The Last To Know - What I did while we were Engaged

by Bridy McAvoy

  The Last To Know – What I Did While We Were Engaged

  By: Bridy McAvoy

  ISBN: 978-0-908325-26-9

  All rights reserved

  Copyright © Jan 2016, Bridy McAvoy

  Cover Art Copyright © Jan 2016, Brightling Spur

  Bluewood Publishing Ltd

  Christchurch, 8441, New Zealand

  www.bluewoodpublishing.com

  Names, characters and incidents depicted in this book are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of the author or the publisher.

  No part of this book may be reproduced or shared by any electronic or mechanical means, including but not limited to printing, file sharing, and email, without prior written permission from Bluewood Publishing Ltd.

  Dedication

  To everyone who helped me write this. Especially my husband who encouraged me to explore my fantasies in print.

  Chapter One – No Recrimination

  I sat on one of the chairs outside the condo, watching the sun set over the lake. As the sun went down, the color of the lake changed from blue to navy to almost black, with a touch of rust. Those few minutes at the end of the day were magical. If the condo was bigger I’d think about getting Sam to agree to us living there permanently. Compared to our house in the hills, it was tiny. Compared to the flat I shared with two other guys while I was at college, it was no bigger than a dog kennel.

  For a single person, for a love nest, for a couple’s getaway, it was perfect. It would never do for a family, and I knew Sam wanted children. So did I. Could I forgive her this much knowing there was still more to come?

  I sensed when Sam emerged from the bathroom and entered the bedroom immediately behind me. Only the large ranch doors separated her from me. Knowing Sam as well as I did, or had learned over the last four days of her confessions, she wouldn’t have bothered drawing the drapes. She’d developed a real exhibitionist steak over that time, at least here in the condo. Maybe she didn’t behave like that at home, but here she let herself go. If I wanted to see my wife in all her naked glory, all I would have to do was crane my neck around and look.

  I didn’t. I stared out at the equally beautiful sight of the lake changing color as the sun set. Who was I kidding? Watching my wife dry herself after the shower, and then pamper her nude body, was infinitely more appealing, more beautiful. Obstinacy set in. I would not turn my head and take a peek.

  Besides, there was another reason. Our shopping trip today had yielded results for both of us. She wanted to surprise me with what she’d bought to go under the new dress that I had seen. I’d hidden my surprise elsewhere in the condo. If I spoiled her surprise, then it would make my own pale by comparison. Guess I was too good a boy after all.

  I finished the beer and debated wandering in to fetch a second one, deciding against it on the basis that if the bedroom door was open I would get a sneak preview. So I crossed my legs at the ankles and, stretching my legs out, forced myself to relax. On the surface I was as relaxed as I looked. Underneath, emotions churned.

  Could I really cope with what she’d just confessed? Two weeks before I proposed to her, and she accepted, she’d been upset that I couldn’t see her due to pressure of college work. I was too tired to see her simply because I was too tied up in the final professorial review of my doctorate, so she went out, got pissed, and ended up having sex with three men? Is it any wonder I was in turmoil inside? The woman I’d loved, the woman I still loved, had been capable of behaving in such a manner? The question boiled around inside me, compounded by what I’d been led to believe at the time, that less than a month after the engagement she’d given me her virginity. It didn’t make sense in any framework I could put together. Obviously, the latter had been a lie.

  I guess my deepest fear was that everything else had been a lie too.

  My reverie, my spiral downward, was interrupted by a gentle cough from the open side of the other pair of ranch doors.

  “Come in and lock the door, honey, before you catch your death.”

  I’d completely forgotten she wasn’t the only one flashing flesh—she’d taken my damp shirt off me earlier. “I take it you’re ready?” She was right—it was cold out here now the sun had gone down. My own tortured musings hadn’t allowed me to take notice of the temperature drop.

  “More than ready. Just give me ten seconds to duck out of sight.”

