'Who is this guy?" Janice asked, "Do I know him?"
"He's in from Springfield and been here for the last two weeks. I think he's an analyst or contractor they hired. I told you sales are down 10% from last year and he's been..." He trailed off, a sick feeling in his stomach. "I'm sorry to spring this on you but I couldn't say no."
Janice laughed, "Sure you could have. 'I'm sorry, my wife needs more notice. Perhaps Monday?' or 'Tonight is the night we reserve every month with our phones and TV off. We call it our renewal weekend,'" she spat. "Christ, Art, you know how every third Friday...fuck it, do I need to change? Stupid question. I'll change into something...did he tell you what he's wearing?"
Arthur Andrews looked at his ash-blonde wife dressed in clothes that closely matching those she was wearing when he'd first seen her. Tight shorts looking like they were painted on, her chest accentuated by a tight bandana halter top. She had incredible assets. Her breasts were perfect, not huge, but large enough and cone-shaped. He'd seen porn videos where they were called banana or torpedo tits, but whatever they were called they begged to be sucked on. When she was incredibly aroused her nipples hardened, sticking out a quarter inch. Her ass was also perfect and he'd buried his face between those cheeks many times before taking her from behind, her favorite position. She kept her pubes trimmed and when she opened her legs, the band of course dark fur framed her clam-shell pussy that opened like flower-petals when aroused.
It was right after both their senior years that she was working the donkey ride for the very young kids when he'd first set eyes on her. He'd made a point of walking by as much as he could, his date finally smacking him and striding off realizing what he was doing. Janice noticed and came over asking if he was all right. That night he'd dined on all her perfect assets and brought her to her first orgasm...the first of many. He never forgot kissing his way up her smooth thighs, her legs opening eagerly, and seeing nothing but a half-inch strip of demin covering her pussy. Then there was the tangy-sweet aroma of her arousal.
They'd been together ever since but five years ago after trying to get pregnant and being told Art was shooting blanks he'd gone into a funk. They'd tried therapy as Art couldn't perform with any consistency anymore and that was getting to be a problem in their marriage. What came out of it was the suggestion to recreate their first weekend together, act out fantasy scenarios. Jan had joined a gym, not to lose weight but to get her muscle tone back to where it was when she was 18. Art joined her when he could, but he'd not been all that athletic to begin with.
This became something anticipated, planned out, and willingly followed by the unsuspecting participant. Various themes were, Art as a burglar; Janice in a bar looking to cheat; Janice captured by enemy forces and interrogated; Art sitting at a bar and approached by a hooker; Janice seducing Art's boss, played by Art in a suit. They enjoyed all these, but mostly they returned to their first night after he'd picked her up at the fair. Art chose the theme odd months, Janice even.
It had worked and become a monthly event that got the juices going for the weeks after and the weeks ahead in anticipation. Neither knew what the other was planning until the morning of when they were told when, where, and how to dress. Art never wore his Stand-Up shorts and Yankee's tees any other time and Janice reserved her tiny cut-offs and halter tops for the third Friday if that was what they chose. It was nice there wasn't much there as Art always quickly removed it just like on their first encounter.
"He said for you to dress nice," he stammered. "He said all he has are his custom-made suits. Look, we'll still have tonight after he leaves and all weekend. I'll make it up to you," he sighed, "He told me after sitting with men day after day you'd be better on his eyes, so maybe something low-cut?"
"He what? Who is this guy? Oh yeah, you'll make it up to me. I'm going to wear your mouth and cock out," she glared at her husband. She'd felt herself getting wetter all day long thinking about changing into her outfit, his tongue and lips pleasing her, his hands gripping her ass as he drove into her from behind. It was another unproductive Friday knowing she'd be getting satisfied all weekend by her husband and now she'd have to curb her base appetites...on top of that, a total stranger was telling her how to fucking dress? "I'm of half a mind to call your brother and see if he has dinner plans," she huffed.
"I know, but I really should tell you about the last two weeks," Art sighed, "Hang on, I need something to drink." He grabbed a Dr. Pepper from the fridge and sat down, "Ok, Monday, the 2nd, I get a call telling me I need to meet a man at the front desk and set him up in the Hotel office, you know, that spare office...anyhow..."
***********************************************
Art got the call and headed down to the lobby. He wasn't told a name or what the man looked like, but just one person was waiting. He had to be 6' 6", a very fit-looking 50-year-old with greying temples and a custom-made suit.
"Arthur Andrews, or Art," he'd said holding out his hand as he looked up at the man. The handshake was very firm and held moments longer than he'd been used to as the man intently studied his face, his eyes.
"John Smith," he'd said in a way daring Art to question it, "Where's the office I'll be using?" He finally released Art's hand allowing him to lead the way to the elevators. 'Decent handshake, not confident,' he thought.
The first week Art had seen little of the man, but various co-workers had been in closed-door meetings all day with John. They'd had lunch delivered and outside of bio-breaks they never appeared. None would say a word about what they'd discussed, nor made the usual jokes about suits and often would take the following days off. He'd wondered if their whole department was getting fired when on Tuesday he'd received a calendar invite to meet in the Hotel office, Friday the 20th. He was instructed to cancel all conflicting meetings and appointments.
Friday morning he'd come in, his stomach in knots. After getting his coffee, he knocked on the office door.
The entire day was mostly a blur as Mr. Smith pulled out stacks of folders having Art explain how he handled this sales call and that meeting with a client. He was grilled about what was going on in his head and did he consider saying of doing something differently? He had to explain every option he'd had at those times.
The man plopped down the last folder, "Ok. I think we've covered the last year or so. I need to know more about you...you personally outside of work, married? Hobbies?" he looked at the ring.
"Yes, Janice. We've been married six years. We both love to bike and cook. Um, Mr. Smith?" He looked at his watch, "Is there much more? Jan is making dinner and..." he stopped seeing the man smile for the first time as he stood.
"Perfect. What time? I was about to suggest I take you and your wife out but getting to know a person in their home is much better." he said as he looked down firmly at the shorter man still sitting.
