Between the Sheets

A sultry conversation yesterday before I was to be dressed and ready for my corporate husband’s dinner party had me wondering if I could pull off the evening in a civilized, conventional fashion. Some guests at the dinner were colleagues of J’s or from another firm. Some were there simply to rub elbows with influential urban businessmen. There were about 30 guests in total in the lobby of a beautiful hotel on the Embarcadero.

It takes me quite a long time to crawl out of my rural hovel in large gatherings, especially when the gatherings of people are not my fellow rural liberals. A beginning at the bar was in order. I sat down and ordered a manhattan. J had been waylaid when we entered and I graciously excused myself to get us some beverages. In a few moments, J approached me from behind.

“There is nothing more beautiful than your figure perched on a barstool in this dress,” he whispered. I was wearing a very simple black dress, but it’s J’s favorite. It is a figure-hugging dress that ends just below my knees so that when I sit it catches at the bend in my knee. It is gathered up on the sides with three-quarter length sleeves and a neckline that begins high on my neck and extends out to my shoulders in a point and back down toward my cleavage in a v-shape.

We mingled with a number of people that night. And as good as my sarcastic, intellectual commentary is I found my thoughts drifting to what was beneath the suits and cocktail dresses. I wondered if the distinguished man in the three-piece suit by the bar was the “dom” that emailed us last week asking me to dress provocatively for him “pussy lips vulnerable to the night air and my torment” as we frequented clubs for all to see my fetish. I wondered if the woman in the maroon suit had ever felt the lips of another woman. I wondered if the young, up-and-coming lawyer with the strong jaw was as Adonis-like without his clothes as he was with. I wondered if he could “go for hours” as some of the young studs at our swinger parties can. Or, if he would relinquish that rough exterior to indulge me as his dom and take J’s cock into his mouth as I wished.

At that, I became a little flustered and came out of my fantastical refuge. I wondered if anyone could glance at me and imagine my wild thoughts as I had. I surveyed the room for the passionate stare of one, just one, that may have noticed my boredom and come to rescue me. And, there was J. He knows too well my fever pitch. With a smirk to me he excused himself from the group he was with.

For Part II, click here
For Part III, click here