Four Thirty
Posted: Sun Jul 17, 2022 7:09 pm
Four Thirty
by Topher Lawrence
Kelsey and I were college sweethearts. We got married after she graduated, 25 years ago. We had 3 kids along the way and have always had a happy domestic life. Like so many long-standing couples, the passion began to wane as we settled into life as parents. Our kids have kept us pretty busy with their active schedules.
We’ve been living in Cleveland for the last 20 years. All 3 kids were born and raised here. We were not. Not having any family nearby meant that planning a date night required the expense and logistical challenge of finding a sitter. We meant to plan more time for ourselves, but we weren’t as consistent about it as we would have liked. However at this phase of our lives the kids are old enough to be at home by themselves. They’ve become much more self-sufficient. Planning a date night has become so much easier, less stressful, and more frequent as a result.
The passion in our marriage has thus been rekindling.
Tonight is date night. At about 4:30 this afternoon, I made a reservation at our favorite restaurant–a table for two at seven. I showered a little bit ago and came up to the bedroom to get dressed and wait for Kelsey to finish her shower. We’ve been anticipating this night for a few weeks now. As I hear the bedroom door open, my heart skips a beat.
Kelsey comes into the room with her pink bathrobe. She knows I love watching her undress. The moment she came into the room my eyes were fixed on her. She met mine and gave me a coy smirk, she knew what was on my mind and was not going to satisfy me without teasing me first.
“Can’t a girl get a little privacy?” she said, teasingly, as she removed the bathrobe and hung it on the hook.
“You know how much I love your tits.”
Her tits are perfect. She’s a curvy woman and her hourglass figure when viewed from behind is magnificent–but when she faces me, her voluptuous breasts command my attention. They are perfectly proportioned to the rest of her body. Her tits, mixed with her smile and the anticipation of this long-awaited night make my insides feel tingly. I love how she can still do this to me after 29 years of being together.
I approach to give her a kiss on her teeth-freshly-brushed, minty-tasting mouth. I’m so excited, I decided to slip her a little tongue.
“Down boy!” she exclaims as she flinches back from my mouth. “You’re like a fuckin’ puppy. Save some for afterward.”
“I guess I couldn’t help myself.”
Still naked, she pushes me on my shoulder forcing me to take a seated position on the bed as she walks over to the closet. She makes two dress selections from the closet and holds them both in front of me.
“What do you think, the red or the black?”
I don’t know why she likes this ritual of asking my opinion on clothes. I try a little reverse psychology.
“I think, the red.” I proffer.
“Hmmmm…I dunno, I think the black will go better with what I plan to wear underneath.
Yes! The red suggestion was a feint. I fucking love that black dress. It’s low cut, accentuates her cleavage–not too much–just enough. When standing it comes down her thighs, slightly above her knees. Wearing it, she looks like sex-on-a-stick.
She hangs the red dress back up in the closet, and puts the black one on the bed, next to me, then heads over to her underwear drawer.
“I’m thinking…that lacy black thong from the other night?” I suggest.
“That’s still in the laundry. Someone didn’t say on top of it this week,” she teases me again.
“How about the crotchless panties, then? Easy access…” I suggest, longingly.
“I think I’m ovulating. I’ll end up leaving a wet spot on my dress if I take that out tonight.”
“And what would be wrong with that?”
“You’re a pervert.”
“A guy can dream, can’t he?”
“Oh, all your dreams are gonna come true tonight, my love.” she promises.
She opens her jewelry box and selects a silver chain upon which dangles a large locket containing a photo of our kids when they were much younger. Also attached to the chain, next to the locket, is a tiny key–a special, secret symbol just between us, reminding her of the deep love she and I share–where we started so many years ago and where we are today, and our hopes for tomorrow.
Facing the mirror, she asks me to operate the tiny clasp. I stand behind her naked body and take in the smell of her hair. I attach the clasp and run my hands all down her torso until I touch her buttocks with both hands before gently pulling away and returning to sit on the bed. I admire in the mirror the contrast between her skin tone and the metal as the locket and key hang in the space between her breasts.
