When It Absolutely, Positively Has To...

Sunday

He says:

This business trip could not have come at a more inconvenient time. We had been dating for a couple of months and, though we had moved into that “comfortable with each other” phase, we were not yet in that “sure of each other” stage. The last thing I wanted to do was leave the field open for all the other men out there who I knew were just waiting for the opportunity to bed my own Elizabeth.

Oh yes, I know all about them. I did a little research one day not so long ago after she ran out to purchase some bath salts for us. Some of the messages on her answering machine made it clear that her mother was actively pushing other men on her. What did it mean that she hadn't told her mother about me? I didn't like to consider it. I didn't want to consider it.

As such, it was essential before I left that I give her something to remember me by, so I spent the whole day pampering her before I left town. I kept her company while she shopped; in return, she kindly educated me on women's lingerie. Not that I don't know how to open one of those front closing bras with my mouth or that I haven't noticed the effect that a woman in garters has on me, but Elizabeth patiently explained the myriad of bra and panty types to me. Honestly, they all look about the same. Different colors and feels, but the real question any man wants answered is, “how do I get this thing off her fastest?”

I failed the “which one do you like best?” test but saved the day by suggesting that she buy one of each kind and let me compare them when I got back. I am nothing if not subtle. I plead the fifth on whether or not I ever held her purse while she disappeared into a changing room.

We had a lovely picnic of her favorite finger foods in a Sunday afternoon picnic and strolled through the park before returning to my place to get dressed for dinner. I will never understand why it takes the average woman so long to get ready but I have infinite patience when it comes to Elizabeth. I would be lost, too, if it were my job to improve her perfection.

I was sitting on the bed, reviewing my packing list one last time when she popped in the door to ask for help with her laces. I felt like a Saturday morning cartoon character as my eyes bugged out over the vision she presented. She was hot, all snugged into the brand new corset she'd bought that afternoon. The corset moved her breasts, one of her most pleasing attributes, up for ease of appreciation. The lace garters and matching briefs covered a good portion of her but proved that imagination is my most important erogenous zone. I like to think she was disappointed that I didn't ravish her right then, but I wanted to wow her with dinner first.

As a surprise, I had gotten us preferential seating at Aureole. Lizzy's dark eyes sparkled at me with barely restrained humor from the moment she saw our destination. Finally, as we sat pondering our menus, I gave in and asked her what was so amusing.

“You and your one track mind.” I had behaved impeccably all evening! Obviously, my confusion showed. She laughed at me. “You've been so uptight over this trip of yours. I love all the trouble you're going through to prove to me that our relationship is deeper than just fabulous sex, but then you defeat your purpose by taking me to restaurant named, `Aureole.' Couldn't you find something a little less suggestive?” I could picture exactly what was happening under that dress, with that wicked black corset, when she laughed.

Hell, I should have said `screw the reservations' earlier and just screwed Elizabeth instead.


She says:

The first big test of a relationship is a separation. Will was so cute, worrying about his upcoming business trip. Not about the business or the trip itself, but about me! Can I tell you how adorable that was? Normally, I'd be a bundle of nerves, moping about how I was going to have to spend so many lonely nights in an empty bed and how cold and desolate my evenings would seem. But then, nothing had been normal since I met Will. With him I felt cherished and assured of my place in his world. If anything, he's the one who seemed unable to accept that he had a secure place in my life.

In one way, it was cute. He was extra attentive and there's not a woman in this world who doesn't like to know the man she's with is crazy about her. In another, I felt a little sorry for him. Did you know that he thinks that there are men lined up outside my door, eager to pounce the moment his back is turned?

What an imagination. I've tried to tell him he's imagining things but he wishes to live in his fantasy world. Hope that my reassurance plan works.

To prove to me what fine boyfriend material he is, he devoted the entire day before his trip to making me happy. Now, he did not fool me into thinking that he enjoyed shopping for women's clothes, no matter how loudly he proclaimed it. Since he so generously insisted on escorting me through my favorite stores, I decided to do some research into what lingerie got him hot. You know men, they'll all get real interested in shopping once it involves sex.

His eyes glazed over at my first question--did he prefer French or plain camisoles--but it wasn't desire that clouded his vision. I was dumbfounded to find that I was dating a man who knew squat about women's lingerie. Luckily for him, I was just the woman to educate Will Darcy. I got a wicked pleasure out of molding various examples to my body in the store, watching him attempt to look alert while I explained what made this bra different from the previous dozen. Poor Will learned nothing that day but he did promise to study the subject in depth on his return.

