We had it all arranged. Vic would leave the door unlocked and slightly ajar. Not enough to be noticed by anyone outside, but I could tell. He had put a little liquid Benadryl in her fruit juice just a while ago, so the effects should be taking effect any minute now. Not too much, just enough to lull her into a nice little, cozy nap. When she was asleep, Vic would ring just once on my cell phone. That was my cue.
I hurried over once the call came through. Timing was very important you see. I had a lesson to teach this bitch, and she was going to learn it well. I smoothed my trench coat down after stepping out of my car. I had checked to make sure my makeup and hair were just so. Can't have the neighbors thinking a crazy wild woman was coming to visit, now can we? I grabbed my case and closed the car door softly.
I strode up the front walk to their door and acted like I was ringing the doorbell. I waited a few moments and then gently nudged the door open with my foot to make it look like, for anyone who might be looking, the door was opened for me. I walked into the somewhat darkened house. I knew exactly where to go and what had to be done before I could start in on the "fun" stuff. I turned to the left and walked down a narrow hallway into what Vic had described as their "passion-less pit;" their bedroom. It was at the rear of the house, and that is where I found her...the bitch, lying on her back, snoring lightly, with one arm thrown over her head. She looked so innocent, lying there so serenely. But I knew differently. I knew of the years of mental games and physical/sexual deprivation she put my Vic through. I know, because I was there, watching from the sidelines, content until now to stay there and console Vic whenever he got the chance to slip away to see me. Now was the time for a "wakeup" call, literally, for Ms. Carla.
My first thought upon seeing the "wife" for the very first time was: "She's cute. Too bad she's such a bitch...I wonder what happened to turn her so sour?" Oh well, these were thoughts to ponder at a later time. I had a job to do and I intended to do it well. Vic deserved that. Heck, I deserved it. Carla certainly could use this as her last chance, too, if she had even an ounce of sense in her brain, I thought. I set down my case and opened it. I had several items stored within that I intended to use...if not all, then at least a good portion of my "tools." First I removed four extra-large silk scarves. I carefully slipped her hands through the pre-tied loops on two of the scarves, tightened them a bit and then secured the opposite ends to the headboard so her hands were both directly above her head. I proceeded to do the same with her legs/feet, gently but securely tying them to the footboard of their California King sized bed. Such potential, this room...and such a waste, I mused. It could be transformed into a sizzling haven of sexual pleasure and outright sinful lust, but instead, was decorated with only the sterile and unimaginative in mind...neutral earth tone colors, stainless steel, and glass. Cold and lifeless. Mmmmm, just imagine what I could do with this fantastic bed. Some bold colors, warm woods... Yes, the perfect set-up for an evening of light bondage and intimate sex play....But I digress.
Next, I proceeded to remove my very sharp razor. No, not to cut and maim someone, but rather simply to expedite the removal of all these unnecessary layers of clothing that Ms. Carla was so fond of wearing. I had to take a deep breath and exhale slowly to contain my excitement. I had never done this kind of thing before and found it to be totally liberating in a strange, perverse kind of way.
I slipped the edge of the razor under her T-shirt and found the material cut very easily and fell away from her chest. Next, off came the shorts. Thank goodness she was wearing Spandex; it made my job easier, but man, with a butt like hers, I wouldn't be so anxious to stuff it into a tight little number just to have the neighborhood ogling my cellulite deposits. I was surprised to see she had on a matching push-up bra and string bikini panties -- blue and white nylon and lace. It was almost a shame to mutilate them, but I was a woman on a mission. I took the razor to both sides of her panties and gave it a gentle flick and the gossamer material divided easily. Next I gently lifted up the straps of her bra, flicked the razor, and again the material separated like a breath of air. One more slice at the side of her cup and there she was...naked as the day she was born.
I stood up and regarded my handiwork thus far. Carla really wasn't a bad looking chick, thin with a big butt and slightly generous thighs. She obviously didn't shave her pubic area because it looked somewhat reminiscent of an untamed jungle. Too bad, I thought. A neatly trimmed pussy goes a long way in telling your partner that you care. Her breasts were nice though, I had to admit; nicely rounded with somewhat generous pinkish brown nipples. For her age of 36, I noticed, there wasn't a whole lot of droop either. I caught myself wanting to lean over and suck her left nipple just to see how prominent it would stand out. "All in good time," I reminded myself.
Opening my case again, I located another silk scarf, and this one I proceeded to tie over Carla's eyes. I couldn't have her see me, at least not yet, until maybe after I'd accomplished my purpose. Having thus prepped Carla to my satisfaction, I proceeded on to Phase 2 of our plan.
