We find that Sal isn't really reluctant at all.
Chapter 12
Sal is Waylaid on the Cart Path
Sal came home early that Friday. In fact he took off at noon having assured himself that his customers were likewise taking most of the day off leaving him no one to call on. No sales, no point in working he reasoned.
Freddie was out when he got home. He changed and mowed the lawn. He spent the next several hours doing homeowner chores, then around 5:00 he opened a beer and sat on his back deck with a detective novel. The deck was secluded from the neighbors as were all the decks in the area. One of the perks of working here, he thought, was the utter privacy available.
Freddie returned home after 6:00. She had not planned anything for dinner. They'd go out. After all it was Friday. She was surprised to see Sal's car in the garage, but not excessively so. He had taken to giving himself Friday's off. That's why, she mused, she had been the first wife to be shared. Perhaps Fridays were good selling days even if Sal said otherwise. That, however, was beyond her control. She knew from past experience that talking about his selling practices was a great way to start a fight and, especially today, ruin a perfectly lovely evening and weekend.
She located him on the porch. Seeing him there through the patio doors with what appeared to be an empty beer bottle, she opened another and took it to him. She presented it along with a kiss and small talk about the beautiful weather and the impending evening dinner at a local restaurant. She left him and went back inside to put away the day's purchases. All quite routine.
At 7:00 she called him in to get ready to go out. He brought in the empties and his book. From the kitchen he went to their bedroom, stripped, and got into a shower. The hot shower and the pleasant discourse with Freddie left him with pleasurable ideas for the evening after dinner. He spent extra time soaping and stroking himself causing a quite pleasant erection. As he was tending to it, the shower door opened. Freddie stepped into the shower.
She noted the erection causing some consternation in Sal. Before he could gin up an excuse which both knew would be lame, she took over the stroking, pushing him gently against the shower wall. "Is this for now or for later," she asked.
"Could be either or both," he replied eyes closed lost in the pleasantness of hot water and his soapy cock being massaged by his beautiful and naked wife.
She continued stroking. He held on tightly to the shower grab bars. Just as the water was beginning to cool somewhat he shot across the tiled enclosure. She stroked until the spurting stopped then washed him paying special attention to his special areas. "I need to be sure everything is clean," she said in a husky voice. "Bend over and hold that bar."
From that position she added more soap to his cock and his ass. She slipped her finger deep inside him while stroking him with her other hand. The erection returned, but in the cooling water she ceased her pleasuring of him and used the last of the hot water to wash herself.
In the steamy bathroom she dried him taking special notice of his hard cock. She handed him a dry towel for him to reciprocate. He took the soft towel and began to dry her slowly, careful to massage each area that he hoped would encourage her to prolong this very erotic encounter. When he finished, she knelt on the bathroom floor and slowly let him slide into her mouth. Slowly in and out with her tongue exploring each inch of his shaft. As slowly as she had brought him into her mouth she let him slide out. She dried him carefully. As she stood she said, "Where shall we eat?"
Disappointed, he suggested a few spots. "Better call for reservations while I get ready," she observed after they agreed on an intimate French bistro.
They parted. He to dress and get reservations. She to dress and otherwise prepare herself.
It would be a warm evening and they would walk the mile or so taking the shortcut across the golf course along the cart path. As they were leaving he noticed she was carrying a handbag that appeared somewhat oversized for an evening meal, but said nothing. There was no way one understood women.
The walk was quite pleasant. Evening bird songs, crickets, and frogs serenaded them along the way. He wore khakis and a golf shirt. Freddie had gone further with a short black dress, modest enough in today's world, but short nonetheless.
Her sweater covered the low open neckline. Sal puzzled. He couldn't remember having seen the dress before, but knew that his recollection of the specifics of her wardrobe was at best, sketchy. They chatted as they walked holding hands. What a pleasant way to end the week, he thought. He also wondered if there would be more intimacy when they got back home.
The restaurant was crowded, but not noisy. As they had requested their table was on the patio. Before they sat, she took off her sweater and hung it over the back of the chair. The neckline immediately caught Sal's attention. It was very low, almost, but not quite, immodestly low, though it left uncovered most of her breasts.
The waiter arrived for their drink order. His face remained welcoming and neutral, but his eyes were immediately drawn to her breasts. As Freddie examined the wine list she invited the waiter to lean over to the list as she consulted him looking for the perfect wine. What she provided in return was the perfect view. The heat of her body accented the delicate touch of perfume she had applied under her breasts. The waiter was reluctant to move, but took her order and his, then left.
"That waiter was certainly enchanted with you," Sal observed.
"I know," she replied. "That's such a tiresome job, they deserve a little something extra occasionally," she added with a smile and a wink. "You get the really good stuff. He only gets a peak. I think he enjoyed the peak, though, don't you?"
Dinner went well as it unfailingly did at this bistro. Sal was puzzled again as she returned from the ladies room looking a bit different somehow. She sat. The waiter returned having cleared the dinner plates offering dessert. "Well," Sal began.
Freddie cut him off. "We'll have a small glass of port, then we're heading home. I've prepared something special for dessert. Help me pick out a port, please."
Freddie said all of this looking up at the waiter, but the waiter was staring at Freddie's chest. Sal was about to say something. He hadn't the faintest idea what, but something about staring at his wife that way seemed to require him to say or do something.
Again Freddie intervened. "I can see I wore the right outfit for you men tonight. I'm really flattered that you find it so, well, so . . . interesting? Is that the word?" She giggled and with a finger pulled the neckline further open. "I'm afraid if I pull any more on this dress, I'll just pop out." She smiled up at the waiter who continued to concentrate on her breasts now that only a small area of her nipple was all that remained covered.
"Yes ma'am." The waiter was stuttering as he nodded in agreement. "Would you like a port on the dry side or on the sweet side." He could hardly get the words out. Sal smiled. He didn't need to do anything. Freddie, as usual, was in control.
The selection of the port brought the waiter close enough again that her perfume all but incapacitated him. Once chosen, the port was quickly delivered, and slowly sipped. The check was cleared up and, as they stood to leave, Sal looked again at Freddie. Had her bra disappeared? He had noted that she wore one when she was getting dressed because he always liked to watch her dress, but now it seemed that she was no longer wearing one.
He said nothing. She put on her sweater, picked up her large bag and they left heading again for the cart path. "What's the dessert you made," he asked as they began walking down the path.
"It won't be a surprise if I tell you," she said and the subject was dropped.
In the shadows of a copse of trees, she turned to him for a long kiss. Then she whispered, "I see you've noticed that I don't have a bra on." As he nodded she said, "Now it's your turn."