She nonchalantly takes out an as-yet-unopened package from her favorite internet lingerie merchant. She opens it and takes out a pair of black thigh-high silk stockings, black garters attached to a lacy black garter belt. Wearing nothing but the silver chain and a coquettish grin, she lays these on the bed next to me without comment. She knows that I’m close to a hands-free jizz in my shorts just watching her handle those items. She knows I love shit like that–it drives me fucking crazy.
She turns a 180 toward her dresser and, knees pressed tightly together, bends over at the waist showing off her magnificent ass and I get the merest glimpse of her freshly showered pussy. I immediately picture myself grabbing her hips and pulling her back to my front. In my impromptu fantasy, she issues a loud vocalization with each wanton thrust, my cock desperately vying for the deepest position to deposit my seed inside of her. She knows me better than anyone, and she knows this is exactly what I’m thinking. She knows I can’t do this right now because she doesn’t want her snatch full of spunk during her dinner date. She knows I know this. She’s just playing me like a violin.
Kelsey stands back up erect, displaying a pair of panties and a matching bra. The ass of the knickers are a diaphanous, see-through lace mesh. The front is mostly see-through. The crotch is entirely practical, designed to provide some much-needed absorption on an evening like this. These were obviously designed by a woman and not some randy-ass dude whose brain is soaked with T.
She bends at the waist, lifting one leg into the panties, then the other. She slowly pulls them up in front of me, putting on a show. I watch as the fabric gradually obscures her pretty, brunette, natural bush.
“I’ll see you later, much later.” I think to myself wistfully imagining my nose buried between her thighs.
She turns around to show me what her ass looks like in the panties. The material is see-through in all the right places. It highlights her female form perfectly. It's magnificent.
I present the brassiere and she steps toward me, and turns around, looking over her left shoulder at me, inviting me to place the cups over her breasts. She holds out both arms as I pass the straps over them. I gently pass my fingers over her erect nipples before fitting her into the cups, pulling the bottom tight, and fastening the clasp between her shoulder blades.
“Hon, could you grab me the Chanel No. 5 from the basket in the linen closet?” she requests.
“Sure thing.”
She bought this bottle of perfume on a second honeymoon trip to Paris a few years ago. She likes to reserve it for special occasions. I bring it back to her and she sprays a barely noticeable amount on the inside of her left wrist. She rubs the wrist underneath both ears, over the front panel of her panties, and finally both wrists together. She holds one up for me to sample.
“What do you think? Just a little hint. Do you think it’s too much?”
“No, I’d say it’s perfect. I can’t clearly detect it till I’m really close–which is perfect” I assure her.
Something in the perfume activates my brain chemistry, making me want her even more, right now. The feeling is wonderful, I did not think I could want her more than I did just a moment ago, but she knows what buttons to push and when.
She puts the garter belt over her hourglass hips until it settles in place at her waist. The clasps dangle down. I’m already picturing her getting undressed as she gets dressed.
She sits on the end of the bed, grabbing one of the black stockings. She stretches out her left leg and slips the thigh-high on, and repeats with her right leg.
“Will you do the honors?” she invites me as she rises from the bed’s edge.
“Gladly indeed, milady” I respond with a hammed-up English accent.
“Such a dork.” she exasperatedly whispers as she rolls her eyes.
I kneel down on the floor and fasten the clasps from the garter belt to the top of each thigh-high, making sure I pass my nose over the front of her panties to inhale her one last time.
She fetches the dress and steps into it, slipping it over her shoulders.
“Zipper?”
I slowly slide the zipper up as I say goodbye to the small of her bare back and get a last glimpse of her alluring lingerie, eagerly awaiting what the evening holds. Finally I fasten the clasp at the top of the dress.
I stare at the silk stretched between her toes as the black stockings disappear into her heels.
She gathers her hair into a casual up-do. Locks of hair on the back form an interwoven pattern, accentuating subtly different colors as the angle of the light changes over them. She left a small wisp of hair dangling at her temple. It’s perfect–and sexy as fuck.
