Placing the last of the clean dishes back into the cupboard, "Whoʼs turn is it to pick tonightʼs movie?"
My wife of 12 years has been so regimented since Iʼve known her. Penelope grew up an army brat with her father a lifelong accomplished Army Corp Sergeant. She would tell me stories about room inspections and a list of chores a mile long. How her father was strict, but fair when it came to anything except for boys.
All throughout grade school boys were strictly forbidden. She made the mistake of bringing home a male classmate once to finish a project together in the kitchen. Her father was waiting at the table disassembling and cleaning several guns while staring at the poor boy with hatred in his eyes. After about five minutes of perfuse sweating he quickly made an excuse and ran home. Apparently getting an F on the project was the lesser of two evils.
"Nice try! You know very well itʼs my turn. I had to suffer through that Sisters of YaYa crap last Friday. I should get to pick twice just for that" I retorted.
Penelope glared at me for a split second thinking about my dismay in her movie choices then popped back into her bubbly smile and continued hugging my face.
"I saw you crying half way through the movie you big sissy. Who are you kidding John?" She grinned.
I hate to admit it, but she was right. Iʼve always been sensitive. Maybe too sensitive, but Itʼs who I am. Last year when we had to put our dog Bailey down I was an absolute wreck for a week straight. Everywhere I looked brought back memories of that howling ball of fur running around and looking for new shenanigans. I still get a lump in my throat every time I think about him.
Luckily, Penelope is the kind of woman who embraces sensitivity and appreciates that my eyes can easily be read. No secrets, no lies, just honest communication and sharing how we feel. Itʼs been working for us twelve wonderful years now with no sign of slowing down.
"Iʼve already picked out a movie neither one of us has ever seen." I boasted.
Penelopeʼs ears perked up with interest. "Oh, do tell more my darling."
It was an exaggerated performance, but I knew she was genuinely interested because there are not many movies we havenʼt watched together.
"I read an excerpt about it in an article about men and how womenʼs interpretation of what a man is thinking can be easily malformed." I professed.
"It was in a GQ magazine I perused while sitting at Dr. Snyderʼs office last week. Itʼs called Animal Instinct"
"Oh, is it a documentary?"as her eyebrows furrowed.
"No, itʼs more about animal instincts in humans I think."
Penelope was puzzled for a second, but then bounced back into that bubbly smile. "Let me get into my comfy clothes first. Donʼt start without me."
In about 60 seconds flat she comes skipping back out into the den wearing her favorite laced chemise top and white, silk panties. I took another mental note of how beautiful my wife is. Sheʼs barely over 5 feet tall and yet has this giant personality that has always lead her on a path of happiness and adventure. She talked me into skydiving, zip lining and skinny dipping. My life would be absolutely boring without her. I loved her more than anything and I tried to make sure she felt that love every day.
Her long auburn hair usually flowing around her eyes was neatly pulled back into a ponytail. As she jumped onto the sofa in a race for the best viewing spot her cute B cups jiggled about. Her nipples were always thick, but they were currently straining against her pink top yearning to be set free.
A few years ago Penelope somehow got this idea that she wanted to pierce her nipples. I suspect her girlfriends planted this hairbrained scheme in her mind, but she denied it stating that it was the ʻin vogue'.
I thought the idea was ludicrous. Why would you want to stick a piece of metal through those beautiful dark nipples? She would not relent from the idea until I tried a pragmatic approach.
"Do you have any idea how painful sticking a needle through your nipples would be?"
Penelope looked quizzical. Has she even considered this step in the process?
"Gina said it feels like a pinch and itʼs over before you know it." She protested.
"Oh Gina said that huh? How come Gina doesnʼt have pierced nipples then?" I was grinning as though I just solved all the answers to the universe.
"Julie said it too!" She countered.
"Ok, letʼs try it out." I was slowly losing this argument and I needed to make a stand at that very moment.
"Take off your top and bra honey. Lets do a little experiment." Suddenly my wife looked spooked.
"Why? What are you going to do? Thereʼs no way in hell Iʼm letting you stick a needle in my nipple!" She quivered.
"No, it wonʼt come to that. Now take off your top." I instructed.
Penelope slowly pulled her shirt up and over her head somehow never losing eye contact with me. She instinctively slid her hands up and over her padded bra fearing what was to come.
"Now the bra. Come on honey donʼt be shy. Iʼve seen your sexy nipples thousands of times." Staring with a devilish grin on my face.
Slowly she reached behind her and unclasped her bra, slouched her shoulders and let gravity pull it down and onto her lap. Her green eyes hiding behind her hair that she was able to blow to the side of her face.
"There they are." "And you want to adulterate those nipples that thousands of women would kill for?" I admonished her.
