Wife Watches On
"Darling, do you think I should buy some new underwear?"
At first, I didn't look up from my phone to engage with my wife who was poking her head around the living room door. I needed time to think. My initial thought whilst still scrolling on my phone was: Is this a trick question? I had to work out the parameters of the potential answers so as to not fall into any bear traps that could have been strategically laid. It should be a simple yes or no answer. Both answers had their problems.
"What and why?" I played the confused role as I finally looked up.
"Ben, it's just that I've just been thinking about it for a bit. Most of my bras and panties are literally falling apart. I got a load of them before we got married."
That seemed an innocent enough reason for the subject. I had not bought myself any recently either. "They've lasted pretty well - six years?" I hadn't meant to turn that into a question, but I always struggle to work out how long we've been married.
Sarah pointedly raised an eyebrow. "Seven."
Seven years... When we were dating, showing off new thongs and bras was often an excuse for Sarah to strip and happily show off her sexy body. She loved to do a fashion show just for me. It was a long time now since she had last done that, and I hadn't noticed her wearing new underwear - then again, my main interest in Sarah's underwear had always been just how quickly I could remove it.
"As always, darling," I said carefully, "it's up to you." Still, it was unusual for Sarah to be asking me about underwear, of all things, when she had work to do. "Aren't you meant to be writing that report?"
Sarah scowled. She had a looming deadline of the following Monday morning and had been working practically night and day for the past week to achieve it. "I am. Honestly, I'm just having a five-minute time-out, thinking about things, that's all."
"Okay," I said, holding my hands up in mock surrender, "I'm not your task manager." In these situations, I just try to make her happy. "Maybe," I added with an impish grin, "I could buy and wrap up some exciting underwear for your birthday?"
She inquisitively tilted her head. I could see in her eyes that she was definitely thinking about it, but a second later they clearly said no. "Ben, thank you, that would be lovely... but I do actually want them to fit."
That hurt, like a forceful punch to the solar plexus. I had once, shortly after the wedding, spent a small fortune on some lacy pink lingerie from Victoria's Secret. It got worn once and was never seen again. I later got told it itched. So much for me being romantic.
I looked up at her and tried to smile. "True. In that case, shall I bring you up a coffee?"
"Is that a hint I should get back to work?"
"Maybe, but trust me. You will look amazing in whatever you wear. Or don't wear."
She rolled her eyes a little at that but smiled. "Aw, thank you, you are sometimes an amazing sweetie."
"Maybe just close that M&S browser down and focus on the report?" I know that I really should let her do what she wants, but my mouth opens before I can close it.
Sarah gave me an intense penetrating stare. "Yes, Sir," she said with a sarcastic salute, turned and laboriously thudded back up the stairs to the spare room.
During the lockdown, the spare bedroom (not the box room, which was actually full of boxes) had been transformed into a workspace. The desk was up against the window so that she could look out during the day, and we spent a fortune on a brand-new leather chair, an IKEA desk and a bright desk light. The sense of space and comfort makes it a very nice room to work in, and we've kept it that way ever since. It's so comfortable in there she now hides for what seems like days on end. Most weekdays, Sarah is back in the office in town, but there's a lot of pressure on her to write reports that are always of course urgent and keep her working sometimes long into the night. Her excuse for working from home whenever she can is that the phone is not constantly ringing to distract her.
I made her a decaf coffee as she often complains that she can't sleep at bedtime and took it up the stairs. As I reached the top of the stairs, I heard the click of a light switch, and I entered the room to find her sitting in the almost dark, the only light coming from the small desk lamp and the computer screen. I put the drink down on the coaster beside the keyboard, kissed her on the top of the head and returned down the stairs and settled back on the sofa.
It was about an hour later, and I was half asleep in front of the television watching David Attenborough either talking about or fighting a lion or something supposedly interesting, I wasn't watching, when Sarah joined me on the sofa. "I've been thinking," she said tentatively, her phone held nervously and angled away from me. "What if I..."
I sat up straight, blinking, unsure whether to be intrigued or concerned. "Go on."
"What if I were to wear something like this to work?" She turned the phone so that I could see it.
There was a very pretty brunette with tanned, flawless skin wearing a matching bra-and-thong set. Very sexy at first glance, with scarlet red lace, and already very unlikely to be worn anywhere except bed. But what really had me spluttering in utter surprise was that the thong was crotchless.
Of course, the model was photographed in such a way with her thighs together that her vagina wasn't seen, but that didn't stop me quickly trying to imagine that I had got a glimpse of it.
"Um," was all I said.
