Losing Everything to Science

As we dumped dirty clothes and trash in the laundry room adjacent to the basement TV room, Dom and I exited the laundry room to find Jenn just coming downstairs, collapsing onto the huge leather sectional couch taking up much of the TV room with a frustrated and on-the-verge-of-tears look on her face. I knew better than to launch immediately into an inquisition, so I went to the built-in bar, opening a bottle of Chardonnay for her and got us men a few more beers.

Upon handing her a large glass of wine, I got a half-hearted smile and silently mouthed "Thank You. Love You!", while Dom tactfully gave us some space and walked outside to the deck again to pick up a few remaining toys and clothes, shutting down the hot-tub and exterior deck lights.

This suddenly plunged the TV room into a subdued atmosphere, the room bathed only in low light from a few table lamps and a small string of colored Christmas lights strung over the bar, casting the room in a soft, calming, but festive glow.

"Want to talk about?" I asked, taking her hand.

This caused a sudden burst of tears from Jenn and a choaked sob, followed by

"It's stupid, really. We had an amazing day! Better that we could have hoped for verdict. It was just all the Bullshit afterward, combined with unbearable stress of the last few weeks that came to a head at the restaurant. What should have been a celebratory girl's night, turned into a huge fight! I swear, Lindsay and Alex almost came to blows! All because some of us started doing the very shit we've spent years fighting against!"

Again, a hand-squeeze and silence on my part, confused by the last statement but waiting for her to continue in her own good time, while Dom silently reentered from the deck and sat on the other end of the long sectional while Jenn and I sat at on the shorter "L" end.

Finally, she continued, "And I'm really worried about Simone!" pausing to look at me with wide eyes. "No one can reach her on her cell, after she left with some random guy from the restaurant!"

"That doesn't sound like her. Maybe it's someone she knows?", I tried to reassure her, which earned me an eye-brow lift and smirk.

"Well, it sure wasn't Dave!" she retorted with stronger emotion than I was expecting. Dave was Simone's shortly-thereafter-to-become ex-husband.

"Here, why don't you take off you jacket and shoes and relax a bit. Did you eat anything at the restaurant? Are you hungry?", I suggested, which earned us a sad and subtle nod of her head, to which Dom immediately headed upstairs to the kitchen to get her a plate of food.

As Dom climbed the stairs to the main floor, it occurred to me that both Dom and I were still wrapped in towels only, though Jenn didn't seem to even notice. Not that she would have cared anyway, having seen us both in varying levels of undress for years.

Jenn sat motionless and then leaned forward while slowly unbuttoning and removing her tailored suit jacket, revealing a surprisingly very sheer blouse and fancy lace bra underneath. Sitting on the edge of the leather couch, it was too deep and far back for her to sit against the back without pulling her feet off the floor. So, she sat, hunched forward on the edge of the couch, resting her elbows on knees supported by her 3-inch heels, absentmindedly staring off into a dark corner of the room, sipping her wine.

I must admit that while I should have been solely focused on her distress, I couldn't help but notice what an amazingly sexy and beautiful women I was married to! Despite my efforts, I couldn't take my eyes off her shapely legs, her round ass encased in a knee-length designer skirt, and her breasts swaying slightly with each deep breath she took trying to calm herself. I guess months of monastic celibacy had taken its toll on me. Even though we had company visiting and that my wife was obviously NOT in an amorous mood, I found myself daydreaming about attacking her on the spot in a frenzy of lust.

Again, a period of silence followed, as it was clear there was more on her mind. She was just about to open her mouth and continue her story when the loud triple-beeps upstairs from the kitchen signaled the microwave was done heating Jenn's plate. This was immediately followed by a few strained

"Ah, Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!"

Dom had obviously burnt himself removing our fancy stoneware dish from the microwave which were prone to heating hotter than the food. His distress elicited a small chuckle from Jenn, and she sat up, took a deep breath, and blatantly painted a new smile on her face. Squeezing my hand again, she chirpily said to me

"I'm fine! Really! ", and then with a louder, "Dom, are you OK?! Be careful. Those plates can get really hot!"

A sarcastic "Thanks!!!" drifted down from the kitchen, causing more laughter from Jenn and myself, lifting the cloud of sadness she'd been wallowing in.

