I was surprised to scroll through the Story Idea thread and see you had posted a fantasy interest that you had. Of course this made me stop and think. . .I've just got to indulge you, turn you on a little, even be a bit out there and off the wall. . . at least it would be a challenge, and so I wrote this. . .for you.
****
Brad hurried home, the sound of his wife's voice still playing in his mind. Her voice had been crisp and even, curt really. She wouldn't tell him what was wrong, but it was obvious that he was to come straight home and not bother stopping off at the bar for a drink. Normally, Beth wasn't too concerned about when Brad got him. She knew he'd be there when he got there, but today was different and he sensed she was livid.
He walked into the house and called out for his wife of thirty years. She didn't answer him and for a moment he felt a wave of panic wash over him. Had she left him? But why. . .he'd not done anything wrong. He'd never cheated on her, or hit her, he was the picture perfect husband and their marriage was something Norman Rockwell would have loved to capture on paper. Just as he was about to walk down the hall and call for her again, he heard her footsteps coming down the stairs.
"Hey babe, what's up?" he asked, tossing his sports coat on the coach.
He saw her eyes glare at him and he took several steps back. "What is it?" he asked.
"I found this," she told him, tossing a small object at his chest.
Brad caught it and then swallowed the lump that had suddenly risen in his throat. "Let me explain. . ."
"Explain what?" She stood at the bottom of the stairs with her hands on her hips and her blue eyes locked with his. "Explain to me that for the last few years you've been playing online with folks, exchanging photos and phone calls. . ."
"Beth. . .I. . ."
"No Brad, you listen, if that's what you want that's fine, but you'll not be doing it behind my back."
"It's not what I want. It's . . .I don't know Beth. I can't explain it."
"Well, how about I take a stab at it. You want someone else. Hey. . . I know I've gotten old, put on some pounds, but that's not the problem is it. What you want is upstairs " She turned around and headed back up the steps she'd stomped down.
Brad followed her, confusion and despair etched on his features. "Beth, what do you mean?" he asked, wondering if she meant all the time he'd been spending on the computer with his online friends, or if she meant the type of friends he was chatting with. . .men.
"Come on, HornyDude."
He cringed as she called him by his chat name. Brad walked down the hall of their two-story Victorian home and stopped when Beth opened their bedroom door. He took a deep breath, not quite sure what he would find when he walked in. Would his suitcase be on the bed, packed and ready for him to take it, or had she taken scissors to their photos and cut him out of them? With a heavy sigh and the weight of the situation dragging his shoulders down, Brad walked into the room where he and Beth had made love many times.
"Sit down," she demanded, pointing to a chair he recognized as one of the eight that belonged to the dining room furniture. "Not like that " she yelled as Brad moved to sit on the chair, like any normal person would.
"How?" he asked, not quite comprehending what she wanted.
"Don't be a jackass; strip and straddle it," she demanded.
Brad eyed her questionably. "Beth what's going on?" he asked.
"Do it or so help me God, I walk out of here right now and take you to the cleaners." Her arms were crossed and her jaw clenched tight.
He quickly shed his clothing, knowing full well she was serious. Her father was one of the most sought after Lawyers in the city and her Grandfather still held sway in the Judicial System, even though he was retired.
"You're sure about this?" he asked when the last of his clothing had been removed.
"Do I look like I'm joking?"
"No. . . I. . ." Brad said nothing else. He shrugged his shoulder and straddled the expensive antique chair. "Now what?" he asked.
"Now I'm going to talk and your going to sit there and listen."
Brad sighed. He would never have walked out on her. He wanted to explain what he'd been doing online, but she had yet to give him a chance, or at least he hadn't yet been given a lot of time to come up with a good excuse. His azure eyes tracked his wife's movements. He watched her move to the closet where she pulled out a black bag. When she turned back to him, his eyes grew wide and he started to rise from the chair.
"Sit down Brad," she hissed.
"Beth, I don't know what your thinking, but. . ."
"I'm thinking half of everything and alimony too. . ."
He quickly sat back down and remained in the position he'd been instructed to take, while his wife bound his ankles to the chair's legs and his arms to the wooden posts that served as the chair's back.
"You're too far up," she told him and he turned his head to look back at her.
"Too far up?"
"Yeah, scoot your ass back."
Brad shifted in his seat, but eventually heard her mutter "perfect"; he then shook his head, not quite understanding what his wife was thinking. She returned to the closet and the black bag and then dawning filled Brad's wide eyes. "Beth. . .you need to calm down and take a moment to think about this."
"Think about what?" she said. He watched her hand grip the peach colored phallus harder as she moved toward him. Her other hand held a bottle of what he assumed was lubricant. "Should I think about it for years. . .should I sit up here at my desk and imagining that I'm you and I'm getting off, but never do anything, just dream. . .nah. . .I think it's time we play Brad. I mean after all, I'm not enough anymore, so maybe. . .maybe you aren't enough for me either."
"Beth you're upset. . .you need to. . ."
"Brad your mouth is running too damn much. How about I find something else for you to concentrate on."
He furrowed his brow and then groaned when she left him alone in the room. The sound of a door opening and then closing was all Brad heard, until a few minutes had passed, then he heard Beth's footsteps. His face paled, when another pair, a much heavier pair of steps could be made out behind his wife's. Is her Dad here? He thought and then prayed that wasn't the case, but he was merely hearing things. He struggled with his bindings and then stopped when he heard her laughter.
"Did you forget I was a Girl Scout? We were taught about knots too, just like the Cubs were," she said. He gauged her voice to be just inside the room and when he turned his head he could make out her long legs as well as those that belonged to the mystery footsteps.
"Who the fuck is that?" Brad growled. He felt his anger rising as well as his embarrassment. Beth had never been like this; then again she felt cheated and she was beyond her normal sweet and calm demeanor.
"This is James. . .You know James, don't you?"