One thing that I have always liked about Will is his total obsession with me. I was disappointed that the very sight of me in a corset and garters didn't turn him into a raving sex maniac, but my disillusionment was short lived. Even when he was trying to be good, he couldn't be. Poor boy!

He took me to “top drawer” restaurant - you know, the expensive kind where the waiters are not snooty - but he chose one whose very name sounds an awful lot like a part of one his favorite parts of my body. That's my own judgment, by the way, based on the amount of attention he lavishes on them. Ever the diplomat, Will refuses to state definitively a favorite part. I'm a “delightful whole” as far as he's concerned.

After I pointed out the Freudian restaurant name, he spent the evening manfully trying not to stare at my breasts. He failed miserably, much to my delight.


Monday

He says:

The next morning was dreadful. Elizabeth seemed perfectly fine with my leaving town. No tears, no regrets about sleeping alone. Just a chipper, “Have a good time!” and “Don't forget to bring me home a souvenir.” Undoubtedly, the men were queuing up already. My mood must have been obvious; everyone tiptoed around me. I managed to get through the round of meetings before retiring to my empty, sterile hotel room. I sat for a minute, overwhelmed by the quiet.

I had already become accustomed to the small sounds of couple life. Elizabeth hums. She doesn't know that she does it--denies it outright even --but she hums. Well, she hums when she is happy. I missed that. She is forever puttering around with a project; the absence of dish noises as she tried the latest recipe from Cooking Light or potting up plants for the balcony or putting the dog through his training paces. That night, deafening silence engulfed me.

Elizabeth had warned me that she would be going to her parents' place that night. Calling her was not an option. I was a bit disconcerted that she had made plans so quickly and without my even knowing. Still brooding over the meaning of being hidden from her parents, I turned to unpack. A bitterness arose at having to carry out this task. It was fundamentally wrong that that I should invest energy in making myself do anything that made it harder to hurry back home.

On top of my carefully packed clothes was a big FedEx box. A momentary panic seized me - had I grabbed the wrong suitcase? I knew I did not pack that. I made the packing list myself! Elizabeth's impeccable penmanship on the label quickly doused the fear.

I ripped the box open and withdrew the tissue wrapped contents. I do not know what I expected; probably anything would have been a surprise. But Elizabeth knows my moods before I do and the lingerie in my hands propelled my mind back to the previous evening and the way it looked on her. I fingered the note pinned to the corset:

W:

You should be here. I loved seeing you respond to the sight of my body in this. Almost as much as I enjoyed feeling you respond.

I'm thinking of you tonight... E-

P.S. Just in case you forgot! These are called a corset, garters, and stockings. The black lace scraps used to be hi-cut briefs. Since they were shredded, you'll just have to remember what they looked like...

My body responded to just the thought of the previous evening. I fingered the delightfully wicked garment, remembering how it had looked on her, black, smooth, all her curves even curvier…not that Elizabeth ever needed help in the curves department but damn she looked good in it. Edible, even. I kept the dinner date only because the evening was all about her. Had it been about me, I'd have tossed her onto the bed and we'd both still be there.

The cloth retained her scent; I lingered over the memory of first cinching her into the corset and my desperate attempts later to free her from it. In the end, I'd left the damned thing on her and settled for shredding the black lace panties in my zeal. Oh, we'd freed her from it after the first time, of course, but she said that the tight corset had accentuated the pleasure in a kinky kind of way. I took the opportunity to study its construction, remembering how the stiffeners made her breasts stand at attention all night. I'd always known that Elizabeth was just a tiny wisp of a woman, but looking at the small patch of fabric, I was amazed it went all the way around her; I wouldn't think it could go around my arm.

She'd included all of her undergarments from that night, down to the remnants of the panties and her stockings. I fell asleep enveloped in her aroma, blissfully happy, with the scraps of cloth clutched tightly in my arms. She was thinking of me!


She says:

I put on a brave face when Will left. I didn't want the memory of me that he carried with him to be one of runny mascara or pathetic clinginess. Who wants that?

It's always easier to be the one going away for the trip than the one who stays behind. I held it together until after he was gone before permitting myself a few tears.

Mom had been harassing me to come to a family dinner forever. No way was I going to let Will know what a lunatic my mother was until it was too late for him to back out. The only thing worse than Will meeting my mother would be if Mom found out about him. I'd given up trying to explain to her that I was a financial force to be reckoned with on my own terms. She'd just tell me that it was just as easy to fall in love with a rich man as a poor one. If she knew about Will, she'd never be able to stay away. I knew she'd show up and ruin everything.

