Jenny chose something in white. White lace underwear with a pretty rose pattern motif and matching stockings. The stockings were tight enough to cling to her thighs without the need for suspenders.
A white silk robe hung easily over the curves of her body and a loose fitting sash held it together at her waist. It was expensive and beautiful. She liked that. It reached only to the upper part of her thighs, short enough to reveal a glimpse of skin between the garment and the tops of her stockings.
The clean freshness of the white contrasted strangely with the rich blackness of her hair. She loved her own hair. She reached up behind herself and loosened it, allowing its full length to fall down across her shoulders. Finally, she applied a trace of red lipstick to match perfectly with her nails.
She looked at her own image reflecting back at herself as she stood before the full length bedroom mirror and smiled. This was how she liked it to be. She liked him to experience her like this. She wanted him to feel the purity of her love for him fused with the sexual ache for him that never seemed to fade. She liked him to taste that blend. Nobody else could give him a mixture of love and excitement in the way that she could. His romantic lover and his needy little whore twisted together. She knew that he liked that. She knew that he would want her.
Jenny heard the car in the driveway. She expected that he would see the single light and come into her bedroom to find her. He always did that. She liked to think that 24 hours away from her was just too long for him. It was too long for her when he was gone. She hated him being away for more than even a few hours. That was when the ache started and that ache hurt like hell. She needed him to soothe that ache.
She was still standing in front of the mirror when he came into the room. He hadn't called up to her and he didn't speak now, at least not right away. He walked silently, slowly and carefully to her. There was just a slight pause. Not too long. Just enough for them both to be conscious of the other's breathing as his body came near to hers.
He folded his arms around her waist and held her to him. Jenny didn't turn around to face him. He was late. He had been due back an hour ago and he knew that she worried when he was late. He knew about the ache. She stood and let him hold her, but she didn't turn around. She needed him to know that she didn't like him being late.
Sean held his hands around her waist. Jenny sensed the gentle concern of his embrace and felt better. The worry was subsiding. He was home. He had come back to her like he always did, even if he was a little late. She rested her own hands on his arms and looked at their reflection in the mirror. She could see and feel his hands resting lightly against her stomach and she let herself relax as the softness of his touch seeped through the fabric of her robe. She adored it when he held her this way, keeping her safe in his arms.
"How was your father?"
She spoke quietly, the tone of her voice matching the tenderness of their embrace. Jenny despised the hours that Sean spent away from her, but most especially when he was with his father.
"He was fine, he sends his love."
Jenny didn't respond immediately. Not all love was worth having. As Sean held her to him she stared at their reflection, resting herself back against him and letting the presence of him wash through her. Her faced showed no expression, but she sought his eye contact in the mirror when she spoke again.
"And how was she?"
