Adjusting my tie the bathroom was a challenge with foggy glasses and a dress shirt sticking to my underarms. Diana had just finished a most luxurious bath, and left the room warm and moist. Traces of her jasmine perfume teased me, and I could've bent her over her vanity and rocked her until all of the little bottles fell to the floor, but instead I peeked around the corner and asked much too meekly, "Hey honey, before you get too far--"
"--no hun, I'm dry now," she said, steadily as a woman applying eyeliner.
My wife sat cross-legged in black pantyhose and a matching, scalloped bra. Her dress, lying at the edge of the bed, was going to look sharp on her--black contrasted well with her fair complexion and Italian features.
Noticing I hadn't retreated from the corner, Diana added, "I don't want that little marble rubbing against me at the party either. Nobody likes a rock in their shoe do they? Avoid embarrassing yourself hun and wank it now?"
Tempting--always tempting--but after having pressed my pants and ironed my shirt, I didn't want to soil them accidently, nor undress, and delay our evening further...plenty of her younger co-workers were going to check her out, the older ones will ogle, and I didn't want to miss a thing.
I was satisfied palpating my crotch in the mirror, just like grabbing a sac of three marbles and jostling them between my fingers. This was going to be a decent evening at a minimum--I could enjoy anything going on while having a hard-on and nobody would be able to tell.
Just one last look at Diana--was she dressed yet? I was ready to go--a little early still, and still a bit too bright outside. She was standing and holding out her dress. It didn't matter what for, she should have continued doing it...I didn't miss the chance to confirm she was wearing conservative hip hugger briefs--think v-string with a wide waistband.
Alright Honey, let's go.
*
Diana and I held hands up to the hotel door, where she then broke free and strutted through the glass doors with open arms. I marked the three men with champagne who turned towards her to return the hug and kiss her on the cheek. One of them, a portly fellow who was bald as a fire hydrant and turning just as red from the wine, placed his thick palm on my wife's lower back and pulled her in to hear her properly. She whispered something into his ear and he released her with the most extravagant laugh.
"Hi, I'm Jim, Diana's husband," I said, approaching them with an extended hand.
The portly fellow gripped--almost crushed--my hand and boomed, "Derek!"
As I turned to his colleagues my wife said, "And that's Mark and Colin--two of our finest nurses."
They just acknowledged me with a thin smile and a nod.
Derek asked , "So what do you do...Jimmy?"
"I'm at an advertising firm that specializes in pharmaceutical advertising. We just finished an ad for Victory in a golf magazine. It's a male intimacy pill--'For those putting it in the hole all day!'"
Diana rolled her eyes and Derek gulped the bubbly. He blurted, "Ah, I get it--put-ting it--I like it! But Jimmy, the putter's the smallest club--is shrinkage a side effect?"
They all laughed, and my wife patted him on the shoulder before we headed off. I waved, but they didn't notice.
"So there's someone I want you to meet," she said, scanning each huddle. "Ah, there he is!"
Standing at the edge of the bar was a tall, Viking of a man with short, silver hair.
He still had a stethoscope around his neck, perhaps instead of a tie. Everything about him was crisp and clean-cut, yet almost too informal, given his polished paisley shoes, pleated trousers, and tucked in office-casual plaid shirt. A thick, platinum diver's watch dangled from his wrist as he sipped a martini.
Anticipating her approach, he asked, "Diana, how are you?" His sharp, icy blue eyes studied me in turn.
"Still settling in...could be better! Pierce, this is my husband Jim."
We shook hands. Even that, with the perfect dose of firmness and timing, indicated he was a doctor.
"Pierce is our newest heart surgeon. We snatched Canada's best."
