A POSSESSIVE MISTRESS / 2 (to be cont'd)

TUESDAY, JANUARY 24, 2012

A POSSESSIVE MISTRESS / 2 (to be cont'd)

With the knock at the door, You look at me pointedly and command, “la porte, chéri”.

I look to You quizzically and meet a stern expression that does not invite discussion. As is my custom and Your house rule, I am naked except for my collar and Birkenstock sandals. To respond to the door in such a state of undress is normally forbidden.

A visitor is expected, but I know nothing more than that. I had busied myself preparing some light refreshment for Your guest and generally ensuring all was in order for a sociable afternoon. 

These occasions were always pleasant. I found Your many friends, clients, and acquaintances an interesting lot; the wide ranging and sometimes animated discussions proved informative and often provocative.

As I move toward the door, I again glance in Your direction, but You have already turned to the mirror for a last minute look. Always, I am awed by the elegance You bring to anything You choose to wear. From the simplest of garb to Your daring Smoking, Your natural grace and beauty arrest many an onlooker; conversation hesitates wherever You go.

Today, You have chosen dark slacks with an embroidered linen blouse. Even with the silk camisole You wear underneath, the outline of Your pert nipples is still evident.

Approaching the door with trepidation, I release the latch and turn the handle. Swinging it open, I attempt to maintain my modesty behind it. This is, of course, futile.

Looking out, I am stunned silent. She is there. The woman who had left her biglietto da visita on our table in the café stands before me.

A bemused smile on her face, she scrutinises me intently, up and down, taking in every detail. I feel my ears redden and my cheeks become flushed with uncertainty. Looking directly into my eyes, she asks without saying a word, “Well?”

Regaining my composure, I draw the door further open and welcome her into the entrance with a simple gesture. In a moment, You are there. Embracing with a kiss on each cheek, You greet as though old friends.
As I close the door, I realise the two of You have met and talked since that first meeting in the café.

She is well dressed in a casual style but rather more severely than You. Her black skirt contrasts with the emerald green of her silk blouse. Her lack of a bra is readily apparent from the swaying motion of her breasts as she walks. On can only imagine the subtle sensations as her nipples are caressed by the silken fabric. With a few top buttons left undone, her cleavage and the full roundness of her ample breasts is revealed as she bends forward to sit.

Settling onto the couch, each of you half-turned to face the other, the two of You chat sociably. Dutifully, I pour Prosecco into two flutes and carefully offer them; first to Your guest and then to You. After returning the bottle to the ice, I sit quietly on the floor near You and take in the scene before me.

My mind races with questions. What is this about? How do You know her? Why is she here? Who is she?

Copyright Zaphod Button

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