Suddenly the bathroom door opened and Mickey appeared, nude, drying his hair with the towel. Her eyes fell immediately to his penis. It seemed to be in a semi-hard state.
“Care to join me?” she asked. Her voice was silky.
“As good as that sounds, I’ve made a dinner reservation for us, so you need to start getting ready.”
She was surprised at the frankness of his tone. All business. It seemed out of place, given the circumstances. Or at least not in sync with what she was feeling. She started to ask him if he was upset, but he spoke again before she could.
“You’ll find everything laid out in the bathroom.”
He stepped to the mirror over the dresser and turned his attention to his hair.
Kate held her question and went into the bathroom where she found a pink envelope with the single letter “K” leaning against her makeup case on the counter near the sink.
“After you shower, put on the robe and do your hair and makeup like you did for that meeting in March in Dallas. Love you. M.”
There was a black robe hanging on a hook on the door. Aside from her makeup case, she saw nothing else “laid out” in the room. She felt her pulse race as she looked at the note again. She was surprised that he was even aware that her makeup had been done differently that night in Dallas. Her hair was the same. Always. Unless she pulled it under a ball cap for a trip to the park.
The shower head sent a thousand pulses of warm pleasure onto her skin. She slipped a finger between her legs and realized that she was wet. Avoiding the temptation to bring herself to release, she showered fairly quickly, eager to see what Mickey was planning.
The sun had nearly set by the time she stepped back into the room. Mickey was sitting on the couch, near the sliding glass door, in the seating area of their small suite. He was fully dressed: ivory linen pants, a patterned shirt, and a light blue blazer. He smiled when he saw her.
“Come here,” he pointed to an open spot about 8 feet in front of the couch.
She took the small step down, past the railing that separated the bed from the rest of the room. As she did, she noticed a shoe box sitting on a straight-backed chair, and a garment bag laid over a larger, upholstered chair.
She stood awkwardly in front of him.
“Take off the robe.” He instructed.
She was beginning to understand the game. She pulled at the lapels of the robe, revealing the cleft between the soft curves of her breasts. The only light in the room was next to the couch, to Mickey’s right, creating a shadow between her tits, enhancing their size. She reached for the belt, then looked Mickey in the eye as she tugged the knot loose. He smiled. She was playing his game well.
The fabric slid from her toned shoulders, falling to the floor and wrapping her feet. Mickey raised a single finger and slowly twirled it in the air. She began to turn around.
“Slowly.” His voice was soft, but firm.
She took her time, letting him take in the full view as she displayed herself to him. He gestured toward the wooden chair.
“Now the shoes. Sit on the chair and put them on.”
She picked up the shoe box and placed her bare bottom where it had been. Opening the box she was not surprised to see a pair of black sandals with 4-inch stiletto heels and an ankle strap they had seen on that same trip to Dallas. She had tried them on – mostly at his insistence – and found them cute and relatively comfortable, but completely impractical.
She quickly realized that with her chair pointed directly at him, there was no way to put them on in any sort of a lady-like fashion. In fact, she wasn’t even sure that there was a sexy way to put them on. But it didn’t take long for her to complete her task.
Mickey pointed at her with that lone forefinger again, this time raising it repeatedly to the ceiling.
She stood. And turned around again at his wordless instruction.
“That’s very nice.” He nodded his approval.
Kate imagined herself as a Greek statue. Naked. Elegant. And – most of all – the object of his desire. The warmth between her legs increased and she wanted desperately to touch herself, but she again ignored her growing lust.
Mickey glanced at his watch. Then pointed toward the garment bag.
“Now the dress.” The tone was the same. Even. Direct. Soft but slightly forceful. Kate liked it.
She unzipped the bag, revealing a jewel-toned blue fabric with an unusual paisley print. It wasn’t something that she would have picked out, but she found herself drawn to it. The color was bold, and the print was subtle. It had a certain richness to it. It was exotic somehow. She couldn’t determine if it looked tropical, Indian, or something from the Pacific Rim. It was soft, silky, and unquestionably sensuous. She wondered where he had found it, when he had bought it, and how he had become so comfortable buying women’s clothing.
They were questions for another day, obviously. More questions formed, however, as she pulled it from its sheath. The garment was a single dress, but it lacked the form she was expecting. At first, it seemed to be made of layers, then it began to appear more like random petals on a flower. Eventually, she found a large button and realized that she was at the top. With that orientation, she was able to see the upper portion of the dress was a halter. The “skirt” was a series of overlapping panels, that hid no less than eight evenly-spaced slits that rose high on the hips.
She looked at her husband skeptically.
“Do you need help, or can you put it on yourself?”
The first part of his question almost sounded like a threat. But again, the tone was even, controlled, firm.
She saw the opening in the waist and slipped a heeled foot through it and quickly followed with the other. A small zipper in the back pulled it snugly to her waist. Somehow, he had found a perfect fit.
She pulled the front of the dress up and around her neck, and settled on the last buttonhole before fastening it. She wondered how she looked, but Mickey’s expression told her everything she needed to know. He rose to his feet.
“Kate, you look stunning. I know you’re beautiful. And I knew this dress would suit you. But, my God, you are breathtaking.”
He slipped his hands around her waist and pulled her close, kissing her deeply.
“I can’t wait to show you off. Let’s go.” He turned her toward the door, guiding her with a hand on the small of her back.
She stepped up next to the bed and turned to look at herself in the mirror. The top covered more than she thought. It looked like a vest in the front, but it was open well below the line of her breasts, showing more cleavage and bosom than anyone other than her husband had ever seen. At least in this setting. She reached for a button, but there was none. As she moved the skirt swayed. She took another step and realized how much of her legs were showing with every movement.
“Mickey, I need to put on some…”
“Nope. Everything is perfect. That’s tonight’s outfit.” And with that, he ushered her toward the door and into the twilight.
Years later she would realize that she was far more covered than she felt at the moment. The dress was designed not to reveal everything; although when she sat at the restaurant that night she felt that it simply disappeared. She eventually began to relax when she noticed that while she certainly turned heads that night, no one stared. She was not blatantly displaying herself in public,