Author's note: This story is inspired by Boots from Justmyimagination. Thanks for providing the spark and the suggestions too!
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Everything changed when my wife, Hannah, came home in a pair of thigh-high boots. It wasn't the first occasion I had seen a woman in them, but this was the first I had seen her in it. For someone who was accustomed to the sight of her in oversized tees and track pants at home, no one could fault me for staring, surely. It certainly had nothing to do with the black leather footwear molding to her shapely legs, making them look way longer--long enough to imagine them wrapped around a man's hips. Neither did it have anything to do with the four-inch stiletto heel which displayed the arches of her feet to perfection. Was this the reason why so many courtiers of the past chose to kneel before their Queens, so they could admire the royal feet from up close?
And if that wasn't enough to make a man take pause, the dress would. The boots came right up to the hem of her black dress, a tight-fitted piece with a laced corset which thrust her breasts upwards provocatively. Who knew she had cleavage? I didn't, but then I hadn't paid much attention to her. If I had known her breasts could rival that of Kandy at the bar last night, I might be tempted to get better acquainted with her. On the other hand, Kandy allowed us to pour shots down her cleavage and drink from it. I'd say Kandy won on the adventurous front.
My eyes followed her across the room, the sound of her heels making sexy clicking sounds on the marble flooring. I expected her to head straight to her room. Nope. This time she acted out of character. She crossed the room in several long strides and flung herself into the armchair in front of me. Her booted feet came to rest on top of the ten-thousand-dollar hand-blown glass coffee table. My brows vanished into my hairline. She had once screamed at me for putting a glass of iced tea on that furniture without a coaster.
Even though we had been married for three years, we seldom interact with each other unless necessary. She was busy climbing the corporate ladder while trying to earn her father's recognition; I had no ambitions beyond hedonistic pleasures. Our marriage was the result of our parents; hers heavy-handed, mine opportunistic. Neither of us were consulted, and when we learned about it, our opinions hadn't matter. Later, my mom told me that they had accepted two and a half million from her parents to save the floundering family business. The marriage was the second half of the agreement.
I was grateful. Really. I repaid her parents' generosity by leaving Hannah alone. We even kept separate bedrooms in opposite wings of the house. It was what she wanted too. We were essentially two strangers living under the same roof. I had realized by then that Hannah had no idea of the deal our parents had made. I, very wisely, did not enlighten her.
I finally dragged my eyes from her boots and broke the silence. "Interesting choice of footwear," I settled on something I thought was neutral.
It wasn't.
Her face darkened. She smiled humorlessly. "I thought you'd appreciate them. This was what they like to wear, yes?" She pinned me with a sharp glare. "Those women you prefer to spend your nights with."
I froze. Why was she bringing this up now? She had no complaints about my behavior for the last three years, even though it was obvious what I was doing. Other than the obligatory trips to her parents where we put up an amiable front, I did what I wanted the rest of the time.
"Is something wrong?" I asked prudently.
She straightened, putting her booted feet back on the floor. I suspected she couldn't handle desecrating the coffee table for long anyway.
"I've been thinking about our marriage. I've decided to change things around here."
That surprised me. As the only other long-term occupant in the house we lived in together, that definitely affected me. I tried to be positive. This didn't have to be bad news.
She dashed my hopes in the next second.
"I've cancelled all your cards. And I won't be reinstating them anytime soon." She leaned back in her seat and folded her arms, waited for my response.
My attention was briefly distracted by the bouncing of her breasts, the way her action had lifted and pushed her breasts even closer together, deepening her cleavage. It took another few seconds for me to register what she said. Needless to say, I was more than annoyed.
Getting to my feet, I confronted her. "What gives you the right to do that? You can't take away my money."
Her chin jutted up regally. "Actually, I can. You see, the money you've been spending for the last three years came from my accounts."
I stiffened. Oh shit. My parents had screwed me over. They had given me my current set of cards after the wedding and I had thought my parents were being generous as usual. They had always been financially indulgent with me. It was one of the reasons for my extravagant spending and epicurean lifestyle which would now come to an abrupt end.
I reassessed my current predicament. I could go to my parents for money, and hopefully they would be equally charitable as they had in the past. I didn't give a thought about employment. I had been brought up to see that as the devil, one of the reasons why I could never understand Hannah's obsession with her family firm. One of my ancestors was such a good entrepreneur he had successfully ensured the next few generations could idle their time away. And idle we did.
"That is news to me too," I said slowly, sitting back down on the sofa.
She snorted. "You don't say." Hannah wasn't finished. She went on, "Imagine just how furious I was, that I went straight to my father and announced I've had enough and am filing for a divorce. Imagine being told that the marriage was part of a two point five million deal."
I swallowed. The fire in her eyes almost scalded me. "I had no part of the deal. I only knew about it after our parents were through."
My defense was ignored. Hannah was on a roll. "Imagine, for one second, how I feel after learning that the man who had married me in exchange for a two and a half million, who had been living large on my money on hookers and strippers-"
"Professional escorts," I interjected quietly.
Hannah quelled me with one glance. I shut up instantly.
"Imagine how I feel when I'm told I couldn't divorce you anyway."
