Four days went by after our conversation. I knew it was on her mind, so I didn't feel the need to ask her for an update. On the fourth day I stopped by her store on the way home from work, and she ran to greet me and hug me. As we hugged she whispered in my ear, "I have a date tonight."
She seemed so happy. And to be honest, the passionate hug she gave me got a rise out of me even before she told me the news.
"He asked again?"
"Yes."
"And what did you say?"
"I said yes." She moved back from hugging me, and it was clear she was waiting to see my reaction to the news that it - IT! - was going happen. Looking at her I pictured her naked and spreading her legs for her boss, and the words came out without any filter.
"Oh my God, that's great!" I said. "How did you get him to ask?"
I could see the relief on her face: our conversation the other night still stood! She relaxed before my eyes, lowered her voice and said, "Leaving an extra button open on my shirt was all it took."
I checked out the button-down shirt she was wearing. Two buttons were undone at the top, and the effect was modestly sexy. I tried to picture what would be visible if another button was undone, and again, the words just fell out of my mouth.
"I hope you're wearing a pretty bra."
The weird thing was, I really meant it. My head was spinning from a hundred images and thoughts that were competing for my brain's blood-deprived attention. The image that won out was of my wife opening her shirt so her boss could see her bra... and what was in it. And the winning thought was that she did it to let him know that she changed her mind about fucking him.
"I am. I was hoping today was the day, so I came prepared."
"Could you show me? Could I see what he saw?" I was suddenly overcome with embarrassment, and was about to apologize, when Hannah looked at me and smiled.
"Sure," she said. "I'd really like to show you. Come with me."
We walked together to the back of the store, and as we walked Hannah undid another button. Then she bent over, as if straightening the merchandise on a low table. I looked and saw... everything. I saw her bra - black, lacy and low-cut - and I saw the pale skin of her breasts through the lace. She saw me looking (staring, actually) and said, "That's what he did when he saw me, too."
"Then what happened?" I whispered.
"Each time he looked at me, I smiled at him and held my pose. It took about ten minutes before he said, 'That's a really nice view.'
"When he said that, I knew it was time. I stopped smiling, but never looked away. I said, 'There's a lot more to see, if you're interested.'
"I watched his face, and saw him look down at my tits again. He said, 'I'm VERY interested.' So I have a date tonight."
Months later, I asked her if it was hard for her to say that to me - to tell me she was going to fuck another man. She said she thought it would be, but my reaction was so positive that it was way easier than she expected, especially when I asked to see what she looked like with the button open. We didn't know it at the time, but we were setting the ground rules for the next four years of our marriage: she would fuck her lover, and I would help her feel good about doing it... and get VERY excited.
And wow, was I excited. I thought I would burst out of my pants. If I could have, I would have pulled out my penis and masturbated right there, seeing my wife's body the way her soon-to-be lover saw it. Looking at her lace-covered breast, I remembered that she had said she would "make sure" he asked again. She sure as hell did.
She remained leaning over as long as possible, then quickly stood up, buttoned that extra button and said, "Time for me to get back to work."
"I hope you have a really good time tonight," I said softly.
She looked at me with a mixture of love and amusement. "You really mean that, don't you?"
Her asking me that made me think about what I had said: I told her I hoped she enjoyed fucking another man tonight. Again the image of her naked, lying down and spreading her legs for Dante flashed in front of my eyes, and I realized that I actually DID mean it. And right now, my job was to make sure Hannah knew that I wanted her to do this.
"Yes, I really mean it. Do you still think you can tell me about it afterward?"
She smiled with that combination of happiness and what I was just beginning to understand as her look of sexual excitement. "I promise I'll tell you all about it when we're done," she said, using the pronoun "we" for the first of many, many times.
I went to give her a kiss goodbye, and she offered me her cheek - not her lips. I kissed her chastely, said "I love you," and I left.