The prospect of moping around an empty apartment was even worse than having another rich, eligible, and boring prospect foisted on me by Mom. The evening was, as expected, a long one. But I did get out of town and back into the tranquil country setting in which I'd grown up. It was good to see Dad (and Mom, though I'd rather die than admit it). The obligatory male sacrifice turned out to be a very nice young man, who couldn't quite hide his disappointment that I was not Jane. I quite enjoyed the evening once I realized that I could entertain him with stories of Jane's youth and Mom was satisfied that I was doing my part to snare him.

It was really late when I got home. I kicked off my shoes and padded over to bed, trying hard not to notice that it was now huge, empty, cold, and a lot less appealing. I fell asleep wondering whether or not Will had unpacked his suitcase.

Tuesday

He says:

Waking up without Elizabeth was a grim business. She had woven herself so firmly into my routine that I had forgotten what life was like only a few months ago. It seemed like another lifetime. Clutching bits of material, no matter how decadent, cannot compare to the charge I get from feeling Elizabeth's skin. I missed waking up to the smell of freshly brewed coffee, delivered in bed, followed by a quick romp in the sheets. At least my head and body were in agreement about my being in withdrawal.

A shower and room service did me a world of good and I can faithfully report that I positively grinned as I ironed the wrinkles out of my trousers from where the uninvited--but oh so welcomed--stowaway had crushed them. I hated the time zones between us; I'd have loved to tell Elizabeth the thoughts of her I'd had last night. A quick e-mail would have to suffice.

Thankfully, the day pulled me in and kept my mind off the lonely hotel room that awaited me. We made some real progress that morning in the negotiations so I left them in Richard's capable hands while I checked in with our local office. They handed me several messages and a Fed Ex box marked “CONFIDENTIAL.” A quick glance at it revealed Elizabeth's handwriting; my muscles tightened at the thought of what it could contain.

With as much decorum as I could muster, I locked myself post-haste into a windowless office. The box wasn't as large as the one she'd placed in the suitcase, but I hoped that this was a continuation of her game. I pulled out the seemingly virginal light pink, lacy lingerie that I vaguely remembered from our shopping trip.

W:

Nothing is the same without you here.

Refresher Course: These are: a lacy, underwire bra and “low riding” panties. The undies don't show under those hip hugger pants of mine that you like so much - unless I bend over. Since you aren't here, I don't have much incentive to bend over.

I wore them yesterday and thought of you. E-

I floated through the rest of the day. I have no idea if my good mood made the negotiations go better or just seem to go better. Not that I cared. It was several hours before I thought about her wearing those pants when her mother introduced her to some stud. I stilled my jealous urges by thinking about the poor guy, drooling all over her perfect bum in those tight little pants, her flat abdomen just beckoning him…and all she could do was think of me.

Once I settled into the hotel room for the night, I took another moment to examine the items I'd hurriedly stuffed back into the box. My mind was inexorably drawn back to Elizabeth's full, rounded breasts with her prominent nipples as I studied the gossamer lace of the bra, trying to imagine what it looked like on her.. This was definitely something she would have to model for me when I got home. I ran it over my face, inhaling Elizabeth's perfume. I tried to imagine how much of Elizabeth the little panties covered and how far she'd have to bend over for me to see them. I was going to need very long shower.


She says:

He found my surprise! I woke to a very explicit e-mail from Will, telling me exactly what he wanted to do to me while I wore that corset. I had awakened at my usual hour but without Will around to pamper, it felt as if I'd been up forever. I had no idea how much of my time he occupied each morning.

I tried to read the paper over breakfast but I couldn't. Instead, I kept leaping forward in the day, anticipating what Will would think when he got today's package. Hopefully he'd get it early in the day.

I'd like to claim that I suffered the whole day--heaven knew Will's frequently text messages and e-mails made his dissatisfaction painfully clear--but the truth is that I didn't. Work was busy that day and the frequent communications with Will were more than we normally exchanged. But all good things must end and eventually my work day was done.

No way was I going to sit home alone and mope, though. The first part of my evening was filled with the tiny errands of daily life, the market and the bookstore, and with stops for my specialized plans for Will's welcome home, including our favorite toy store, a candle shop, and an import store. As long as I was busy I was fine.

