"I'm early," she discreetly whispered to me as we stood up to welcome our friends who had just come through the restaurant doors and saw me waving to catch their attention.
I didn't really have time to process her statement before our friends, Rob and Amy, approached our table to greet us. My first thought was confusion, and perhaps I misheard her. Our friends were right on time, and even if they had been early, it really wouldn't have mattered. For once, we had arrived at the restaurant ahead of our reservation time.
Then, of course as I was giving Amy a hug, the realization of my wife's passing comment hit me like a ton of bricks. She had told me that her period had arrived, nearly 4 days early. I went from flaccid to hard in an instant and had to quickly break off the hug with Amy before she noticed.
As we took our seats, I glanced at Megan who had a grin on her face like a Cheshire cat. My loving wife knew that her short and sweet message had hit its mark by my look of disbelief and that was exactly the reaction she had been planning.
Megan and I had been together for more than a decade (married for just under eight years) and had a fairly regular sex life. Regular, except for when she had her period. She didn't like menstrual sex, even though she knew that was something I was interested in and had a kink for. She felt gross during that time, telling me that I wouldn't be so interested in periods if I had to deal with my own crotch bleeding for a week.
Yes, she knew we could put down that maroon-colored towel (our special "period" towel). Yes, she knew how much I liked sex during that week. Yes, we could hop in the shower when we were done. Yes, we didn't have to worry about using a condom during that time. But, no, she still wasn't interested. She hated me sticking my penis in her, because all she could think about was what was coming out of her and the squishy feeling my dick caused when I penetrated her.
Her dislike of her monthly flow started at her first period. Menarche for most of her friends had been when they turned 12 or 13 and some at 14. For her though, her first period came on Christmas Eve, just 2 months past her 15th birthday. Her family was out at her grandparents' house all day for the holiday and her stomach just felt funny. Dinner hadn't agreed with her all that much and she felt like her intestines were in knots. After returning home and getting ready for bed, she sat on the toilet and saw the brown spot on her underwear and it took a second for it to click. Her mom told her to find some pads under the sink and for the next twenty or so years, the red and white theme of Christmas always had a second meaning for her.
Each period since her first was an inconvenience and she simply just hated dealing with it. She hated being unprepared and staining another pair of panties. She hated the cramps and the mood swings and the bloated feeling it gave her. She hated how horny I got when I would discover she was wearing a pad. And she definitely hated using pads. Megan felt like she was wearing a mini-diaper that was always sticky and wet, no matter the brand or how often she changed. Tampons were out, unless she was going to go to the pool or the beach, because she wasn't too keen on sticking anything up inside of her, except a penis and her lone box of Tampax Pearls was at least 3 years old.
But most of all, she hated the smell of her crotch during that week. It was a smell that was so unmistakable and she felt like the whole world knew she was on her period. It was something that I had gotten used to over the years and while not particularly unpleasant, it certainly wasn't as bad as she made it out to be.
We rarely (if ever) made love on the first day of her period's arrival and I usually had to wait until the 3rd or 4th day as things were slowing down before making my move. So there I was leisurely reviewing my menu choices and thinking of different options to get my wife in the mood, when I was totally caught daydreaming.
"Earth to Jay," Megan said, "I asked you if you were getting the filet?" The filet mignon certainly looked good on the menu, but what my wife said next made my head jerk up quickly.
"You can get your meat nice and rare, all red and bloody if you want!" What the hell did she just say? Did she really just say I can get my meat "red and bloody" in public and in front of our friends? I simply stared agape and tried to compose myself.
"Uh, while that sounds appetizing, I think I'm going to go with the salmon they have featured," I was able to finally spit out. Our friends didn't bat an eye at her comment, oblivious to the double entendre.
Smiling, Megan reached down and squeezed my thigh. "OK, suit yourself, mister," she said, "but I don't want to hear any bitching and moaning about how you missed out on something you don't get to have very often..." Wow. OK. I was hooked and not really sure how far she expected to take this, especially in public. This was so out of character for her, especially when talking about her period, and I wondered what exactly had gotten into her.
We made it through the ordering process and the waiter returned with our first bottle of wine. After Rob took the first sip and nodded his approval, the waiter was filling our glasses when Megan exclaimed, "Let's keep it flowing!"
"Holy shit," I thought. Surely I flinched or made some other involuntary twitch as the four of us started to laugh at Megan's witty comment, albeit not all for the same reasons. This was shaping up to be a memorable night.
I looked over and took a fresh look at Megan. She looked great for being in her late 30's and after two kids. We had gotten dressed up to celebrate Rob and Amy's 20th anniversary and she was positively glowing. After starting an exercise program less than a year ago, my wife had lost 35 pounds and was getting lean. All the baby fat from our toddler was gone and she was happier than she'd been in a while.
Megan was wearing a cute black dress with a button-up lace front that came down to just above her knees, black pantyhose, and black strappy heels. Unfortunately I had come home from work just in time to kiss the kids goodbye and hadn't had a chance to watch her dress. I really loved watching Megan as she got dressed or undressed and enjoyed seeing her in her underwear. Even if it wasn't sexy lingerie or even a matched pair, I would often ogle her body, hopeful to find her in the mood. However, today I didn't have the benefit of knowing what she had under her dress, but the way the evening was going, sounded like I would get to see it soon enough.
As we were looking over the menu, Megan leaned over to point out something on her menu. It was a pasta dish with a "chunky marinara" sauce. As she pointed with her manicured fingernail to the words, she just said, "Huh, look at that." I didn't know if she had wanted me to join in on the fun and start making comments of my own or to keep my yap shut and just enjoy the ride. Rob and Amy weren't stupid and I was beginning to get worried that they'd catch on soon.
Before our entrees arrived, Megan excused herself to go to the bathroom as she picked up her purse. My wife never carries a purse, but I knew why today. I watched her go, lingering on her backside a bit longer than was probably polite, before turning my attention back to our guests. Another bottle of wine arrived and I was starting to feel the benefits of the alcohol.
She returned just as our entrees were delivered and the four of us began eating a delightful meal. At one point, I placed my hand on Megan's upper thigh. I was incredibly surprised to find that she wasn't wearing pantyhose after all. I felt the strap for a garter and moved my hand down slightly to feel for the clip for her stockings. I moaned slightly and Megan shot me another winning smile as the image of my wife in a garter belt and stockings started to form in my imagination. She obviously had pulled out all the stops for this dinner and I had to wait patiently to unwrap my gifts.
When the waiter brought over a tray of desserts, all I wanted to do was to rush home and make love to my wife. (Actually, we'd make love eventually, but first, I wanted to take her and unleash my lust for her in almost an animalistic way.) I was ready and I knew she was ready too. But, to my disappointment, Megan ordered a dessert, probably just to prolong the agony of waiting to take her.