The Dare Ch. 01-02

Chapter One

"Honey, does this outfit make me look fat?"

Inwardly, Mike groaned---not again. Mike loved his wife dearly, but she had a few faults that drove him nuts. Trying on clothes in front of him and needlessly worrying about her weight were at the top of the wife annoyance list.

To be fair, when he first courted Liz, the clothes bit was quite exciting, as he knew she wanted to arouse him. Sometimes she succeeded too well, leading them to into risky adventures—making out in front of the mirrors at Forever21 or fingering her as she tried on skirts without panties at Lord&Taylor , or the time they fucked in the Victoria Secret's dressing room. They still laugh about when they went to pay for the slightly used outfit, the helpful clerk pointed out the dress was stained and retrieved them a new one from their stock room!

But after a decade and a half of marriage, those were just fond memories and now she mostly bought apparel on her own, leaving him to watch her try on the latest dull outfit. A corollary to the recent downturn in their sex life.

Now Liz was trying on a grey long-sleeve cardigan from Penneys that day. He knew it was Penneys because of the cheap material, and the faded color. He hated when she shopped there, as he worked very hard to provide his family the best, and Penneys was, well to put it bluntly, a slap in the face to him. He preferred she ordered from Nordstroms, Neiman Marcus or even Macys. Yes, much more expensive, but so much more stylish and better quality clothes—and for her, typically sexier than the droll outfits Penneys offered.

Aloud , "Of course not, babe, it's fine. I don't know where you get the idea you are fat."

What a lie! He knew---she was in her late 30s and with raising three kids, she had traded in the gym for the morning play sessions, and helping the pre-school and then kindergarten classes as an aide. No, she was not as thin as she once was. Worse , to his mind, she surrounded herself with petite friends—shrill gossipy ugly women who only had one kid or none at all, who ate nothing but carrots and sipped tea all day long, and who you could drop kick over a field goal post. Ugh...

Her friends were definitely not Mike's type. He honestly found Liz even more beautiful now than ever before—her breasts were fuller, her curves more accented, her long red hair, once kept short, flowed down her back. And fifteen yeas of marriage, he knew they were a "perfect" couple in many respects—a love-filled family with two beautiful teenage daughters and a young toddler son.

But the past year and a half, she had become more and more depressed as she aged—their oldest had entered high school, and that triggered memories for Liz. She facebooked all her friends from those days, and Mike thought they would go to her reunion but she backed out at last minute with some lame excuse about not getting reservation in on time. He knew it was a lie as in the 2-3 weeks prior to the event she had begun to compare herself unfavorably to her former classmates—one was a worldwide travel-writer for Conde Nast, another a model for store catalogs and circulars(he thought Penneys was one, another reason to hate the store), a third was a news anchor for a station in Buffalo. Mike knew most didn't have kids, and majority were never married, divorced, or in process of divorce, but Liz seemed to overlook those minor details.

Her depression led to a major slowdown in what had been the century's kinkiest romance. Mike had tried several things in the husband's playbook to no avail—candy, roses, diamonds, weekend getaways to New England bed and breakfasts. The effects were minimal—at best a few nights of passion to be quickly replaced by the status quo of falling asleep with the news.

"How about this one?"

Liz had returned with another outfit, the previous one being placed in a bag for return. Mike shrugged—partial victory—he hated the Penneys outfit, but evidently she didn't find him sincere when he said she looked fine. "Great, another night without; she'll just cry herself to sleep obsessed over her weight," he thought to himself.

Mike sighed. "No, that doesn't make you look fat, nothing makes you look fat, because you aren't GOD-DAMNED FAT, LIZ!!!"

She screwed up her face in disgust, "You just say that because you are my husband—you HAVE to say that!" A loud slam marked her retreat into the sanctuary of the master bathroom.

"FUCK!" He exclaimed to himself. Mike was really angry now; she just simply dismissed him in favor of her self-pity.

"FUCK!" This time at the top of his lungs.

He threw down his book and jumped off the bed, starting to pace.

Then, inspiration struck.

Stamping his feet so she could hear Mike flung back the door on the extensive walk-in closet he had built her last year. Mike stared at the multitude of dresses , skirts, jeans, heels, and blouses until he saw just what he wanted. Yanking the items off their hangers, yet careful not to rip them, he gathered them into his arms and stormed back into the room, kicking the closet closed behind him, and tossed the bundle onto the bed.

As his gem of an idea grew, the harried husband began to relax, laughing to himself as he worked out additional details.

"ELIZABETH MARIE, GET THE FUCK OUT HERE!" She hated when she used her full name and even though her parents had passed on years earlier, her obedience reflex kicked in as he knew it would.

A squeak indicated the knob turning and she humbly came out, wet streaks running down her face. Inside Mike melted a bit as he always did seeing her cry; then he steeled himself, standing up straighter and launched into his small speech.

