Tabitha sat in the seat next to me in the back of the town car, but we had been and were still miles apart. We are married. We love each other. We live together. We eat together. Sleep together. Bathe together. But it was all mechanical and going through the motions. Our lives had gotten in the way. Work, family. All important things, but things none the less that separated us from really being with each other.
Once in our hotel we began to get dressed. We weren't at home. We were away. We had plans that were for us. It just hadn't sunk in yet.
It took me several tries to get my bow tie looking proper. My skill had atrophied. I couldn't even remember the last time I put my tux on. If felt good to wear a crisp shirt and a well tailored jacket. I started to feel like we had left our grind behind. Black tie events had a way of doing so. But first, tickets to the Opera. Not because I loved opera, but because once upon a time Tabitha loved opera. She loved the romance, the artistry. I hoped to reignite her love of it.
She emerged from the changing area. I hardly recognized her. Her brunette hair long, straight and silky to her mid back. No pony tail, no messy bun. She had put on makeup. Dark eye shadow and dark eyeliner. Sumptuous. Sexy. Long drop diamond earrings. A splurge purchase from our earlier days together. Any time other than a formal night and they would look silly. Tonight they highlighted her beauty.
She wore a long sequined gown. It dove in a deep V down her chest, terminating just above her belly button. The gown hung long. A pronounced slit up the left side exposed her leg and ran well above her hip. Amazingly sexy. No possibility of underwear the way the dress was cut. She wore silver sparkling peep toe high heels several inches high. I recalled them. Jimmy Choos that I bought her several years ago. I had hardly seen her wear them. Her toes wore a fresh coat of dark red nail polish identical to that on her fingers.
She walked over to straighten my tie. I said nothing, but my look told her everything she needed and wanted to hear about how she looked. She straightened my bowtie one more time. She kissed me softy and passionately. "I love you." she exhaled as she pulled back. This is why we were here tonight.
In the lobby of the performance hall gilded molding shone brightly against red carpets. We both sipped champagne and made simple talk with acquaintances as we waited to be signaled to take our seats.
The lobby lights pulsed. We had received our signal. One more sip of champagne before heading to our seats. I followed closely behind Tabitha as we moved down through the Orchestra seating. Her hips swayed as she walked down the aisle, making her sequin dress sparkle. Very intoxicating.
The performance hall was dim. The orchestra tuned up. The house filed, every seat taken. Us in the center several rows from the front. The lights dimmed and extinguished. Only the orange glow from the orchestra's music lights could be seen. The curtain rose and the hall began to fill with music. A wall of orchestral sound. Bright stage lights highlighted the protagonist, the antagonist. I knew nothing of the performance. I do not speak Italian. But with a minimum of effort, your can infer everything you need from the music. The performance was gripping. We sat riveted among a sea of tuxedo clad men and evening gown wearing women. Tabitha sat on my right. We held hands on the arm rest, our fingers intertwined. Her attention was unbreakably focused on the performance. From the corner of my eye, I saw the light pink flesh of her leg in the dark. The slit up the side of her dress more revealing when seated. I resisted looking, only enjoying from my peripheral vision. Her thigh completely exposed. Her dress only barely covering her pubic region. We continued to hold hands. She remained transfixed on the performance.
I absorbed the singing. It was beautiful. I understood why Tabitha had loved it. Apparently still loved it.
She lifted my hand slowly, quietly placing it on top of her exposed thigh. She showed no reaction. She Remained transfixed on the performance. Her thigh was soft and warm. I left my hand where she placed it, unmoved, her hand on top of mine.
The performance ebbed and waned from soft to strong, powerful to delicate.
She moved my hand. Again, fixed on the performance. She slid my hand up and inside her thigh. Very close to her vagina. Her skin softer, warmer. The Orchestra rang out in unison.
Again, she moved my hand. Pulling it under her dress, my hand cupped against her vagina. Amazing warmth. I became nervous. I looked past her. The old man next her focused on the performance, none the wiser as to what was happening in the darkness between the legs of the woman next to him. Her warmth radiated against my cupped palm and fingers. Amazingly sensual. She removed her hand from mine, returning it to the armrest.
I worked my middle and ring finger past her labia. Slowly. From the corner of my eye I watched her. No reaction. My fingers now hot and wet, working against her flesh. Probing her inside and giving her pleasure.
I checked often. She was a rock. No outward sign of the growing tension inside her. Lazer focus on the performance.
My fingers worked hard, and deeper. So wet. Small tremors emanated from her hips. Still, unblinkingly watching the performance. I did not relent. I continued to work every nerve ending in her vagina. The tremors grew into quakes. And still, she never looked away from the performance.
She slowly returned her hand to my lap. Placing it on top of mine, Pushing me hard into her. her hips shook spastically. She kept full composure never showing the tumult raging inside her.
She stiffened and froze. Her vagina began to rhythmically contract on my fingers. Hard at first, then waning in frequency and intensity. She slowly pulled my hand from her vagina. She remained locked on the performance, only breaking with a slight smile as I lifted my hand away.
My fingers wet and shiny. I placed my elbow on the arm rest. Motioning with my hand as if I were to rub my chin. Her smell radiated from my fingers. Amazing. I wanted to lick them. I restrained. No reason to do that in the opera. Too weird.
The performance soon ended. The house lights rose. Leaving her seat, Tabitha's dress fell back across her leg as the design intended. Formal. Sexy.
The elderly gentleman who had been seated beside her turned as we exited our row and asked. "How did you find the performance tonight?".
"Absolutely magical", Tabitha responded with a smile.
Our night was not over accompanying our tickets was an invite to a black tie dinner following the performance for those who supported the arts. A sea of tables with elaborate center pieces. A jazz band and dance floor front and center. A bar off to the side. Before long we were separated. Dragged into countless conversations with acquaintances. Pointless conversations. Friendly, light small talk. But small talk none the less. These people, these conversations had gotten in between us. Exactly what we were trying to avoid.
