Brave New World

It had been the strangest of flights. Two hours of nervous glances and silence brought about by this unanticipated situation that we had now found ourselves somewhat locked into. A booze fueled recurring nocturnal fantasy seemed to have come to life in a strange slow motion, twilight zone kind of way.

Was this gut churning nervousness being felt by me entirely, or was it a shared feeling. I suspect that her quiet focused demeanor was her way of not letting whatever thoughts and feelings that she was having become known and possible fodder for discussion. My wife is a kind, generous and loving woman with a splash of dominant in her nature and a tendency to stubbornness which should be factored in. The latter two traits probably gave her a sense of control and purpose that I did not possess at the time. These realizations made me feel that for the time being at least I was flying at high speed and dizzying altitude into a situation I might not entirely be prepared for. I did know however, that I must handle every aspect of this operation well, whatever the outcome.

I am not going to give you the name of my wife, her age, hair color, height, body type or occupation. It really isn't the point, anyway, people lie about that stuff endlessly. So, I will leave all of that up to you. My thought is that if you didn't have imagination you wouldn't be reading this. Suffice it to say, I love her, every aspect of her and that is all that matters to me. I will say however, that she is a professional, well respected and very attractive. There, I gave you something.

Being over two meters tall, disembarking from an aircraft is always such a pleasure for me and my dented knees. The procedure of disembarkation and all that that entails gave my mind a little respite from the last days and hours of head churning unresolved thoughts. Collecting our baggage was largely an uneventful and quietly executed affair, as was locating a taxi and the subsequent journey to the hotel.

Checking in at the hotel was a different matter. Not so slow motion now. Sharp technicolor reality was creeping in on waves of air conditioning and I don't mind saying that I was very much on edge. Confused and a little shaky would describe me pretty well at the time. The elevator ride up to the ninth floor and the short walk to room 904 (a number I will never forget) was excruciating. We were never more than a meter or so apart at any time. Her perfume that I know so well was everywhere around me in the elevator and in the corridor. Just before we entered the room I wanted to reach out and touch her and say something that would shatter this involuntary dome of polite semi silence. Something that would put us more at ease. The moment passed and I felt deflated and disappointed with myself. I resolved to try again as soon as the moment was right.

We busied ourselves unpacking a few things. I didn't have much but I made a stretched-out fuss of what I did have so as to give myself something to do. I am sure my unnatural clumsy time filling activities were noticed but what about all of this was natural, at least to us. We were now the inhabitants of a brave new world.

The hotel room was booked for two nights. We had planned it that way purposefully and It all seemed to make sense at the time. The big event was scheduled for 10:00 pm tonight. Our logic dictated that reducing the thinking time we would have would be easier on both of us. It was akin to jumping in at the deep end. Sink or swim. It was proposed that tomorrow would be a day designated to usher back as much normality into our lives as we could.

It was now late afternoon there was time to get a drink at the hotel bar and we did so dutifully. Martinis and red wine on empty stomachs are perhaps not always the best idea but neither of us was much in the mood for dinner or complete sobriety. The effect of the booze did fortunately have a more than slight liberating effect that lifted that bloody awkward dome we had been inhabiting for so long. Not all of it perhaps but enough to bring the occasional smile to the eyes and lips of my beautiful wife and for the conversation to lose a lot of It's prior stiltedness. Talk of 10 pm was studiously avoided. It wasn't necessary anyway. We are good planners and the plan was in place.

Conscious of the time, I, a little too quietly and somewhat hesitantly reminded my wife that is was nearly 8 pm. The time she had earmarked for us to go to our room and get ready. She leaned back in her chair and looked directly at me. I thought she would ask me If I was sure or if I wanted to back out now but the questions didn't come. Instead, she smiled, leaned slowly forward, briefly touched my hand and said "we should go then".

The grand sum of my preparedness was a quick shower and clean clothes. Once completed I took up my allotted place in an armchair by the window and with a very large glass of vodka rocks in my hand I watched as the sun started to set on the city below us.

For my wife a simple quick shower was not going to be the case. Some background. In all the time we have been married but with the exception of our wedding night. My wife has never wanted to dress in an overtly sexy way for me. I have never been sure of the reason but I have always been ok with it. We are who we are and I never pressed the point.

A standard hotel room doesn't give the occupants a great degree of privacy and over the next hour or so I caught sight of an array of clothing and makeup that were complete strangers to our bedroom at home.

