I would like to thank destodes777 for his useful comments and corrections which greatly improved this story. All remaining mistakes are because of my stubbornness...
As always, comments are appreciated (even critical ones; insulting ones not so much, though...) and I will try to react on them where applicable.
All names, characters, situations and incidents portrayed in this story are fictitious. No identification with actual persons is intended or should be inferred.
Still struggling with my tie, I walk into the living room. Hilly has left a few hours earlier, going on a long night of drinking and gossiping with some friends from school. Now I am also about ready to leave; I'm supposed to go drinking with some of my colleagues.
Roger and Laura are watching TV, while the Tracy, the babysitter, is leafing through one of the books she has brought with her.
"You know where the drinks are; and feel free to take the crisps if you want some," I once more encourage Tracy. She has been here several times before so she knows how it works; however, she still seems very shy and I'm not sure she would take anything unless I explicitly tell her to do so.
Then, while looking at the kids, I continue: "Laura has to go to bed at eight - no more drinking - and Roger at half past eight." Of course, Roger prepares to argue, but I cut him off immediately; "No Ro, half past eight!" I make sure this is clear to all of them, so he won't be too difficult for Tracy. Of course I do know she will give him some extra time; that's wat babysitters do, right? But in the end, she is the one who is in charge tonight.
Then, turning back to Tracy, "And can you help Laura brushing her teeth? The back molars really need some extra attention." Laura's brushing is nothing more than quickly moving her brush through her mouth; normally we brush first and let her practice for a while at the end. Roger's brushing is only a little bit better, but I want to spare Tracy from the fights he puts up when we help him.
"Just don't forget to help yourself with food and drinks." I tell her once more. "You know how the TV works - oh, you've brought your homework; fine. And do you need our Wi-Fi code?" I wonder how long it takes before the books are put away in favor of watching TV, but that's not my business.
"My mobile phone number is on the table; just in case. I'm not expecting any problems, but if something happens, don't hesitate to call." So far, Roger and Laura have always behaved well enough when we are gone. They know Tracy, they are not ill, and I can't see what else might go wrong, but you never know what happens. And for Tracy it probably feels safer to have an emergency number; just to be sure.
One last check for my keys and wallet - It's all there. "I think I'll be the first to be home, but I already told you it will be late - probably after half past one; is that still okay with you?" Tracy nods. Of course she won't mind - babysitting is easy work, just watching TV, and us being late only means more money for her.
Then it's time for one last hug. "Come here! Mwah, Laura, Ro, be nice and sleep well!" I give a last warning look at Roger, who returns a foul look back at me. Of course he doesn't want to be kissed and even avoids me stroking his head; he is too old and too cool to be cuddled.
I wave the kids goodbye, wish Tracy a quiet evening, and leave. One last look in the mirror in the hall - I think I'm ready.
A bit nervous, I enter the café she has chosen to meet tonight. It's only our third date, and I feel thrilled.
I hope she likes my suit - she told me she would like to see me wearing a suit for tonight; me wearing a suit, can you imagine? The last one I bought was my wedding suit; it would be a pity if I bought a wrong one now. She promised she would wear a dress matching a suit, whatever that means; I hope it matches mine.
There she is - she sits at a small table almost in the back and stands up when she sees me too.
My God she looks beautiful; stunningly beautiful! Her dark blond hair falling loosely over her naked shoulders; a touch of make-up - stylish; and a dress! No suit could possibly match that dress. God, she looks stunning. I knew she is good looking, but in this dress... just 'Wow'!!
I give her the rose I'd brought and kiss her cheek. Her smell is heavenly; a bit dark and sweet, but not too dominant or overwhelming. She smiles at me and sits down again. She is drinking red wine; I know I'm driving tonight, but one glass won't harm, so I join her.
We exchange pleasantries and I can't keep my eyes off her. It's a nice thing knowing she won't mind - that's what brought us here in the first place.
"You look absolutely beautiful tonight," I tell her once again, and she smiles at me.