  There was a pool of light to my left from the undraped living area window. The area immediately behind me was dark so at some point she must have closed the bedroom drapes.

  I stepped inside, closing the door behind me, then as I locked it behind me, and as an afterthought I closed the drapes too. I was pretty sure she wasn’t just going to show me the red dress she’d bought earlier—after all, I’d seen that. That meant she’d be showing me what she had bought to go underneath the dress. Good idea to close the drapes then, especially now with the room brightly lit and it being dark outside.

  I sat on the chair and looked toward the bedroom doorway. “Did you want me in there?” I heard her giggle, then chuckled myself as I realized the accidental double meaning. It was good to hear her laugh. Her mercurial mood swings, very much in evidence since Tuesday’s trauma, had taken her back up from the earlier low.

  “You can if you want, honey, but I thought you wanted a fashion show, first.”

  “I’m a good boy. I’m sitting down and staying right here.”

  “Then close your eyes.”

  I sighed, she loved doing this to me, and it wasn’t the first time this week. “They’re closed.”

  There was a rustle of fabric, accompanied by some somewhat heavy breathing and then a breathy chuckle. I knew she was right in front of me.

  “You can look now, Si.”

  I opened my eyes to find her standing a couple of feet in front of me. The whistle I gave was involuntary—the transformation was stunning. Thirty minutes ago she’d been tear-streaked and puffy-eyed, now her hair was piled up in a somewhat messy bun. Her large hoop earrings hung down, helping her bangs frame her face. She hadn’t had time for any elaborate makeup but I was sure she’d used some to cover up the ravages from her weeping.

  Like every cocktail or summer dress she ever bought it was short, very short. Short enough that the tops of her black stockings flashed at the hem line as she swayed her hips to make the light skirt bounce. The full skirt was pinched in to the waist and the dress fitted every curve from there up. The halter neck was a choker type, and two swathes of material swooped down the front to cover her breasts. I could see her underwear peeping out of the cleavage-revealing slit in her top. That too was red, although I thought there was a hint of black there too. The dress was quite thin cotton and I could see the line of her underwear through it. It seemed straight rather than curved as a bra would be. A suspicion began to form in my mind about it.

  That suspicion was confirmed when she turned to show me the back view. She had a number of totally backless dresses, which were obviously worn without a bra, and she was unfazed by wearing them. This one, though, had more of a back to it but it swooped lower than the line of the corset she was wearing—that’s what I’d guessed she was wearing. This one, though, was made of sumptuous red and black silk and satin, in vertical stripes that ran down her back until they disappeared under the back of the dress. She looked sexy—totally fuckable—not slutty in the way she’d described herself in that bar that night. Idly, I wondered if she’d still got that dress, whether I could stand to look at h
er in it or not. In the meantime, she stood before me like a goddess, clearly watching me for signs of approval over her shoulder as she wiggled her ass in front of me.

  She’d only have to look down to my lap to see my approval. I was hard, very hard, just from thinking what she’d look like without that dress, even what she’d look like in that dress as I crushed her body to me somewhere on a dance floor in some bar.

  “Wow!”

  She spun back around to face me, eyes sparkling. “You like?”

  “You certainly make an entrance in that dress.”

  “And I hope an early exit, too.” Her voice was low and sultry, tempting me to make a grab for her.

  I moved my hand as if I was about to and, laughing, she took a step away, then spun through a complete circle. I could see she was breathing heavy now, the corset restricting her but making her breasts heave under the thin fabric of the dress.

  When she’d turned the skirt had flared out and, more importantly, up. I got a great view of her naked thighs bisected by the garter straps—red and black to match the Merry Widow—contrasting against her pale skin.

