"Get your posh frock ready," said Brian over the phone, "you're invited to accompany me to meet the Mayor over dinner tonight!"
Well, what could I say? Of all the nights Brian could have chosen to introduce me into his business life, he had to choose that one.
There are three of us in this marriage; me, Brian and Brian's business. Brian has his roofing company and it keeps him out of mischief and out of my hair so I don't ask too many questions. Did I say we had a happy marriage? Well, it's not an unhappy marriage by any means, but any love and romance in it died a long time ago, so it's been a long time since he asked me out for an evening. You get used to it. You find ways to fill the gap.
I had plans for that evening. I knew that he was doing something with the Linthorpe Business Association this evening that would keep him out late. I didn't know it was a formal dinner but then I know he keeps his evening outfit at the office just in case. Dan was away with his school on a field trip and I'd heavily hinted to Alison that it would be good if she could fix that long hoped-for sleepover at her best friend Laura's for that night, so she was quite excited about that. She said that they were going to do homework together. I had my doubts, I was her age once, but I didn't say anything. With everything clear I was all set to ask my friend Heather round for one of our girls' nights in. A bottle of prosecco or three, a film, and I had a surprise lined up.
I'm pretty sure that Brian doesn't know I've found his secret stash of magazines. That's men for you, they think they're clever in finding hiding places for these things, but women are always one step ahead of them, and they can read the little signs. That's why I wasn't at all surprised when I took the side panel off the bath and found them there. I was tempted to go and lie down while I had a good look through them, but I thought that exploring them would make a wonderful focus for an evening with Heather. I just knew she'd love them as much as me, and my cunt was getting wet just thinking about all those hot young cocks I hadn't even seen properly yet.
Poor Brian! He hasn't a clue, this is the twenty-first century and he doesn't have to hide in the closet any more. I'm really happy for him; I do like him even if the fire went out ages ago, but if he wanted me to fuck his arse with a strap-on dildo I would. Silly man! And now I'd have to find something to wear for the Business Association dinner, to play the dutiful wife for the benefit of Brian's business colleagues. Or be his beard, as I believe it's called.
He hadn't left me very long to get ready, but with a bit of luck I could scrub up and wash my hair and find something to wear before Alison came home from school and had to be sorted out for the night, but I didn't know if I still had a posh frock that would fit the bill, and I certainly didn't have the time to go out and buy one. I dug right to the back of the wardrobe. There was the rather pretty blue and white floral silk dress that I wore once to my sisters' wedding, that swirled rather sexily round my calves. The neckline was a bit daring for a formal dinner, especially as I was supposed to be supporting Brian not distracting from him, but it would have to do.
The other possible problem was that the wedding was ten years ago and, not to put too fine a point on it, age had not withered me so much as filled me in. The bum wouldn't be a problem in the dress but, well, I'd always been a little bit heavy around the bust and now I was rather more comfortably upholstered than I was then. I tried it on. It was, as I suspected, a bit tight across my breasts but nothing I couldn't cope with. I caressed the material, stretched taut over my stiffening nipples, with my fingertips and felt the ripples of sensuous pleasure flow outwards through my body.
With a nice scarf as a wrap around my shoulders the dress would do very nicely. With the right pair of shoes, I could almost start to approach the evening without dread. Some more rummaging around in the wardrobe unearthed a pair of strappy silver shag-mes, something else that I hadn't worn in years. They made me think of David Bowie:
β I love you in your fuck-me pumps