Thanks to starrkers and drksideofthemoon for reading and helpful feedback.
*
Scott Bruno met his wife in the kitchen. It was the long-anticipated Friday morning when he would begin building a new patio for their home. He was anticipating something else, too, and he fervently hoped the result would be worth it.
For three nights he had declined his wife's sexual advances. He knew she was at the point in her cycle when she was in heat. Normally they would be enjoying a week of conjugal bliss. This time, though, he wanted to try something a little different. He figured he needed all of her sexual energy, dammed up and ready to break, for his plan to work.
So for three nights he had felt her soft hands on his body, and pretended to be asleep. Three nights, he had listened to her masturbate. The smell of her sex permeated the room. The mattress rippled to her solo dancing. He had lain there, hearing her touch herself -- suck her own pretty nipples -- finger-fuck herself with abandon. At last she had taken her pleasure with a two-headed pyrex dildo. That had nearly sent him to an asylum. He lost count of how many times he had whacked off in frustration. It was worse than being single.
He wasn't sure now if his scheme would be worth it. He'd be really mad at himself if it didn't work.
Scott brought Jasmine her coffee as usual. His kiss lingered on her cheek as he set down the cup. Her smooth skin and unique scent made his mouth water.
"Here's the plan," he said to her.
"Tell me the plan," she responded. This was a banter they often shared.
"Right after breakfast I'll head over to the hardware store and buy the supplies. Then I'll come back here and get you, and we'll drive our cars over to the lumberyard."
Jazz nodded. She understood this part. One sedan could not carry everything. "No luck on Mike's truck?"
"Still out of town," Scott lied through his teeth. Borrowing his friend's truck would ruin everything.
"Do I need to wear jeans?"
"Oh, no, not at all. You won't have to lift a finger. Just wear whatever makes you comfortable." He gave her his most encouraging smile.
Scott had a plan about that, too; he knew his wife very well. On a warm June day, she would throw on a cotton dress and call it quits.
In fact, he was pretty sure her choice be either A or B ... she had a couple of favorites that she wore at this time of the month. She had even explained it to him once: the flowing style wasn't too tight at the waist. Like all women, her belly tended to bloat. Easygoing garments were much preferred.
Once Scott laid his plans, it was a simple matter to wait until she left the house. Then he spent an hour in Jasmine's walk-in closet. He used the tiny scissors of his Swiss army knife to snip the threads that seamed the inside of her pockets. With a tweezers, he pulled the offending stitching away. He didn't rip anything, in case she wanted to sew them back again later. Now the pockets were portals.
Jasmine thought her husband sounded too enthusiastic. His casual tone sounded off, somehow. She furrowed her brow and tilted her head. "Scott Anthony Bruno...are you up to something?"
Scott laughed and tried not to look guilty. "Aw, sweetie. Just excited about the project." He kissed her again and reached for his keys, turning away from her eyes. "Be back soon." He grabbed his coffee and made for the door. "Love you."
"Love you."
Jasmine shrugged and finished her breakfast.
At the hardware store, Scott wrote up his order for flagstones and sand. He picked up a few miscellaneous things and treated himself to a new mallet. This would make driving the point stakes easy. He believed in using the right tool for the job. It was a worthwhile investment.
The clerk swiped the plastic card. Swish! went $500. "You gonna pick up today?"
Scott nodded. "Yes, in about twenty minutes."
"OK," said the clerk. He radioed over to the yard and faxed over the order. "You know how it works?"
"Yep."
The clerk waved. "Have fun."
I intend to
, thought Scott.
* * *
Jasmine showered and considered her closet. It took less than a second to select the blue floral that she loved. She twirled in the mirror, feeling feminine and pretty. Scott called this her 'Maria von Trapp' dress. It had a passing resemblance to the gown Julie Andrews wore when she danced the Limburger with Captain von Trapp. Of course they knew the real name of the dance, but what's life if you can't have fun with it? Jazz smiled, happy at the thought of spending time with her true love. She slipped on her sandals, and was ready.
* * *
Scott pulled up to the gate of the lumberyard. The guardhouse was staffed by some kid who looked to be about nineteen or twenty. Probably working on tuition money.
They exchanged greetings. The kid -- his name tag said Drew -- gave Scott a clipboard and a scanner. "Here's what you do," he said. "It's pretty straightforward. You find what you want, scan it, and enter the quantity here." He showed Scott how to work the buttons. Scott looked at the gear and then back up at the kid. Behind him was a row of monitors. Scott felt a tightening in his gut.
The kid was still explaining. "Then you make a note here, so the guys can cross-check what you want. When you're done, grab anybody in a blue vest and they'll load your car."
"I have two cars," Scott pointed. Jasmine waved. Her sedan was right behind him. Drew glanced back, thought about sex, gave her a nod.
"OK. Make sure you stop here when you leave. The last thing I do is inspect your trunk."
"Got it." Drew pushed the button and the gate lifted. The two cars went through into the yard.
There weren't many customers around, and Scott didn't see a single worker. He thought this was fine. Large crowds weren't what he had in mind.
Scott pulled over just after bay 6 and had Jasmine park her car. She got into his car, and they headed on down to bay 12. His excitement grew. He worked hard to keep a normal tone as he relayed the practical information. She still felt something was off, but whatever. A day in the sun with her man was all she could wish for.
They hopped out of the car and strolled down the first aisle. Pallets and pillars of flagstones were piled high. "Do you still like the same kind?" he pointed. Jasmine looked up. "Sure."
She headed in that direction. Her husband came up behind her ... closer ... his forearm wrapped around her waist. Pleased, she leaned back into his embrace. She was so thirsty for his touch.