She had kept quiet these past two weeks, not even telling her friend Rachel what she was up to. Now it was good to have something concrete she could do. She had been less and less often considering the sexiness of her clothes; she felt a little rusty. She looked through her closet, but could find nothing there that seemed to fit the bill. She almost stumbled over the answer; her husband's shirt was laying in a pile on the floor. She stripped down to her panties, and put his shirt on, buttoning it up halfway. She looked at herself in the mirror. She messed her hair a bit, to give it that impromptu look, and smiled.
She spent the next few hours in an agitated state, trying to do the housework she normally completed at night, alternately stealing glances at herself in the mirrors. She was in the kitchen, washing those dishes not destined for the dishwasher when her husband came home. She wanted to run to him, show him herself, but she remembered the first step - discretion. She held her breath for a moment .. and went on with the dishes. She heard her husband walk by in the hallway outside the kitchen. Perhaps he had not noticed. Maybe he had, and didn't care. The disappointment tried to well up in her, but she resisted. She bowed her head slightly, her eyes scanning her hands as she rested them on the counter. She caught a glimpse of her cleavage, courtesy of the half-buttoned shirt. Just as her disappointment was making a renewed assault, she heard footsteps behind her, then felt the hands on her hips.
"Interesting garb for a dishwasher, is this how they dress in the kitchens of the finer restaurants?"
She felt his head take its place between her head and shoulder, heard him inhale, then felt the touch of his lips. His hands moved from her hips to her waist, encircling her, squeezing her. She smiled. She gasped as he suddenly picked her up, and carried her away from the sink and on into their bedroom. He tossed her lovingly on to the bed, then turned around and walked to the door. He pulled his shirt from his pants with a vigor she had not seen in some time. She lay there, waiting, watching as his hand reached for the switch. The lights went off, and she felt his weight join her on the bed.
*
Julie parted the curtains to watch her husband pull out of the driveway; any other night of the past two weeks she would be sad to see him go. But it was Tuesday, and the success she had seen because of the gypsy woman's instructions made her anxious to move to step number three. She let the curtains slide back in place, and took her seat at her writing table. She pulled the envelopes from her purse, and quickly found the one labeled "3." The past two weeks had returned to her some of the sexy feelings she had when younger; her husband had paid her loving attention that she so desperately had needed. As she started to open the third envelope she remembered the gypsy's warning, about stopping when things had gone far enough. This was not that time, she convinced herself; the loving of the past several days had only aroused her more. She pulled the card from the envelope.
"Deception"
"Third, to reach the baser instincts of the beast you must arouse its suspicion. It is already alert to you, questioning whether its recent journeys have been due to good fortune, or something less comforting. Find the circumstance to give the beast reason to doubt you. Wound the beast with your denial."
Julie was taken aback. Was the gypsy woman telling her to cheat on her husband? She had never been unfaithful to him in their eight years of marriage. She read the card again, and again once more. Her mind turned over the sentences. She wasn't telling her to cheat, just make her husband think she might be cheating. She sat back and thought of how to satisfy step three.
*
On Wednesday Julie called her husband at his office, and explained that she would not be home when he got off work, that an old girlfriend had called her out of the blue, and that she would be going out with her for a few drinks. She was not sure over the phone how to gauge the effect of the news on him; he did become somewhat abrupt, telling her to do as she pleased. She wanted to take it back, and tell him what she was up to, but the word "discretion" came into her mind. She hung up the phone, and continued dressing. In reality she had called her old friend, who was somewhat shocked to be hearing from her. Julie chose one of her new dresses, an emerald one, of somewhat sheer fabric, one that came down about a third of the way between her hips and knees. Bright red thong and lacy bra. A strand of pearls to rest on, and draw attention to, her exposed chest. A pair of fuck-me pumps.
She applied the matching red lip gloss, that contrasted with her white skin, and tended to direct any man's thoughts to uses other than conversation for her mouth. She looked at herself in the mirror for a minute, a different woman from a few weeks before, happier. Sexier. The butterflies in her stomach told of her excitement and anticipation for her return home.
*
Julie held the glass of wine tightly in her hand; it seemed to give her comfort. It had been sometime since she had been in a bar without her husband, and since Katherine was divorced she was playing to the men around them. Kat was still as wild as she remembered, and was at this moment on the dance floor for the fifth time, and with the fifth different guy. She always seemed to have the knack for stringing along several guys at once. Julie was a different story. Her husband was her first and only boyfriend at college. Even now, the same guy was hitting on her that first approached her. She couldn't seem to get him to go away, and she was not the mean sort to tell him to get lost. Anyway, she was just biding her time, waiting for an appropriately late hour to go home and see what state her husband was in. Suddenly she felt a hand on her arm.
"Would you care to dance, Julie?"
It was Brad, one of the guys Kat had danced with earlier, definitely a player. Her first reaction was to politely decline, but she was so ready to escape her pursuer that she reconsidered and said that she would. Brad grabbed her arm, persuasively pulling her from the stool and led her onto the dance floor. The song upbeat, they both began to move with energy, and made what small talk they could above the din of the music. It felt good to move her body, after sitting on the sidelines for so long. It felt good to feel Brad's eyes on her body. She danced for him, wicked as it made her feel. She danced for him because the alcohol had relaxed her and his eyes were drinking her in, and she could barely stand it. She felt slightly out of control, and was a little relieved that the song was finally ending. A little disappointed as well.