"Alright, Liz, you don't value my opinion because I am 'only' your husband. Fine. Well then, if that is what it takes, we are going out tonight. You are going to shower, put on a happy face and wear that outfit"-he pointed to the bed.

"When you are ready, we will go out to Penn Tavern and run a survey to see which of us is right."

Chapter Two

Mike hung up the phone and yelled up the stairs---"Elly says she can come over to watch the kids."

Their oldest groaned, "Dad, I am old enough to watch them, we don't need old Mrs Winthorp.."

He cut her off, "I know, Princess, but it is a schoolnight and you need your sleep, and Mrs. Winthrop will stay awake watching Letterman. And fifty-two isn't THAT old."

"To YOU...you're like over the hill already, I'm in my prime"...and she posed like a one of the movie stars in her teen mags.

He chuckled --she smiled, lunged, and grabbed the phone from him, before walking off to her room.

Then he grew serious as he heard bedroom door shut and eyes turned upward as his wife descended.

A long low wolf-whistle emitted from his lips. Liz hadn't looked like this in a long time---first he saw the black knee-length suede boots with 3" heels. As purposely marched down the wooden stairs each echoing sound caused his heart to jump. His eyes moved up off the boots to take in the rest of her appearance...

Her long red hair tied back in a pony tail, she had on a kelly green v-neck satin blouse with her T-studded motorcycle jacket, and a very short lace miniskirt. Even though he had laid them on the bed and bought the assorted items for her over the last few years, she rarely wore them and never before did she wear them altogether at one time.

Liz's crimson face betrayed her own realization of her beauty-- and her excitement!

Ignoring the urge to take her back up the stairs and throw her on the bed, Mike instead turned to let in Mrs. Winthrop. They quickly exchanged the usual guidelines regarding the kids, cell numbers and list of available snacks.

Ushering her into his Lexus, Mike held the door for her like a teenage boy on his first date. She reached over and opened his door for him. They left the long driveway.

"Ready for this?"

"I think so, but just so we are on same page, what is THIS?"

"Like I said, we're going to the Penn tavern, and when we get there you will go straight to the bar—I will head back to shoot some pool—"

"You're leaving me alone?"

"Uhm...yeah—I mean you want to take my word for it, so I figure—"

"You figure some drunk asshole is going to mistake me for a hooker--"

"NO!" Shock registered on his face as he realized how this sounded. He held up a finger, and pulled the car to the side of the road.

"Ok, let's try this again. I picked Penn Tavern as clientele is a bit better than your typical bar, and far enough from home you don't have to worry about any neighbors seeing you there. When we have clients from out of town I take them there as great place to do business."

"I thought you to took them to "TattleTails," she giggled. That was the local stripper bar.

He laughed—"That's only for the assholes I don't mind extorting...

"Seriously, you don't have to worry about drunks or assholes here. Not that type of place. "

"So, I am to sit at the bar and what? It's been a long time since I was single sitting in bar---usually I had a few friends with me, so never really sat alone at one. I think I would feel like an alcoholic. Or a hooker."

He winced, knowing the last was enough to make her back out with good reason.

"Well, get a drink and tell bartender in loud voice you are waiting for a friend and ask to have "her" directed to you when she comes in, That way you have an excuse to be there."

"Then what?"

"Wait for a reasonably cute guy to offer you a drink. If you think he is hideous or whatever, just refuse and move to another section of the bar. "

"And when one buys me a drink?"

"That you like," he stressed"

"Yeah, that I like." Not convinced so far.

"Well, flirt a little."

"Just flirt? What does this prove again?"

"Well, you said I don't count since I am your husband---but a cute guy flirting with you should prove I'm right..."

"Maybe, but just some lonely guy talking to me doesn't mean he is sexually attracted to me."

She had him there. He thought about it some more, closing his eyes to block oncoming headlights. The car passed by---he wanted to get on with this. Seemed like such a great idea but now she was forcing him to think a few steps ahead. CHRIST, this was why he hated chess.

"Well...."

"Well what, Sherlock?"

"Well, you know guys have a universal natural reaction to a woman they find sexually attractive."

"So you want me to stare at his pants? Then he will think I am drunk."

"Yeah, that would be a bit odd. Alright, rub him. Put your hand on his lap and feel. Make some excuse to bump into him there oh so innocently."

"I thought only guys copped feels." She laughed again, that beautiful trilling sound like water trickling down a stream. Liz was relaxing he realized. She wasn't going to bolt.

Mike smiled at her. "I DARE YOU." There, it was out. Something they hadn't done since their dating days, the three little words that had led to so many fun erotic escapades.

Returning his grin, "I Accept."

That was the former Liz speaking. Self-pity had been vanquished with self-assurance. Checking his mirrors, Mike pulled out and proceeded on their quest.