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Adjusting my tie the bathroom was a challenge with foggy glasses and a dress shirt sticking to my underarms. Diana had just finished a most luxurious bath, and left the room warm and moist. Traces of her jasmine perfume teased me, and I could’ve bent her over her vanity and rocked her until all of the little bottles fell to the floor, but instead I peeked around the corner and asked much too meekly, “Hey honey, before you get too far–“
“–no hun, I’m dry now,” she said, steadily as a woman applying eyeliner.
My wife sat cross-legged in black pantyhose and a matching, scalloped bra. Her dress, lying at the edge of the bed, was going to look sharp on her–black contrasted well with her fair complexion and Italian features.
Noticing I hadn’t retreated from the corner, Diana added, “I don’t want that little marble rubbing against me at the party either. Nobody likes a rock in their shoe do they? Avoid embarrassing yourself hun and wank it now?”
Tempting–always tempting–but after having pressed my pants and ironed my shirt, I didn’t want to soil them accidently, nor undress, and delay our evening further…plenty of her younger co-workers were going to check her out, the older ones will ogle, and I didn’t want to miss a thing.
I was satisfied palpating my crotch in the mirror, just like grabbing a sac of three marbles and jostling them between my fingers. This was going to be a decent evening at a minimum–I could enjoy anything going on while having a hard-on and nobody would be able to tell.
Just one last look at Diana–was she dressed yet? I was ready to go–a little early still, and still a bit too bright outside. She was standing and holding out her dress. It didn’t matter what for, she should have continued doing it…I didn’t miss the chance to confirm she was wearing conservative hip hugger briefs–think v-string with a wide waistband.
Alright Honey, let’s go.
Diana and I held hands up to the hotel door, where she then broke free and strutted through the glass doors with open arms. I marked the three men with champagne who turned towards her to return the hug and kiss her on the cheek. One of them, a portly fellow who was bald as a fire hydrant and turning just as red from the wine, placed his thick palm on my wife’s lower back and pulled her in to hear her properly. She whispered something into his ear and he released her with the most extravagant laugh.
“Hi, I’m Jim, Diana’s husband,” I said, approaching them with an extended hand.
The portly fellow gripped–almost crushed–my hand and boomed, “Derek!”
As I turned to his colleagues my wife said, “And that’s Mark and Colin–two of our finest nurses.”
They just acknowledged me with Bostancı escort a thin smile and a nod.
Derek asked , “So what do you do…Jimmy?”
“I’m at an advertising firm that specializes in pharmaceutical advertising. We just finished an ad for Victory in a golf magazine. It’s a male intimacy pill–‘For those putting it in the hole all day!'”
Diana rolled her eyes and Derek gulped the bubbly. He blurted, “Ah, I get it–put-ting it–I like it! But Jimmy, the putter’s the smallest club–is shrinkage a side effect?”
They all laughed, and my wife patted him on the shoulder before we headed off. I waved, but they didn’t notice.
“So there’s someone I want you to meet,” she said, scanning each huddle. “Ah, there he is!”
Standing at the edge of the bar was a tall, Viking of a man with short, silver hair.
He still had a stethoscope around his neck, perhaps instead of a tie. Everything about him was crisp and clean-cut, yet almost too informal, given his polished paisley shoes, pleated trousers, and tucked in office-casual plaid shirt. A thick, platinum diver’s watch dangled from his wrist as he sipped a martini.
Anticipating her approach, he asked, “Diana, how are you?” His sharp, icy blue eyes studied me in turn.
“Still settling in…could be better! Pierce, this is my husband Jim.”
We shook hands. Even that, with the perfect dose of firmness and timing, indicated he was a doctor.
“Pierce is our newest heart surgeon. We snatched Canada’s best.”
His smiling eyes acknowledged the compliment. Focusing to me, he noted with a wink, “With a woman like Diana you’ll only have the healthy kind of chest pain.”
Accepting wine from the waiter, I gave Diana a flute and left the two of them with, “Nice to meet you Pierce. I’m going to greet the menu now. Can I get you anything?”
They exchanged glances. “No, thanks, everything I need is here,” said Pierce. At that, my wife yanked at his ear, but was smirking.
I joined a long line of rather tall, leggy women who were all sporting shiny tube dresses and corsages. They weren’t as thin as Diana, but they certainly had cleavage, and were certainly going to notice me if I didn’t keep my eyes on the shrimp rings.
When I returned with a handful of appetizers, my wife and him were sitting on the swivel stools at the same bar. His arm rested on the back of her seat. They must’ve been talking about something serious, given that she was talking mostly with her hands and he was attending to her with an unwavering glance, periodic nods and a furrowed brow.
Their moods lightened once I sat beside them and offered some shrimp. Pierce shook his head and then retracted his arm from her Anadolu Yakası Escort chair.
“No, go ahead,” I said, “It’s fine.”