Appearing moments later, he handed her a heaping dish of assorted goodies which she immediately attacked, asking us about our day with the girls. This prompted a 20-minute torrent of nonstop stories from Dom of little-girl antics and embellished feats of "Super Uncle" deeds, something that Dom clearly enjoyed given his unmarried and childless status. We were all happy and together again. Life was good.

Taking away the now empty plate balanced on her knees, I handed back her almost empty wine glass and went upstairs to the kitchen to clean up. Returning back down to the TV room, I noticed Dom was refilling her glass from the bottle on the bar, while Jenn absentmindedly stared at him, still draped in only his towel.

Now, I should say a few worlds about Dom's physique. Despite my greater attention to diet and regular trips to the gym, married life and kids have taken their toll on my rapidly softening "dad bod". Conversely, Dom's work and lifestyle have resulted in an absolutely amazing specimen of manhood, a chiseled body worthy of Adonis. Over the year's he's only built up more muscle, all the while getting even leaner, resulting in what folks would call "deep ripped". Every muscle on his body is now well defined, sporting an almost painful looking six-pack stomach, broad chest, massive shoulders, and cut arms and legs. Combined with his deep-mocha natural skin coloring, unusually large and strong hands, and a boyishly messy head of hair after a year of baldness during his Buddhist Monk phase, even I had to admit he was a very handsome guy. Over the years we'd been perpetually confused as to why he hadn't settled down with a girl, despite an apparently normal interest in woman, if irregular dating history.

And so, once Dom turned back to Jenn and handed her another glass of Chardonnay, she smiled at him with a sincere "You're a sweetheart! Thanks!"

As we all resumed our seats, Jenn turned on her hip to be able to pull her legs up onto the couch, while maintaining ladylike decorum in her restrictive skirt, her feet still encased in fancy and obviously expensive high heels I hadn't seen before. As she now had her back to me, I took the opportunity to begin to lightly massage her shoulders which elicited a deep, groaning.

"Oh Yes! That feels great. God, I needed this", followed by her hanging her head down onto her still occasionally jiggling chest.

"And I'm not even the expert!", I replied, referring to Dom's well-known professional expertise in massage and chiropractic manipulations as part of his work.

I had originally assumed this backrub would only be momentary given our audience, but she seemed oblivious and unhurried, making soft noises of relief, and creating a cheerful mood I didn't dare break. I shifted my weight back a bit to lean her body into my chest so that she could rest more comfortably. Seeing her legs still contorted under her, I again suggested she remove her shoes and get more comfortable. She sat up a bit, kicking her heals off and launching them across the room in an impish display of relief and rebellion. As she leaned back against me, she again brought her legs back up to the couch, stretching them out tightly together, always the lady.

"Holy crap, Jenn!!", cried Dom. "What have you done to your feet?!"

Looking down I saw the telltale bright crimson marks, pinching and creases common to women's feet squeezed into fashionable, if unnatural, shoes, the abrasions almost matching the red color of her painted toenails.

"You have no idea! Men have it so easy!" she replied. "But today was closing arguments and I had to look the part", referring to an often-repeated resentment about how female attorneys had to dress up and turn up the sex appeal a bit...but not too sexy.... to generate a positive response from male jurors, while not alienating the female jurors who were already judging them as wealthy, privileged, sluts.

"Come here. Slide down a bit" said Dom, who himself moved closer to Jenn's feet.

Lifting her feet onto his towel covered thighs, he examined them momentarily and then began a strong massage on the soles of her feet causing Jenn to wince and groan occasionally as he worked in a methodical and dispassionate manner. He was the pro, his firm and steady manipulations seemed to do the trick as her quiet utterings of relief were barely audible over the rustle of her clothed body shifted back and forth a few inches across the leather couch with each strong manipulation.

Since I could no longer maintain contact with her shoulders and neck due to the gentle rocking of her body, I occupied myself by watching her breasts shift rhythmically with each squeeze of his hands on her feet and ankles.

Again, I found my wife's womanly attributes and docile posture was taking my daydreaming into libidinous directions as I coldly calculated when I might politely suggest that she and I retire for the night?

