Bubble bath filling the air with strawberry essence Ashley leisurely soaked. She had no idea the duration, introducing hot water a couple times to elevate the fallen temperature her sole measure. She looked at her tightened fingertips mirroring tiny prunes, concluded it was time to move the process along.
After a brief shower rinse with a towel wrapping her waist, another wrapping her wet hair Ashley sat at the vanity. Pulling the magnifying mirror close she began her ritual transforming herself into a being of male desire.
Tweezers in hand Ashley began plucking eyebrow strays. Her thoughts began to drift wondering how many months, years in fact, it had been since she would invest this much time, take so much care preparing herself for her husband.
Of course it could never be like when she was carefree, when she and Tom dated or early in their marriage. That was extravagance a four-year-old daughter and six-year-old son just wouldn't allow.
But then she paused, tweezers falling away, looking deep in the mirror she asked if that were really true. Am I using the children as an excuse? Or have there been opportunities to do more? Have I fallen into the complacency of eight years of marriage?
Tonight would be different; she hoped, the first step to break free of feared complacency, a renewal of their passion and desire.
Admittedly, she wasn't like most of her friends who juggled full time employment and full time motherhood. Tom's position provided for them comfortably allowing her to raise their kids without a care in their four-bedroom suburban home.
Ashley recognized some time ago sexual fire that once roared hot had continually dwindled and was now reduced to a still burning flame. They made love typically three, sometimes four times a week, their encounter always beginning with pleasurable foreplay. But it was at the end of a long day; dinner, cleaning up, spending time with the kids, packing them to bed after baths.
They'd usually engage the missionary position, it's conclusion usually twenty or twenty-five minutes from their first touch, the night growing later, the future's morning beckoning, they'd kiss good night and drift off to dreamland.
Concerning her most wasn't her lack of satisfaction, it was her husbands; she sensed it growing. She knew he loved her, cherished their kids, that Tom wouldn't do anything to compromise their family. But lately, deep within, she'd been haunted by a sliver of fear privately admitting his pent up needs went unanswered.
Ashley broke from her trance not wanting to consider consequences, she just wanted to make things right again. Carefully gliding the eyeliner across her lid she promised tonight would be that beginning. She'd make herself perfect, no detail overlooked.
Then a tingle, almost a tremor rippled through remembering the article she'd read a couple weeks before that spawned the inspiration. Paging through a women's magazine one afternoon,
The Game
, caught her eye. The caption beneath guaranteed to spice up a married couples intimate life grown stale.
Two words galvanized her attention,
reinvigorate
and
energize
, exactly what she knew they needed. Ashley was intrigued the article promising if they were bold, daring, willing to try something new it would rekindle forgotten passion. The Game called for them to role-play, something out of the norm, fresh and exciting.
Rouge brush in hand, applying color to her cheeks Ashley snickered remembering her initial reaction. Over two days she must've read The Game twenty times. Finally relenting to its ruling power she gave it to Tom; petitioned his opinion.
After completing, Tom handed it back then threw the look he sometimes gave following what he considered one of her hair-brained ideas. Like when she wanted the putrid lime green paint color for her new car Ashley wrote off the idea until a few nights later while snuggling in bed Tom asked it she really wanted to give The Game a shot. Ashley surmised later Tom must've picked up on her moping, decided to humor her.
Immediately her blood stirred, "Yes I really do…I mean if you want to."
Tom agreed but Ashley had to swear to abide by the strict rules The Game demanded. One of them would determine the fantasy roles for both partners. Both must play The Game from beginning to end without breaking away from their role or questioning or not allowing a partner's sexual desire. Tom would determine their roles.
Ashley anxiously buttoned up the silk blouse, her entire outfit new. She'd chosen the cream blouse and black shorter skirt as elegant and sexy. Underneath the skimpiest lingerie she'd ever worn. The thin bra barely contained her and she wiggled feeling the thong wedged between. Ashley never cared for thongs but knew Tom loved the look. Tonight was special; she'd overcome the discomfort.
