Catherine seemed a bit subdued! She was not herself and I was a little worried. For one thing, I spent the last three years figuring out what Catherine wanted, how to make her happy, doing everything I could think of to please her, in the hopes that she would love me too.
You may think this absurd since no one can make someone else happy? One can, however, strive to be fun, supportive, agreeable, tender & loving so that she will let you hang-out with her! And, better still, have hot sex, play, talk, and live large together. That's me!
Grateful to have won Catherine and enjoying every minute: tasting, touching, smelling, feeling, and listening to her. And looking at her! It thrills me to see her walking towards me ---- or walking away. Sitting across the table, on the couch, in the car, or wherever. Just watching Catherine is such a pleasant distraction that I don't have eyes for much else when in her presence.
I like watching my wife, I thought as I pulled # 7 from the shelf. What's wrong with that? She likes me to watch her and makes a huge effort to attract & keep my attention. What's wrong with that? When we are together, she provides non-stop entertainment using her mind, her body, and her spirit. Catherine says I'm a voyeur and that she's an exhibitionist! We're both down-with-that!
The happy couple, I chuckled as I plopped down in my new recliner with #7. Stroking the smooth expensive Moroccan leather with my hand, holding it up to my face, I rubbed it gently across my cheek, inhaling deeply. One of the girls in the office showed me her new Italian leather purse this morning giving me an instant woody when she held it up to my nose and said, "Doesn't it smell divine?"
It smelled like these photo albums which brings Catherine roaring into my brain and that launched me out of the office and over here in short order. If I've now got a thing for the smell of leather, then it's a vice I'm prepared to cope with.
Holding the sacred text in my lap, my hand trembled as I slowly opened the book. I realized that I had my eyes closed again, like in a scary movie, but instead of being frightened, I was tense with anticipation. I, no kidding, sat for an instant with the book spread before me, then opened my eyes.
I let out a low moan! There was Catherine, who else, sitting on a coal black quarter horse with blue western skies over purple mountain's majesty in the background. She was stunning in tight Levis, fringed cowboy shirt & boots, hair cascading down her back with a big Stetson pushed back framing a beautiful smile.
My stomach churned and saliva flooded my mouth as I took in the scene. I felt my ass pucker and my breathing became labored as I studied her entourage. My wife was front and center of the photograph, preening and obviously pleased with herself! Immediately behind her, slumping casually astride his horse, arm resting on the pommel with cigarette in hand, was a nasty looking hombre.
His ragged shirt, ratty looking hat, drooping mustache, and two day stubble made for a sinister character, gazing at my Catherine's rear with a smirk that made my skin crawl. Behind him, I could see another specimen leaning over and away from his horse with a long stream of unspeakable looking brown juice arcing from his mouth toward the ground.
I stopped, put the book down and walked outside and back to my car. My hands were still trembling as I pulled out my keys and opened the door. Leaning in, I fetched a fat roach out of he ashtray, put a lighter in my pocket, and returned to the vault. I needed a little help from my friends to explore this mystery.
Lighting up, I walked around the small room examining the shelves of first editions, gun racks, stamp albums, and rare coin displays. After a couple of hits, my stomach settled down and my hands stopped twitching. Gee, I felt better!
Sitting down, I picked up the book, opened to the first page and started laughing my ass off. This is perfect, what could be better? I thought.
Oh! Suddenly remembering the good doctor's prized collection of vintage wine, I hopped up, still holding my prized # 7, and stepped over to the wine racks. I had to wrestle with the cork, but by using a bayonet from an antique musket, within minutes I was sitting down, collector's mug of vintage Burgundy in hand, trying to relight my roach.
Once I got that going, I reached for the Burgundy to refill my German hofbrau mug, feeling guilty about the cork floating in a three hundred dollar bottle of wine. Not to worry, I thought, I'll drink the whole bottle and no one will know, or care.
Now, holding ole # 7 in my hands, vintage Burgundy warming my innards, and my head spinning with ganja, I plucked my cell phone out of my pocket and mashed # 1 for Catherine.
"Hey sweetie," she chirped. "How's your day going?"
"It's going, how about yours," wondering why I had called?
"Oh, okay, I guess." See, she IS subdued, or worse, my mind ablaze.
"Catherine, I just called to remind you that I love you more than I know how to express."
"Oh, you do, do you? You silver tongued devil." She perked up.
"Speaking of my tongue, I'd like to lick you with it."
"Ummm, where did you have in mind?" Catherine cooed.
"Every round inch of your beautiful voluptuous body."
"Would you like to make an appointment?" Sounding chipper.
"Yes, I sure would. When can you squeeze me in?"
"Oh, I have an opening in about an hour." Very sultry, now!
"I'll take that opening, I'll take all your openings."
"Promises, promises." She was giggling.
"Get naked in the bed!"
"How long will I have to wait like that?" She pouted.
"Not long. I'm tied up for awhile, but I'm sending Jake right over."
"Jake? Jakes in town?" Laughing out load.
"Yeah, babe, I picked him up at the airport this morning. Show him a good time and me and boys'll be over for sloppy seconds in awhile."
"You're crazy!" She cackled.
"Crazy for you, sweetie, crazy in love with you Catherine."
"Okay, send Jake over and I'll take care of him. You come along and get here soon as you can."
I put # 7 in the chair, took a swig of wine, toked, then stubbed out the roach and floated out the door, hearing it click automatically behind me.
Cruis'n down the highway, my woody stay'n strong, I thought about yesterday and Catherine's melancholy aura. We had wild sex the night before and we both revealed a new kinky side to each other. I was pretty drunk, so that's my story, but Catherine was stone cold sober and smoking hot. And she ---we---were great!
In the morning, she seemed a little distant over coffee as I headed out the door. I called her for lunch and we went to a favorite place, but she still seemed a little, what? Nervous; maybe?
I would have drilled down to find out what was bothering her last night, but I had an evening gig with a client and when I got home, she was asleep. Then this morning, she didn't even get up to fix the coffee. That never happens, unless she is having a rough 'period'.
