Chapter 1: The Pleated Black Mini-Skirt
The pleated black mini-skirt is perfect. The snug waistband accentuates Jaci's slim waist, from there it flows over her hips to just below mid-thigh ending two or three inches above her knees. As she turns to walk the few steps to the bar to retrieve a chocolate martini the pleated material swirls around her legs, drawing attention to the sheer nylons that sheath her well-formed legs. I wonder how many people in the room have noticed the recently hand crafted gold anklet adorning her right ankle? The two-inch black heels do exactly what high-heels are designed to do: tighten her calf muscles and tense her ass muscles to give them greater definition. From across the room I can see the outline of a lace bra under her white, quite sheer cotton blouse. How clever Jaci was to select one of the older style "bullet" bras for this evening! It has the effect of holding her breasts out and up, and the contoured blouse fitting closely to the lace material of the bra emphasizes still more the full swell of her 36C breasts. Is that a hint of a smile in my direction as she turns to take the few steps back to the dark-haired handsome man, who also happens to be our friend Omar? Hmmm.
I watch as Omar invites Jaci to join him on the sofa along the far wall. I move to the other side of the room ostensibly to pick at munchies on the sideboard. Casually turning back in the direction of the sofa, my heart rate rises as does my cock. From where I am standing I can hear snitches of their animated conversation, something about a current novel. Sitting on the sofa with knees chastely together the skirt rides higher, but it's still not clear--did Jaci choose stockings or pantyhose for this evening's party? Now if you'll please cross your legs my dear wife.... ah, that's it. The martini has loosened her inhibitions, if she has any this evening, and in response to a look in her conversation partner's eye, she lifts her right leg to cross it over her left knee, while turning slightly into him sitting on her left. As her skirt rides another inch higher on her thigh, the dark band at the top of her right leg's stocking slips into view.
I see Omar's faint smile as he casually looks down. He seems hesitant, perhaps being reminded by seeing the wedding band on her hand that she is married--to me, actually. His glance travels back up to her face, pausing at her bust almost imperceptibly, but I see it--god, I feel like I'm in his skin. Her encouraging smile says what he needs to hear, and he smiles back relaxing into the apparent seduction. Her gentle laughter at something he says causes her to lean ever so slightly more into his space. Certainly a smaller space now than it was only moments before, in way more ways than one. It seems that his right hand, until then casually laying on the sofa, has playfully caressed the side of her hidden leg. The blush at her neck tells me, and him too, that her sex has risen; maybe it's the expectant silence that settles between them.
--
Sitting on the sofa, Jaci's mind whirled at what she was doing--and it wasn't the chocolate martini! She could see Keith across the way observing her flirtatious sexy behavior. He had said it was more than okay this evening; that it really turned him on to think of her sexing-up a colleague, especially Omar. Memories of last night's romp after talking about what she would wear this evening brought still more blush to her face--geesh, Omar must think she's a bitch in heat! "Well, I am," she smiled to herself. "I wonder if he can smell me yet?"
Omar's bold but hidden caress of her leg made her heart thump. In the next few moments she had to make up her mind. Would she go through with this to a new stage, one she hadn't got to ever before? Or break it off now, as before, ever so gently chiding her friendly suitor and moving on to other conversations. Her heart beat hard with the thought of the decision.
Breaking off the brief silence, Jaci leans over closer while pushing her brunette hair back over her left ear to whisper in his ear, close enough that she can smell his faint cologne, and asks him to remind her where the washrooms are in the house. He replies, "Well, there's one here on the main floor down that hallway there towards the kitchen. And if you want a little more privacy, then at the top of the stairs you turn left and about halfway down the hall, across from the guest room there's another..."
Jaci feels Omar hesitate ever so slightly, then he continues in response to the "whisper" part of her query... "and, uhm, if you really would like to be alone for a bit, there's another washroom at the other end of the hallway upstairs. Turn right when you get to the top of the stairs, go to the end of the hallway and there are two doors, one on each side of the hallway. The left one goes to the master bedroom; the right one goes to my den. Between the den and the bedroom, you might recall from the viewing, there is a walk-through washroom complete with whirlpool and sauna. You can enter it from either the bedroom or the den--it's your choice."