The final store in my outing was conveniently located next to the restaurant where I met with the girls. It had been a long time since I'd been out with them and they wasted no time in grilling me all about Will. Thankfully, Jane was there and she was quite able to distract me from my growing loneliness. Turned out she knew exactly who last night's cutie was and was very, very excited to hear he'd been eager to listen to stories about her all night. She glowed with happiness. I passed her the slip of paper with his name and phone number that Mom had pressed into my hand the night before at the door. I had hoped for just this opportunity.

I piled stuff on his side of the bed and curled up with his pillow. I could survive this.

Wednesday

He says:

Another day of waking up alone and it was not any better the second time around. I looked at my small collection of Elizabeth's new lingerie, wondering if I would be adding to it today. For good luck, I tucked her low-riders - no way would I ever forget the name of those - into my inside coat pocket. I got a thrill just from thinking that she was close was within reach at all times. Occasionally I'd reach into my pocket just to touch the fabric. Everyone around me probably thought I was fiddling with a tape recorder or something but I could not have cared less about what they thought.

Elizabeth's next package arrived as a most embarrassing delivery in the middle of morning meetings. The Fed Ex guy required my signature to release the package. That minx! She knew I was scheduled for meetings that morning. All eyes were glued to the plastic pouch that he handed to me, marked “signature required” and “CONFIDENTIAL” in huge, red letters. It was a tiny pouch. I could feel some tiny slips of cloth and underwires inside the Tyvek. The woman next to me was overly curious.

“Aren't you going to open it? It must be very important.”

My face burned as I had a sudden vision of my hand paddling Elizabeth, clad in nothing but the pink undies in my pocket, on her pert little ass while she squirmed in my lap. It was embarrassing to realize how much that idea turned me on regardless of my surroundings.

Without looking at her, I mumbled something noncommittal. I have no idea what happened in the rest of that meeting. My mind was more pleasantly engaged in going through the contents of Elizabeth's lingerie drawers and trying to imagine what was in the plastic envelope. Worse, though, was that day's heavy schedule of meetings, site tours, and socializing left me with no time to open the package or savor my latest additions to my growing collection. I couldn't even pull out the note. This did not improve my mood. I wanted nothing more than to rush home and spend the night showing Elizabeth exactly what she was doing to me. I declined the after-dinner drinks and raced back to the hotel room, burning and eager.

Did you know that Tyvek does not tear?

I could not tear into the package. My keys proved inadequate. My teeth were not enough. I had to go to the concierge to borrow a pair of scissors and then--then I had to return to my room, calmly, before finally getting to look at the contents. Riding up in the elevator, holding what promised to be some of Elizabeth's underwear gave me an incredible rush. I distracted myself from the package in my hands by recalling that fateful ride.

At last, I was alone in the room with the package and the door locked. My hands shook slightly as I pulled out another set of lacy bits from our shopping trip. I had no idea, when we had gone, that we were buying for me. To say that the underwear she sent was small would be an understatement. An hourglass of fabric no bigger than my palm and what looked like two little strings. Yum! The bra confused me--it was too small to contain my Elizabeth--until I read the attached note:

Will's Refresher Course, continued: These are a pair of string bikini panties and a demi-bra. This bra has only enough fabric to support my breasts, not nearly enough to cover them entirely. I wore the bra under your favorite shirt yesterday, the one that you like to peek into. Wish you had been here to do that. It would have been a good day for it since I was peeking out anyway.

Situation critical. I went to the grocery to buy a melon but came home with a yummy looking cucumber instead! E-

Can anyone question why I love this woman? Was it just me or were the contents of the packages getting tinier?


She says:

Ah, Wednesday!

Will made the mistake of telling me that he'd be in meetings all morning. Wicked girl that I am, I made certain he'd get his daily package in the middle of one. I resisted the urge to put a big red lipstick mark on the outside of the package. After all, it's much naughtier if everyone else just wonders while Will squirms in his knowledge. It worked, too! He messaged me from his phone, “U R bad - never change”. I felt good about it all day.

I wore my favorite bustier under my suit to work. I needed a little pick me up. It might be my favorite day of the week but not even that was going to bring Will back. He called me at lunch and between meetings. I'd say my plan to keep him thinking about me was very effective. There was no chance he'd be staying in that hotel a second longer than was necessary. I went out to celebrate the day's Wednesday-ness with Jane, who was full of joy after having talked on the phone with Charles for hours on end. It was wonderful to see Jane's eyes sparkle like that; I hadn't known that she had secretly been in love with this guy for years. She had mooned over him all through college and now they had plans for Friday night.

Come to think of it, so did I.


