I hear the front door opening and set down my book. She's home! I rush to the foyer to greet Her.
Oh crap. Erin's mother is here too.
"Dear, why is he dressed like that?"
"Yes Tom. Why are you dressed like that?"
I'm wearing my three inch heel cream pumps, my favorite knee length light blue wool skirt, and my cuddly pink puff sleeve scoop collar angora sweater. Why? Because I wasn't expecting Ellen, the witch-in-law.
"Sorry. I'll go change."
"WAIT!" The old bitch holds out the right hand palm down. I bow and kiss it.
"Welcome, mother. How may I serve you."
"Well, you can take my coat for a start." She slips the long strap of her black leather purse off her shoulder and sets it on the hall table.
As I hang her three quarter length silver fox fur Erin gets a hanger and puts Her tan leather jacket with the shoulder wide Raccoon collar and matching cuffs on it, then slips it into the closet beside Her mother's.
"Dear, why are you doing that? Your sissy husband should be doing that."
She doesn't see Erin roll her eyes.
"Honey, go change into the pretty pink dress mother gave you for Christmas. That's a good girl."
"And be quick about it!"
"Yes Dear. Thank you mother." Wonder how long she'll stay?
The dress is pink satin. It's a hobble dress, with a locking zipper up the back and a twelve inch velvet rope between the wrist cuffs.
I start by lacing up the pink leather ballet ankle boots. I should wear them more often to break my feet in.
I put on the dress. Between it and the ballet boots the stairs are treacherous, but I make it down to the living room safely.
"Mistress, will you pull up me zipper. Please."
"Erin, look after that."
"Yes Mother."
The zipper goes right up my back to the top of the stiff high white lace trimmed collar. I hear the click of the integral lock.
"What is THAT?"
It's a book you senile old cunt. What does it look like? "It's Richard Feynman's book about the Manhattan Project, mother."
"You know what I mean. Why is it on the coffee table, sissy?"
"I was reading it when you and Erin came home."
"Is that where it belongs?"
"No mother."
"Then put it away. Honestly! Clutter like that is a sign of disrespect for guests and a slap in the face for your wife. You know better than that. Erin, I trust you will discipline the bitch for this."
"Yes mother. I discipline her every night at bedtime."
"Good."