Tuesday At Seven Ch 1

I never expected this business to have developed at all, but it did. Strange word: business. It refers to so much more than the usual definition of commerce.

Marci and I were your typical newlyweds. We couldn't keep our hands off each other. We were like the joke we heard a standup comic tell. He asked if there were any newlyweds in the audience. No hands went up, and he looked at this watch. "Figures. Seven o'clock," he said. "It's past their bedtime."

Our first home was a one-bedroom apartment on the ground floor of a five-story building. The living room and the bedroom had sliding glass doors that opened to balconies. The building was one of four arranged around a central courtyard with a swimming pool. There were some great looking babes using the pool on the weekends. I didn't mention that to Marci, although I was certain she checked out the men. She was the hottest one out there. Between her hot body and her skimpy bikini, so man's dick could stay soft. I know she enjoyed the attention.

We had decided we would both work for a couple of years to save enough money to buy a house before having children. She got home a half hour before I did. She was always wearing something sexy, such as her bikini, a teddy, or sexy lingerie. She would greet me with a pouting smile I couldn't resist. Dinner was usually around eight or nine after dessert.

When we had lived there about three months, I came home on a Tuesday to find her still fully dressed in her pants suit. She dashed to me with a fearful expression and an envelope in her hand. "Read this," she said with panic in her voice.

The outside of the envelope was blank. Inside were a note and a dollar bill. "I love your silhouette on your drapes," the note said. "I would like to see a bit more. Perhaps a glimpse of your breasts. Seven o'clock okay? The dollar is for your time." The text was typed. There was no signature.

"It looks like you have a secret admirer," I said.

"Eric," she screamed, "he's a pervert! We have to call the police."

"First, we don't know who he is, assuming it's a he. We could be dealing with a lesbian. Second, what charge would we file? Poor tipping?"

"I don't understand the part about tipping."

"Customers at strip joints tip the dancers. I've been to strip joints and tipped the dancers. Am I a pervert?"

"Of course not." Her voice softened. "You're the sweetest man I know. That's why I married you. But what can we do?"

It was a fair question. We really didn't have any obligation to this guy. We never asked for his money or did anything to earn it. We could simply ignore him. Was it right to accept his dollar without giving anything in return? We had no way of knowing who he was, so we couldn't return it. "I guess you could flash your boobs at him. Take your shirt and bra off in front of the window, then close the drapes. It'll only take a few seconds."

She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I'm no stripper, so I guess the dollar is probably the right tip amount. We have an hour to kill. What should we do with it?

"We could have dinner now. Change our routine a bit."

Marci smiled weakly, and we went to the kitchen. Dinner consisted of what we called our specialty of the house: leftovers. Neither of us had an appetite. We picked at our food. We were too nervous to eat. She was going to expose her breasts to a stranger, someone we didn't know, someone we couldn't identify, someone whose motives were unknown. Maybe he just had a thing for tits. He could be dangerous or harmless. We had no way of knowing how things would turn out, but we had made our decision. Turning back was now out of the question.

At seven I went into the bedroom. The lights were off, which made seeing into the room from the outside impossible. I stood in the corner and opened the drapes. Marci entered the room and casually flipped the light switch on. At least she made the action seem casual.

She took off her suit jacket and put it in the closet. As she reached for the buttons of her blouse, she glanced at the sliding glass door. Slowly she opened each button. Her eyes didn't leave the glass. Although she couldn't see past her reflection, she seemed to be searching for him. Her motions were deliberate when she pulled the shirttail from her pants to undo the last two buttons. Turning to face the window, she pulled the shirt wide open and let it slide down her arms onto the bed. Her expression changed. The pouting smile which always greeted me was directed outside to an unseen audience. I felt betrayed and aroused at the same time.

She turned her back to the glass. Looking over her shoulder toward the window, she reached behind her back and unhooked her bra. She turned back to face her invisible admirer holding the bra in place with one hand. She slipped her free arm out of the shoulder strap, then switched arms holding the bra and took the other arm out of its strap. Was it bias on my part, or was she the greatest stripper I had ever seen? I certainly had the boner to confirm my opinion. With both arms free, she held both cups in her hands and leaned forward. She dropped her hands pulling the bra down completely exposing her large boobs. Her breasts weren't excessively huge by any means, around 36D, but they certainly weren't tiny. They were full and firm and really didn't need a bra. She cupped her bare breasts in her hands and pinched her half-inch nipples. She turned a quarter turn to the left, then to the right, as though admiring herself in the reflection on the glass. She kept her eyes on the window. The bulge in my pants kept growing.

She stopped and walked toward me. I reached for the drapery cords. "Don't," she said. "He'll know you are here, which you normally aren't when I get home." I let her close the curtains and turn out the light before moving. Even in the dim light from the hallway, I could clearly see her lovely torso. Her breathing was deep and slow. "I can't believe I did it," she said. "I exposed myself to a stranger."

"Probably more than one," I said. "There are probably seventy or eighty units that can see our window."