"I thought you would like it. You look quite handsome yourself too! Nice suit; it's excellent!"
A month ago we met for the first time. While having a neutral dinner at a bistro of her choice, we set out the rules. Both of us wanted to explore things we are still missing in our lives. We knew beforehand that our interests are different, and yet we both felt an undefinable connection. And therefore we came up with this pact - each time one of us is in control, and the other will accommodate as much as possible.***
I was in charge on our second date; going to the cinema. Even though it was my night, I choose a romantic movie, as that's the kind of movie you go to on your first date. And 'first date' was one of the things I wanted to relive; experience.
In the beginning it was a little bit awkward, sitting hand in hand, but after a while it started to feel right, and holding hands turned into stroking. The kiss after one of the more intense scenes suddenly felt natural and justified, and like school kids we made out in the parking garage after the movie had ended.
Hidden by a pillar, we kissed and stroked, and she didn't stop me when my hands moved under her shirt. She softly moaned when they rubbed the fabric holding her breasts; her lips hungrily grabbing my mouth. Neither did she stop me when I unclasped her bra - instead, she pulled her arms in and got rid of the whole damn thing.
It was perfect; my hands rubbing those soft, bouncy breasts, squeezing them softly. And carefully, my adventurous fingertips explored the sensitive skin of areolas and hardened nipples. She groaned and pressed her lips against mines, feasting on my mouth. It was everything I'd been hoping for, and so much more!
I pushed her shirt up - I wanted to lick and taste those perky nips; I wanted my lips around them and suck them; feel them; cherish them. She accommodated; she held her shirt and pushed one of her breasts up to me, offering it to my hungry, eager mouth. Her hand moved to the back of my head, her fingers twirling my hair, rubbing my scalp, while I sucked and nibbled and licked the delicious treat. My hands softly squeezed and rubbed the soft, lush flesh, while my mouth and tongue worshiped her nipple and areola. Deep, irregular breathing, sighing and soft groans told me she enjoyed it just as much as I did.
After I lavishly worshiped her one breast for infinite time, she pulled me away and guided my still eager mouth to the other, still neglected one. Greedily I sucked in the provoking nub, swirled my tongue around it, and squeezed it with my lips. My tongue flipped over the erect bud, tickling and rubbing it, while my hands divided their attention over both breasts now, trying to please both of them equally.
Her hand moved in between us, and rubbed over the bulging fabric of my jeans; my gasp made her nipple slip out of my mouth. She stroked me from bottom to top, and back again, cooing "Oh my; I'm not the only one having a good time here."
She gave me a deep kiss, pushed me away and pulled her shirt back down. Then she guided me to her car, pushed me into the back seat, but when her hands started fumbling with the button of my jeans, her phone went off; the alarm clock.
"Damn! No time - I really have to go!"
Resigned, we both straightened our clothes. She stowed her bra in her bag and offered to drive me home. Of course I accepted the offer - I really wanted to hold on to this moment for as long as possible. She dropped me off a few blocks from my house, and we parted with a long wet kiss.
It surprised me to find an email immediately after I got home, asking if that night had fulfilled my expectations. Our communication is by email. No SMS, WhatsApp or other mobile texting, let alone phone calls; you never know who else is listening or reading those messages. I created a new email account, only for that reason.
I answered with a short message, telling it was more than I had hoped for; she immediately replied and asked to clarify 'what' was more than I had hoped for. She was correct of course; part of the deal. Speak up about likes and dislikes and be honest to each other.
So I wrote back that I really hadn't expected our date to feel natural this quick. I had hoped for this, of course, but never expected it to happen so soon. I also wrote back that, for the first time in years, caressing had not been foreplay to sex and sleeping; its sole purpose had been the caressing and exploring itself; to please and enjoy. That our kissing had not felt forced to me, despite being in an arranged setting. That this evening had been something I would never forget. Only after telling this, I remembered asking her about how she felt about our date.
