Cheryl had taken special care with her appearance tonight and James appreciated the effort. It was not often they managed to get a sitter so they could go out alone and he felt awkward as he carried their drinks to the table. She was looking at her hands, fidgeting with her wedding ring, and he knew from her posture she was nervous.
“Here you go,” he said placing the gin and tonic in front of her. He sat at her side so he could take her hand in his. Cheryl looked up at him, and James could see the beginnings of panic forming in her hazel eyes. “I am glad we could get out,” James continued, “it isn’t often I get to see you all dressed up- and it’s well worth seeing.” He squeezed her hand reassuringly, and she gave him a smile in return. They chatted for a while as they sipped their drinks, everyday things, the boys and work. Conversation, James thought, that they could have had at home.
“Do you remember when we first met, the game we played?” He asked suddenly, changing the topic.
Cheryl nodded. They had met at university during a lecture on Noir Detective fiction writers, like James Ellroy and Raymond Chandler. As they were both relatively shy they had felt awkward when James had finally asked her out several weeks later. It might have been prudent to have gone to a movie, but James always said the cinema was not a place to talk and so their first date had taken place in a crowded pub, not unlike this hotel bar. Cheryl smiled at the memory of that first date and looked around for a suitable subject.
“Let’s go with Noir Detective Fiction,” she said as she scanned the room. She couldn’t believe how nervous she felt. It wasn’t like this was their first date, they had been married seven years, had two children. But this was the first time they had been out together in a long time. She tried to remember the last time they went on a date and she realised sadly that it was probably before they moved in together some ten years earlier.
“Her!” Cheryl indicated a brunette at the bar. It was their game. Taking turns, they created mini stories for the person picked.
“She was wearing leather, lingerie and a look that said we would fuck frantically till morning.” James said confidently.
“That sounds a bit naughty for Dick Tracy.” Cheryl giggled. “Besides,” she continued lowering her voice and leaning forward, “you have no idea what’s underneath that outfit. Whereas I have no panties on under this dress…” She ran one hand slowly up his leg as she spoke. Cupping his arousal, she bit her lip. “And I am wearing the suspenders and stockings you like,” she ginned wickedly, removing her hand and slowly sitting back in her seat. “Want to pick one for me, or?”
“We are not going anywhere, yet,” James said, “you will not distract me woman with your feminine ways!” He laughed and smiled at her warmly, and as she smiled back, the tension started to leave her shoulders. “It is my turn.”
He looked around the room thoughtfully, “hmmm, you can have the man in the corner with the tweed cap and in the style of Jane Austen if you please.”
Cheryl followed his gaze. The man was middle aged and unkempt. He stood out from the crowd of well dressed patrons and she bit the inside of her cheek as she tried to think of a suitable line.
“Come on,” James encouraged, he could see her uncertainty, the slight crease in her brow and as he looked down he could just see the top of her stockings. He placed his hand on her stockinged knee and rubbed the inside of her leg with his fingers. Cheryls breath hitched and he moved his hand higher.
“I can’t think while you are doing that,” Cheryl breathed softly, parting her legs a little, allowing his hand to move higher, encouraged. James was stroking the skin above her stocking top now, and his cock was responding eagerly. Cheryl could see the bulge in his pants, but she forced herself to concentrate on the game.
“He was a man of no consequence, his appearance- indeed, his very circumstance was wretched; but he had such kindness and sorrow in his eyes, ignoring him was impossible. ” Cheryl looked at James as she spoke in a formal accent, and he grinned back at her.
“Well Mrs Abbott,” he made a little bow, “that was nicely done, Miss Austen would be proud, but as mine was too naughty,” he leaned close with a wicked lear, “your’s was not nearly naughty enough! Where was the debauchery?”
“There was hardly any impropriety in Miss Austen’s work!” Cheryl said with mock severity. “If you wanted naughty you should have picked a different genre. My turn?”
James looked at her, and moved his hand a little higher. She was indeed pantiless and he looked at her, “No, I think we have been social enough. I want to make the most of the time we have,” retrieving his hand he picked up his drink. “Drink up,” he said, “I think it is time we went up to our room.” He finished the last of his pint and she finished hers. Standing, James held out his hand to help her, and she took it. As he guided her from the room he leaned over and softly whispered, “I have such plans for you Mrs Abbott, your good friend Miss Austen would have an attack of the vapours!”
This story is inspired by my Smut Marathon Round 2 Entry “People Watching”. The assignment was to create a 125 word story using a round 1 sentence. The extract I used unfortunately did not translate well, it needed the back story that I couldn’t convey and although 5 wonderful people voted for my sentence I didn’t catch any of the judges eyes. I am enjoying the experience – competing in Smut Marathon however long my journey continues.