm just doing it for an ulterior motive or based on some request you made, it will indeed ruin it. So, you have to be willing to suspend your disbelief, and go with that flow, or whatever, to let things happen. I promise, if I want to ravish you, it will be because I want to ravish you, not because you said you want it, but because I want it, AND because I hope you'll want it."

"What's that suspension of disbelief stuff?" she asked.

"Oh, it's a literary concept, 'willful suspension of disbelief' - if we're ever going to really get into a play or book or movie, we have to be willing to suspend our rational side and go with the story and the characters. Sort of not that you have to believe, but just that you need stop resisting, so that you can get into the story or poem or whatever. Brando at his best makes us forget it's Brando and suspend that disbelief that it's really a Mafia don. We know good and well that a Mafia don didn't get filmed 100 years ago, and then 50 years after that. But when we suspend that "disbelief" we can get caught up in the story and feel a real emotional involvement. Sometimes you cry at movies - that's when you've suspended your disbelief, and that's the kind of thing I think we need to incorporate into our love life."

"Well, I'll try," I said, not really knowing if any of this made any sense, but suddenly just fatigued of the whole discussion and wanting it to be over so that I could think it through at my own pace. We rode in silence for another while.

"Uh, Jane?" Tom interrupted my thoughts - would he just give it a rest?!

"Yes?" I probably sighed.

"Anything more you'd like to pursue along those lines?"

"No, not really."

"I was afraid of that."

"Now what does that mean?" I shot back. Now I was getting pissed.

"It means that there are two of us involved, and as much as I'd be glad to indulge whatever you can come up with, it seems you're not interested in reciprocating."

"Oh, so this was all about your getting me to do what YOU want, not about your pleasing ME?"

"I hope not, but I'd be lying if I said that I'm only in this to serve you. I'm not into the M of S&M any more than you are, but I do want this to be a two-way street, and if the only way I can get there is this awkward way, then I'm willing to do that."

"What do you mean?"

"Damn, you don't make it easy. OK, lingerie turns me on, for instance. It turns me on because you look great in it, and you still do, by the way - but also because it's something that you would do for me. The idea that woman would want to do something for me because I am pleased by it is enormously erotic - if it's all me doing for you and mutual masturbation with each other's bodies, then it's much less so. That sounds harsh - poor choice of words, I'm sure, but not totally off the mark. You like those linen trousers I have - you may note that I wear those often if we're going somewhere romantic or casually special - it's part of my continuing to want to seduce you, therefore I want to dress so you're attracted, and so forth. Flip that over in the case of lingerie."

"But I'll still be embarrassed, and that will put a damper on the sex."

"Jane, I hesitate to say this, but our current wham-bam style puts a damper on sex for me, yet I still enjoy it. With guys, it's pretty obvious if we're not enjoying - that erection is visible proof of our enjoyment, and you seem to be ok with that. But, I enjoy it because I make up my mind I'm going to, and because it appears to make you happy. If you can't make up your mind to enjoy something that makes me happy, and maybe even suppress your own sexual satisfaction for an evening on occasion, then we've got bigger problems than a discussion during a drive will resolve. Sorry, but can you tell me what's wrong with that thinking?"

"Boy, you really know how to make a girl fee like shit - thanks a lot!" I said, as icily as you might imagine.

"Well, I note that you avoided answering the question, so that says something you might actually listen to as well!" he shot back, and the drive continued in silence. I was vexed, and he was no doubt vexed, and so life goes at times.

----------------

We stopped for the night, stayed in a motel, slept (he slept well, I didn't), and got up to get one of those forgettable continental motel breakfasts and hit the road for the final 4 hours to his college.

I was silent, and he was driving. Thank goodness he's a good driver, although I'm more cautious and drive more slowly than he does. Sometimes I call him on his speeding (though he never gets tickets - he says it's like a game for him to drive fast, not interfere with others, and not get ticketed), which irks him, I think. That day he was indeed speeding, but I knew it wasn't because he was playing a game - he was irritated, agitated, antsy, and I was the reason.

