Authors note: This is my first attempt at writing erotica. It all started when a friend of mine once asked, "If you were in control for one day, what would you do?" This will be a multi part story. Some suspension of reality is required, but doesn't all fantasy require that to an extent? All characters are over 18, be smart and safe, yada yada yada.
*****
What a day. I'm just making it home after a long 12 hour shift at work and find the apartment empty. The dogs were out and about though, and they greeted me at the door. Tails wagging, mouths drooling, bouncing around like the floor is hot on their paws. They're just so excited to see me. Or they're excited because this is when I feed them in the morning. Either way, they're just happy I'm here. I rub their ears and look around for you. Normally if you're not here, they're put away in the bedroom. If they're out it means you must be somewhere.
"Babe, you there?" I call out into the apartment. The sun is just over the horizon and soft light is starting to come through the cracks in the blinds. The lights are low in our apartment, the gentle glow from the curtain lights filling the room. I notice the apartment is clean. Our normally slightly messy apartment looks like a maid service came through - dishes done, trash taken out, glass table top clean, carpets vacuumed. Quite odd, considering that I'm usually the one to do this kind of cleaning. And I hadn't gotten to it this week, after all the forced overtime I'd been working.
"Yeah hun, just getting ready for work. Can you feed them please? I'm running a bit late," you call back from the bedroom. The door is shut, I guess because you're putting on makeup and don't want the dogs all over you while you do so. I can't blame you for it - it wouldn't look too good if they bumped your arm while you were sitting at your vanity. That's a surefire way to turn your eye liner wing into a slash across your temple.
"No problem," I call back, already getting the boys to sit in their places while I grab their bowls. Another typical morning, She probably didn't sleep well and as a result slept late. I quickly put food in the dogs bowls, chuckling as they sprint like twin laser beams to inhale their breakfast. I hear their munching as I empty my pockets and gun belt onto the built in book shelf next to our bedroom. It's unnaturally warm in the apartment and my work shirt is the next thing removed. Normally you keep it akin to a meat locker in here, but as I walk to the bathroom, I look at the thermostat and see its almost 76*. Weird, maybe the AC isn't working. I'll put a maintenance request in after I get a nap.
I leave you in peace and drop my work shirt outside the door. Left in my navy cargo work pants and black leather work boots, I walk over to the fridge and grab "breakfast"... a cold Guinness Blond to drink before I go to sleep. Being a night shift worker, everything is backwards. My happy hour is 0800hrs, and my breakfast is 1700hrs. Every once in a while my shift mates and I will stop at a diner to get breakfast / dinner after shift, and its always entertaining to order a beer with my waffle. I pop the cap and plop down sideways on the couch, turning on the latest season of Shooter on netflix. I also scroll through my phone, looking at the overnight news and other happenings in the world I missed. Several minutes, and a few sips of my beer later, I hear the bedroom door open.
"Come here boys," I hear you say quietly and the dogs, having finished their breakfast, slowly pad their way to the bedroom. Odd, you normally say goodbye to them at the door. I finish my article and put my phone down to hear the door close and rhythmic clicking as you walk through the kitchen. Odd, you never wear heels...
I sit up and turn around to see what you're wearing and my jaw drops. You're definitely not dressed for work. Victoria's finest Secret's wrap your body, a lace bodysuit covering your substantial chest and diving to cup your groin, but cut out in various shapes and covering almost no where else. Black, lace top thigh high stockings cling to your legs, ending in red and black "fuck me" heels. I tear my eyes from your body to look you in the eyes, and see you're not only dressed to kill, but your makeup is too. Dark hair pulled back in two long braids, dark smokey eyes, thick eyeliner, and bright red lips, which are currently in a smirk. You are the pure embodiment of sex appeal, and I'm stunned.
