Fantasy Crossroads

It's late Sunday morning. Max and I have just returned home from the hotel. We are having coffee and reading the paper before we go out for brunch. Actually, Max is reading the paper. I'm just pretending.

An hour ago, I reached into my purse to retrieve my cell phone so I could charge the battery. Inside, I found a folded piece of paper. 'Call me,' it said in a decidedly female hand and provided a phone number. The note is unsigned, but I have no doubt that Erin found a way to slip it into my purse last night, either in the ladies room or after we returned to the table.

And there it was; that flutter in my stomach again. Erin represents the first time in my life that I've been sexually attracted to another woman. It was the same feeling I experienced last night. Since I met her for the first time less than twenty-four hours ago, this is all very disconcerting.

I don't keep secrets from my husband, at least not for very long. I have no idea why Erin wants me to call her, so I will wait to talk to Max when I find out what's going on. I'll look for an opportunity to call her and then decide what to do.

Visions of last night have been swirling in my head since awakening. Max and I enjoyed our first bondage experience with another couple at the Densmere Hotel in the city. We were matched up with Erin and Craig by the computer program that belongs to the organization we joined several months ago; one that links consenting adults who have unfulfilled sexual desires.

Our very first tryst occurred with Lacey and Scott so that I could indulge my fantasy; watching my husband fuck another woman. No suitable candidate was available, so our options were limited to other couples and we ended up having a four-way. It blew our minds, but we were unsure if we wanted to do anything like that again. If Max had not revealed his fantasy to me last week, one that involved him tying me up so another man could fuck me while he watched, we might never have engaged in couples sex again. And we certainly would not have met Erin and Craig for our first bondage experience outside our own bedroom.

What happened last night was almost unbelievable when reviewed in the light of day. I've spent much of the morning trying to add up the number of orgasms I had getting fucked by Craig and then by my husband. I'm having a little trouble coming up with a total because my recollection of what happened when Max fucked me with a butt plug in place is a little fuzzy. I think the correct number is six, or maybe seven. I am naturally inclined toward multiple orgasms, but last night was nothing like I've ever experienced before. Still, either six or seven seems like an outrageous number and either would be a new record for me by a wide margin.

Suddenly, Max sets his paper aside.

"I can't concentrate," he announces.

"Why not?"

"I can't completely wrap my head around what happened last night," he replies.

"Why not?" I repeat. "You and Craig planned the whole thing so you must have been certain of the outcome."

"That's true, about ninety percent of the evening went exactly as we intended. All of my fantasies about tying you up so another guy could fuck you were realized."

"So what's the issue?" I inquire, a little mystified.

"The butt plug thing was a crap shoot. I need to explain to you what that was all about," he answers.

"You don't need to explain anything to me," I counter with a smile. "I've never felt anything like that before. I'm not certain how many orgasms I had, but they were the most powerful I've ever experienced. And I've had some doozies."

"I know, I've been around for most of them," he says with a little smile.

"So what's the big deal?"

"Right up to the last minute before Craig and I entered the room, the evening wasn't supposed to end that way."

"Really?" Now I am both puzzled and curious. "How was it supposed to end?"

"Like we originally planned. Craig would do you throughout the entire evening and I would do Erin," Max replies. "We were not supposed to fuck our own wives."

"What changed?"

"Craig mentioned that he had come across a bondage article on the internet that said lots of women experience orgasms that are unprecedented in their intensity when a butt plug is involved. When he told me that, I immediately decided that I didn't want anyone but me to give you that much pleasure for the very first time. When I told him I was changing the ending to our evening, he readily agreed. It seems he may have been thinking the same thing, which is apparently why he brought up the subject to begin with."

"Well, if I'd had any idea how it was going to feel, I wouldn't have wanted anyone but you to do that to me, so I am thrilled that you made the change. If you hadn't, I would be sitting here right now being upset that a stranger had given me the most sensational orgasms of my life," I respond with a bit of a hammer thumping in my chest. "The original plan, with last night's outcome, would have been difficult for me to deal with."

"It was a close call," Max declares. "We almost blew it."

