It's the end of another long, trying week. Dan is making the long drive home. He's exhausted from the week. Hell, he's exhausted from life lately, really. Everything has been an endless grind for months now. Work, wife, kids...everything. It all seems to be non-stop doing for others, but not for himself.
"Fuck!" he yells suddenly as he remembers that next Tuesday is Valentine's Day. That means they will celebrate it this weekend because who the fuck celebrates Valentine's on a Tuesday?! Why isn't it the second Saturday of February? *(Please excuse the author's digression. There will be no further interruptions. Promise. Wait, that's a lie. I promise I'll try. Better? Let's continue.)* Though he had already purchased a delicate bracelet for Christine, his wife, he didn't plan anything for the weekend. He feels guilt wash over him. Things have been stale between them for months, and forgetting to plan something won't help. He doesn't want her to think he still isn't totally infatuated with her or that he's lost interest. Because that's not the case at all. He loves her more than he's ever loved anyone, and she still turns him on like no one else. He always feels run down and knows she's been feeling the same. It's not like she's made advances toward him that he has rejected. And they have good sex. It's just not as frequent as it once was or nearly as exciting. The days of a spontaneous quickie during a morning shower before the kids wake or the once-a-week date nights have been absent for a long time. They went from having sex several times a week to every other week. So, things have been as stale as a stack of crackers left in an open package.
When Dan pulled off at his exit, he decided to stop to pick up flowers for Christine, figuring the gesture would help smooth over his lack of planning. Because he wasn't sure if they had any, he also bought a bottle of wine.
Driving on, Dan finally arrives home to see Christine's car in the driveway. "She's home early for a Friday." he thinks. Christine usually goes to her friend Rebecca's after work on Friday evenings to watch Rebecca's kids. It's a trade-off of babysitting duties so that Rebecca and her husband can have a night out. Rebecca watches their kids in exchange, so they may do the same. The agreement has been a little one-sided lately.
Dan enters the front door of a quiet house. No kids. No activity. "Where is everyone?" he wonders. He enters the kitchen, where he leaves the flowers on the counter with his keys. He then walks around the house's first floor, not finding a soul. He calls out his wife's and kids' names.
"Up here," he hears Christine's voice from upstairs.
Dan climbs the stairs to find their bedroom door closed. The only time this door is closed is when Christine is undressing, exercising, or they are having sex. He opens the door to their bedroom to find it dimly lit by candlelight, the smell of "Tommy Girl," his favorite perfume, in the air. There is soft yet rhythmic music playing. Sitting on the foot of the bed, he sees Christine wearing a red corset, lace garter, stockings, and thong. She has a red, thin silk collar around her neck. Her hair looks terrific, wavy, and flowing around her beautiful face. Her face is adorned with dark ruby-colored lipstick and matching eye shadow in a sultry, smokey appearance.
"Um. Wow," Dan begins to speak.
"Shhh," Christine says, raising a finger to her lips, silencing him.
Slowly, she slides the same finger between her lips, seductively wetting it with her tongue. Looking directly into Dan's eyes, she slides her finger down her chin, neck, and then between her breasts. Dan feels himself growing hard as he stares with intrigue.
Christine stands up and takes his hand, leading him to the bed. She unbuttons Dan's shirt and slides it off his back. She starts a trail of kisses down his chest and stops at his navel while she quickly removes his pants. Her kisses continue and then stop at the bulge in his underwear. Christine pushes Dan down on the bed with a playful laugh as she ties him with some red ribbons she has pre-positioned. She smiles as she tightens his binds, her eyes gleaming with mischief. With Dan's hands fully bound, she climbs on the bed and stands above him, squatting down almost within his reach and then back up again. Dan's eyes are fixed on her in desire and disbelief. He can smell her scent, and his lips desire to feel her moistness. Dan pleadingly looks into Christine's eyes, but she simply shakes her head and smiles. He's always loved her smile.