The hesitant quality to his voice as he shares the information tells Jaci what she already knows--the double entendre of "it's your choice" makes her head swim. He's clearly as excited as is she. It's now up to her. Will it be down the main floor hallway towards the kitchen, to the left at the top of the stairs, or to the right knowing full well what that choice might bring? She excuses herself, setting her martini glass on the coffee-table, and walks slowly toward the stairs opposite very conscious of Omar's eyes following her. And her husband's.
--
I try to recall the layout of the second floor--I wish the tour of the house had been a bit longer and not so long ago....
"Your dear wife Jacynth is looking particularly ravishing this evening, Keith."
"Oh, thanks Max. Yes, she is isn't she? I think she decided to perk you sorry sods up a bit. Seems like you need some perking, eh?" I said with a chuckle.
"I've always wondered about her name, your wife's that is. Are there any stories associated with it?"
"Well, other than the fact that her dad was a geologist, no," I reply with a covert smirk. "She doesn't get a lot of reaction to it, actually. When I first met her, she was constantly explaining to people that it's 'Jaci, which rhymes with lacy'. But after all these years, our circle of friends pretty much know and pass it on without her needing to mention anything."
"So how's Marlene?" I insert to redirect the conversation that really, really can't go on too long, as I watch my wife start up the stairs.
Looking across the room I see Marlene; Max's wife as shy and comely as she always seems to be. The wisp of a curious smile does make one wonder what lioness might be hiding under the generally staid clothing.
"Oh, fine as ever," says Max. "So, Omar certainly seems to be the lucky one?" Geesh, this guy is tenacious. The slight rise in Max's voice hints at wondering if I've noticed the sexual energy that has been on display for everyone and anyone who cared to notice. Clearly he had...
"Yup, well, they have offices down the hall from one another at work; I expect they're comparing notes on the Department Chair's recent memo."
"Ah, isn't your office somewhere in the humanities building too, Keith?"
"It's down a floor from theirs." I pause for a second, then continue, "You're over at the M. Laurier center, I think?"
"Boring as it is, yes. We science types get to look out at a brick wall. Charming place to put a new building, that was."
"Say, do you recall where the bathrooms are in this place?"
"Yup--there's one on the main floor here and one at the top of the stairs down the hallway to the left."
"Thanks. If you'll excuse me, uh, I need to check one out." I add that, "I think I'm going to burst after that last beer," to try and make it sound more convincing.
While chatting with Max I've been watching Jaci with my peripheral vision. As she set her foot on the first stair I watched her smile at Omar, and then at me as she ascended the first few steps deliberately and slowly. Christ she's got fabulous legs, now on display for anyone caring to look at her movement up the stairs.
As I thought, Omar now is lounging across the room in casual conversation with Marlene, but obviously--well, obviously to me at least--he, too, is watching Jaci's legs slowly disappear out of sight. With a short laugh he excuses himself clearly having made a light-hearted joke to exit the conversation with a slight wave of his hand. As he gets to the bottom of the stairs and looks up, I see him pause while gazing upwards. Hmmm, it seems that spark in his eye just got brighter.
--
Jaci took the last few steps slowly, hoping that Omar would reach the bottom of the stairs at about the same time. Now as she steps into the upstairs hallway, Jaci still does not know which way she will turn. But as she reaches the top of the staircase her eyes come level with the Egon Scheile reproduction framed on the wall over the small round hallway table.
As she gazes at the painting, she feels her knees start to weaken with excitement. "What's this painting called? I've seen it before," she asks herself, only to answer herself almost immediately with, "The Artist's Wife." "But wasn't it actually the artist's mistress?" she now vaguely recalls. The legs spread provocatively, knees up with the folds of her shorts outlining her vagina made the painting controversial in its day. Gazing at it makes Jaci's thoughts turn to her own vagina, which was starting to make its presence felt.
Looking down at the small table doesn't help matters! A gorgeous Leo Moll cast figure of a nude girl with her legs spread playfully apart invites her inspection. As she bends over to look at it the blood courses through her veins. She suddenly senses, from a brief movement at the foot of the stairs, that someone is looking up at her. Bent over at the waist while looking at the nude girl statue would be giving whoever is looking up at her a perfect view of the tops of her stockings, certainly her creamy thighs--as Keith likes to call them--and maybe even her pussy. "God, I can't believe I'm finally doing this," she thinks as she bends a bit further to get a closer look at the Moll on the table. "What if it's not Omar," runs through her mind, too.