She puts on a pair of simple silver hoop earrings, and completes the ensemble with a small, black strapless handbag, where she stashes her phone, credit cards and some basic necessities.
“I’ll go get the car” I say, jumping up from the bed.
“OK, be down in a sec”.
I back the car partially out of our driveway and wait for her by the front door. She loves to make me wait. It’s 6:45, the reservation is at 7. I thought she was ready–what the hell is she doing? I don’t know. I remind myself to chill the fuck out. This night is going to be perfect and I don’t really care if we’re 2 minutes late to the reservation.
The front door opens and she comes out looking radiant in the reflected sunlight. She steps down the stoop in a gingerly feminine way, careful not to scuff her heels on the stone. A slight breeze catches the coiled lock of hair hanging near her temple and makes it dance. I’m reminded of the first time I noticed her in college and how she captured my heart then, and how she maintains a firm grip on it now. I think of how she and I formed a family and learned a new kind of love as parents, together. It occurs to me that what I have in her is more than what I dared to hope for, and I feel genuine joy in that knowledge.
She gets in the car and we head to the restaurant.
“Mmmmm…I love that hint of Chanel, I never get tired of it,” I comment as we drive away.
“It’s not too much, is it? I didn’t want it to be overpowering,” she frets.
“Nah don’t worry about it, Kels, it’s perfect. It adds another dimension to you. It’s fucking alluring is what it is.”
“Well, that is what I’m going for,” she says. “Do you remember the name of that white wine we got–it was like one of the cheaper ones on the menu but it was so good–I’m really looking forward to having some again tonight.”
“I think it was…’Solatia’...I’m not sure, I’ll bet you could find it by looking at the list and choosing one of the cheaper ones” I suggest. “So, what are you gonna order? You gonna try the escargot?”, I tease, knowing it’s so far been a non-starter for her.
“Maybe?” she coyly proffers, hinting a bit of extra unpredictability in her attitude tonight.
She smiles at me again with that coquettish grin. As we near the restaurant, I offer to drop her off near the door.
“Thanks, hon, that’d be great. I don’t want to walk too far in these heels,” she says.
As we pull up to the curb, she reaches across the console of the car with her left hand, toward my crotch. Placing her thumb against her wedding band, she holds it firmly in place. Through my pants she deliberately makes dull tapping sounds against the hard metal of my cock cage. I feel like my brainstem is going to melt.
“You sure you’re gonna be OK tonight?” she says as she continues playfully tapping, nary a hint of worry in her voice. She knows it’s what I want. “So, after dinner, Enzo and I are going to get an Uber and head straight for the airport Sheraton. He’s only in town tonight and has an early flight in the morning. Oh–and please tell me you got that box of condoms I asked you to…and…if you’re not OK with this, just say the word, and I’ll..”
“Yeah, yeah. OK uh, yeah, the Walgreens bag in the back.”, I interrupt, my heart pounding with angst.
“Chris, I need to hear you say the words…’I am OK with this’,” she insists.
“Kelsey, yes, I am OK with this. You are making my dreams come true. I love you. Have fun tonight. I am OK with this. I am so much more than ‘OK’ with this,” I assure her.
“Thanks, hon, you’re the best. I love you too. I am so lucky to have you,” she says, pecking me on the cheek as she puts eight or ten condoms into her tiny purse. “I want to stay with him as long as I can–like we talked about–so maybe you could pick me up at the airport Sheraton about 4:30 this morning? He’ll probably be going through TSA check in by then.”
“Yeah. Uh-huh.” I say, barely able to swallow.
“Just text me when you’re close, I’ll meet you outside.” she says as she gives me another peck on the cheek. She reaches between my legs one last time with her right hand. I’m heavily spotting the front of my pants. I guess I won’t be getting out of the car.
“Fuck, this is really making you leak isn’t it!” snickering at my predicament. “Holy shit, the mind of a cuck….anyway….NO JERKING OFF TONIGHT! The cage will see to that!” she demands firmly, but lovingly as she dangles in front of me the tiny key to my cage on her necklace. She knows this will make me strain harder against the metal but she does it anyway.