"Then, whatever we do in the future, let's ensure that you and I are the ones who do anything unusual, at least for the first time. If it's planned that way from the beginning, we won't have any more near misses," I suggest with a smile.

"You gotta deal, let's go to brunch."

****

"Haley, are you okay?" asks Max halfway through brunch. "You seem a little distracted."

"I'm fine," I reply, as I pile more cream cheese and lox on a bagel. "It's just that I keep replaying last night through my mind

"Yeah, well, me too," he responds. "Reach any conclusions?"

"Not really. But a question or two is running through my mind."

"Care to share?"

"Sure." Actually two questions are occupying my thoughts, one I'm willing to share right now, and one I'm not. "I've been wondering what's next for us."

"What do you mean?"

"Let me answer your question with a question. Do you have any interest in repeating our first encounter with Lacey and Scott?"

"You mean get it touch with them and do it again?"

"Not them in particular. I'm talking about doing pretty much the same thing but with a different couple."

"Been there, done that."

"Exactly," I tell him. "We were responding to a particular fantasy of mine that has now been satisfied. Doing the same thing would not be nearly as exciting a second time around."

"And last night we took care of my fantasy."

"We did. And quite nicely I might add."

"So what's troubling you?" he inquires as he takes a sip of his Bloody Mary.

"What do we do next? Nothing at all? Conjure up a new fantasy? Maybe different bondage scenarios?"

"I'm not sure about more bondage," he says with a frown.

"Me neither. I don't want anything more extreme than what you and Craig did to me last night. I'm not going to wear a dog collar and crawl around on a hotel floor saying 'yes master, yes master' while some guy is cracking a whip in the air," I respond. "And simply repeating last night with another couple would be a lot less exciting. If we do any more bondage stuff, it'll have to be different but still relatively mild."

"I agree," Max responds with a nod of his head. "So basically we stop doing this sort of thing or we start using our imaginations to..."

"Maybe push the envelope a little," I interrupt.

"Maybe. Any ideas?"

"Not a one," I answer.

"So let's just let the idea rest for a while until one of us comes up with something new."

"But as for bondage, you can tie me up and fuck me whenever, and however, you like," I offer with a mischievous smile. "I might even let you use the butt plug again," I add with a wink.

"I think that can be arranged," he offers with a grin.

"I'm counting on it," I reply as I take a bite of my bagel and another sip of my Bloody Mary. Now all I have to do if find out what Erin wants to talk to me about.

****

We are now back home from brunch and I'm trying to decide when to call Erin. The fact that she wrote a note rather than just tell me up front says that, for now at least, she wants to keep Craig out of it. I've already decided to do the same with Max until I know what's happening. On the other hand, she could have told me while we were in the ladies room and not use a note at all. Was she uncertain of my response? Until I can talk to her, it all remains a mystery.

I'm reluctant to call her on a Sunday because I don't know what the situation is at her house. I also don't want to sneak around my own home trying to keep the call a secret from Max. I finally decide to wait until tomorrow. Shit. I'll be a nervous wreck for the rest of the day.

So I need a diversion. I decide to encourage Max to fuck me in some creative fashion this evening. Right now, he's busy doing some work-related thing on the computer in our home office, so I have time to decide what I want to do. I have a little stash of costumes hidden away. Max knows I have them but he doesn't know where I keep them. And he doesn't want to know, so he'll never snoop. All he cares about is what we do when I wear one of them.

Our house has a walkup attic. I quietly climb the stairs to inventory what I have at my disposal. My costumes are in a couple of boxes marked with my interior design business logo printed on top. They rest in a stack with several similar boxes related to the business. The one I want is marked as containing fabric, which accounts for its light weight.

It has been a little while since I've worn any of these, so this evening is as good as any for resurrecting one of them. I have at my disposal outfits to role play as a cheerleader, a nurse, a flight attendant, a hooker, a slave girl, a nubile young prep school girl, and a household maid. Another box holds suitable shoes and accessories for the costumes.

I made all of them myself and they share similar characteristics. Each is made up of several pieces to make strip teasing more fun if I choose to put on a performance. All feature short skirts. Blouses are designed to be easily opened, either by untying a single bow or unfastening a minimal number of buttons. All reveal a lot of cleavage.