Thursday

He says:

Thursday dragged. When the Fed Ex package did not arrive that morning I started to worry. By mid-afternoon, I was chafing to receive the package. I was completely unable to concentrate, I looked at every person who walked by the office door, expecting my package. As the day wore on and no package arrived I got grouchier. I sent her several text messages. All she answered was “don't forget souvenirs.” Never would answer whether she had sent another package. By the end of the day, I had a thorough-going case of black mood.

We finished the deal anyway. All that remained was to ink it the next day. I heard mutterings of, “male PMS” and “woman troubles.” I was in no mood to explain; it was none of their business anyway. We went out to have drinks in celebration right after the talks concluded. I should not have had so many drinks, but I was disappointed and frankly, a little worried. I could not get the image of all those other men out of my mind. Maybe the one her mother had introduced to her had called her up and they had gone out when she was in that little bit of a bra and my favorite shirt.

Miserable and not so very sober, I dragged my sorry self into the hotel. The staff at the front desk waved; they had a letter for me. My heart skipped a beat at its bright blues and reds. A FedEx letter! Grateful, I snatched the letter from the woman and anxiously awaited the elevator. Never has the progress of an elevator been so slow. It was an age before I was up in my room. Teasing, teasing woman. I thought she'd forgotten me.

I was sufficiently inebriated so that it took me a moment to realize that the only thing in that slender envelope was a tiny scrap of silk. No bra. How did she go to work without a bra? Not even my foggy brain needed to be told that I held a thong in my hands. The note was short and to the point:

Will's Refresher Course, continued: Thong. No bra at all. Have unearthed my vibrator; safe for me to enter the grocery again.

I hate you for leaving me here alone. E-

I fell asleep with it under my cheek.


She says:

Okay, so I have a very wicked side. The poor man suffered all day long, impatient, when the next shipment of my personals didn't arrive that morning. He sent me several plaintive requests. One thing that William Darcy didn't yet know about me was that I am a fabulous keeper of secrets. There was no way I'd give him even the slightest hint that a package was coming his way. So, I talked about anything but the packages; refused to even mention them. I could tell by the end of the day that he was sulking just by the petulant tone of his communiqués. Poor baby!

Not that I could spare the time to enjoy it. I took a vacation day; work would not have held my attention and I knew it. Besides, I couldn't think of any way to carry out my final day's plan and go to work. Not without lying. One thing about William, deception of any sort wigs him out. So, you see, I had to stay home that day.

Well, home except for a couple of last minute errands including final stop off at the FedEx station. The guy there knew me personally by now and openly speculated on my daily mailing habits but I couldn't be bothered to enter into his banter. He assured me of the delivery times and I left as quickly as possible. I was a woman on a mission. What would Will make of my final missive?

I wanted to remind him of our fateful elevator ride. Minus the power outage, of course, and in a far more comfortable place. Really more of a symbolic rejoining and celebration of my most glorious Wednesday ever. I replaced all the normal bulbs in the apartment with red ones. Hey, I make no apologies for my new fetish for Will and red light.

I made the bed with some buttery silk sheets I bought online. I had to shop around for more than a month to find them in red. They cost an absolute fortune but I really do love the feeling of sandwashed silk against my skin and marking Will's return seemed a fitting occasion for a splurge. Until the moment I saw them on the bed, I was uncertain whether it was a stroke of genius or if I had been silly to spend more than $700 on sheets. How could I have doubted? Once I saw them on the bed and laid on them naked, I knew I'd made a great investment.

If it weren't for the fact that I have an aversion to extra work, I'd have pulled out those cute black jogging shorts of his for him to wear. But what would the point of that have been? I'd just have to pull them right back off him. Besides, since that day, I get so worked up when I see him in them that I can't last at all. I get warm just thinking about what he looked like that day, skin glowing red, cute little undies peeking out. He once laughed when I suggested bronzing those shorts-- like he thought I was joking. I wasn't. They should at least get framed in one of those shadow boxes and hung in a place of honor. Like above the bed that Will had finished not long after our elevator tryst. Never had I had so much fun christening a new piece of furniture. It was good to know that Will's engineering skills were up to the stress tests our workout gave it.

Will's apartment looked great, especially bathed in a warm red glow. Almost as great as Will would look.

I'd planned his homecoming before he even left. It was a matter of a couple hours work to make certain everything was exactly as I wanted it. I spent the afternoon in bed, luxuriating in the feeling of being swathed in silk from head to toe and becoming reacquainted with my former best friend. He needed a new set of batteries and he wasn't nearly as satisfying as Will, but he helped me release the week's pent up frustrations. My last night alone (hurrah!) was spent in the hot tub with a lovely Chianti, listening to Barry White, and enjoying the success of my plans. Just one more to go and then this ordeal was done.

