A Nice Pick-Me-Up

After a particularly long week at work, I finally dragged myself home on Friday.  The only thing on my mind was a hot shower and a couple of days of doing nothing.  As I pulled into the driveway I noticed something odd — my wife’s car was gone.  “Oh well,” I thought, “she’s probably gone shopping.”  No problem.  I could just take a nice hot shower and hit the couch.  I hope she took the kids with her; I was too tired to deal with them.

I opened the front door and the house was quiet.  A good sign.  I trudged up to the bedroom.  There was an envelope on the bed with my name on it.  Odd.  I opened it up and found a note in my wife’s handwriting: “Welcome home.  Go ahead and take your shower.  Your clothes are in the bathroom.”  Strange.

I climbed in the shower, which I was going to do anyway.  After washing away the grime I felt much better.  I toweled off and looked for the clothes she had for me.  Grey dress slacks, black shirt and ??? black silk boxers?  Where did that come from?  Very weird.  I got dressed and went back into the bedroom.  It was then that I noticed another envelope in the pocket of the pants.  I opened it.

“Kids are at the Johnson’s.  I am at the Bayside Hotel, Room 729.  Please hurry!”  There was a hotel card-key with the note.

Very, very strange.  But I definitely liked the way things were going.

I jumped in the car and drove to the Hotel, a little too fast, but I made it safely.  The elevator to the 7th floor seemed incredibly slow.  I found room 729.  I slid the key in the slot, opened the door and stepped in.  There on the bed right before my eyes was … another envelope!

“Now the hunt begins.  You won’t have to flook far.  I promise you will like what you find.”

“You won’t have to look far.”  Well, she wasn’t in the room, that was obvious.  I quickly checked the bathroom, then the closet — no luck.

But she must be in the hotel somewhere.  I took the elevator back down to the lobby — not there.  I went out to the pool — nope.  I looked into the fitness center — no wife.  Then on the far side of the lobby I spotted a double door with a sign above it “Bayside Lounge.”  Hmm … the hotel bar?  I entered the bar and took a few seconds to let my eyes adjust to the dim light.  There were quite a few people there, but not packed.  There were tables and booths arranged in several nooks and crannies, so it was impossible to see everything at once.  I moved towards the bar to try to get a better look at the crowd.  Behind me a familiar voice, “Buy you a drink, handsome?”  I turned around and nearly fell over.  Here was my usually shy, conservative wife, wearing a purple silk blouse, unbuttoned at least two or three buttons (and plainly without a bra), black leather mini-skirt, black hose and high heels, coming on to me in a bar!  Strange beyond belief, but very, very nice!

I asked for a rum and coke.  As she stepped to the bar to order, I couldn’t take my eyes off of her.  Her large soft breasts bounced gently as she moved, showing plenty of ample cleavage.  Her nipples stiffened as they rubbed the silk material.  I was stiffening, too.  She placed one foot on the brass rail, stretching the mini-skirt across her round butt, and leaned on the bar.  The bartender smiled and stole a little more than a glance at her cleavage.

We took our drinks and she led me to a booth in the darkest corner of the bar.  We sat and began sipping our drinks and talking.  She said she knew I had been working extra hard and she wanted to do something special for me.  I said it meant a lot to me that she would set up such and elaborate surprise.

“You didn’t have to go to all this trouble,” I said, “but I’m sure glad you did!”

“Oh,: she smiled shyly, “you like my surprise?”

“Yes indeed!”

“Are you wearing what I put out for you?” she asked.  There was a long tablecloth on our table, blocking the view of anyone who might be in the area (which nobody was).  As she sipped her drink with one hand, she put the other on my thigh, and slid it up.  Before I knew it, she was rubbing my hard-on through my pants.  Now I know why she had me wear the silk boxer shorts.

I almost spilled my drink.  I had to grip the edge of the table with both hands to maintain control.  Just before it was too late, she stopped, took another sip, and licked her lips.

I decided I could play, too.  I placed a hand on her thigh.  As I moved it upward, she spread her legs slightly.  I soon realized she was not wearing pantyhose, but just stockings.  My hand moved past the top of the stockings toward her most private area.  I felt the frilly edge of what felt like a very tiny thong.  I rubbed my hand over the material and almost instantly felt it moisten.  She braced one hand on the table and tried to look calm as she took another sip.  I pulled the thin, wet material aside slid a finger into her slit.  She put her drink down and stared straight ahead.  I rubbed her juices over her perky little love button and began stroking it.  Her eyes closed, her nipples hardened even more, her breathing got deeper, then faster.  Years of practice meant I could read her body language very well.  At the last second I eased my finger out of her and put the little panties back in place.  I glanced around.  Nobody was paying any attention to us.  She opened her eyes and smiled at me.  I licked the juice off my finger and smiled back.

She leaned over, pressing her breasts into me and whispered in my ear, “I could suck you under the table and nobody would know…”

My head started spinning, and I don’t think it had anything to do with the rum.  Everything we had done tonight was way more daring than we had ever tried before.  “That’s true,’ I said, “but we have a room where we can do that and a whole lot more.”

The elevator ride to the 7th floor didn’t seem as long this time, probably because we were kissing and feeling each other the whole way.  We kept our clothes on until we got into the room, but just barely.  What happened next is another story.