Finally, I broke the silence - "Tom," she said.

"Uh-huh?" he replied, noncommittally.

"Tom, I spent a lot of time thinking last night."

"And?"

"And I admit you have a point. I just don't know what really works for you, and I've been so ready to be where we are that I've let down my efforts, and that's something I'd told myself a long time ago I wouldn't do."

Thankfully, he was gentle and sincere, "Well, I appreciate your considering all this - I know it's not easy for you, and I would prefer not to violate some limit of yours, yet I also admit to some frustrated desires, sorry."

"No - it's really ok. But for us to get anywhere, I need to understand what it is you want, and if possible why - there are some things that just turn me off, and I'll have trouble if those are things you're after."

"Well, let's start with the lingerie. If you'll wear it on occasion, I'll try not to overwhelm you on that. For that matter, no underwear at all, with clothes, is a similar turn-on."

"Well, it'll have to be that on this trip, at least - I didn't bring anything that isn't pretty practical."

"Ok then, what would be your thoughts about going braless in something that was not blatant, but that would show you were braless to the observant observer?"

"In front of your college friends?"

"Not necessarily, although that would be interesting - I'll never see most of them again and haven't seen any of them at all for years - seeing that I have a trophy wife who has great breasts would no doubt make them jealous as well as turning me on. But I can understand that such antics might be too much for you right now - maybe we will end up a restaurant or someplace else where they're not around and we can explore that."

"Maybe. I'll think about that."

"And Jane,"

"Yes?"

"I really appreciate your consideration on this. I know it's not an easy thing that I'm asking, and if there's ever a real push-back, I'll try to understand as much as you've obviously tried to take on board my comments from yesterday."

Chapter 2:

The next day we got to the reunion, and it started out just as I'd expected. Afternoon registration, nametags and school colors aplenty. Scads of people I didn't know and had no particular interest in knowing, lots of booze flowing and bro-hugging going on among the guys, laughter among everyone. I was pretty much just playing the unnoticed sidekick, while Tom cruised through the crowds with me following close aboard, getting introduced and stepping back while he and whoever got caught up, then on into the crowd again.

Amidst the minor din, I heard a voice shout, "Tom!" and another alum appeared, embraced Tom, and Tom was obviously gladder to see him than any of the others we'd met. It turned out to be Mark, Tom's roommate his senior year, a guy I'd heard a little but not much about. They took separate paths after school and pretty much lost touch, not even realizing the other was coming to the reunion. I was glad to see Tom so happy, and he pulled me to him and introduced us. Tom's arm around me, we sipped our drinks and found that Mark was doing well, lived several states away, and hadn't intended to come to the reunion for about the same reasons I was not enthused about it myself.

Mark was, I admit, a good looking guy - a couple inches taller than my 5'10" Tom, looked to be in better shape as well, and was gracious enough to include me in the conversation a lot more than he needed to (and much more than anyone else we'd met had). He told Tom he was lucky guy - Mark had gotten divorced from his college sweetheart a couple of years ago, was glad their kids were young adults when it happened, and had no urge to go long term with anyone anytime soon, or so he said. I told him not to be so sure, that sometimes, like with Tom and me, fate just takes over and brings good things.

The reunion reception went as expected, with Mark sticking with Tom and me for the dinner. The next day, the guys went to the scheduled football game (they lost, which I understand was pretty much their school's way). I'm no sports fan, and had told Tom before to leave me out of that, so he and Mark went off to that, while I strolled through the college town, checking out the various shops.

