This time, I have tried to 'see' things from a 'sub-perspective' -- hoping you will not just find it 'more of the same'.
Comments and critique are as usual very, very welcome -- and thank you for reading.
Chapter One
Prologue
"You coming downstairs? It's getting late and I want to be there on time!"
George's voice boomed up the staircase and all the way into her dressing room, where she stood -- still naked -- before the mirror.
She had started her preparations early. Half-heartedly expecting George to sneak in and throw her on the floor and fuck her with a passion. Like he had done many times in the first years of their marriage. Of course, he had not. He had probably got himself ready a long time ago and was now sitting at his computer working on some client report.
Janine turned in front of the full-length bathroom mirror. She was not bad looking for a woman going on 30, she thought, although she did not have a 'model' figure.
On the contrary, she was not very tall, and had a fairly solid build for a woman. She found that her body shape 'compensated' her height by being the well-proportioned.
Right now, she was looking over her shoulder in to the mirror, and squeezing her buttocks with both hands. Satisfied that they were firm, and that there was only the slightest fold under them.
She turned and let her hands slip up to cup her breasts, lift them and giving them a slight press.
'Quite a nice handful,' she thought as she studied the smooth skin and the distinct alveola's. The size was just a little too big for her own hands, but knew they fitted perfectly in George's bigger paws. Oh, how she wished he would squeeze them hard and bite her nipples. Just once maybe? Instead of the always soft, tender and tickling way he had when they made love.
Almost absent minded, she let her thumbs move over the tips -- getting an instant reaction. Then squeezing them a little, making herself moan.
She continuing by letting the tips of her thumbs go around the nip, caressing the reddish and sensitive skin, thinking that her alveoli's might be a little too large? She tried hiding them behind three fingers -- and just about managed. She smiled.
Sensing that the breath had become slightly faster, and the rest of her body had begun to react to the touch. Most noticeable that she was moisturizing between her legs.
She moved her hands down to her waist and took a deep breath.
Inspecting further: Slim waist -- check, flat stomach -- check, defined arms and legs -- but not overly muscular or 'upholstered' -- check.
Her weekly trips to the workout center paid off. Kept her body in shape and not deteriorating.
After all, she was serious about her workout -- as one of the few women, in her circle of acquaintances.
She slipped into her black, sexy, see-through bra and matching mini-panties, then began brushing her hair, making a perfect parting in the middle of the head. She was very proud of her hair. After much trial-and-error she had now had the hair dyed in discreet stripes. Her natural light brown colour being mixed with lighter almost blonde, long curls that framed her head nicely. She had had the expensive dying done so that on top of her head, she had most of her light brown colour, but as the hair cascaded down on the sides of her head, it became lighter and lighter. 'A prefect frame', she thought. Finishing with the brush.
George had not liked it at first as he was a man believing in the 'natural look'. Something he said often, but eventually he had gotten used to it and actually begun to like the way it seemed to change with the light.
She was no great believer in plucking eyebrows -- and had had many thoughts about her natural rather wide, and dark brows. Her decision had ended up with simply plucking to outline the shape in a way that made them somewhat contrasting her very clear and very, very light green eyes. One of her most enticing features according to George - and the one thing that had made him fall flat on his face the first time he had seen her.
Now a very discrete little darkening above them and on the lids -- and a short mascara made her smile.
Her nose was a little too long -- and not very elegant in her own opinion, but she settled with the fact that it went well with her slightly defined cheekbones, her little chin and her wide mouth.
The latter getting a little more attention as she applied the usual very discrete, light red colour. Her lips were not normally visible at the edges, when her mouth was closed. There was a short, thin line before the upside down, flat 'w' and the rounded lower lips that gave her, what George called 'the sexiest, most kissable mouth in town'.
She had deliberately -- and as usual -- 'underdone' her make-up. She preferred the discrete look, but even more so when they went for their regular, monthly 'outings' and dinner with John.
She had often wondered about the somewhat 'screaming' make-up some of the women John brought along to their gatherings had had.
She slipped into her little black, lace dress, and stepped into her high heels. Those being the comfortable - not too high - model that she preferred to wear. It lifted her up into the real world, as George often remarked, and had a heel wide enough for her to wear all day at work and walk about comfortable without being tired.