She honestly admitted that, initially, she had been very skeptical about this whole dating idea, despite the fact that her participation had solely been by her own decision. Like me, she had been disappointed in her relationship, missing the thrill and sexual attraction for several years now; like me, she had been hoping to experience something new and exciting; like me, she had deliberately chosen to move away from the beaten path. But nevertheless, her expectations had been low.
She had strongly feared this date would end up in disappointment; that I would be solely focused on sex; that there would be no attraction between us at all. She came prepared to walk out at the first sign of failure. Also to her, our holding hands had initially felt very awkward and it had taken all of her restraints not to pull back and push me away there and then.
Fortunately she had remained patient, and it didn't take long before she grasped that I was more serious than she had expected. And that encouraged her too to go on with it. Fortunately, as also for her it worked out unexpectedly well. What happened after the film was one of those things she had always wanted to experience; making out in a car parking had been one of her secret fantasies that was now successfully fulfilled.
She did say she had noticed, though, that despite our agreement I still held back; she hoped I could be even more daring and challenging on our next date. She encouraged me to cross those moral borders and give in to my deepest desires at our next meeting. She said she trusted me, but also promised she wouldn't hesitate to stop me when something wouldn't feel right for her; to stop me without implying further consequences, as she specifically asked for it. 'For both of us, this agreement is about determining our likes and our limits, and you won't find them if you are not allowed to cross them every now and then.'
Obviously, especially that last part intrigued me, and now it was my turn to ask for further details. Many emails followed and I was surprised about the things I worded in those messages; initially it was all about our film night and the next appointment, about sex and fantasies, but in time they became more and more general - how was your day; how do you feel about... Quite unexpected, I started to enjoy our email conversation and became more open than I had ever been before. Writing things down forced me to think about them, and that alone taught me so much about myself I'd never realized. From her side, she gave me new insights by telling how she experienced certain things; explaining and clarifying her points of view.
My wife also noticed a difference. I seemed happier according to her, and more attentive. I did take it with me to bed too - I was more interested in sex, but also more driven to please, and that benefitted both of us.
After finishing our wine, it is time to move on. I am driving today and, following her directions, we end up at the theater. Indeed, wearing a suit is appropriate here; the posh environment is way out of my comfort zone.
I look at her - is this some kind of test? Is this one of those - 'a woman doesn't look for a man's qualities, but for his ability to be trained' - kind of things; is she going to educate me now? What will be next - a subscription for the gym to turn me into one of those 'well-educated, muscled, well-mannered hunks'? How much time and effort is she going to invest before she accepts it is all wasted; will she discard me after that point?
Finding out which play we are going to see doesn't make things better. 'Who's afraid of Virginia Woolf'; isn't that one of those pretentious plays from the sixties? One of those cultural 'highlights' everyone keeps telling 'you should have seen it at least once in your life'?
I don't think this is part of our deal; unless she is into sadistic torturing, I don't see where this fits into experiencing long-kept fantasies. It certainly takes away my reticence of exploring my 'Christian Grey' side with her.
She seems unaware of my reluctance, though. And when I look again, I suddenly realize that this is exactly where she belongs: in the middle of other sophisticated men and women. She fits in here like she fits that dress - the dress and she belong together, whereas I'm only dressed up for the occasion.
This isn't about me - tonight I'm only an accessory. This is going to be her night, and I am going to assist her as good as I can. And that is exactly what we agreed upon. I'm moving closer towards her, wrap my arm around her waist, and kiss her cheek. "I hope you'll enjoy this evening as much as I enjoyed our previous time together."
It all started after an argument.***
Of course, it really started long before, but the final little push was this argument.
Hilly had been working that evening, so I had been in charge at home. We had eaten takeaway pizzas for dinner, and since the only dirty dishes were the glasses we used, a coffee cup and a knife for preparing lunch boxes, I had decided dishwashing be unnecessary.
Hilly came home and snapped. 'How many times had she told me that she expected the kitchen worktop to be empty and cleaned after dinner? How many times!!?' On top of that, I hadn't noticed Roger's dirty shoes, the huge collection of stones in the pockets of his jacket, and my work trousers were once again in the normal laundry basket.
