It was Saturday afternoon; the day of the Plan and I was nervous.
Pete was playing golf -- reluctantly for the first time in his life - with instructions not to come home until five o'clock at the earliest. I was emptying the bath having prepared myself with the same degree of care with which I had just prepared the bedroom.
My arms and legs had been shaved, my hair washed, my skin exfoliated, my finger and toenails filed and varnished. In honour of my impending return to the Hotwife-Cuckold lifestyle, my pubic hair had been completely removed and my special Pandora bracelet was on my wrist, its glass charms twinkling in the afternoon sunlight.
I sat at my dressing table in my tiniest, sexiest bra and silk knickers beneath my lightest, most diaphanous robe. To my eye, the swelling in my lower belly caused by Darren's growing baby was huge and obvious but my husband had reassured me this was just paranoia; that in fact the bump was hardly visible at all.
As I dried my hair and looked out over the garden, my tummy was alive with butterflies.
Had I done everything? Was the bedroom really ready for its soon-to-be occupants?
I checked the room carefully for the umpteenth time before going downstairs and pouring myself a small glass of wine.
Being pregnant I knew I shouldn't be using alcohol at all but my previous three pregnancies had been long before total abstinence was recommended and besides, given what I was about to do, I needed a drink.
As I sat in the kitchen sipping the Sauvignon Blanc and watching the clock, I went over the last few days in my mind, trying to reassure myself I had overlooked nothing. After all, our whole future might depend on getting the next few hours right.
The purchases I had made online had arrived and were in place, concealed from casual view. I had tested both their location and function and knew exactly where the best places were to take advantage of them. I had been less successful with what needed to be done afterwards but expected to have time to learn at my own pace -- if it became necessary.
I was as ready as I could be. All I had to do was hold my nerve and see the plan through.
The fact that I expected the ordeal to involve a considerable amount of physical pleasure did not ease my nerves much; it was to be a performance as well as an enjoyable experience and I was not used to having an audience, however remote.
I looked up at the clock again; Will was late.
Why did that surprise me? The younger generation seemed to have no concept of time... Stop it Penny! You're showing your age again. Besides, your own behaviour hardly stands up to much scrutiny.
In a short time you'll be no better than your misguided daughter.
I thought about Izzy for a moment. Still badly upset by the abrupt end of her most recent relationship, she and I had had two long, involved, emotional telephone conversations over the last two days. Newly single and coming to terms with a freshly acquired and not entirely undeserved reputation as a slut, she was trying hard to put her feelings to one side and concentrate on her upcoming examinations.
In this she was being only partially successful.
Although she was primarily the author of her own misfortune, I did have some sympathy with my daughter. If my own indiscretions ever became as public as hers, the effect on my own life would be even more profound.
For that reason, the afternoon's plans could not be allowed to fail!
"Buzzzz!"
The sound of the bell ringing made me jump and my heart raced.
He was here! It all had to start now.
Downing the last of my wine, I sprang to my feet and pressed the remote to open the front gates and let in my guest. I watched through the bedroom window as they swung slowly inwards; a small blue car passed through, rolled along the driveway and came to a halt outside the house.
Please God may my nerves not fail me!
I descended the stairs quickly, slipped on a pair of my highest heels and was in the hallway just as the front door bell rang. My heart in my mouth and my tummy full of butterflies, I took a deep breath, turned the lock, opened the door tentatively, stepped back and let in my young lover.
"Wow!"
Will's first and entirely instinctive reaction was a good start. The moment the boy caught sight of me he actually took a step back in surprise.
"Wow!" he repeated. "Mrs. Barker! You look amazing!"
"Come in quickly," I smiled, standing back to let him enter the hallway, checking no neighbours could see me before closing and locking the door.
Once inside the house, for a moment my young lover-come-blackmailer seemed awestruck by his surroundings. I suppose our house is quite large and might intimidate a young man. I was pleased for any psychological advantage I could gain but Will quickly adjusted to the situation and some of his conference returned.
"Come this way, will," I smiled, encouraged, leading him through to the lounge.
"This is an amazing house," he said, clearly impressed as he surveyed his surroundings.
I felt acutely aware that the lounge was the room in which my first act of infidelity had taken place; indeed Pete still liked to believe that a small dark mark on the carpet had been caused by my lover's semen and my own juices when he had first fucked me in my own house.
"Fancy a drink?" I asked, tottering over to the sideboard, swaying my bony hips as sexily as I could. ""I'm having a glass of wine. Can I get you something? Wine? Beer?"
"A cold beer would be great."
I began to open a bottle.
"Got to keep rehydrated if I'm exerting myself," he added cheekily.
"And you reckon you've got a workout ahead of you?" I replied, joining the innuendo.
"I've been training hard," he grinned. "Very hard."
"We'll see," I smiled, crossing the room slowly, my own wine in one hand, Will's beer in the other.
My high heels made slow movement a necessity but also helped me maintain what I believed to be a sexy walk. I handed him the cold misty glass.
"Cheers!"
"To the sexist MILF in the city," Will saluted me as he took his first long sip.
It was corny but it helped calm my nerves a little more.
"How's your day been?" I asked, leaning against the back of the sofa.
"It's going to be busy..." he began.
As the boy explained the intricacies of his working weekend and the difficulty he had had in finding time to drag himself away from his duties to fuck me, my attention wandered from his words to his body.