But the mood was broken by a sudden cry from the baby monitor, signaling some unknown distress from our youngest. Snapped back to reality, I immediately rose, removed my towel, and slid on some very light nylon running shorts I had nearby. Noticing my state of nakedness, Jenn exclaimed

"Jason!!"

To which Dom dramatically covered his eyes and declared "Come On, man! I thought I was done seeing your hairy ass?!"

As we all chuckled, Jenn suddenly stood and said, "I'll go. I have to get changed anyway", leaving us in a slightly awkward silence as the night had taken a number of dramatic mood turns.

Within a minute we heard Jenn speaking over the baby monitor,

"Jason. Can you come up here please? She's wet the bed again and I just don't have it in me to change her and the bed. I need to get out of these clothes and take a shower myself"

I immediately got up as Dom advised he would start setting up the sofa-bed built into the sectional couch where he'd taken to sleeping when he visited, our second daughter having now taken over the once guest bedroom.

Passing our bedroom on the second floor, I heard Jenn showering. Resisting temptation, I went to our still whimpering progeny, changing her bedclothes, wiping her down in the ensuite bathroom decorated with girly pastel colors and painted animals, and then spent 25 minutes selecting a fresh nightgown she was willing to wear, before demanding I read her two stories and asking contrived questions about the previous days' fun. Even at four years of age she knew how to wrap her father around her little fingers, despite my admonishments that it was late and that she needed to go to sleep!

Eventually descending back to the basement, I could hear Jenn talking to Dom in a comfortable yet animated manner, marked by his occasional calming but unintelligible replies. Fearful that she was upset again, I entered the room to now find only the string of lights above the bar on, and the recently lit gas fireplace providing flickering but soft light to the room. Dom was in the far corner of the room, still wrapped in his towel, bent over his suitcase organizing clothes for the next day, while Jenn continued her one-sided diatribe. I again took note of the fact that while I had changed into shorts, Dom remained in his towel. It was more of an observation than a concern. I knew that he'd taken to sleeping in the nude ever since leaving his crowded childhood home, therefore it was unlikely that he was rummaging around for PJs. In truth his towel was more modest than my genitals flopping around in my tiny Nike running shorts. But that wasn't what really got my attention.

Walking around the sectional back to my wife, I found her dressed in a favorite nighttime outfit of hers; A silk sleep set, comprised of lavender mid-riff camisole top with thin spaghetti straps and short-but-baggy, loose-legged shorts, which she called French culottes. Without turning to face me, she sensed my presence and lifted her left hand to show me the hair brush I immediately understood was to be used on her still wet and conditioned hair which was filling the room with a familiar floral scent. In her right hand was another very full glass of wine.

I confess I was little surprised by her level of nonchalance at this unguarded display, as my ritual brushing of her long hair had become an intimate act between husband and wife, frequently leading to sex. Moreover, her outfit, while elegant and comparatively modest, was undeniably sexy and something I wouldn't have thought she'd be comfortable wearing in front of even our close friend. The smooth draping and gentle shifting of the silk over her breasts and butt was always mesmerizing.

A few words about my wife's motherly transformation are probably warranted at this time. Before our marriage, Jenn had had a lean runner's body. However, after two back-to-back pregnancies and the inevitable "rounding out into a woman", her whole body had filled out a bit. Given her desire to shed the baby weight, she quickly exercised her way back to her almost pre-pregnancy physique, but retained a well-proportioned few extra pounds, most evident in her boobs, which went up two sizes to a C cup, as well as a visibly rounder ass and an overall softening around her midsection and thighs. Needless to say, I LOVED her new shape, repeatedly reassuring her that I found her even more desirable, something I happily demonstrated as often as possible. Not only did I find her physically sexier, but given my professional and scientific expertise on human biology, I was absolutely dumbstruck by the amazing miracle that women's bodies undergo to create new life.