Friday

He says:

I awoke disoriented, a tiny bit of silk glued to my cheek. I was just as miserable as I had been every other morning of this damned trip. Familiarity with an empty bed had not improved my opinion of it. I peeled the fabric from my face, my addled brain cells finally clicking to the attached note. I couldn't help grinning at Elizabeth's version of “I love you.” We would never be one of those sickly sweet couples who call each other “Pookie” and smother each other in syrupy love. No. “I hate you for leaving me here alone,” was direct and to the point. I just had to text back:

“I've always had a thing for women who hate me.”

Full of purpose, I hurriedly packed without a single care for the state my clothes would arrive home in. I wouldn't need them for a while anyway. I carefully stowed all of Elizabeth's new lingerie in the original box and tucked it last into the suitcase. The notes I carefully saved in my wallet for handy reference. This morning I would ink a major deal and this evening I would be in the arms of my own personal, sex goddess. With a light heart, I stepped to the front desk to check out.

“Mr. Darcy!” I hated the way the desk clerk cooed at me. Where had she gotten the idea that I was looking to pick up a woman on my way out of town? “What timing. We've just received an urgent communication for you.” She looked expectantly at me.

“Yes?” I was not about to beg her for my mail. “Where is it?”

“Oh. Yes.” She handed over a standard sized envelope. A FedEx envelope from Elizabeth! Unlike previous envelopes, though, this one was marked “OPEN IMMEDIATELY.” Stupidly, I did just that without stopping to think of the consequences of pulling Elizabeth's undergarments out in front of the nosey clerk. I looked in the envelope.

Nothing.

I shook it gently; peered in. It was empty. The desk clerk looked confused but I got the message. My amusement bubbled up and despite my dislike of public emotional displays, I laughed so long that I gasped for air. Here was my own Elizabeth's none too subtle reminder that she was waiting - anxiously. I did not care about the men who wanted her or about her mother who had no clue I existed or even about the guy she must have met on Monday. Elizabeth left no doubt in my mind who ranked number one; everything else would fall into place with time.

Everything just kept getting better from then on. There were no last minute hitches and I left early for the airport. Efficient air traffic controllers and the jet stream conspired to get me home early. I decided not to tell her I was coming home before she expected me. She'd had far too much fun at my expense and I believe in giving as good as I get. I wanted to see what the little hellcat was up to and I rather enjoyed having a surprise of my own for her.

My first sight of the apartment interior was a shock. I wasn't certain what in the hell she was up to, but apparently she'd been rather busy in my absence.

I followed her hum and found her, stark naked and peering into shower, a hand gingerly testing the water temperature. Her pert ass was one of the things that had caught my attention the very first time I saw her. Between that time and our elevator tryst, I'd spent countless hours fantasizing about that ass of hers.

So there I was, horny beyond belief, staring at my own Elizabeth's heart shaped rear end. It just begged me to caress it. I tried as best I could not to startle her, but of course I did.

Our first kiss after our separation was searing. I put everything I'd felt all week for her into that kiss, trying to communicate my loneliness, my passion, and my happiness at finding her naked, as nature had intended when it graced her with that luscious body. I graciously accepted her invitation to join her.


She says:

Patience may be a virtue; it just isn't one of mine. I woke up early - of course - and couldn't get back to sleep. Cleaning the breakfast dishes, putting away the last of the laundry, last minute dusting, and setting the table for a decadent dinner was not enough to fill up the time I had to wait; the day stretched before me like a blank canvas.

Mind you, I knew that I would end up in just that situation so I had bought a book earlier that week when I was out running errands. Thank god for Toni Morrison and her habit of publishing more quickly than I could make time to read. What with moving to a new city, starting a new job, and having Will around to keep me busy, my reading time just wasn't as plentiful anymore. There's something deeply satisfying about settling down with a book by a favorite author and an entire day of leisure in which to enjoy it. I curled up with my new paperback, its stiff spine announcing its virginity, and set an alarm so that I wouldn't forget to get ready for Will's return. As if!

I passed the intervening time in a blissful cloud and was pleasantly surprised when the buzzer sounded. It was time to begin playing girl and I was model of efficiency. I let my facial mask do its magic while painting my toenails. I have this fire engine red that sends Will through the roof. I don't understand it really. My feet aren't that pretty, you know? They're just feet and they get a lot of abuse. But, hey, I'm not one to argue with anything of mine turning Will on.