Perhaps this would be a good time to tell you a bit about myself now. I'm a divorced woman, 48 years of age, with very short auburn colored hair. Some days it almost looks spiked, and on other days gracefully feathers around my face. My gray-blue eyes are probably one of my finer features, which I love to frame with blue eyeliner and blue mascara. I'm of average build, 5'4", 135 pounds, 36C, with perhaps a not-too-shabby figure, if I do say so myself. I'm no supermodel for sure, but I've heard no complaints over the years, and I'm definitely no slouch either.
I've been on my own now for almost a decade, during which time I've come to the conclusion that life is short...too short to waste on pretense and games. I know what I like and I know what I don't want. I met Vic by accident when he and I literally collided during a biker's rally in Las Vegas. I was visiting there with some girlfriends for an "all chicks, no dicks" weekend, and he was there on an annual bike run. My mind was obviously a thousand miles away as I was bee-bopping down the strip, way too excited just being in Las Vegas, when all of a sudden I ran full-throttle into what felt like a mountain of leather. Strong arms wrapped around me to prevent my inevitable crash and fall, and when I caught my breath, I looked up into the saddest, sweetest set of brown eyes I'd ever seen. The arms were attached to a ruggedly handsome, yet boyishly cute face. The goatee'd mouth grinned at me and words were spoken, but for some reason, I couldn't hear them. Mesmerized I was. All I could do was stare dumbly up into his eyes. Mmmmm, his eyes were what captured me. I could get lost in his eyes and drown in those pools of coffee colored irises. The mouth moved again. I wanted to kiss those lips. They were so inviting. I couldn't tear my eyes away from them. I closed my eyes, tilted my head towards him with my lips slightly parted, when one of my friends shook my shoulder and broke the spell. "Hello....Earth to Mindy. Are you okay sweetie?" It was Jill, my long time best friend. I opened my eyes again, and realized I was still encased in those strong leather arms.
"Ahhh, huh? What'd you say?" I asked the mountain.
"I asked if you were okay. You almost took a bad spill there," replied leather man.
"Oh, yeah, I'm perfect...er, well, I mean, um..." God, I thought, I'm a blubbering idiot. Great impression you just made on the Stone-Cold-Steve-Austin-ish hulk here. Talk about wanting to melt into the sidewalk!
"Yes, I'm okay. Thanks for catching me," I finally managed to blurt out. The arms still did not release me, and strangely enough, I didn't mind. It felt good actually. Safe, yet dangerous at the same time. I suppose it was the smell of leather and man that brought out the primitive nature of my personality. I just couldn't act like my normal strong, confident self. Instead, I wanted to bear this man's child and ride off into the sunset. It was Jill who finally broke the spell by clearing her throat.
We both jumped apart and grinned sheepishly at each other. My mountain recovered first and introduced himself. "I'm Vic. Nice to meet you....?" he said questioningly, waiting for me to supply my own name in response.
"Mindy, Mindy Sherman. This is my best friend, Jill. We're here for a great-escape weekend. We've just arrived in town and I guess I'm a bit in awe of everything yet. I'm so sorry, I wasn't watching where I was going..." Gawd, the words wouldn't stop now. Someone just shoot me, please. I don't know what it was about him, but I knew in that instant we were in for some interesting days ahead. Little did I know that I was about to be swept off my feet.
"Well, Mindy, Mindy Sherman, please allow my clumsy bulk to make it up to you by buying you, and your friend, a bite to eat. I've just arrived in town too, and could use a bit of refueling myself."
Jill was about to mutter a polite refusal when I blurted out with, "We'd love to, wouldn't we?" Jill knew when she was fighting a losing battle, so she made up some lame excuse about a powder room and fatigue, and evaporated into the casino. Vic linked his arm through mine and escorted me through the doors. We sat and talked, ate and drank, for what seemed like hours. I could tell him anything, and Vic admitted he felt the same.
It was by mutual, silent agreement that we headed upstairs to Vic's room. When we entered the elevator, Vic pulled me back into his embrace and leaned over to give me the most tender kiss I've ever experienced. His lips were soft and moist, a complete opposite of what one might expect from a seasoned biker. The kiss deepened, our tongues exploring each other's mouths, and it wasn't until the elevator doors opened again that we broke apart. I was quivering down to my core. I ended up spending the entire weekend in Vic's room, doing nothing but talking, eating, and the enjoying the most fantastic sex ever. We talked about our hopes, our dreams, and our regrets. Vic had been married for 14 years to the same woman, and had, up until that point, been totally faithful. He confessed it had been over a year since he and his wife had had any kind of physical contact. I could tell it hurt him to confess this; after all, what kind of man is he, that his wife no longer desires or wants his kisses and caresses?
I was giddy with love and lust, and added to this was the bonus the fact that Vic actually lived in Southern California, just under 15 miles from where I lived! I would see my Vic again...and frequently if I had my say about it.
