Misha introduces her husband into her elderly neighbour Bob's dominance.
Part 7
Ken arrived home from work as Misha was finishing the dinner; she heard the crunch of the car wheels on the gravel and felt a flutter.
Tonight, if it went well, she would be one step closer to a life with Bob.
She was setting up, placing the three plates on the dining table, just as she heard the car door close. She took the cutlery and placed it precisely on either side of each plate as the front door opened; her heart raced.
Ken made his way through to the kitchen. "Hey, hon, smells great!" He slipped off his jacket and hung it on the back of the chair.
"Nope, go get that hung up. I've tidied enough today."
Ken looked around the kitchen; she could see he wasn't sure anything had been done in their house. She hadn't lied; she just wasn't specific about where she had been tidying.
"Of course, Misha," he said.
As he took the jacket off the chair, she studied him for any visible underwear line under his shirt. She could see it. "Have you had that jacket on all day?"
He looked at her sheepishly. "Yes, Misha. I was petrified everyone in the office would see the underwear."
"Did that scare you?" She stepped over to him and firmly grabbed between his legs. She gripped his cock through the expensive suit trousers and squeezed.
His eyes winced as he bit out, "Yes, Misha, it did."
"But you like it, you little pervert." She twisted her wrist and tightened her grip, crushing everything in her hand. "It got your little pecker hard, didn't it?"
She knew Ken never had a small penis, but it seemed a fitting accusation as he stood in his pathetic, sissy underwear beneath his power suit.
"No, Misha."
She let go of her grip and kneed him in the groin. "Tell me the truth!"
He doubled over "I am, Misha!"
She patted the crown of his head. "I believe you. Good boy."
She then turned back to the slow cooker and checked the dinner. "Get ready; dinner will be soon," she said over her shoulder.
He turned to leave. "Yes."
"Where are you going?"
He turned back to her. "I was going to change. Like I was told."
She turned back to the pot and stirred. "You were told you need to change, but right here is fine."
Ken looked at the large open windows in the kitchen and dining room. "Misha..."
"Dinner is almost ready, so I suggest you hurry up, like a good boy."
Ken began to unbutton his shirt.
Misha wondered what it is she'd ever seen in the hairless, toned physic of her husband, as he pulled the shirt off and placed it over the suit. She did think the pink and white baby-doll suited his tanned skin.
He kicked off his shoes and socks and dropped his trousers.
"Pull them up; you're in a state." Misha nodded to the stockings that had worked their way down in wrinkles on his legs.
"Misha, can I take them off?"
"No; now sit down."
Ken took a seat at the table.
"Not there, the other end."
Ken stood from the chair and walked over to the other end of the table. He sat down with his back to the windows. He looked uncomfortable sitting in the female underwear. Misha had never seen him so unsure.
"Open that wine, will you?" Misha said.
Ken reached for the bottle on the table and uncorked it. As he did the bell rang. He sat bolt upright.
Misha quickly ran her fingers through her hair and patted down her dress before clicking away on her high heels toward the front door.
"Misha? Who is it?" Ken's voice was high.
"Oh, I invited Bob over from next door." She waved her painted fingertips at him, brushing off the question.
"Misha, wait!"
Ken ran after her and down the hall; he cornered the stairs and began to climb up.
"Misha, hold on," he pleaded.
Misha continued her brisk steps with her heels clicking against the wooden floor. She reached for the handle and swung it open.
Ken knew he'd have been in full view for a split second. He slammed the bedroom door shut just as he heard the voices.
"Hello, Bob. Nice to see you; you're looking handsome as ever."
"That smells good."
Ken heard the exchange and the door closing. The clicking of Misha's heels told him they were back in the kitchen.
Ken dressed, pulling on a housecoat over top, and returned to the kitchen. Misha was at the cooker and Bob was sitting with his back to him, at the head of the table.
"Pour Bob some wine, Ken. Please hurry and sit," Misha told him.
Ken went back into the room and reached for the wine. He poured it, hoping Bob would not look down at the stockings on his feet. He wanted to pull the housecoat around him tighter to hide his secret dress.
"That's enough, Ken."
"No problem, Bob. Nice you could come." Ken gratefully returned to his own seat on the far side of the table and put his feet under it.
Misha brought over the pot and dished out her chicken satay dish and some rice onto Bob's plate. She piled it high.
"Enough, thanks." He waved a hand to halt her serving extravaganza.
She then dished some onto the plate right next to Bob. Ken noticed now that the place he had been moved from had the two settings close together.
Misha walked over and served a tiny amount onto the Ken's plate, then placed the pots in the sink.
She took her seat next to their guest who had already begun to eat. Ken felt annoyed Bob didn't have the manners to wait for his wife to join them, first.
"Nice, Bob?" Misha asked.
