Early last summer, Aaron decided to burn a little comp time and spend a few days de-stressing before the start of his favorite audit. Tax season had been a bear, and since we were both in desperate need of a long weekend at our favorite little bed and breakfast, the plan was for the two of us to sneak off together. Unfortunately, a major snag on my favorite audit scuttled our plans, so rather going off alone, Aaron decided to stay home and enjoy the comforts of our newly-constructed backyard deck.
It was Thursday evening. I was hot, tired and thoroughly disgusted with the sloppy bookkeeping of the Medieval Knights and Maidens Association. The only good thing was . . . I'll save that for later.
"The prime rib should be done in about a half hour." Aaron said, after a long, wet kiss.
"Good. Then I have time for a shower."
"Could you take one later? I want you to help me pick the best photo to enter in the calendar contest."
For each of the last three years, Aaron had taken first place in the annual photo contest sponsored by our local chamber of commerce. This year's theme was: People Doing Their Jobs. The possibilities that Aaron had been mulling over included everything from the bikini-clad girls at the Venus Carwash detailing a car, to our town's buxom lady cop making a bust, to his favorite wife (me) teaching her kick-boxing class down at the Y. (See a pattern here?) I could only imagine which shot he had settled on.
"So. Which member of your dream-team did you con into posing?" I asked.
"My dream-team?"
"Your harem?"
Aaron scowled, and shook his head.
"Sorry. Who did you get?"
"Our mail carrier, Lori."
Carefully, he spread out six prints that followed the girl-next-door beauty going step by step through the process of delivering our mail. Knowing Aaron's taste in women, I was not the least bit surprised by his last-minute choice.
"Tell me about her." I said.
Aaron leaned back against the kitchen island and stared lustfully into space. "Let's see. Where to begin?"
"How old is she?
"Thirty."
I studied the pictures. I couldn't believe this diminutive knockout was that old! At best, I would have guessed her to be in her early twenties! "Is she married?"
Aaron nodded. "With three kids."
"Three kids?! With a body like that?!!"
"Jealous?"
Were I the jealous type, this hot-little-number would most definitely have earned my undivided attention.
"Of course!"
All cattiness aside, Lori is a natural beauty. But I doubt she knows it. At five-foot-three, she is definitely petite. Her hair is shoulder-length: coal black – that for the shoot – she was wearing pulled back in a pony tail. Her eyes are dark brown, and sparkle with a playfulness that I'm sure (when coupled with her disarming smile and deep dimples) captured my darling's heart.
To complete the image: her breasts are full, and nicely shaped; though her short-sleeve, blue and white uniform blouse does little to emphasize them. Her waist and hips are slender, and her legs extremely trim. Her khaki shorts were not too short, but did do an excellent job of accentuating her ass-sets.
"So what do you think?" my lover asked excitedly.
"I think you have another winner." I said.
"When I first saw her," he blurted out, "all I could think was 'Wow! She could deliver for me anytime!' If I weren't married to such a HOT babe as you, that is." he added, backpedaling rapidly
"Yeah . . . Right . . ."
The lecherous look on Aaron's face when he confessed his initial thoughts about our sexy little mail carrier, was priceless! How I kept from laughing out loud, I don't know. But what I do know, is that after helping my love pick out the best photo to enter, I came up with the perfect scheme to give my darling the ultimate fantasy-cum-true . . .
* * * * * * * * * *
It was just past ten thirty on Friday morning when I wrapped up my audit of the Medieval Knights and Maidens Association (a full hour and half ahead of schedule – the only good thing from the day before). With as little fanfare as possible, I packed my audit bag and headed off to the mall to set my plan in motion.
Without spoiling the story to cum, let me say that this girl-on-a-mission was hell-bent on transforming herself from an ultraconservative CPA, into Lori's twin sister. So, with credit card in hand, I headed straight to Old Navy for a pair of khaki shorts and a blue and white blouse.
"Welcome to Old Navy! How may I help you?"
The bubbly salesgirl – with her cargo pants and crop top – looked like a walking advertisement for the store, and just the person I needed to help me find the key pieces of my new wardrobe.
"I need a pair of shorts: khaki; and a blue and white blouse: short sleeves."
"Follow me . . ."
Less than five minutes later, I was checking out with my purchases, and was on my way up the escalator to my friend Joy's Shear Magic for an inexpensive, shoulder-length, black wig.
"Hi Chris. What can I do for you today?" Joy said.
"I need a wig. Black; shoulder-length?"