  I licked my dry lips and, laughing again, she spun around once more, this time faster. The skirt went higher, which was obviously her intention. I wondered if she’d been practicing in front of the mirror in the bedroom before telling me she was ready. The dress rode high enough to flash naked butt cheeks at me. Sam rarely wore thongs—she much preferred boy-shorts style lace panties that hugged her figure, or french-cut silk that flowed with her movements. She claimed thongs were uncomfortable. Either she was wearing something uncomfortable, or she was sans culottes, as the French would say.

  “No panties?”

  “Naughty boy, you shouldn’t have been looking.”

  I beckoned her closer, knowing this was part of her teasing game. She took a small step toward me and giggled, affecting nerves she didn’t really have. Then she stepped closer still until she was in reach. Moving quickly before she could tease me by dancing away again, I wrapped one arm behind her legs at about mid-thigh level and pulled her even closer. She yelped in feigned surprise then gasped as my free hand found the front of her thigh.

  She looked down at me as I looked up into her eyes. Her bottom lip caught in her teeth in breathless excitement as I slowly slid my hand up her leg. My fingertips reached the hem of her skirt and she made no protest as I slid higher still, underneath the skirt. She was trembling as she stood there, suppressed excitement making her gasp as my fingers slid onto bare flesh above the tops of her stockings.

  “Hmm… Nice.”

  She gasped again as my hand moved higher, then moved to her other leg. She moved in response. I knew what she was doing, widening her stance, allowing me access to her party treasure, but I didn’t go straight for it—I kept my steady progress up her leg, my finger sliding over her smooth, warm skin. The trembling became more pronounced as my fingers neared their goal, and she moaned out loud as my fingers finally found her naked mound. I traced my middle finger up her slit and then abruptly sat back. She’d closed her eyes as my hand had reached higher—now she opened them again, heavy-lidded with lust as she looked down at me.

  “Why… Why did you stop?”

  “I was checking if you were commando, or not. Having established that…”

  “Bastard…” Her words were strung out, lazy in their delivery, her mind fogged with lust.

  “Maybe I should take you out dancing like that, spin you around on the dance floor like that.”

  She shuddered violently, moaning again. “No…” Her voice carried no conviction.

  “Come on, let’s go.”

  “No… Let me put the panties that match the corset on first.”

  “No chance. I’m going to twirl you so everyone can look at that pretty pussy of yours.”

  I’d never suggested anything of the sort before to her, but she shuddered as she stood there, eyes closed, mouth agape. Her hands reached out and I grasped them, realizing she needed stability as her legs threatened to fold under her. After a minute she regained control of herself and her eyes opened again.

  “That was nasty.”

  “What was?”

  “Teasing me like that.”

  “You think I wouldn’t do it?”

  She shook her head. “I’m not falling into that trap. I’m not daring you. Done too much of that before now, not doing it again. If we’re going out, I’m putting underwear on.”

  Sam seemed unaware of her little slip. We’d never made any sexual dares between us before, so it was obvious there’d been some she hadn’t told me about. I filed that titbit away for future reference while I carried on as if nothing had happened.

  “Come and sit on my lap. Maybe I bought you a surprise too, one nice enough to match your surprise for me.”

  “I didn’t buy you a surprise, these clothes are for me.”

  “Ah, but I get the pleasure of unwrapping you from them.”

  That must have been the right thing to say because she took a step forward and sat straight in my lap, her lips only an inch from my ear and, leaning in, she kissed my cheek. “You know I love surprises.” Her hand grazed across the front of my trousers—my uncomfortably tented pants. She chuckled softly and then nuzzled her face into the side of mine.

  We sat still for a minute and then, sitting more upright, I felt under the chair for the strategically hidden carrier bag.

  Sam laughed. “Not the most devious of hiding places.”

  “There aren’t many available in this place. Not like at home.”

  She sat up and looked at me. “Do you want to go home? We can do. I’m sure Bruce isn’t checking up on us every day.”

  I chuckled. “I’m sure he’s not, too. But on the off… On the off-chance he is, let’s enjoy these few days together, okay?”

  “I am going to have to talk to the library board at some point tomorrow, sort out cover for the week.”