“Yeah, I’ll….I’ll…see you at 4:30” I stammer.
“Oh, there he is, there’s Enzo. You two finally get to meet! How cute. Wave to him.” she commands.
I wave, and Enzo notices Kelsey in our car, and heads over toward us. Enzo comes to open the passenger door.
“He’s here, I’m gonna go now, I’ll see you in the morning, OK?”
“Ciao!” Enzo exclaims in his Italian accent as soon as the door opens. He is immaculately dressed. What I’m fixed on are his shoes–perfectly polished Italian leather.
“Kelsey, che stupenda!!” Enzo compliments her as he takes her right hand and helps her out of the car. Their brief greeting kiss hints at the passion they’ve already shared for each other as she rises from the passenger seat.
Kelsey turns back toward the car. “Enzo, this is my husband, Chris. Chris, Enzo,” as she introduces us.
“Buona sera”, he greets me in his native tongue. “Pleased to finally make your acquaintance, Chris.”
“Pleased to finally…meet you.. Enzo...molto piacere!” I return, managing to haltingly remember the smattering of Italian I learned years ago.
Enzo turns to my wife, “Shall we?” he offers as he places his arm around her waist.
“Andiam’!” she returns, busting out some Italian of her own.
They approach the restaurant entrance where the maitre d’ is waiting for them to open the door and seat them at the table I reserved earlier.
I head back home, all my synapses firing in a disarray. My stomach is churning and I feel like I’ve been punched in the gut, or kicked in the nuts or worse. It’s excruciating and intoxicating at the same time. Underpinning it all is the strong attachment and affection I have for Kelsey and she for me.
I cannot wait to hear all the details about their evening together. I coach myself, “Take slow, deep breaths to help you make it through the night.”
“Wait for 4:30.”
by Topher Lawrence
Kelsey and I were college sweethearts. We got married after she graduated, 25 years ago. We had 3 kids along the way and have always had a happy domestic life. Like so many long-standing couples, the passion began to wane as we settled into life as parents. Our kids have kept us pretty busy with their active schedules.
We’ve been living in Cleveland for the last 20 years. All 3 kids were born and raised here. We were not. Not having any family nearby meant that planning a date night required the expense and logistical challenge of finding a sitter. We meant to plan more time for ourselves, but we weren’t as consistent about it as we would have liked. However at this phase of our lives the kids are old enough to be at home by themselves. They’ve become much more self-sufficient. Planning a date night has become so much easier, less stressful, and more frequent as a result.
The passion in our marriage has thus been rekindling.
Tonight is date night. At about 4:30 this afternoon, I made a reservation at our favorite restaurant–a table for two at seven. I showered a little bit ago and came up to the bedroom to get dressed and wait for Kelsey to finish her shower. We’ve been anticipating this night for a few weeks now. As I hear the bedroom door open, my heart skips a beat.
Kelsey comes into the room with her pink bathrobe. She knows I love watching her undress. The moment she came into the room my eyes were fixed on her. She met mine and gave me a coy smirk, she knew what was on my mind and was not going to satisfy me without teasing me first.
“Can’t a girl get a little privacy?” she said, teasingly, as she removed the bathrobe and hung it on the hook.
“You know how much I love your tits.”
Her tits are perfect. She’s a curvy woman and her hourglass figure when viewed from behind is magnificent–but when she faces me, her voluptuous breasts command my attention. They are perfectly proportioned to the rest of her body. Her tits, mixed with her smile and the anticipation of this long-awaited night make my insides feel tingly. I love how she can still do this to me after 29 years of being together.
I approach to give her a kiss on her teeth-freshly-brushed, minty-tasting mouth. I’m so excited, I decided to slip her a little tongue.
“Down boy!” she exclaims as she flinches back from my mouth. “You’re like a fuckin’ puppy. Save some for afterward.”
“I guess I couldn’t help myself.”
Still naked, she pushes me on my shoulder forcing me to take a seated position on the bed as she walks over to the closet. She makes two dress selections from the closet and holds them both in front of me.
“What do you think, the red or the black?”
