My first submission, in two different senses of the word. Comments would be well received at the email address in my profile.
Chapter One: How It Began
I came home from work one Tuesday to find my wife, Melissa, sitting in the center of our living room sofa. Her arms were spread across the back of the sofa, and her head was tilted back, with her long, straight black hair cascading down the sofa's back. Her eyes were closed.
I kissed her on her forehead and greeted her, "Hi, darling." She purred softly, but said nothing. I hung up my coat, and came to sit by her side. "How was your day?"
"Mmmm, I don't want to talk about it," she complained.
"That rough?"
"Yes."
We're both attorneys in Washington, and certainly, we've both had our share of difficult days at the office, so I completely understood. I comforted her, stroking her right arm gently. "I'm sorry to hear that. Is there anything I can do to make it better?"
"Hmm. Maybe," she replied. "Could you get us each a glass of wine?"
"Of course. I'll be right back." I went to the kitchen and took down two plain wineglasses. In the fridge was a bottle of a very nice viogny, which I uncorked. I poured two glasses, and returned to the living room. Melissa was sitting up now, with her legs crossed. "Here we are," I said, handing her a glass of the clear white wine.
"Thanks, Gregory." She smiled. "Sorry I was so terse when you came in. I really had a rough one today."
"Do you want to talk about it?"
"No. I want to forget about it! Just a long day." Melissa sipped her wine. "Can I have a foot massage?"
"Of course. You just sit back and relax." I sat down on the floor, crossing my legs, and took a sip of my wine. I looked up at my wife.
"She's so pretty," I thought to myself. As always, she looked terrific when she got home from work. Melissa was dressed in an eggshell blue wool jacket, with skirt to match, over an ivory blouse. It set off her blue eyes nicely. Ivory stockings and eggshell pumps completed the outfit. Her slim, petite body looked almost dainty for a moment. I removed her shoes and set them aside.
I took her left foot and gently patted the arch. "You poor thing," I said, as I began to gently massage her stockinged foot, just behind her toes. She smiled and sipped her wine, watching me. I moved, very slowly, back towards her heel and spent a minute on every half inch. When I reached her ankle, I massaged it gently before returning to her toes. She purred as I began to gently work the muscles of each little toe. After about ten minutes, Melissa asked me for some more wine. I took a sip from my own glass, replaced it on the carpet, and brought her glass into the kitchen for a refill.