Diana plucked a couple of shrimp, sucked them out of their tails, saying, “Mmm, tasty, but too small to bother with.” The two of them almost had a knowing look.
Dropping the shells in my palm she continued with, “Pierce and I are going catch up on some confidentiality, but we’ll be in that conference lounge if you need us.”
“Sure,” I said, and as they stood up to excuse themselves I stole a glance at Pierce’s package–he was probably soft, buy my goodness it looked like he had stuffed a small baseball glove in there.
I of course didn’t know anyone at the party, except for Derek maybe, but that group was long gone. My watch showed that an hour had passed.
Perhaps there were other holidays parties happening down the conference halls, so I headed in the direction of the lounges, passing slowly by the one occupied by my wife and the doctor, no doubt. Because the doors were ajar, I had to peek a little. They were alone.
The next lounge was empty as a funeral parlor, but it did have no-door washroom at the far end, so I thought, “Why not?”
As it happened, the washroom connected to all lounges on this side of the building via a long, winding service hallway. I opened what would have been the “EXIT” door to their room just a little, just to be able to hear what they were doing. The small fire-resistant window allowed me to spy on them.
“You’ve got to be kidding!” said Pierce, slapped his knee. Diana was nodding and sipping.
He set his drink on the end table and stuck out his middle finger for my wife to study the length.
She shook her head.
“No?” he asked, and then placed his forefinger at the tip of his middle finger and slid it slowly towards his knuckle, pausing at each joint.
My wife kept shaking her head, saying, “Nope! Shorter! Shorter!”
Pierce was grinding his teeth–if she didn’t say “Stop” before he reached his knuckle, he was going to burst out laughing.
Well, she said, “Hold it!” indicating whatever they were measuring was maybe an inch or so long. “Could you recommend a plastic surgeon for him?” she asked, a little sarcastically.
“This is definitely a conversation you have to have with your husband first…most men find that to be an incredibly invasive discussion, even with a health professional,” said the doctor.
“I’m not worried about the invasive part. Like I said, he’s awfully comfortable with Jerry, you know, the colonoscopist?”
They both chuckled and checked to see no one was listening at the main door. A heavy silence filled the room, she Kadıköy Escort put her hand on his thigh and they kissed–a quick, wet smack.
“Diana, let’s see if you’re feeling alright.” He took the stethoscope pressed it between her breasts, pulling her dress down a little. “I should have a closer look–you’re way off the charts.”
Now what were the chances of I–and them, being caught? Looking from side-to-side, I concluded that this service hallway was so quiet that I’d know if someone was coming, even if right in the middle of a little wank. I unzipped and started lightly rubbing my crotch.
Diana–blushing like I’d ever seen before–was playfully waving her hands to ward off the doctor’s hands; one was sliding up her dress; the other massaged the back of her neck. He kissed her again.
“Pierce, I’m married!” she said in a hushed voice.
But she wasn’t telling him to stop; I’d be most furious at whoever barged in and spoiled the sight. Go on, dear.
“I want you, here,” whispered Pierce.
My wife closed her eyes and lay back into his massage, accepting that he was pulling her pantyhose to her knees. Her legs were strikingly smooth, almost shiny under the lights. That thick hand disappeared back under her dress, this time riding it up to her waist and giving me a clear sight those black panties.
“I can’t…I can’t, Pierce,” she moaned towards the ceiling.
“You can play, let me text you that you can play,” I muttered quite shakily while polishing Little Jimmy with my hand, but I needed her to go just a little further.
Massaging her thighs, almost her crotch, the doctor asked, “When can I see you?”
“Ha-ha,” she chuckled, “Well we host legendary conferences in the Bahamas…”
Pierce grinned. But then my wife quickly searched her purse–her phone was vibrating. It’s blue light lit up her face.
“It’s time to go,” she said, then stood up and pulled up her pantyhose, fixed her hair.
Pierce said, “Wait.” He kissed her. Diana headed out–and both left their drinks.
It took a bit longer to find my coat at the checkout. Diana was receiving a few kisses on the cheek from other wives and husbands who I forgot to meet. Someone tapped my arm.
“Hey, Jimmy!” It was Derek, beet-red from a night of bubbly.
“Hey, I just wanted to say Diana is the friendliest kindest awesomeness co-worker, and you’re so damn lucky to have her!”
“Thanks, she only brings joy,” I said, smiling with him.
He lifted his glass. “Cheers, and goodnight man!”
Diana waited by the foot of the stairs to the hotel, and smirked as I approached.
“Did you make sure to kiss everyone twice for good luck? Derek? The wives? Pierce?” I asked.
She ignored that.
Holding hands, we walked briskly to the car–the night was only getting colder. I wondered if her inner thighs were still warm. She hinted the answer just before we buckled in, asking, “Hun, do you still want that quickie?”
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