I don’t know why she likes this ritual of asking my opinion on clothes. I try a little reverse psychology.
“I think, the red.” I proffer.
“Hmmmm…I dunno, I think the black will go better with what I plan to wear underneath.
Yes! The red suggestion was a feint. I fucking love that black dress. It’s low cut, accentuates her cleavage–not too much–just enough. When standing it comes down her thighs, slightly above her knees. Wearing it, she looks like sex-on-a-stick.
She hangs the red dress back up in the closet, and puts the black one on the bed, next to me, then heads over to her underwear drawer.
“I’m thinking…that lacy black thong from the other night?” I suggest.
“That’s still in the laundry. Someone didn’t say on top of it this week,” she teases me again.
“How about the crotchless panties, then? Easy access…” I suggest, longingly.
“I think I’m ovulating. I’ll end up leaving a wet spot on my dress if I take that out tonight.”
“And what would be wrong with that?”
“You’re a pervert.”
“A guy can dream, can’t he?”
“Oh, all your dreams are gonna come true tonight, my love.” she promises.
She opens her jewelry box and selects a silver chain upon which dangles a large locket containing a photo of our kids when they were much younger. Also attached to the chain, next to the locket, is a tiny key–a special, secret symbol just between us, reminding her of the deep love she and I share–where we started so many years ago and where we are today, and our hopes for tomorrow.
Facing the mirror, she asks me to operate the tiny clasp. I stand behind her naked body and take in the smell of her hair. I attach the clasp and run my hands all down her torso until I touch her buttocks with both hands before gently pulling away and returning to sit on the bed. I admire in the mirror the contrast between her skin tone and the metal as the locket and key hang in the space between her breasts.
She nonchalantly takes out an as-yet-unopened package from her favorite internet lingerie merchant. She opens it and takes out a pair of black thigh-high silk stockings, black garters attached to a lacy black garter belt. Wearing nothing but the silver chain and a coquettish grin, she lays these on the bed next to me without comment. She knows that I’m close to a hands-free jizz in my shorts just watching her handle those items. She knows I love shit like that–it drives me fucking crazy.
She turns a 180 toward her dresser and, knees pressed tightly together, bends over at the waist showing off her magnificent ass and I get the merest glimpse of her freshly showered pussy. I immediately picture myself grabbing her hips and pulling her back to my front. In my impromptu fantasy, she issues a loud vocalization with each wanton thrust, my cock desperately vying for the deepest position to deposit my seed inside of her. She knows me better than anyone, and she knows this is exactly what I’m thinking. She knows I can’t do this right now because she doesn’t want her snatch full of spunk during her dinner date. She knows I know this. She’s just playing me like a violin.
Kelsey stands back up erect, displaying a pair of panties and a matching bra. The ass of the knickers are a diaphanous, see-through lace mesh. The front is mostly see-through. The crotch is entirely practical, designed to provide some much-needed absorption on an evening like this. These were obviously designed by a woman and not some randy-ass dude whose brain is soaked with T.
She bends at the waist, lifting one leg into the panties, then the other. She slowly pulls them up in front of me, putting on a show. I watch as the fabric gradually obscures her pretty, brunette, natural bush.
“I’ll see you later, much later.” I think to myself wistfully imagining my nose buried between her thighs.
She turns around to show me what her ass looks like in the panties. The material is see-through in all the right places. It highlights her female form perfectly. It's magnificent.
I present the brassiere and she steps toward me, and turns around, looking over her left shoulder at me, inviting me to place the cups over her breasts. She holds out both arms as I pass the straps over them. I gently pass my fingers over her erect nipples before fitting her into the cups, pulling the bottom tight, and fastening the clasp between her shoulder blades.
“Hon, could you grab me the Chanel No. 5 from the basket in the linen closet?” she requests.
“Sure thing.”
She bought this bottle of perfume on a second honeymoon trip to Paris a few years ago. She likes to reserve it for special occasions. I bring it back to her and she sprays a barely noticeable amount on the inside of her left wrist. She rubs the wrist underneath both ears, over the front panel of her panties, and finally both wrists together. She holds one up for me to sample.