As I pull each one out of its protective plastic bag, I clearly remember what happened the last time I wore it. After a little thought, I am able to recall the order in which they were used, which gives me a hint about which one I should select for this evening's entertainment. The household maid wins.

I am aware that the French maid thing is a bit of a cliché, but I like to wear it and Max loves it. I have several options with this outfit because of the way I designed it. After a bit of pondering, I decide to keep it simple. I select the black skirt with delicate lace trim, a white blouse with only three buttons, and black thigh-high stockings that feature tiny white bows at the top. I add understated open-toed black high heels that showcase my legs but won't become a distraction. Plus, they can be removed more easily than the several pair of come-fuck-me shoes I own. Most of the time, I prefer to be barefoot when I'm having sex.

For accessories, I choose a black lace-trimmed choker, a little white apron, and a frilly white bonnet. I skip the gauzy gloves and the feather duster. I'm not even going to pretend to clean house. I have something else in mind.

I will wear panties this time around and I'll select an appropriate pair when I get dressed. When we get down to business, I'll decide whether I want to remove them myself, or have Max do it. Either way, I'll have his full attention.

Gathering everything up, I take the costume down to our bedroom and hide it in one of my dresser drawers. Only one more thing to do.

Our master bedroom is very large. One of its features is an antique writing desk that sits between two windows overlooking our back yard. Pulling a note card and envelope from the desk, I compose the message that will kick off my plan.

'Be in the family room at five o'clock on the dot. Wear casual clothing. Start the fire, have a seat on the sofa, and wait for my arrival.'

It has been unseasonably cold all day, as we discovered when we went to brunch, so our gas fireplace will make things nice and cozy.

Max is still working when I enter the office and set the envelope down on the desk next to a pile of whatever he and the computer are working on.

"Open this at four-thirty," I tell him with a mischievous little smile and then turn to leave the room as he grins back at me. The envelope is a signal that we often use. Max now knows he's going to get laid in some interesting manner this evening, but he doesn't know what I have in mind. He might guess that one of my costumes might be involved, but everything else will remain a mystery until I make my entrance into the family room. From that point on we'll ad lib, so even I don't know exactly how everything will unfold. I love doing this stuff.

I kill an hour fooling around in the kitchen, doing things that don't really need to be done and don't require skill or concentration. My thoughts are split between what my husband and I are going to do this evening and speculating about Erin's motivation for slipping that note into my purse. It may be something completely innocent or it might be something exciting. Common sense tells me it is the latter and my imagination runs a little wild at the possibilities. I know I am sexually attracted to her, and last night I sensed that she might feel some sort of attraction toward me.

Both trains of thought have me pretty amped up by the time I hear Max leave the office and go upstairs. Our kitchen clock tells me it is four-thirty. Max is right on time. He'll shower, get dressed, and then go to the family room to do as my note requires.

He can't get to the family room without seeing me in the kitchen, so I decide to hide out in our guest room until I can have the use of our bedroom and bath. Before I go, I make a pitcher of Manhattans and put it in the freezer.

At five-fifteen, I step out of the shower, tend to my hair, dab perfume in all the right places, and slide into a tiny pair of black lace panties. Ten minutes later, I examine myself in the full length mirror and like what I see. Max will approve as well. If I stand perfectly straight, the lacy hem of my skirt just barely covers the little white bows on my thigh-highs. When I sit, the bows and a couple of inches of skin will be visible. My blouse only has the three buttons, but I undo the top one to reveal more cleavage. The choker serves as a sexy little addition. The small apron and white bonnet clearly identify my servitude.

After one final adjustment to my thigh-highs, I am ready. I know Max is ready too, now sitting in the family room and wondering what's in store for him.

****

When I enter the family room with a Manhattan, on the rocks with two Maraschino cherries the way he likes them, Max is seated on the sofa in front of the fire just as I instructed. His back is to me but he remains still. I know he can hear the click of my heels on the hardwood floors, so he is waiting for me to make the first move. As he should. This is my play. I move around to his side of the sofa and hand him the drink.