She was quite aware that her -- male - colleagues at the Real Estate agent, she worked for usually gave her more than one look, when she walked down the hall.
Having stepped into the heels, she did a last inspection. Flashing her eyes in front of the mirror.
--
Of course, George sat at the computer. He had just put his regular 'black-tie-going-out-suit' on, shaved and polished his shoes.
He did not look up when she descended the staircase, but hammered on the keyboard for a few seconds longer, before slamming the laptop's lid down.
She still found him very attractive - and wondered why their sex-life had become an 'in bed-at-night' habit -- and a boring one as such.
Usually he would creep closer and begin to caress her gently -- after which he would roll on top of her and she would pretend to be horny - and fake her orgasm as he huffed and puffed and emptied his load inside her.
If he just knew what was going on in her mind as he moved in and out of her -- if only he knew!
She stroked his head gently and looked down at him: His short jet-black hair, dark eyes, exotic look -- all the things that had made her fall for him at first glance. She had imagined some fiery semi-Italian lover that would take her -- early and late -- with or especially without - her own will.
It had indeed been so in the beginning, but now it seemed to have turned into a habitual 3-4 times a week -- and only in the semi darkness of their bedroom.
She gave an almost silent sigh as he got up.
--
They walked the short distance to John's house at the end of the road.
Their house was like most of the houses on the road. Modern, bright and spacious. A typically upper middle-class area. Her job at the Real Estate agent was well-paid by a combination of fixed wages and commission. George had his own, independent business consultancy helping companies to move forward. Usually as they had stagnated for one reason or the other.
Their neighbour on one side was a middle-aged man and wife. Both doctor's and seemingly always working and never at home -- and on the other side a couple on early retirement: The Armstrong's. Funding their senior life by stock market speculation.
Everybody had at least two cars in their garages -- and almost all of the cars a notch or two above your average family compact.
John's house was different. It was on a low hill at the end of the street. On a much larger piece of land. The front overlooking the street from its elevated position. Behind it was nothing but meadows and threes, which one could enjoy from a very large terrace.
Designed by a well-known architect it looked like a series of whitewashed, flat 'boxes' placed irregularly on top of each other. Making the house follow the curves of the hill in an elegant manner.
John dealt in Modern Art, had a gallery in town -- and 4 expensive cars in his garage.
They had run into each other shortly after she and George had moved in. At the yearly 'community grill party' held on an open space and playground at the opposite end of the street from John's house. All three of them had been rather bored, but had found common ground as they started talking. Moving away from the general small-talk these events usually consisted of, to their interest in art, music, opera and ballet.
From then on they had met regularly and at least once a month. Going to exhibitions, ballets, opera and ballet together, and having a meal afterwards either at John's or their house.
They always enjoyed each other's company and the little pause from the everyday hum-drum that these occasions provided.
John was unmarried and apparently unattached, but almost always had a female companion at their dinners. By now she had found out that he had 4 women that he took turns inviting to their little 'parties'. She was still curious about his relationship with these four women. If they were 'window dressing' or if he actually had a more affectionate relationship with one or more of them. They all seemed to move around him with some affection, but never openly kissed or embraced.
At the top of the long, slightly winding staircase from the street to the front door, John stood smiling and greeted them.
Today they were just going for dinner, as the opera they had wanted to go to had been sold out, and for once -- John had not been able to procure tickets through one of his many connections.
After all, a one-night guest performance of a famous Italian opera company had been sold out in record time.
John was not in a black-tie, but sportier jacket and trousers. Sand coloured. She thought that the colour matched his hair and eyes, and wondered why he -- as some men -- always looked at ease and elegant. She thought that he would be elegant and charming looking - even if he wore an old sack...
Janine's Journey
by o_girl ©
Chapter Two
An unusual dinner...
After a splendid 5-course dinner, prepared and served by the chef and the helpers, John usually relied on for these occasions, they sat in the spacious living room.
The two girls serving just bringing trays with coffee, cognac and Petit-Fours and distributing it on the low, very modern glass table.
That would be their last duty of the evening -- and as the silently floated out of the room, Janine knew they would leave the kitchen spotless before the chef drove them all off in his van.
The music of a soft baroque quartet filled the room from the hidden speakers.
They were full and content -- and the speed of the conversation had gone into a low gear.
