"Stripes." I shook my head in disbelief. "She knows I hate stripes."
I opened the department store box and casually tossed the lid aside. Pulling back the flap of colored paper inside revealed a carefully folded Oxford shirt. Blue with white stripes.
I glanced at my watch, just past 5. Tricia would be home soon, and then we would have a discussion.
Pulling the shirt from the box by the collar, I shook it out straight and looked it over again. Stripes. Taking the shirt with me, I strolled down the hall through the dining room and into the kitchen. I pulled a tumbler from the cupboard, opened the freezer and added two ice cubes from the bin. Back in the dining room, I poured enough Glenlivet in the tumbler to float the ice and sipped it on my way to the living room. Falling into my chair in the dim evening light, I let the shirt dangle from my left hand. I shook a cigarette from the pack on the end table and lit it as I heard her car pull into the drive.
I watched as she walked quickly past the picture window, clutching the collar of her coat tightly against the cold December winds. The door opened, she dropped her purse and briefcase by the door and hung her coat on the hall tree. Glancing towards me she smiled slightly, it faded as she noticed the stern look on my face.
"Stripes," I said quietly, "You know I hate stripes."
Taken aback, she replied meekly, "I'm sorry, I thought...." She started quickly towards me, Stopping as my voice boomed.
"I didn't ask you to
think
." I lowered my voice, "I asked... for a dark blue shirt. Was I unclear? Did you not understand?"
"Baby, I know you like solid colors. I just wanted to get something different for you. I thought it would look good on you."
"Tricia, do you love me?"
"You know I do. I..."
"Am I the same man you fell in love with two years ago? Have I changed?"
"No. You haven't. But..."
"Have I ever asked you to change anything about yourself?"
"No. Although you did ask me not to cut my hair."
"That's different. I was asking you not to change. Do you know why?"
"Baby, I know you love my hair. I just..."
"Sweetheart, I love
you
. Just you. Just the way you are. I don't want you to change anything for me. And I don't want you to change who I am. Because it would not be the man you fell in love with then and you may love me less if I am different."
She reached for the shirt, "I'm sorry, I will take it back and exchange it."
I snatched it out of her grasp. "No. No, you will not." I stubbed my cigarette out in the ashtray. "But you will learn that I don't like stripes, unless they are on the cheeks of your ass."
With that, I rose and roughly grabbed her arm pulling her down the hall toward the bedroom. She reluctantly allowed me to lead her into the bedroom. It was dark except the light from the hall that spears into the room lighting a corner of the bed and a small area around it. I forcefully shoved her onto the bed, bouncing as she landed on her back though I noticed that certain parts bounced a little more. I felt the stirring in my loins, but I was still angry.
I threw the shirt on the bed. "Stand up." I growled.
She stood, slowly, unsure of my intentions. I sat in the chair in the corner, almost hidden in the dark, setting my drink on the table next to me.
"Tonight you will wear the shirt." My voice was calmer, less angry. " Now strip."
She hesitated, still unsure.
"DO IT!"
She hurriedly began to unbutton her blouse.
"Slowly." I whispered.
As her blouse began to open, I caught brief glimpses of her breasts, the round, firm globes still held captive by a light blue satin bra. The darkness could not hide her excited nipples from me; they jutted through the flimsy fabric as if it were not there.
She started to fold the blouse, turning away from me. "Drop it." I said softly. Her fingers released it, letting it waft to the floor. She unzipped her snug skirt and let it fall to the floor, stepping out of her shoes and kicking them aside. She hooked her thumbs inside her stockings. I motioned for her to stop.
"Not yet.... The bra.... Give it to me." The satin stretched taut, pulling at her breasts as she reached back, then relaxed, as the constraints were undone. Slipping the straps slowly down her shoulders, her arms wrapped across her breasts as she turned, teasingly, away from me. She hesitated for a moment before allowing it to fall away in her hands, holding it out, offering it to me. The game was on now. She knew what I expected of her.
"Bring it to me." I whispered. Her breasts swayed slightly in time with her hips as she moved towards me, arms still thrust forward with the bra dangling from her hands. She stopped, just out of my reach. "Closer." I demanded quietly, "Bring it to me."
She stepped closer, her legs, shapely and strong, between my own. I took the satin and held it to my nose. I breathed in deeply, smelling the mix of perfume and sweat. I let it drop to my lap and reached for the flesh it once contained, firmly kneading her breasts for a moment, then pinching those erect nipples, rolling and twisting them between my fingers.
Then I shoved her away. "Turn around," I said, gruffly, "and spread your legs." She stepped away, turning slowly, then stepping to the side with one leg. 'What a glorious ass.' I thought to my self. I stood and approached slowly, my arms reaching around her, once again squeezing the orbs as if they were melons ripe for picking. Then my hands slipped away. "Do not move." I whispered. She jumped slightly at the sound that cut the stillness.
SSNIKT!
I could almost feel her heart beat faster. I slipped my fingers into the waistband of her hosiery, and pulled them taught, She shuddered slightly as she felt the cold steel of the blade touch her skin, the knife split the fine knit of the nylon down her rump and between her legs. Carefully I continued to cut the silkies to the front of the elastic band. And then they were two separate halves. Extending my arm in front of her, I close the knife and retract my arm between her legs. My lips pressed lightly on the skin of her buttock, moving from side to side, gently planting kisses. Then the teeth, not hard, enough to draw blood, but hard enough to leave a reminder for a day or two. I slipped away again, taking my place in the chair, watching as her body became tense in anticipation of what was to come.
"Turn around." I said, my voice calm and steady. I motioned her closer and patted the chair between my legs. "Your right foot." She lifted her foot and placed it gently on the chair. My hands caressed, slowly, up her thigh, brushing against the satin that hid her treasure, and across her belly. Taking hold of the elastic, I pulled the stocking down, again caressing her thigh and further down to her calf and over her foot. I draped the nylon over the arm of the chair. "Your left.", I said, again patting the chair. And again, I run my hands up her leg, and back down with the stocking in my grasp. With a flick of the wrist, I let it fall to its full length. With my other hand, I pushed her leg away.
"Your right hand." she held it out to me. I tied the stocking around her wrist snug but not tight. The anticipation is so strong I could smell it. Moreover, I could see it. A small patch on the satin, darker than the rest.
"Your left hand." Her hand trembled as I tied the other leg of her stockings to it. She was almost jittery with excitement, but she would have to endure the wait. I wanted her senses to be at their peak before I began the next phase.
Taking the ends of the stockings, I rose and led her towards the bed, picking up the shirt, I held it for her, "Put it on."
She slipped her arms into the sleeves, then reached for the buttons.
"No! Leave it open."
From behind, I held her wrists, one at a time pulling the stocking out of the sleeve. I pointed to the bed, "Face down, with your hands toward the headboard." She turned and started toward the bed.
"STOP!" Once again, the sound of the knife split the silence.