In light of Tom's wanting me to be sexier, I found myself in a women's clothing store, looking at dresses that were nothing like what I'd brought with me. They were all clothes for younger women than I, but the more I looked, the more I screwed up my courage and decided to get something for that night's banquet that would show Tom I really was going to at least try to "loosen up" as he'd put it. I was browsing along, looking at cocktail dresses - the banquet was to be "fancy casual," whatever that meant. I told the salesgirl that I was just browsing, and she was nice, and steered me to a section apart from most of the other dresses. As if that fate I'd mentioned to Mark had been waiting for me, one dress practically called out to me. It was a dark, deep, iridescent green, almost but not quite black. I tan well enough to get away with wearing green. The dress was my size, but looked to be too low cut for me. I figured I was just looking, and took it to the changing room. I shed my sensible shoes, shorts, and turtleneck sweater. The dress was lined with a wonderfully soft material, and practically caressed me as I pulled it over my head. I stood looking in the mirror and realized I couldn't wear a bra with it - it was cut too low in front, and there wasn't much of a back. Figuring "in for a penny, in for a pound," I pulled the dress off my shoulders and shed the bra, then pulled the dress back up. It was a deep V in front, not scandalously deep, but scandalously deep for me. I took a close look and felt pretty good, actually - the swell of my cleavage was evident, and some structure in the top was practically like a push-up bra. The skirt was just above my knees and full enough to swirl a bit as I moved. I immediately liked it, but it was more expensive than anything in my wardrobe, and I might never wear it again, so I was on the fence. I went back out to the store, and the salesgirl gave an audible gasp and exclaimed, "Oh, you look fabulous!! It fits perfectly! Do you like it?"

That (at least seemingly honest) reaction sealed the deal, and before I got out of there, I had a new pair of shoes that practically matched the dress - higher heels than my usual, and sequined, but very stylish and classy. Then she talked me into the lingerie area. Over my weak protestations, she also talked me into a pair of downright diaphanous black bikini panties, the first non-pantyhose stockings I've owned since about forever, and a garter belt - the first of those I've ever owned. Recognizing my embarrassment and obvious lack of experience with such attire, she suggested the panties outside the garters - something I hadn't even considered, but that she assured would make both bathroom trips (uh-huh, I realized), and bedroom trips (oh! triple embarrassment) easier that way. I'm sure I blushed as I agreed to them and she told me that I'd better be careful, since my man would be wanting to attack me (in a nice way) when he saw the final result!

I'd spent much of the afternoon shopping and browsing and feeling very sophisticated with that dress and shoes in the shopping bag with the upscale shop's logo on it. By the time I got back to our hotel, the game was over, and I barely got the dress put away in the bureau before I got a text that Tom and Mark had just gotten back and that I should meet them in the bar for a drink.

I freshened up and was already feeling sort of sexy with that dress ready to be a surprise for the banquet that evening, so I screwed up my courage and went down to the bar in tan shorts and a red polo shirt - and no bra! Oh, the daringness of it all!! I knew Tom would notice my lack of underwear immediately, and I figured Mark would eventually notice as well, so this would be a good test of just how much Tom really wanted me to be sexier in public.

I got to the bar and saw Tom with Mark sitting at the bar, bourbons in hand, separated by an empty barstool, and with a glass of white wine awaiting, obviously for me. I sauntered across the room toward them, and saw Tom see me first, then saw his eyes widen and a big grin coat his face as he watched (and I felt) my girls sway a bit while I walked. He got up from the barstool and gave me a bigger than necessary kiss and hug, whispering to me, "I love it! Great surprise - wow!" By the time he released me, Mark was standing as well, gentleman that I'd learned he was. Since we'd gotten to know each other the day before, it seemed only right to greet him with a hug as well, and I turned to do that. He barely glanced down at me, but I caught a fleeting look of pleased surprise before he wrapped me briefly and we cheek kissed our hellos.

As I took my seat, I looked down and saw that my nipples were poking little tents in my shirt. I had no idea if they were that way before Tom's reaction, or if his reaction had caused that, or what, but they were right out there - no wonder Mark didn't take but an instant, as a male of the species, to register my condition. Oh well, I'm being sexy, right? Being on a barstool with a drink between two handsome guys, both of whom were showing attraction to me - I suddenly was living up to that sexy thing, and I was enjoying it!