That thought, of course, led me back to my long distance seduction. I wondered whether it had been effective. It wasn't the easiest thing to do, keeping a man of Will's caliber hot and bothered all week long when I couldn't see him or touch him. I rinsed my face, wondering what sort of mood he'd be in on his return, and started my shower. Perhaps not really my shower, since I was in Will's apartment. Prior to moving in with him, I'd always been a bath kind of girl. In fact, beyond needing to maintain my original address to keep Mom in the dark as long as possible, my reason for keeping my apartment was its Jacuzzi. Not just any Jacuzzi, mind you, but one in which I could recline. It alone had sold me on the apartment.

It took an extraordinary shower to blast me out of my tub. Most days, that was easily accomplished. I'd have showered with Will even if it was one of those camping contraptions where the sun heats up a few gallons in a plastic jug. Alas, my hunk was sitting in another city.

By all rights, I should have headed down to my little slice of Heaven. But then, Will's glass enclosed shower is no slacker. It's tiled in lovely Italian slate, just rough enough to not be slick without straying into the abrasive realm. The shower system is an amazing array of showerheads, body sprays, and the all important hand-held. That shower will always live in my memory. I was just reaching in to test the water temperature…

“Are you the woman who sends her panties across state lines to tantalize lonely men?”

To say that I startled was an understatement. I won't say that my life passed before my eyes, but I was pretty glad to have gone to the bathroom earlier. My heart pounded and my stomach lurched. What the hell was he doing home already? Had I gotten the times mixed up?

His deep voice turned to silky cream as his eyes traveled up and down my body. “What a lovely sight to greet a lonely man home from his travels.” He had learned my pout and put it to effective use. “Is that the best welcome you can muster when I came rushing home to ravish you?”

I wrapped myself around him pronto, melding my lips to his. His previous absence intensified my response to his physical presence. How could he be sexier than I remembered? It mattered not to me because his hands were already clasping me close against him, the wool of his suit pants making my legs itch. I could ignore it for a little while - I mean, this was Will Darcy, I was prepared to overlook discomfort - but eventually the itch collided with the burn he inspired and I had to have him out of those pants for more than one reason.

“Would you like to join me in the shower?” I didn't wait for an answer as I started fiddling with his belt

“Do you think there was any chance that I'd let that luscious body of yours out of my sight anytime in the next forty-eight hours?” The huskiness in his voice felt almost as good as what his fingers were doing to me. Honestly, I doubted he'd let me out of his touch for the next two days. Which was just fine by me.

I've never been one for bathroom play. I like watching it in movies but Mom was always so paranoid that we'd fall and break our noses when we were growing up that I'd inherited a fear of anything resembling play in the tub or around the pool. I grew up to be a bathroom prude.

That was before meeting with Will that day in his amazing shower. I hadn't seen him in an entire week; I spent the first part of the shower in awe of the man standing proudly before me. Rivulets of water coursed over his pectorals as he stood in the spray, caressing the length of his long, muscular thighs on its way out of the shower.

His eyes sparkled mischievously as I gawked. “Would you care to explain why the apartment looks like a bordello?”

Talk about a mood killer. “Excuse me?” I hated the thin and high pitch of my voice. I was sorely tempted to push him out of the water and hog it myself. “What do you mean by that crack?”

“I never thought I lived in the red light district…or was there a run on regular bulbs I'm unaware of? I suppose I should just be glad that I didn't come home to the blue light special…”

“I thought that it would be nice to evoke the sense of our first time together. You looked irresistible in that red emergency lighting and well, you know the rest…”

He melted. The teasing light in his eyes morphed into something deeper and more thrilling. We stood together in the water's warm glove, kissing deeply. He explored every part of my mouth as he hugged me so closely to his body that I could barely breathe. I didn't really care, though, as my mind was more agreeably engaged elsewhere. I could have died happy there in his arms. Luckily for me, Will had better plans.

He gently released me, waiting until I'd found my equilibrium again before he stepped out of the water. He returned with my favorite soap and a washcloth.

“Shhh. No. Let me pamper you, my own. I've been away for so long, aching to be here instead. Let me enjoy you.”

Yeah, it was my turn to melt.

I don't know that he enjoyed me, but I did enjoy that shower. He rubbed the soapy cloth first across my back, deeply massaging my muscles with his strong fingers right through the cloth, continuing downward where he reverently stroked each of my buttocks. Normally that would have embarrassed me beyond belief, but Will was a typical T&A man. He'd made no secret of his near spiritual adoration of my assets; it turned me on to know that handling my bottom was making him horny. As he did, he whispered in my ear all about the fantasies he'd had about the panties I'd sent, imagining how each one would have cupped my “tight ass” and the way that the thong string would disappear, inviting his further exploration into my mysteries.

