Tease

I must admit that the idea didn’t really appeal, not my sort of thing at all. Stu, however, wanted to try it. He said it’d be fun, do something different, outside the box. He’s been talking a lot more about ‘this sort of thing’ since Adam left for University. Maybe he’s having a mid-life crisis or something. Or maybe it’s because it’s just the two of us again. I  can see that. I do miss my son, of course, but  I’m also enjoying having the house to ourselves again, it reminds me of when we first got married.

You remember, back before the kids; back when neither of you owned a nightdress or pyjamas; back when neither of you bothered carrying a change of clothes into the bathroom for a shower; back when you had lengthy breakfasts in bed.

So I thought, why not.

And we ‘made a date’; Sunday evening.

*

It’s Sunday morning and I still have no idea what I’m going to do and how I’m  going to do it.

Wing it, I suppose.

Stu normally makes the running when we, you know. I’m quite happy with that—just going along for the ride, so to speak. But this time I’ll have to make the decisions, set the tempo, decide what, when and how much. And what’s weird is that I feel surprisingly intimidated by that, which is ludicrous. I’ve chaired meetings of a dozen Chief Execs., given speeches to large conferences, even been interviewed on telly.

It’s funny, isn’t it, what’s in and what’s out of one’s comfort zone?

*

“Not too tight?”

Stu shook his head, beaming from ear to ear.

I’d picked out a couple of my older scarfs, I’m certainly not using my newest and nicest, they’re bound to get stretched. In fact I’d be bloody disappointed if they didn’t. If I can’t, at least, get my husband writhing about a bit then I will feel middle aged.

I chuckled to myself—let’s hope he doesn’t fall asleep, that really would be a kick in the teeth.

I tied the other wrist, stood up and stared down at my husband.

A Cheshire cat was staring back up at me, wide eyed with anticipation.

And I stood there, chewing my bottom lip.

Jesus, I wish he didn’t look so excited. Right, what am I going to do now? Come on, think woman.

I sighed.

As I wracked my brains I took in his nicely toned torso. He was pretty good for his age. So was I, I reckoned. OK, I’d got a little bit of a tum, my boobs were starting their journey south and I’d a slightly wobbly arse; but apart from that… But Stu, apart from rapidly greying, was still a fine looking man.

I fanned my face, suddenly a bit flushed.

As I pulled off my jumper, Stu’s eyes lit up.

Oh God.  OK, at least go and put something sexy on.

Stu’s mouth dropped open and he craned his neck as I walked towards the bedroom door.

“What…? Where…?”

*

My own wardrobe being full of sensible day to day wear I went to the spare room, and the chest of drawers where I kept the collection of ‘sexy’ lingerie.  Most, needless to say, bought by my husband; most, needless to say, worn just the once.

Emptying it all onto the floor I rummaged through the pile and quickly realised that some of it was actually really rather nice.

Some of it, of course, was completely and utterly impractical. Now, there was something I really didn’t understand; impractical lingerie. What on earth was the point of lingerie that just left all your bits hanging out; I mean, it was about as sexy as a woolly hat and wellies. Surely the point of sexiness was imagination, that was why sheer fabric was invented.

Hands on hips, I tutted, realising that I should have tried this lot on earlier.

Ding.

A lightbulb moment.

*

God, I had to laugh, Stu’s face was an absolute picture of disbelief and disappointment when I walked back into the bedroom still fully dressed. He looked a tad confused, bless him. I dropped the pile of lingerie onto the foot of the bed and glanced across the room at the tall, body-length mirror in the far corner. I carried it over to the end of the bed. He now looked very confused.

Back at the foot of the bed I spread the pile and stood back, one hand on my hip, the other cupping my chin.

“Now,” I said, “it’s been a while since I’ve worn any of this stuff, so which one should I try on first?”

“Can I suggest—?”

“No you can’t.”

I pulled out a black lacy set.

And left the room.

Stu’s wide, bemused eyes followed my every step.

Anticipation, I thought, as I got changed in the hall, sexiness was all about anticipation. I sauntered back in to our bedroom and over to the mirror. I did a twirl or two. I bent over a few times. Alright, I exaggeratingly bent over a few more times than I needed to.

Mmm, not bad.

“What do you think?” I said, glancing down the bed, noting, with raised eyebrows, that I had his complete and undivided attention. “Marks out of ten for sexiness?”

“Erm…,” he said, “you or the lingerie?”

I mulled that over for a moment. “An aggregate.”

“Three”

“Three?”

“Yep.”

“OK,” I said, striding from the room,  “only three.”

I had picked out a bodysuit this time.

Oh, you should have seen his face when I came back. He actually whimpered. Yes ladies, he whimpered. And d’you know what, it felt fantastic. I feel a bit embarrassed admitting it now, but I felt an exhilarating sense of power.

“What do you think about this one?” I said, slowly turning in a full circle.

“Four.”

“Four!”

“Yep.”

My eyes narrowed. He laughed. OK mister, you want to play, we’ll play.

Grumbling, I picked up the pile of lingerie and marched from the room.

*

Four! Cheeky sod.

I should have done this from the start, kept the pile outside, not let him know what’s coming next.

As I took my time changing in the hall I had to admit to myself that I was revelling in the tease, and the challenge. What could I do? What couldn’t I do? Could I make him, you know, without me, you know, doing, you know?

The third change got me a six. Although I did add in a little striptease. I enjoyed that.

By the fourth change I was way beyond enjoying myself. And I hadn’t realised how much he liked stockings and suspenders—bloody uncomfortable things.

By the time I got to the fifth I was as randy as a stoat and Stu was foaming at the mouth.

By the time I’d finished with the last items I had organised piles of lingerie that had been thoroughly market tested. I was also utterly and completely gagging for it. Stu looked close to tears.

Slowly I crawled up the bed towards him. I didn’t bother untying him. And he didn’t ask.

Twenty minutes later, thoroughly exhausted, we were snoring; nightdress, pyjamas, and the stretched scarves, all over the floor.