He'd asked her to come to him, under the guise of giving him decorating advice. She'd come before, sometimes at her suggestion, sometimes at his. Almost always under one pretence or another. But it was part of their game. She'd made it clear in the past that she wouldn't say no. That the ball was firmly and permanently in his court. But he'd always been strong, resisted the temptation. He'd admired her for some time, lusted after her, but there were two marriages at stake. Not to mention his friendship with her husband, and hers with his wife. He'd reasoned himself out of crossing the line every time before this day. He liked what they had and didn't want their relationship with each other, or their partners, to change. But as he watched her walk up the front path towards him, he could feel something about today was different.
The spring weather had finally kicked in and she celebrated the warmth of the day with a floral dress. Though modest, the dress was more revealing than he'd see her wear before. Sitting mid-thigh, it had thin adjustable straps and a low cut and ruffled neckline. Her body was curvy, but strong; soft in the right places, and filled out that dress like no-one else could. The gentle breeze played at the dress' hem as she walked, showing glimpses of her smooth tanned upper leg. He knew that she thought of herself as plain, as not much to look at. Her brown hair was long and fell is soft waves down her back and framed her face Her heritage showed in the olive tone of her skin, with her rosy cheeks and full lips rounding off her beauty. But for him, it had always been her eyes. Her big, brown doe eyes were her most beautiful feature, especially when she smiled and they lit up and crinkled just a little at the corners.
He admired her body and the way the dress moved with her as she approached him. He welcomed her in with a hug and kiss on the cheek as usual. But he let his hand linger on her lower back just a fraction longer than he probably should. As he pulled away he wondered if she noticed. Her face gave nothing away and he moved towards the kitchen to make coffee. She dropped her bag by the front door and followed him. He could feel her eyes on his back and he wondered what she was thinking. Sitting in her usual seat at the counter they made small talk while he made their coffee, checking in and updating each other on their lives. As she sat on the stool chatting about her own home renovations, she leaned slightly forward offering him a perfect view of her ample cleavage. She wasn't wearing a bra and he found himself wondering what kind of underwear she had on. Was it something sensible and comfortable, or something a little more exciting? Was she even wearing underwear at all?
Her soft laugh brought him back but the look in her slightly narrowed eyes was, for once, unreadable. He realised then that she had asked him a question, but he'd been so caught up in his musings that he hadn't noticed. But she'd definitely noticed him staring at her breasts. She sat up straight and they both ignored his lapse. He gave her her cup, and without warning or invitation she took her coffee to the lounge room. He followed her. She sat on the large couch, tucking her legs underneath herself as she sat. Her dress falling a little to one side, he again caught just a glimpse of her upper thigh. If only her dress had slipped a little further he'd know the answer to his recent musings.
"So, exactly what type of decorating do you want advice on?" She asked, repeating the earlier question he hadn't heard.
"I want to change the guest room. It's too small to fit more than the bed and side table in there. We can't do anything else with the room, and I'm hoping for a more practical way of using it as a guest room without it feeling so crowded."
"We'll go have a look after our coffee is done."
As their conversation flowed, she occasionally touched his arm. It was her innocent way of connecting with him, of showing him she was there. She meant nothing by it, but today her touch sent electricity through him, into his core and he had to use everything he had to resist reaching out for her. She then said something unexpected, something that told him today was definitely the day. Today would be the day he gave in to her.
Her husband was away for work, he'd left yesterday. For two weeks. That in itself wasn't really news, he was aware of the trip. But the next words from her mouth threw him for six. "At least if I get any strange marks or bruises I won't have to explain myself. They'll definitely heal before he gets back." He waited, but she said no more.
Strange marks or bruises. They'd come together in their mutual desire for BDSM. Neither her husband nor his wife had any interest in experimenting, despite both of them trying with their respective partners. Though their relationship remained entirely platonic they "played" together. It was their game, their secret indulgence. Her willingness to come to him every time. He'd started slow, eased her into it. But she'd been willing, excited even, to share this desire with him. Now every time she visited he would choke her, use his strong arms to restrict her breath until she passed out. Sometimes she'd let him tie her up and they'd experiment with breath play. At his asking, his instance, always platonic. And at her asking, he never left her marked in any way. No marks meant no awkward questions. Sometimes he felt guilty and wondered if they should stop. But she always came back and was always so willing to submit to him. It was an outlet for them both, a stress reliever of sorts, and neither of them wanted to stop. So they continued with their games, enjoying the dominance and submission and the secret they shared.
But she'd made it clear that if he dared, if he ever changed his mind, she wanted to take it all the way. They'd discussed their fantasies. He'd told himself they were good friends, and fantasies were something that good friends talked about. He knew what she wanted. She wanted pain, wanted to feel powerless and vulnerable, wanted to hurt while her body shuddered with pleasure.
She placed her coffee cup on the table, and leaned forward on on the couch to scratch her ankle, exposing her neck at the most delicate angle. And he couldn't resist. In a swift motion he was behind her, one arm around her neck the other holding the back of her head. He squeezed. Her breath drew in quickly and for a brief moment she stiffened as if to struggle and her hand gripped his arm. But then like always, she gave in, and in response came the heaviness of her body against his as he rendered her unconscious.
***
He had taken her by surprise. Usually he asked her if she wanted to be choked, and though her answer had always been yes, he had never acted without her permission. She liked this new sensation, the feeling of helplessness as his strong arm tightened around her throat restricting her breath. There was always a little hesitation and it likely showed in her body. She knew that if she tapped him he would release her. And though her hand always moved to his arm she had never stopped him.
