I am not Adrian. I am Donna, his wife. He uses the same password for everything and I've logged on to his account to tell the sequel to "Super Bowl and us three".
If you haven't read that story, let me verify it for you. It is true; it really happened. Just the way he wrote it. If you haven't read it, go read it now (in the "loving wives" category), and come back.
Welcome back. Now the fun part.
Three months after the Super Bowl we had our national sales meeting in Chicago. In the time after our weekend I had had some email correspondence with Rick but did not speak with him until he called me at work to volunteer to pick me up at the airport for the meeting. Everyone from out of town would be staying at the hotel, but Rick urged me to come a day early and spend a little time together.
I told Adrian of this plan and he said, "say hello". No suspicion, no jealous grilling. Just like any other work trip.
I booked a flight for early Saturday. The sales meeting would begin with a dinner on Sunday night, so Saturday would be a free day with Rick. I had no particular agenda here, really just thinking it would be nice to go for a long run on the lakefront and have dinner. And if thoughts of sex were just below the surface, I felt that Rick was a special category, having been invited to fuck me by my husband.
The day came and I left for Chicago. By then I think Adrian forgot about the extra day. He made love to me the night before I left, a nice, late night session. No fireworks, no mention of the upcoming first time seeing Rick since "that night."
Gaining the extra hour from Miami made it still morning when Rick picked me up at the airport. As Adrian told you, I've not been with another man since before we were married except the night before the super bowl. And the night with the two of them was more excitement than I had ever counted on. But when I stopped off in the ladies room to freshen up on the way to baggage claim I looked at my fleece jacket over my clingy top, tighter since the kids, my denim skirt, my thirty-something face, and thought "what the hell". I took off my panties and put them in my purse.
Rick was on time, happy to see me, and looked fabulous. I immediately got back the sense of propriety I felt the day of the super bowl-the one that comes with a new lover. And the secret of being panty-free made my heart thump with anticipation. I was going to be a bad girl.
My hotel room would be several hours from ready. The day was beautiful and Rick informed me that he had gotten his sailboat season-ready the weekend before. This was quite early for Chicago and he was very happy to be one of only two boats in his sailing club to be ready, the other being his friend and race competitor, Jerry. We decided to go for a sail and stopped by the grocery for wine, cheese, bread and fruit-the clichΓ© romantic picnic! Rick also sprang for a bottle of Dom, which he put on ice as soon as we got to the boat.
Rick's boat is a Beneteau 35 with plenty of room and some special modifications that make it easy to sail with only 2 aboard. We bundled up and headed out on the lake in a brisk, cool wind. After a few miles, the wind died down and we got out the food and wine. Rick uncorked the wine, set it in a cooler upright to breathe, and said "how about that champagne first?"