"You're right!" she gasped. "I never thought about that. I wonder how many people saw me."

I parted the curtains slightly and glanced out at the other apartment windows. Nearly all were lit. Of the few that were dark, one was directly across the courtyard from us. "I would guess half the complex," I said as I closed the drapes.

She gasped with her hands clapped over her mouth. "Do you really think so?"

"Only one knew to watch, so I doubt very many noticed you. I must say you were pretty good. Are you sure you've never been a stripper?"

"Only for you," she said as she backed me toward the bed, "and I get turned on when I do it." My legs struck the bed, and I fell backwards. She climbed up on the bed with her knees beside my hips. "You sure are turned on." She crushed her mouth against mine. Her tongue probed her lips until I opened them to allow it to pass between them. My breathing became deep and labored.

The phone rang. Our passions vanished. It rang again. Slowly, apprehensively, Marci picked up the receiver. "Hello?" she said. She held the receiver to her ear for a few seconds, then put it back in the cradle. "It was him. He said 'Thank you.' Nothing else. Just...thank you. How could he have gotten our phone number?"

"Our name and apartment number are on our mailbox in the lobby. It would be easy to get our phone number."

We sat on the edge of the bed. "Do you think it's over?" I asked her.

"I don't know."

"Do you want it to be?"

She hesitated a moment. "I don't know."

"You weren't stripping for me."

"I know. Still, it made me horny. I liked it. I hoped you're not mad."

"But it wasn't you that made me horny. It was him, whoever he is. That's not right. However, as long as I'm the one getting laid, I don't care who, or what, gets you hot." Gently I placed my lips on hers and laid her down on the bed. Her arms went around my neck. My hand stroked her bare back. Her hand cupped the back of my head while our tongues explored each other's lips and teeth. We both gasped when the tips of our tongues touched briefly.

My hand traveled from her shoulder down her side to the waistband of her slacks. She placed a finger on my lips and gazed into my eyes. "I can't believe how much I love you," she said softly. "I have to be the luckiest girl in the world. There isn't anything I wouldn't do for you." My hand slipped between her pants and her thong panty and caressed her bare bum. "Your hand feels so nice there."

"What my hand feels is pretty nice." I rolled her onto her back and pulled her slacks down her legs and off her ankles. She smiled when I pulled off my shirt. As I opened my belt buckle, she sat up and lowered my zipper. My pants fell to the floor. Marci hooked her thumbs in my waistband of my shorts and yanked them down.

Within seconds, I was flat on my back with the silky fabric of her thong pressed against my boner. The folds of her pussy lips slid up and down my shaft. Her mouth clamped onto mine again. My breathing slowed. I wrapped my arms around her ribs. I was still getting used to her alabaster skin. The more I knew her, the more I loved her. Her azure eyes, her golden hair, her pearly white teeth, everything about her was perfect. My left hand stroked her neck while my right caressed her left side. I let the heel of my hand brush the side of her breast. She gasped, but our lips did not part. Her rigid nipples pressed into my chest.

Carefully, I rolled her onto her back. My lips sought her long neck. I kissed the full length of one side, then crossed her throat to the other. Her breathing was slow and deep, as was mine. Slowly, I kissed a line across her shoulders, then down to her sternum. Without warning, I sucked her right nipple into my mouth. Her large breast would not fit into my mouth no matter how hard I tried. After a minute, I moved down to her tummy to probe her navel with my tongue. Flushed with desire, I didn't waste time pulling her thong down. I pulled the wet crotch aside and probed her slit with my tongue. Her clit stood up waiting for me to suck on it. She gasped loudly when my tongue slid up one side of it, and again when I licked down the other side. I sucked hard on her mini-prick. Her body trembled just before her thighs clamped together pinning my head between them. After her legs relaxed their grip on me, I hummed on her clit. Instantly my skull was again trapped between her legs. Marci had reacted that way before, but that time her leg strength was more powerful than ever.

Keeping the thong pulled aside, I mounted her driving my rod into her cunt in a single stroke. She grabbed my head and pulled it to hers. Our mouths hungered for each other. Our hips banged together incessantly as we strove for immediate gratification. My cock flew in and out of her tunnel. The friction on my glans sent me into a frenzy. My nuts pulled up, and suddenly I froze completely buried in her pussy. My seed blasted into her womb with powerful bursts. I couldn't breathe. She kept her grip on my head. Her lips pressed to mine as she banged her groin against mine until her final orgasm surged through her body. Her vaginal muscles contracted, forcing me out of her. My last spurt landed on the sheet.

The rest of the night was not quite as frantic. We enjoyed the hottest night of our marriage. We fell asleep around two in the morning.

Our daily routine resumed the next day. Marci was waiting for me in a teddy when I got home from work. The sexy, pouty, facial expression greeted me. Our dinner was later than usual. The memory of the previous night inspired us.

By Saturday, our libidos had returned to normal. For us, that meant merely hot to trot instead of scalding.

When I got home the following Tuesday, Marci was still fully dressed. Her face was as white as the envelope in her hand.