"I've prepared a cocktail for you sir," I tell him in the soft voice I've chosen for this scenario. How he responds to this simple declaration will determine how we play things out. Several different directions are possible.

"Why, thank you Alice," he says as he accepts my offer. "I thought you would have gone home by now." The last time I wore this outfit he called me Martha.

"I had a few things to catch up on that I didn't want to put off until tomorrow. There is a pitcher of Manhattans in the freezer in case you would like more later. If you have nothing else for me tonight, I'll be leaving now and will see you tomorrow."

Max is careful not to stare at my cleavage as he gives me a thoughtful look.

"Why don't you pour yourself one of these and join me in front of the fire?" he suggests with a smile of encouragement.

"Oh, I couldn't sir. I don't drink when I'm working."

"You're not working. You just told me you're done for the day. Stay for a while and have a drink," he says, still smiling at me.

"I work for you full time sir. You are my only employer. I don't think it would be appropriate."

"Okay," he says with a nod of his head. "You're fired."

"What?" I respond, genuinely startled. I am quick witted, but Max has caught me completely by surprise. It's all I can do to suppress a grin of appreciation. "You're firing me because I can't drink with you?"

"No, Alice" he says with a smile, "I'm firing you so you can."

"I...I...I don't understand," I stammer, still a little off balance.

"It's simple," he tells me. "You're fired, so now you can have a drink with me. When we're finished, I'll hire you back again."

"I...I don't know what to say."

"Say yes and go pour yourself a drink. Better yet, I'll get one for you," he says as he rises from his seat. "Since you are no longer my employee, you are now a guest in my home."

While he's gone, I break out into a wide grin. He has thrown me a curve ball and now all I can do is play along with what he has set in motion.

"You rascal," I whisper aloud when I hear him open the fridge.

Moments later he returns, puts the drink into my hand, and picks up his own. I am very careful to ensure that my fingers graze his as I take possession of my glass.

"To a nice evening," he says as he clinks his glass against mine.

"To a nice evening," I echo with a radiant smile, knowing full well that's exactly what we're about to have.

Max sits on the sofa and pats the cushion next to him.

"Sit please, and enjoy the fire. And take off that apron and the bonnet. You are no longer my housekeeper."

Looking hesitant, I toss the apron and bonnet aside and sit where he indicated, making certain that the hem of my skirt rides up to reveal the topes of my stockings with the little bows and about three inches of flawless skin. My panties are just barely concealed. As I settle into the sofa cushion, I turn my body toward him and cross my legs to reveal a little more skin.

Max openly appraises my thighs and lets his gaze drift up to my cleavage before making eye contact.

"You are very beautiful Alice," he tells me and then takes a sip of his drink.

"Thank you sir," I softly reply as I take a sip of mine and lower my gaze in pretended embarrassment. "It's kind of you to say so."

"It's the truth. Whenever I have the opportunity to watch you work, I can't help but notice how pretty you are. And how sexy."

"Oh sir," I respond, still with downcast eyes and wishing I could blush on demand. "I'm anything but sexy."

"On the contrary, you are the sexiest woman I've seen in a long time. I have often wished that you were not my employee so I could do something about it."

I raise my eyes, look at him over the rim of my glass as I take a generous slug of my drink, and respond in a more assertive voice.

"I am no longer your employee, sir. You just fired me," I remind him as I finish my drink. "Being fired isn't so bad. May I have another?" I add as I hold out my glass.

"Of course," he replies. "I'll be right back."

While he's gone, I pull my skirt up far enough to allow a glimpse of my panties and the promise they conceal.

When he hands me the refreshed cocktail, I lean forward to accept it, exposing a little more cleavage. The next move is up to him.

To encourage my once-upon-a-time employer, I pull a cherry out of my drink by the stem and do my little trick, slowly sucking the fruit into full sensuous lips and looking him directly in the eye.

Max gets the message. Taking my drink, he sets it aside on the end table along with his own, and pulls me into his arms.

I make a small show of reluctance but quickly surrender and slip my hot little Manhattan-tinged tongue into his mouth. We are off to the races.