Running Late

Sam glanced at his watch again and noted the time. Not usually a stickler for punctuality, even he was starting to be vaguely annoyed. So the company Christmas party wasn't the biggest event in the world, she knew it was important to him. A promotion was hanging in the balance over the next few weeks and still he could hear the shower running and the soft sound of splashing interlaced with the sound of Sera's voice singing softly as she bathed. Normally the sound would make him smile with affection, but tonight it just irritated him further that she wasn't hurrying.

After a moment of pacing, Sam poked his head through the bathroom door just as the water was turned off. Steam billowed from behind the shower door, fogging the glass until it was rendered opaque. The room was so mired with heat and condensation, Sam could swear he could feel his tuxedo shirt collar wilting, which only served to spur his annoyance on.

"Sera, it takes you at least an hour to get ready. You do know that we have to leave in half an hour, don't you?" Sam began, trying for an even tone, but knowing that his anger was obvious in the tight, clipped way he delivered the words.

"Yes," came the unconcerned answer in her soft, low voice. "Hand me that towel, would you?"

Sam plucked the towel from the hook on the back of the bathroom door just as Sera emerged from the shower behind him. Even in his frustration, Sam took a moment to turn and watch her; pale skin beaded with moisture, water-darkened twists of red hair clinging to cheeks flushed pink by the heat. His eyes followed her as she patted the towel along her shoulders and beneath her breasts, until she finally lifted her sea-green gaze to his. "What? You're in such a hurry, then quit staring and let me get ready."

Sera pushed past him into the bedroom, tucking the towel tightly across her chest. Sam regained enough composure to follow behind her, irritation growing again. He began to pace as Sera sat on the edge of the bed and concentrated on smooth lotion along her arms and shoulders. Her clothes were already laid out on the bed beside her; a midnight blue satin gown that moved with her body in a way that Sam approved of very much. Without looking up, Sera sighed pointedly at the sound of his pacing and unwrapped the towel from around her body and began to dress. Sam knew from experience, however, that she would only put on her stockings and undergarments, waiting until she had finished her hair and makeup to put on her dress. Another half an hour at least! It was almost guaranteed that they were going to be late.

Clad only in heels and a dark blue bra and panty set chosen specifically to match her dress, Sera sat herself downat her dressing table to finish getting ready. Sam shot her a decidedly hostile glance as she began to carefully apply her makeup, never once looking up as he paced directly behind her. He tried to remain calm, but the tension was getting to him. Pointedly he glanced at his watch again, not even sure that she was really seeing him. A loud sigh from him, however, finally drew a response.

A sharp slap cut through the exhalation as Sera dropped the makeup brush in her hand to address him, looking at him in the mirror."Look, if you're in such a damned hurry, you could at least find some way to help instead of pacing and sighing like a rusty bellows."

"Fine. Anything. Just get moving or we're going to be late." Sam's words came in short, angry bursts. "What do you want me to do?"

Sera glanced around at the collection of toiletries on her dressing table, knowing that there wasn't much for him to do at all. It was down to her to finish applying her makeup. Still, there had to be some way to get him out of her hair. Hair. Her eyes fell on the wooden hairbrush laying next to her right hand, the circle of silver inlayed into its broad back glinting up at her. "You can brush my hair until it's dry while I put on my makeup."

Sam regarded her incredulously, looking at the damp length of red hair that rested against Sera's back, ending just above the curve of her hips. Already she had gone back to her makeup application, ignoring his response. Sam's eyes narrowed, looking from her to the hairbrush, knowing that she just wanted to brush him off and get him to leave her alone while she got ready. Irritated, he snatched the brush up almost defiantly and began to brush impatiently at her hair, starting on the nearest place at hand. All this garnered, however, was a yelp of surprise.

Sera turned on him, eyes a storm of pain and anger, her voice snapping. "No! You start at the bottom and work the tangles out as you go up. That way it doesn't all end up in one great knot. Either do it right or don't do it and let me get on with getting ready."

Sera turned away toward the mirror again before he could respond, leaving him glaring at the back of her head. He looked down at the length of her hair, noting that it was long enough that he'd have to get on his knees to start brushing it from the bottom up.

"It's too long, Sera. I'd have to get on my hands and knees to brush it while you're sitting down and I don't want to ruin my trousers. They're rented."

"Then take them off."

"I'm not going to take off my pants just to brush your hair. That would only put us later!" Sam tossed the hairbrush down on the dressing table and turned to stomp away, but Sera's hand found his wrist and her eyes found his. He started to pull roughly away, but something in her gaze made him pause.

