I watched her getting ready, hypnotized by the small strokes of lipstick and careful application of lip liner. She was still in her underwear in front of the hotel mirror complaining about its horrible lighting.
I wish I could tell you I was hanging on every word but I was trying my best to hide the fact I could see her reflection in the bathroom. No longer wearing the industrial full coverage bra and high-waisted panties, her body flaunted thin satin underwear trimmed in lace. They were cut to hide panty lines and showed more of her than she wanted me to see. My wife played soccer in high school and through college; her ass was a thing more appropriate in a museum carved out of marble than on a human being, even if she never saw herself that way. There was no way I was missing a chance to catch a rare glimpse of her.
"Are you even listening to me?" She asked looking up from her make-up.
Busted! She was looking right at me and I had no idea what she'd last said.
"Of course, I'm listening." I lied. "So what are you gonna do?"
The last was my standard question when I'm caught not paying attention. Most of the time it works, but not tonight. I got the "mmhmm," look, which every man knows too well. That was right before she shut the door.
Marcy was always modest but since having kids she'd become overly self-conscientious. I am attracted to her but sex has never been the bond that held us together. She and I have always been more like 2 people who face the same direction. We want the same things in life, agree on how to raise the kids, and enjoy each other's company. We make a strong team.
"I asked, why do you like these parties so much?" I heard her say from behind the door.
As a chemist got my start working at plants in South Louisiana, but being from Connecticut, life in the South was alien to me. I worked hard to fit in and made some good friends, before breaking free to start my own business.
I'm not a fan of Louisiana, it's hot and crude, and the people here seem friendly at first but they have sensitivities that are best not to cross; it makes them warm and murderous at the same time. I always found their culture difficult to navigate. However, I will say for all the poor education and prickly personalities they enjoy life like no one else. While others savor life like a fine glass of wine, a Coon Ass will guzzle it from a fire hose.
Louisiana is bug-infested, alligator-ridden, and sometimes stinks. I know I already said it's hot and you're probably thinking about Arizona heat but in Louisiana, it's a living organism burrowing to your core, driving away all rational thought. The Cajuns seem to have developed as a wild breed to deal with the climate and their parties show it. I make a trip every 2 years because the plant I used to work for throws one hell of a party.
"I told you; these parties are epic," I said to her, wondering if it mattered that I was sitting on the bed in my suit.
"You said that already, what's so special?"
"I don't know. You'll just have to see it for yourself." I told her.
She didn't respond.
"The first year I went to one it was raining but that didn't stop the guys from taking a roll of paper towels and playing a game of football. The wives stayed out of it at first but soon they were the cheerleaders."
Still nothing from the bathroom.
"Another time Randy's wife showed up with a shotgun because he'd brought his girlfriend to the party, the year after that someone got drunk and decided to tackle to plant manager into the fountain."
"That doesn't sound like a huge deal." She said walking out the bathroom and zipping up her cocktail dress.
"You wouldn't think so if you'd ever met Tyson." I countered.
Marcy stalked out the bathroom a vision of grace. Her curly blonde hair which was normally pulled back in a manageable braid now spilled over her shoulders, and her cocktail uniform was on full display.
My wife had one dress for parties, black with spaghetti straps, and a plunging neckline, and she always managed to find a bra that pushed the top of her breasts up enough to create a distracting decolletage. The hem stopped too close to her ass, making me worried she was going to bend over in front of the wrong person, but she liked the way it looked and so it came out at every function. It fit her snugly, showing a little pooch of a belly and hourglass hips endowed only through motherhood, it looked good on her, and she knew it.
"You look beautiful baby," I told her.
With that, I put on my coat and we left the hotel holding hands.
Three hours later we were back; both disappointed. We'd tried our best to make it interesting and drank more than we should; straining to wring a good time out of a stale crowd.
We held each other for stability as we walked silently through the lobby allowing our expectations to dissolve.
All hotels seem the same; the same tile double door entrance, overly cold a/c, and intrusive check-in desk, and no matter how large they are you always feel the eyes of everyone around you. 2 guys were sitting in the closed-down bar area just staring at us, well, not at us, at Marcy.
The guys were dirty, lounging in stained jeans and muddy boots. Their clean shirts only served to make the rest of them look worse by contrast. They each had a beer and appeared to be sharing an ice chest that I bet was nearly empty. They were cutting up when we walked in but got quiet as their eyes stalked my wife across the lobby to the elevator.
We've all watched good-looking women come into a room or noticed them as they walked by but the look on these guys' faces was more animal than human. Before I turned to the elevator I noticed the older of them look my wife up and down. The younger one looked away when he saw my glare but the other never flinched.
If Marcy noticed, she didn't show it, and as the elevator doors closed she leaned on me adjusting the strap of her shoes. The top of her dress fell enough to reveal the satin bra struggling to restrain her. I lost myself in the galaxy of freckles that dappled her chest and moved in slow motion to her struggles. I can tell you that she's a D cup, and likes wearing Hanes bras but tonight all I could think about was what I couldn't see, and wondered how her nipples would look in the light.
I can't remember the last time I saw her topless and having her so near was increasing my heart rate. I inhaled deeply taking a lung full of her perfume. When she finally straightened up it took me a second to slow my breathing and collect my thoughts before I realized I was looking at her the same way those guys were.
We were back in the room before she said anything.
"I know you said the party wasn't as crazy as it usually is, but I didn't think it was too bad." She said reaching down to take off her heels.
The room next door must have been having a different night because we could hear their music playing. It wasn't overly loud and I like classic rock but it served as a constant reminder of how little celebrating we'd done that night.
I couldn't tell if she meant that or was just trying to make me feel better, but it didn't work.
"No, it was fine for a party, but I'd come to expect more. These things are normally crazy. I'm telling you, the people down here are different." I complained.
I sat down on the edge of the bed after hanging up my coat and tie; I couldn't stop myself from ranting. "You don't understand, I look forward to these parties. They make me think that this job isn't so boring and make me feel like one of the guys again."
"You never were one of those guys." She corrected. "You're smarter than them, that's how you got where you are, and what I love most about you."
Marcy's compliment helped ease my frustration.
"Maybe; but it was always fun, I promised you a wild time."
"I don't need a wild time." She told me kicking off her shoes next to the TV. "Why don't we open this bottle of wine you brought and after that, you can fulfill other promises you made to me."