She began to make her way back to the stool when she felt his grip on her shoulder. The next song had begun, and he would not be denied a second dance. She wasn't really up to denying him anyway. The music slower, more intimate, Brad naturally pulled her close. She naturally let him do it. No small talk, she leaned her head against his chest so as not to look into his eyes. His cologne seemed intoxicating. She was losing control, gradually, and looking away from him seemed to restore some of her strength. Not enough to pull away. She felt her breasts flattened against his body. The warmth radiating to her. His hands slowly progressing downward, until they held her just below the top of her hips. They swayed to the music together.
His hands moved further downward, opening up, planting themselves firmly on her ass. The feel of his hands on her ass seemed to make her more aware of her own sensual movements, hips gyrating with the music. Her silence implying consent, Brad began alternately caressing and squeezing. Julie held her breath, afraid to exhale, afraid of what might happen next.
The song ended, she breathed, then breathed again. She dared look up, and saw his lust-filled eyes devouring her. Caught in his headlights, she could not move. His hands pressing against the fabric of her dress, she felt it inch higher, exposing more of her to the crowd. She felt a sudden pain in her foot as someone slightly more inebriated than her stumbled into the two of them. He apologized, mumbling, then went on his way. Julie saw her chance and quickly returned to the safety of the stool. She sat there, disturbed by her feelings, and slowly regained her resolve. Katherine noticed the change in her friend's manner, and it was not too long before they left the bar. Katherine took her home, and watched her as she walked up the sidewalk to her door, stumbling once. She was not sure if it was the alcohol, or the fact that her friend was not yet reaccustomed to walking in those heels.
Julie walked into her home, and walked straight to her bedroom. She had planned to do this to arouse suspicion, but the nights events seemed to make her feel like she should sneak in. Her husband noticed, and followed her into the bedroom, having waited for her. She saw his eyes widen at the sight of her dress. He started to say something, then caught himself, then spoke.
"Did you have a good time?"
"It was OK. It was good to catch up with Kat," she lied.
"Where did you go?"
"To Horizon's, downtown. Kat seems to be a regular there and suggested it," she lied again. She knew the reputation of the club as a meat market.
"Dressed like that?"
She heard the desperation in his voice. "Yes, I couldn't go out looking like an old housewife, now could I? It would have embarrassed Kat." He started to say something else, but she cut him off. "I am going to take a bath, I need to get clean." She went into the bathroom, closed the door, and left him to consider those words.
When she emerged an hour later he was already in bed. She quietly crawled in next to him. After a moment he turned to her and said, "I don't think you should go out dressed like that without me. Men get ideas."
She kept her back to him. "Relax, dear, there was no harm. Nothing happened. Good night." She could feel him breathing heavily.
"Why did she call you all of a sudden, she doesn't have the best reputation, you know."
"I really am tired, honey, it was a long night, can't we talk about this in the morning?" Julie held her breath, she felt this was all or nothing. He grabbed her on the shoulder and forced her to face him. She could not hide the smile on her face, happy to have aroused the beast in him. The smile to him appeared a mock and it enraged him.
"I will not have you going out of this house dressed like a common whore!" He grabbed her arm and tightly held it.
"I don't know what you are talking about!" Her breath was quickening.
"Yes you do!" He glared at her, losing control for possibly the first time in his life. "Yes you do"
She tried to pull back from him; he grabbed her other arm and rolled over on top of her.
"This is what men think when they see women dressed like you did tonight." He stretched her arms out wide, and buried his head in her neck. He moved down and put his mouth on her achingly stiff nipple, ignoring the fabric of her teddy that separated him from her skin. She pushed against him, not fighting, but transferring her own energy to him, encouraging the aggressor in him. She felt his hand between them, moving downward to move her panties aside to make room for his cock. She could literally feel the expression on his face when he realized she wasn't wearing panties. "You fucking whore," he mumbled angrily just before he inserted himself into her.
She felt his roughness, his anger as he began to pound her. She reveled in this. She wrapped her legs around him, and felt like a bitch in heat. Their actions and reactions served to aggravate each other's condition. Her cunt wetter than it had been in ages, her pussy tightening on him more so than she ever had, he raged until his cum shot into her. Their bodies' motion continued long after their minds had climaxed; he came to a slow stop on top of her. Panting. She was still holding him tight to her. He rolled out of her embrace and over into the darkness and then remained motionless. He silently contemplated what came over him. She silently contemplated her next move, still aglow from the heat rapidly fading from what had been her most intense orgasm.
*
The colors of the leaves visible through the window had peaked. The view from her table had always served to comfort her, relax her. Her mind was elsewhere, though. Julie sat at her writing desk a woman transformed. Her clothes exuded a teasing sexuality, though it was not her intent to tease tonight. She had become uncharacteristically silent about her love life with her friends, though she now more than ever was concentrating on escalating it. The phone was ringing but she was not answering, satisfied to let her husband wonder rather than reassure him she was at home. She smiled as she excitedly opened the fourth envelope.
"Dialogue"
"Fourth, the beast by now is reeling, in a frenzy. Now there is much to gain. So much to the beast has been unspoken; now is the time to verbalize. Tell it in excruciating detail what you want from it. Direct its actions with the most coarse language. Where there was titillation before let it drink from your words tonight."