Her voice was as soft as usual, but there was steel behind it as she spoke and her words were unusually uncompromising. "If you're in such a hurry, then take off your pants so that you can kneel down and brush my hair. If you don't, then I don't want to hear one more word about how late we are."

Glaring, but silent, Sam kicked his shoes off and unfastened his pants, laying them on the bed beside Sera's waiting dress. He retrieved the brush once again and, as Sera ignored him to continue applying her makeup, Sam lowered himself behind her.

Sam could hear his own blood rushing in his ears as he knelt behind his wife, the hairbrush clutched in his hand. He stared at the small of her back, her red hair starting to curl slightly against her skin, the color lightening as it dried. He raised his hand to slip beneath her hair, gathering it to begin brushing, and was startled to notice that his fingers were inexplicably trembling.

Writing the reaction off to nervousness at being late, Sam gathered his wife's hair into the palm of his hand and began to apply the brush to it. He concentrated on giving Sera no further reason to delay them further by having to correct him, carefully working the tangled hair with his fingers. As the intial shock of Sera's pronouncement and his own reaction to it began to wear off, however, Sam's attention to his work began to falter. His anger and impatience returned and it showed as he began to tug more forcefully at the hair under the brush. He almost took pleasure in hearing Sera hiss with pain when he tugged too sharply or pulled too hard.

He did not notice that Sera had finished her preparations and was simply watching him in the mirror as he worked, noting the vindictive pleasure in his expression as he jerked at her hair. It caught him by surprise, then, when she turned and her hand moved over his, pressing tight around the handle of the brush. Her other hand moved to his hair, fingers winding into a firm grip as she tugged him towards her. Sam yelped in pain as he fell forward against Sera's knee, looking up into the angry eyes of his wife.

"How does that feel to you? Is that what you call helping, Sam? Maybe I should help you the same way."

Another sharp tug pulled him forward, leaving Sam no choice but to follow until he was sprawled across Sera's bare legs, hands futilely attempting to disengage her grip on his hair. With a twist, Sera pulled the hairbrush free and brought it down in an arc against his upturned buttocks with a smacking sound that seemed loud in the quiet room. Sam's pulse echoed in his head as Sera delivered several more stinging blows to his ass, the sensation somewhat muted by the fabric of the boxers he still wore. In his surprise he forgot all about his attempts to remove her hand from him, letting his own drop until he gripped the edge of the chair, knuckles whitening.

Sera paused only long enough to jerk the waistband of his boxers down, sending them sliding down his legs to pool at his ankles. A sharp slap landed high on the inside of Sam's left thigh followed by a rough nudge and, without even thinking, Sam willingly pushed his legs apart. Then the blows began in earnest. A slow, but steady rhythm began to build, giving Sam only enough time to recognize that another one was coming before it landed.

Her hand in his hair tugged again, pulling Sam's head back until he was forced to look forward at the full length mirror on the closet opposite him. He had no choice but to look at himself spread across his wife's lap, no longer fighting, as her arm raised and lowered in the background, spanking his ass with that wickedly gleaming hairbrush. Most startling of all, perhaps, was that he could feel how hard his cock had become, trapped against her thigh. Each blow pushed him forward, lifting his buttocks slightly, and forcing him to rub against her soft skin in a tantalizing mingling of pain and extreme pleasure. Lips pressed together, he tried to hold back the whimper that threatened to escape him, but it was useless. Forced to watch as his wife punished him, as he helplessly ground against her, he felt himself on the verge of orgasm.

At the muffled sound, Sera's eyes met his in the reflection. Her expression was no longer one of anger, but filled with eagerness and encouragement. In that moment, as the hairbrush descended against his skin for the final time, Sam felt himself coming free inside, his fear and impatience evaporating as he came against her, spurting against his stomach and Sera's thigh.

It was several moments before Sam realized that his eyes were closed and that Sera had released her grip on him. Her palm gently rubbed against his throbbing skin as he relaxed on her lap, his mouth pressed against her skin as he panted. She helped him to sit up, holding him to her as he recovered in silence. Finally he opened his eyes to look at her, noting that most of her makeup had come off with her exertion, but not feeling the crush of frustrating impatience that he had before. Her hand moved to his cheek, startling Sam when her fingertips came away wet with tears he was unaware that he had shed.

Finally, with a shaky laugh, he rose from her lap and helped her up as well. Taller than her, and broader, he still felt strangely grateful as she slipped her arms around him and pulled him close. He pressed his lips into her hair, breathing her in.

"I think we're going to be late...and I don't care."