"You don't love me!" she had said; angry, disillusioned, tired. "If you really loved me, you would have known how much these things mean to me, and paid attention to it for yourself. Now it's me again, who has to do all the cleaning."
I told her to sit down; I would do it myself if she insisted, but it was too late already. 'You don't love me!'
"No, it's YOU who doesn't love ME!" I spat in reply; I was angry and offended. "You don't see how I took care of the kids today; how I prepared their lunches; how I washed laundry, folded clothes and put them away; you don't see how I did shopping, bought your favorite wine, even brought that magazine you talked about yesterday; you don't see how I cleaned up the house and threw away the pile of old folders. The only things you do see are those few tasks I didn't do this time!"
That night, for the first time in our relationship, she slept in the guest room. That night, for the first time in my life, I visited a dating site.
And it takes time...
My God, does this play take time...
The stage isn't much fun; not much to look at - a sofa, a few arm chairs, a bookcase...
The actors are talking, and talking, and screaming, and some more screaming...
Walking around on the stage...
No, sorry; I'm exaggerating. To my big surprise, it isn't as bad as I had expected! I'm pretty sure I'm missing most of the references; quite often I have no clue what I am looking at, but all in all I enjoy watching what's going on.
But is it on purpose that I'm taken to this play? What would be my link to... no; what would be her link with this situation - after all, this is her 'day out'.
Why did she want to see a play about one couple, insulting and abusing each other and their guests? Is it because it concerns people who are somehow inextricably bound up with each other; unable to get away? Is it because of the stupid games they seem to be playing; the anger and insulting behavior between them?
Is it because the hostess is seducing their guest in front of both partners, and even takes him out of the room?
Is it the impotence of the guest...?
...The death of an imaginary child?
Is this her way to tell me 'It is time for this game to end'? Already?
Or am I looking for something that isn't there, and is this really one of the things she always wanted to do, without deeper intentions?
I look at her; her face doesn't show anything except the excitement of watching this play.
Afterward, we have another glass of wine, and she tells me it was wonderful. "It was so much better than I had imagined! The actors were great, of course, but what a story!"
Confused by what I have seen, still unsure if here are hidden intentions in bringing me to this specific play, I am uncertain if I should continue playing the 'attentive partner'. But all worries are pushed aside when she kisses me - we were still 'in the game!' With my arm around her waist, I ask for her vision on the play; her explanation of some parts I didn't really get; and she is very eager to talk about it.
My wife and I, we are a classical story; experiment ran out of hand. Party, pregnancy, angry family, forced marriage, financial problems.***
Hilly is the one with brains so she continued school while I had to start working as a bricklayer to earn some money. No future as an architect for me; no creativity. I do what I am told - that's my job; that's what I'm being paid for.
I was jealous, watching my friends fooling around, one girl after the other, drinking, sexing, night after night. I had lost all this by one stupid moment of thinking 'Nothing will happen to us; it is only one time and nothing happens the first time.'
I was jealous at Hilly, going back to her books every evening, while I had to cook, wash, clean the house and replace diapers, next to my exhausting fulltime day-job.
Evenings were meant for studying and house holding; no dinner nights, movies, bars or discotheques. Besides, there were better things to spend our money on - Roger, for example.
We didn't blame each other - neither of us had wanted this, but such is life. And now, neither of us would want it any other way. We both love Roger, and now we love Laura too of course. We are in this together! Til death do us part!
I ask if she wants another glass of wine, but she declines and tells me we'd better move on. So again, I'm following her directions, which now brings us to a hotel parking.
She has a room... My God, she has booked a room! She is really taking this serious!
She knows I will have to leave in a couple of hours, and yet, she booked a hotel room!
I follow her and once we are alone in the elevator, we do what elevators are meant for - we put our arms around each other, lips to lips, and we unite in a tong-twisting kiss. She tastes heavenly, she smells heavenly, she feels heavenly, and I wish I knew where the 'Stop' button was... or actually, I wish I had the guts to use it.