My wife was now showered and her long hair was dry and beautifully brushed out over her shoulders. She walked over to the closet and withdrew a black silky corset or bodice. I never know what to call those things. Let's call it a corset. Anyway, standing naked with her back to me she pressed the garment to her torso and quietly asked me to fasten it. I was already shaking before I got to my feet and my clumsiness with the effort of pulling the little steel clips together in the middle of her back was painfully evident. My fingers felt as dexterous as pork sausages. Somehow the job was completed, she walked away from me and back to the bathroom in silence and I slumped to my seat and grasped for the vodka.

Moments later she re-emerged from the bathroom and now I could plainly see the full effect of the corset. I almost let out a gasp. The thing didn't have cups to cover her breasts. Those beautiful soft breasts that I know and love so much were pushed up and resting softly, roundly on a ledge of black lace and in plain sight. Not only that, It was now clear to see that all of her pubic hair had been removed. That gut churning feeling was returning with a vengeance and while in many men that would be yet another sign to take action and end this adventure, I just remained fixed in my chair.

The next eye popping clothing items on the agenda were black seamed stockings. These were applied alternately standing on one leg with a foot on the bed. Followed closely by black patent high heels. Being seated only about two meters away my gaze was fixated on the newly smooth, hair free place between her legs. For the first time in our married lives I was clearly seeing the contours of her body that I had never been encouraged to look at before. More gut churning. More vodka. Finally, out came a long black heavy looking shiny silky robe. The look was complete.

The time was 9:45 pm or there about and it was killing me. A meter or two away in front of me was my wife. Standing quietly, with a large glass of wine in her right hand, her gaze fixed on the window and the night time view beyond. I wanted to say something but I just didn't know what would be the right thing. I was entirely dumb struck.

I had never before seen my wife dressed or undressed (as was really the case) in this incredibly raw utterly sexy way in my life. She hadn't bothered to belt the robe, her stockinged legs were slightly parted leaving her smooth, white, hairless pubis exposed and while the robe covered most of her breasts I could clearly see the tips outlined and pushing against the black shiny material as it hung over her chest. She was just standing there softly illuminated in the warm light from the lamp in the corner, gently sipping her wine and waiting passively. Oh, It was driving me crazy.

Considering how tightly wound I was I am surprised I kept it together for so long but it couldn't last forever. I was ready to explode. This was my wife and I wanted her. The discussions and promises made in previous weeks now disappeared, temporarily forgotten. I stood and moved toward her. My right arm extended to clasp her around her back and pull her toward me. My left hand was ready to insert itself between her legs and my lips ready to cover the red paint on hers.

As with most hastily conceived plans. My plan failed spectacularly. I later found out that she had been expecting such a move all evening and with a smooth backward two step movement, she, in a swish of robe and a swirl of perfume dodged me perfectly and without spilling a drop of wine. I had hardly time to recover my stance when I heard her say in an unusually crisp clear voice "NO. SIT DOWN".

I returned to my chair in stunned silence. She sat down at the end of the bed with her legs firmly crossed, both hands cradling her wine glass without looking at me. Her face an inscrutable mask.

The silence in the room was intense. I was squirming in my chair. If there had been a ticking clock in anywhere at hand I would have crushed it with extreme prejudice. Why couldn't I move purposely or say something serious or even just funny. In maybe minutes or even seconds I could be about to become a willing cuckold. A new and worrisome title for me to live with. Soon there could be talk, intimate talk, the sounds of kissing and clothes being removed. Sighs and moans as bodies are explored for the first time with greedy hands. The sound of hard flesh penetrating the soft and the wet. Pounding sounds, gasps and groans, the sound of bodies shifting positions and the resumption of the pounding. Will she come. How often will she come. All accompanied by the lexicon of temporary love. Will I watch from my ring-side-seat. Will I record a video in my brain to watch over and over as I lay by her side on sleepless nights. My gut was revolving like a washing machine and my head was fogged with vodka and emotion. Torn, defeated, deflated and yes, excited.

A firm insistent knock at the door snapped us both out of our reverie. I watched the beautifully made up face of my wife quickly turn to the sound. She stood, looked down at me, she smiled and said she loved me. She held out her now empty wine glass to my waiting hand, then she turned away from me and walked slowly toward the door...