Three weeks is a really long time, she decides. It has been twelve days since he left on his trip, and she was feeling pretty lonely. Twelve days, five hours, nineteen minutes since his lips brushed her cheek and he whispered "goodbye" that morning. She really didn't think it would be that big of a deal. A relief, she thought. She could finally work on the house the way she wanted, without him in the way, and do some... stuff. And, yeah, the first four days were filled with business and connections with friends and cleaning and re-arranging. Really nice. But her friends one by one all told her that they had their own lives. Not in so many words, but they made it clear that just because she had a relaxing break from her husband, they didn't have the same freedom. There were kids and volunteer meetings and all that. Her kids are grown, except for the one in high school whom she hardly ever sees.
Frankly, it sucks. The house isn't all that big, but it is desperately quiet and sullen. She is used to him being at home because he works at home, so their lives are filled with their conversations. Since he's been gone, she is only able to talk to him in the evening, after his work is done. Why didn't she go with him? Whose idiotic idea was it for her to stay home alone? Oh, yeah. It was hers. Stupid.
Now she just wanted to hear his voice. Now. She picked up her cell phone. The one she got on their family plan. She put it down. He wouldn't want to hear from her now. He's working. He'd consider her to be an interruption. Why did he have to go all the way across the country to do this work anyway? Stupid corporate sponsors. Don't they know what they do to families with these demands?
She decided to see if she could take a nap. Anything to make the time pass. She flopped on top of the covers. She lay for a moment. She turned over. She closed her eyes. She opened them again and stared at the ceiling. She closed them again. She turned on her side. After a moment, she reached down and scratched her ankle. This just isn't going to work, she thought. Then she realized that her hand was still scratching, softly, against her thigh. Did she really want to talk to him? No, what she wanted was his touch. His breath on her skin. His callused fingers caressing her back and neck and legs and...
She got up quickly and stripped her clothes off. She lay back on the bed, her legs spread wide, her finger within her, touching...no. Not like that. She pinched her nipples, rubbing one while she searched for her clit...nothing. He probably has done this plenty of times since he left but she can't stir herself to even get wet.
She bounced over on her side again and saw her phone on the night stand. She stared at the phone for a long while. She smiled a small, conniving smile. She lay there for a while longer, lost in her thoughts. Suddenly, she arose and walked to the bathroom. She glanced in the mirror and saw her full breasts staring at her. I used to have such small, firm ones, but since her first pregnancy, they expanded greatly and never lost the extra weight. She wasn't sure he didn't like them better this way. He often told her that she was still beautiful. Although she never believed a word of it, she did note that he would often say this while glancing at her chest. Men, she grinned to herself.
She opened the cabinet and found a small pair of scissors. She sat on the toilet and trimmed herself between her legs so when she ran her fingers through her hair it didn't feel like an untamed forest. After cleaning the mess, she opened the cabinet and reached for her favorite scent. A touch behind either side of her neck and a stroke between her breasts. She was feeling pretty sexy now. Almost ready for him.
She walked slowly back to the bedroom. She realized that she rarely walked through the house nude, and she was enjoying the feeling of being exposed, openly sexual. She stood in the doorway, lifting one leg up and stroking it with one hand, as she glanced at her imaginary partner in the bed, "So..." she said aloud, "do you like what you see?" She giggled quietly at her silliness and strode to the closet.
"Let's see," she mused, "What would you want me to wear? A t-shirt? Too confining. Although a tight one with lettering would give you a chance to stare...no, no, you cad! Let's be practical. A blouse. With buttons. White... that'd give you something to look at, huh? I bet you'd wish you could see me wear this in the bath, huh? Well, maybe next time..." She took the blouse off of the hanger and pulled it over her shoulders. She buttoned it up all the way and then stroked the underside of her breasts. Yep, it was sheer enough to see the nipples when the blouse pressed up to her skin.
What else? Loose pants? Nah. I wouldn't feel sexy enough. Panty hose? The tightness against her abdomen would be nice. But they'd take too long to get off. Ah, a skirt. She chose a long one that looked like it was originally owned by a hippie. She wondered how many different men reached into it to touch the treasure it covered? As she buttoned it at her waist, she felt the fabric caress her belly and swish against her legs. As she walked back to the bed she could feel her heart beat fast. She lay on the bed and rested, just being aware of herself. Her excitement. She reached under the skirt and felt inside. She was wet now. She pressed her finger deep into her, and then sought out her pleasure... noooo, not now. That would ruin the plan. She pulled her finger out of her and righted her clothes. Then she turned on the heater beside the bed.
She picked up the phone and dialed his number. She only needed to press one with the send key and it immediately rang on his end. She lifted the phone to her ear and placed her other hand at her face. She could smell her excitement. It was on her finger, which she had penetrated herself with. She imagined him looking at the phone, surprised it was ringing. Then he looked at the caller id and knew it was her. She giggled again as she heard him answer.
"Hey, what's up?"
Silence on her end. Did she really want to do this? Now that she heard his voice, she hesitated.
"Hello?"
She smelled herself again. Her breathing became deeper, and she forced herself to respond, "What are you doing?"
"Not much. Just waiting for inspiration. Is there something wrong? You're calling pretty early."
She chuckles. "I think you need to go to the bathroom."
"Well, I'm oka..."
"Really. You need to go. Now."
"Okaaaay... but I think this is odd... are you feeling okay today?"
"Not really. I need some encouragement."
"Why? What's up?"
"I'm in our bedroom. Laying on the bed. I need you to make me feel better."
"What's the problem? Can we talk for a minute?"
"You in the bathroom?"
"Yeah..."
"Door locked?"
"Now it is."
"Do you know that I'm wearing a skirt?"
He sighs, exasperated. "I do now."
Knowing that he will be pleased with the outcome, she persists. "What else do you think I'm wearing?"
"Um... a shirt?"
"What kind of shirt?"
"A t-shirt?"
"Try again."
"Um... a blouse?"
"Right, good. What else?"
"What else you are wearing?" She could tell he was losing patience. Hang on there, honey, she thought, it will all be worth it. Soon. "Ummm, socks?"
"Nope."
"Then I guess shoes are out."
"Right. What else?"
"I don't know... a coat? A sweater?"
She decides to drop him a hint. "Nah, the heater is on."
"Really? It couldn't be that cold." He thinks for a minute. "Are you wearing a bra?" He hit it!