Nonetheless, I suspect that while she was reassured by my continued declarations of love and lust for her, she lamented the apparently permanent changes to her body. I also suspect she felt some body image pressures when amongst her colleagues, all childless professional power-women and gym devotees. While Jenn's did admit that this new voluptuousness did enhance her appearance in her designer suits, I knew the physical changes were equally matched by mental changes, most notably the impact to lifestyle that motherhood caused. While everyone at the office cooed over the girls and politely expressed envy over this life-changing phase in a woman's life, I suspect that Jenn felt great pressure to integrate back into what was a very Power Woman/Single Girl/Living with No Limits atmosphere at her firm. Most of her colleagues were either young and single, or middle-aged and newly single-again, and she would occasionally recount obviously sanitized stories of the risqué exploits of her friends, clearly torn between mild disapproval and barely concealed envy. While I frequently reassured her of her MILF status and my never-ending devotion to her, these new personal and societal limitations as a woman/wife/mother obviously hung heavy on Jenn as the realities of motherhood set in.

And so, rejoining my wife and my best friend in the cozy late-night cocoon of our family room, it became clear that this was the very topic of their conversation; The changing interpersonal dynamics amongst her friends at work. Ironically, this was the type of conversation that Jenn felt comfortable having with Dom. Their long friendship made her comfortable discussing personal matters that she might have otherwise avoided with me, as it touched on private parts of our life, her private feelings, and desires that she worried might upset me.

While I'm sure she shifted the conversation a bit upon my return, it became evident that the drama earlier in the evening was related to comments made between the women over one another's personal and dating behavior lately. After the pressures of a landmark case and blowing off steam over too many drinks and not enough food, a few "well intentioned" comments about some recent trysts and flings, and some "you're so lucky that you can.......", devolved quickly from catty comments to screaming insults at one another, as the single, newly single and not-single women bemoaned the freedoms and "opportunities" of the others. It was clear that the pressures of the case...aided by the alcohol...... had manifested itself into a bunch of exhausted, frustrated, and horny women. The party finally digressed with Simone drunkenly challenging the group to "pick up any guy and leave with him"....which she promptly did, making her intentions to the surprised bar patron perfectly clear, and giving little thought to her husband at home.

Unknown to me, during my Daddy Duty upstairs, Jenn had finally received a text from a colleague that Simone was safe at home and unharmed (Kudos to the guy, who figured out his "lucky night" was obviously not in a proper state of mind and drove her home instead, to a very confused husband at the door). Jenn's obvious relief, combined with an impartial confidant in Dom to whom she had obviously shared some weighty revelations, led to a huge baring of her soul aided by another glass of wine, the entire bottle of Chardonnay now gone.

Knowing my wife, I recognized by her tone and body language that she was now slipping into a state of warm inebriation, calm relaxation, and carefree happiness. As I brushed her hair in long strokes, her hips burrowed into me and I felt all the tension slip from her body. The litany of disjointed comments about the unfair standards women held themselves and one-another to petering out, were replaced with sighs of contentment. Dom and I gave each other secretive winks, trying hard not to laugh at these random ramblings. Easier for me, as I was behind Jenn, but Dom was seated in front of her trying hard to maintain an engaged and serious countenance.

Over time she grew silent, save for the occasional utterings of relaxed contentment. As I finally set the brush aside, she leaned back into me with a long sigh, causing drops of water from her still wet hair to pool at her neck and collarbones. These eventually rolled down onto the front of her camisole, with each drop the silk quickly becoming translucent, making the freckles on her chest visible. At first it was only a drop or two randomly spread across her upper chest, but over a few minutes the water drops converged, growing into little transparent windows, creating an increasingly clear view of her breasts bulging within the snug confines of her camisole. I found myself transfixed by the sight of her left areola revealing itself through the translucent material and her now noticeably erect nipples. I'm sure, had Dom looked, he too would have noticed. Increasingly aroused and looking for any excuse to touch her bare skin, I began to massage her shoulders again, rewarded with a deep groan.

After a few minutes of chastely confining my gentle caresses to her shoulders, neck, face, and scalp, I began to move down her upper arms to her forearms, palms and fingers. It was unhurried and tender, focused on her relaxation. I noticed a slight rocking again of her body, balanced on the edge of the sectional couch. Tearing my eyes away from her now rock-hard nipples, I found Dom had again moved closer to her feet, placing them into his lap and resuming a slow and gentle massage of her lower legs up to her knees. By now she was emitting a low continuous purring as all her cares washed away in the comforting safety of her home and family, the flames of the fire dancing and crackling in the muffled confines of our cozy retreat.