Satisfaction was hers studying the reflection. Blonde hair curling softly over her shoulders, blue eyes prominent, mascara highlighting her facial features perfectly. Small flowers apparent from her bra through the clinging semi see-through blouse complimenting her full round breasts. Not too tight though, nicely concealing the ten extra pounds she kept promising to lose. The flaring skirt exposed most of her long legs, the feature she regarded her sexiest.
Dragging a single finger down her neck her skin felt soft, that long bath producing the desired outcome. She drifted again, wondering what her husband had invented for their fantasy roles. She thought they'd enjoy a quiet dinner somewhere, Tom would tell her the invented characters and then The Game would commence. Maybe he'd rented a hotel room; guised as a traveling businessman she'd come knocking as his hooker. Or maybe a hotel maid who cleaned the room in his presence and they were overcome with lust. Or maybe he'd drop her off and she'd cozy up to the bar between two gentlemen and strike a conversation. He would arrive a little later as a stranger, picking her up with sexually direct innuendos to the dismay of the men hitting on her. The latter seemed most exciting.
With a final glance she decided to open another button exposing more skin, a deeper dimensional view of her ample cleavage. "Perfect!" She concluded with a smile.
***
Foot tapping rapidly she checked her watch for the hundredth time in the last fifteen minutes; Tom already was almost an hour late. The kids safely stashed away at her parents, this was their evening, where was he? After several calls to his mobile went unanswered her concern grew. Then she heard the rattle of the garage door, hum of the opener, Ashley exhaled a sigh of relief.
Tom walked through the door, her heart raced looking at him outfitted in a starched white shirt, vibrant red patterned tie and pleated charcoal trousers. She found him particularly studly in his business attire, his shirt tapering in from broad shoulders to a slender waist. She loved the way those trousers hugged him just right. A notch above six feet the scale had never exceeded one eighty-five.
Just as quickly as her spirits soared they plummeted as Tom barged into the kitchen hardly looking at her. Ashley anticipated her hours of preparation would be rewarded with an approving smile, warm compliments and even envisioned flowers. The only thing in his hand was a small paper sack.
"Where's my dinner?" He barked.
"Tom?" She said dismayed. He never acted this way.
He proceeded to the stove loosening his tie and opened the door, "What the hell is going on here? Where is my dinner?"
Palms covering her mouth, "Tom! Honey! I thought we were going out!"
He glared, "Going out?" Then he shook his head disgusted and marched upstairs to their bedroom.
Had something happened at work? Nothing about him was her Tom. Had he been laid off? Fired? Is that why he hadn't answered her calls? Her eyes began to well up feeling alone, isolated in the kitchen. She heard loud noises upstairs, terrified to know what may have happened wondering why tonight of all nights?
"Come up here!" She heard his call demand.
Ashley smiled affectionately entering their room wanting to console the unknown trouble he was battling. Tom was seated on the bed, she moved in front of him. His expression was blank, green eyes unflinching starring into hers. She wanted to reach out, stroke the curl in his thick chocolate hair but she still couldn't read him.
Nervous fingers grasping at her skirt Ashley's eyes fell down the front of her body and she stammered, "Honey…how do I look? I spent the afternoon getting ready for you." She hoped her sexy appearance might raise his spirits. Her eyes lifted but his expression remained unchanged.
Voice flat, "No dinner? Spending an entire afternoon making yourself
pretty
?" His gaze traveling down her body, then up again, "To answer your question you look kind of trampy."
Terror surged through her veins, "Tom!"
He rose and began pacing a circle around her, towering Ashley the better part of four inches. She was insane, not knowing what was happening, what was going on with Tom.
His voice monotone as he moved, "No dinner for your husband who worked hard all day long yet you had plenty of time to paint your pretty face?" His sarcastic tone quizzical, "And then you expect