Thank goodness, neither guy pushed things any farther, as they recounted how poorly the football team had been, then detailed a good bit of it, as I nodded and sipped and didn't really pay much attention. After the drinks were done, it was about an hour until banquet time, which was in the same hotel, so we all split up, Tom and I headed to one wing of the hotel to our room, Mark to another. As we entered the elevator, Tom embraced me and kissed me again, groping both my breasts with his hands as the elevator rose. "You are amazing!" he murmured as he nuzzled my neck (a favorite sensation to me, and he knows it). "Thank you for being so terrific, and so daring! I know Mark would like to thank you as well, but he's too nice to say it. I could see him checking you out, though - I knew I was the luckiest guy in our class - you've just confirmed it!"

I demurred, of course, but enjoyed the attention. We made it to our room with him groping my buns as we walked down the hallway, and me jumping away sort of pretend-avoiding his advances. Once in the room, he came after me again, and I pushed him away, laughing, "Down, boy! We'll have plenty of time for this kind of thing later. Right now, we both need showers and to get into banquet attire, or we'll be late!"

He knew I was right, and since he takes less time (by far), he took his shower first, turning it over to me only moments later. He was in sport coat, school tie, slacks and loafers when I'd done my hair and makeup. I made him close his eyes while I retrieved "the dress" and its companions.

I struggled into the garter belt, panties, stockings, and shoes, a relative stranger to that sort of thing. Fortunately the dress caressed me again as I donned it, and I knew I'd found a winner, or maybe it had found me! I reentered the hotel room and saw Tom watching a sports news show on TV. "Ready to go?" I asked, as if there were nothing out of the ordinary going on.

"Sure, babe," he answered, clicking the remote to off. Then a moment, then "Whoa!! Where'd that . . . you look . . . just Whoa!!" He was almost speechless, but I knew it was in a good way. I beamed and twirled, the skirt flaring out, and me feeling like Gigi when Gaston proposes (which is really, really good!).

Tom leapt out of bed and came toward me, but I held up my hand and said, "No, no - not yet - don't mess me up. At least don't mess me up yet! You got the key? I don't have room in this thing for even a key, and I don't want to carry a purse - the one I brought just won't work with this!"

"I've got the key, and we're not driving - let's go have a blast, boring banquet or not - I know I'll have a great time just watching you!"

And with that, we made our way to the banquet, which was classic college reunion banquet - decent but unmemorable dinner, followed by boring speech by college dignitary, followed by boring speech with classmate in-jokes by class president who fancied himself an entertaining speaker. Finally, it was done, and the band played a mix of fast and slow dance music. Mark had sat with us, of course, and had complimented my appearance in proper words and in looks that were tinged with improper. I sat between Mark and Tom, first felt then enjoyed the open-air breeziness I felt at my chest, chatted with the others at the table for 6, and had a mildly enjoyable time of the banquet thanks to the wine in part, I suppose.

When the dancing started, I pulled Tom out onto the floor, not his preferred locale. We shuffled around each other, not having danced together in a long - well, ok then, years! The fast dance we started with was probably a candidate for some comedy "reality" tv show, but thankfully it was followed by a slow number, and we got to hug and shuffle rather than face each other 2 feet apart, wave awkwardly, and shuffle.

Tom used the chance to tell me how great my breasts looked (to him, I thought - not sure about to anyone else, but thankful for that), adding that Mark hadn't missed the free show either. He asked, and I told him about my shopping extravaganza, and he told me it was a great buy, and the dress and I were made for each other. He guessed, and I confirmed, that there was no bra. Then he asked, and I told him he'd have to wait and find out about anything else. I wasn't sure, but I thought I could feel his swelling as we swayed and talked, but the song ended before it got too hard to handle (!), and we headed back to our table.

As we approached our table, Tom said, "Your turn," to Mark as Mark rose in his gentlemanly way. Mark looked at me, raised his eyebrows in question, and held out his hand. I took it, and as he led me back to the dance floor, I looked back at Tom, rolled my eyes in recognition of his setting me up this way, and saw him grinning happily back at me.