He continued on down my legs, massaging my muscles and telling me how much he liked wrapping them around his neck, deeply penetrating my “velvet length,” how much he liked to feel my strong thighs grip him when I straddled him. I was aching for his hands to slip around and release the tension that he was building but I was too mesmerized by his silky voice whispering words of love and devotion to dream of doing anything to shorten his declarations. He told me how much he missed me, how every evening was filled with lonely fantasies, and how every morning was a bitter beginning. Every revelation spoke of his love for me, his need for me, his desire for me.

I saw his wicked grin as he took in - for the first time, apparently - my freshly painted toes. He ever so gently washed my feet, tenderly working the cloth down between my toes and firmly rubbing my feet so as not to tickle. This was a huge sacrifice for him, I'm sure, since my ticklish nature gives him great pleasure.

From there, he worked his way back up my front. He spent a long time making sure that my legs were fully relaxed, moving the cloth the length of my thigh over and over, dipping inside my thighs but maddeningly only brushing past my center where I throbbed with my need for him. His hands followed a far too chaste trail up my hips and to my waist. I don't think that my bellybutton has ever been as clean as it was that night. I catalogued that as one more body part of mine that Will loved. He quizzed me without mercy about which of the pieces of lingerie I had sent would cover my navel when I wore them. To be honest, I have no idea what I answered because I would have told him anything at that point to make him relent.

He was a man on a mission, though, and I deeply suspect it was to build up as much tension in me in that one shower as he'd felt the entire time he was away. I don't really think that's fair, but at the time I hadn't a thought in my head about fairness. I was on fire and every nerve ending wanted him to touch it, though I was desperate to feel him deep inside me, back where he belonged.

He washed my breasts with as much attention to detail and physical glory as he had my bottom. His deep voice washed over me as he reverently described his passion for my “perky breasts” and “pert nipples.” He loved the way they communicated my arousal as surely as his hard on communicated his. He liked knowing what he did to me.

Looking back on it, I sounded like some 50's school girl, all tight, perky, and pert - adjectives I'd always resisted. But when Will was worshipping at my altar and describing how much he enjoyed watching me, even doing something simple like walking, because of the incomparable views it offered, well…those bubbly words became downright lewd and turned me on.

He treated my arms to a heavenly massage, giving my fingers the same detailed attention that he gave my toes. That shower was a panoply of wonderful sensations, but the feeling of his large hands dwarfing mine, gently massaging my palms until my hands were boneless, was an unexpected highlight.

He grabbed the hand-held sprayer and efficiently rinsed me down, removing all traces of soap. Just as I moved to return to the showerhead to wet down my hair, he snaked an arm around me and stayed my progress. My confusion died as quickly as it flared; Will aimed the hand-held directly between my legs, giving relief to my throbbing flesh.

“You think I didn't know how much you like this, my own Elizabeth? I bet you use this whenever I'm not here with you.” I didn't bother to deny the truth. “Just relax, I've got you…” And he did. He gently lowered me to the shower floor without ever breaking the stream of water giving me such intense pleasure. I'm not certain, but I think that I was coming before I even felt the floor. Will again plundered my mouth, his tongue thrusting as if trying to join me in my private journey. I have no idea how long we were there on the floor; time had stopped flowing.

Eventually, though, I realized where we were and looked around the large shower area. “You know, Will, this is about the size and shape of that elevator…” I didn't get any further. I briefly saw his passion flare before I found myself on my feet and backed up against the wall, just like we'd been in the elevator. He'd obviously talked himself into a frenzy. Will never comes that quickly but he was just as wound up as I'd been. I felt bad that I'd obviously gotten the better end of tonight's shower, but Will wouldn't hear of my protests. He gently washed my hair, dried me off, and wrapped me in a robe.

We never made it to dinner that night. We went straight to bed and snuggled in, reveling in the pleasure of feeling each other. I love the way his hard body feels against mine, his hairs tickling my breasts and thighs. I finally fell asleep, promising myself that tomorrow I'd return tonight's favor three-fold. It only seemed fair, after all.


He says:

Great to be home. Great shower sex. Everything Elizabeth touches turns to gold. The red lights were hokey but whatever she did to the sheets was fabulous; they felt better than I ever remembered. Then again, everything is better with my own Elizabeth.

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