  “I know. And I’ll have to confirm with my boss that nothing’s happened at work. I guess my boss will want to know how you are too. How you’re bearing up under the strain of the scandal made up by the paper.”

  She winced. We both knew the scandal had been true, just they’d left an opening that had allowed me to get the story squashed. I could sense the mood had been broken so I distracted her.

  “Are you ready for your surprise?”

  She snuggled in close again.

  “You’ll crease the dress.”

  “Bugger the dress.”

  “That’s no way to talk, you only bought it today.”

  She snorted. “Only so I could seduce you in it. Now, what’s this surprise?”

  Luckily, the saleslady had carefully packed the selection into four distinctly shaped boxes. I knew the biggest one was the men’s watch, the next biggest the lady’s watch, and so on. As a result I could grope around in the box without having to look and my fingers closed around the smallest box.

  Keeping a serious look on my face, I handed her the box containing the earrings. She looked at the top of the box, read the name Rotary and frowned at me, not making any connection. She gasped as she opened the box, astonished to see the two stud earrings—even more so when she realized what they were made from.

  “They’re gorgeous!” She threw her arms around me and hugged me tightly again, then kissed me. She tried to deepen the kiss but I wriggled out of letting her. She pouted then grinned as she brought her arms back down and admired the earrings. “I thought you were going to the sports shop.”

  “That was your idea, not mine.”

  “You bought something in there though.”

  I chuckled. “Just a couple of shirts to get a carrier to hide these in.”

  “But they’d have fit in your pocket. Why did you need to hide anything?”

  I could see the cogs of her mind turning, trying to work out a connection between a pair of earrings made from watch parts and something else I hadn’t given her yet. As comprehension dawn
ed, I handed her the box containing the lady’s watch.

  This time, as she opened it, she squealed with delight. The watch was around her wrist in seconds and her obvious delight brought a lump to my throat. “It’s wonderful, darling, thank you!” Her hands flew into motion, removing and dropping her hoop earrings to her lap and then inserting the new studs.

  “I love them, thank you, honey. That’s very thoughtful. But what about you?”

  “His and hers, Sam, his and hers.”

  I showed her my own watch and then finally the cufflinks and tie pin that matched. Since she didn’t want or need me to put my watch on, she examined it more closely, seeing how the movement was visible from both sides. She listened as I explained about the automatic movement and remained fascinated for some time. Throughout that time she never sat still, her butt wriggling on my lap. I saw the occasional secret smile playing on her lips when she thought I wasn’t looking—it was deliberate. She knew what her thigh and butt cheek were doing as she pressed against my erection. She was teasing as hard as she could.

  I’d had enough of that, or rather my prick had. “Time to show me the full effect.”

  “Full effect of what?” She’d managed to wind her arms around my neck again. As she spoke she pressed her leg against my cock even harder than before.

  “That outfit.”

  “Oh?” She knew what I meant. Sam was just drawing out the tease as long as possible.

  “Lose the dress. Show me what that corset and pantie set look like.”

  “I can’t.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I’m not wearing the panties, remember? You were going to take me dancing without them.”

  I winked at her. “I was teasing. Slip into the bedroom and put them on. Lose the dress before you come back. I’ll grab us both another beer.”

  “Another? It’ll be my first.”

  “But it’ll be a second one for me.”

  She squirmed off my lap and almost ran into the bedroom. I noticed she didn’t close the door. Walking across to the kitchenette, my eyes were drawn to movement. I was treated to the sight of my wife standing in profile to me, framed by the open doorway. Her hands were up behind her head, undoing the Velcro that held the choker collar around her neck. She lowered the front of the dress slowly, making sure I got to see the way her breasts were pushed upward and out by the Merry Widow. I chuckled and finished fetching the beers. As I walked back in front of the doorway she was sitting down on the side of the bed, holding the dress across her lap and grinning at me.