I like to watch, even if all she is doing is getting ready. Since the first time I met her I have found her incredibly beautiful, the most beautiful woman I have ever known. Standing in front of the mirror she had finished her make up and brushed her hair out. She is doing finishing touches. She is wearing only a tiny pair of black silk panties and they shine almost as perfectly as does her perfectly smooth long black hair. Her lips are dark red as are her fingernails. I could be hard already but it's not my night and I fight the urge.
When she sits at the edge of the bed and pulls the stockings up her long legs I think again about taking her. I could cancel the whole night and just take her for my own; right now, right here. I won't though. She is very grateful. I think she still thinks I let her have her date nights for herself. I think that is why she pulls on the stockings. I know she finds them uncomfortable but as she walks back to the closet and I watch her ass separated by the thin strap of black fabric, I know that her date nights are not for her. She has her date nights for me.
Jealousy is wicked and I feel it deep within me. There is sadness in it. There is anger as well. It is part of the thrill. There is guilt and remorse. I think these things come along with any perversion. I think masochists feel it even as they raise the whip again and again over the bare skin of their lover. I suppose this is masochistic as well. I will do it. I will watch. I will secretly love it.
I arrange her date nights. When the idea first came up it was agreed that it would be a stranger. When we discussed doing it again, the plan had been for it to be a different stranger. It had worked with Danny a long time ago and he was the perfect choice. He was younger than we were. He was athletic and good looking. That first night she had enjoyed him a great deal. The second night she enjoyed him even more. I could tell. It was about sex. I would watch them and when they talked I could tell he was not going to steal her away from me, but she was attracted to him and he was good. It was not a regular thing. It was her date night. Every third month I would arrange it.
We drove together but I would drop her at the main entrance to the hotel then drive around the corner and park. She had a room key as did I. Once I parked I took the escalator to the restaurant on the top floor. They would be at a table. I would sit at the bar. It worked well. I could watch them. I liked to watch.
She wasn't much of a drinker but on date night she would sit next to him and sip down a couple of martinis. She didn't like martinis either. I think she needed the alcohol. Typically, she might have a beer, never more than one. She just didn't drink. Half an hour or so would pass and he would call for the check. I paid cash as I went so that I was free to leave as soon as he signaled for the waitress. I slipped out and away to the elevators. I wondered if she watched me leave but I never checked.
Once in the room I left the lights off. There was always a bottle, a glass, and ice waiting. I would poor a drink and find a chair. I sat down to wait. It's funny how slowly time passes during moments like these.