“What do you think? Just a little hint. Do you think it’s too much?”
“No, I’d say it’s perfect. I can’t clearly detect it till I’m really close–which is perfect” I assure her.
Something in the perfume activates my brain chemistry, making me want her even more, right now. The feeling is wonderful, I did not think I could want her more than I did just a moment ago, but she knows what buttons to push and when.
She puts the garter belt over her hourglass hips until it settles in place at her waist. The clasps dangle down. I’m already picturing her getting undressed as she gets dressed.
She sits on the end of the bed, grabbing one of the black stockings. She stretches out her left leg and slips the thigh-high on, and repeats with her right leg.
“Will you do the honors?” she invites me as she rises from the bed’s edge.
“Gladly indeed, milady” I respond with a hammed-up English accent.
“Such a dork.” she exasperatedly whispers as she rolls her eyes.
I kneel down on the floor and fasten the clasps from the garter belt to the top of each thigh-high, making sure I pass my nose over the front of her panties to inhale her one last time.
She fetches the dress and steps into it, slipping it over her shoulders.
“Zipper?”
I slowly slide the zipper up as I say goodbye to the small of her bare back and get a last glimpse of her alluring lingerie, eagerly awaiting what the evening holds. Finally I fasten the clasp at the top of the dress.
I stare at the silk stretched between her toes as the black stockings disappear into her heels.
She gathers her hair into a casual up-do. Locks of hair on the back form an interwoven pattern, accentuating subtly different colors as the angle of the light changes over them. She left a small wisp of hair dangling at her temple. It’s perfect–and sexy as fuck.
She puts on a pair of simple silver hoop earrings, and completes the ensemble with a small, black strapless handbag, where she stashes her phone, credit cards and some basic necessities.
“I’ll go get the car” I say, jumping up from the bed.
“OK, be down in a sec”.
I back the car partially out of our driveway and wait for her by the front door. She loves to make me wait. It’s 6:45, the reservation is at 7. I thought she was ready–what the hell is she doing? I don’t know. I remind myself to chill the fuck out. This night is going to be perfect and I don’t really care if we’re 2 minutes late to the reservation.
The front door opens and she comes out looking radiant in the reflected sunlight. She steps down the stoop in a gingerly feminine way, careful not to scuff her heels on the stone. A slight breeze catches the coiled lock of hair hanging near her temple and makes it dance. I’m reminded of the first time I noticed her in college and how she captured my heart then, and how she maintains a firm grip on it now. I think of how she and I formed a family and learned a new kind of love as parents, together. It occurs to me that what I have in her is more than what I dared to hope for, and I feel genuine joy in that knowledge.
She gets in the car and we head to the restaurant.
“Mmmmm…I love that hint of Chanel, I never get tired of it,” I comment as we drive away.
“It’s not too much, is it? I didn’t want it to be overpowering,” she frets.
“Nah don’t worry about it, Kels, it’s perfect. It adds another dimension to you. It’s fucking alluring is what it is.”
“Well, that is what I’m going for,” she says. “Do you remember the name of that white wine we got–it was like one of the cheaper ones on the menu but it was so good–I’m really looking forward to having some again tonight.”
“I think it was…’Solatia’...I’m not sure, I’ll bet you could find it by looking at the list and choosing one of the cheaper ones” I suggest. “So, what are you gonna order? You gonna try the escargot?”, I tease, knowing it’s so far been a non-starter for her.
“Maybe?” she coyly proffers, hinting a bit of extra unpredictability in her attitude tonight.
She smiles at me again with that coquettish grin. As we near the restaurant, I offer to drop her off near the door.
“Thanks, hon, that’d be great. I don’t want to walk too far in these heels,” she says.
As we pull up to the curb, she reaches across the console of the car with her left hand, toward my crotch. Placing her thumb against her wedding band, she holds it firmly in place. Through my pants she deliberately makes dull tapping sounds against the hard metal of my cock cage. I feel like my brainstem is going to melt.
“You sure you’re gonna be OK tonight?” she says as she continues playfully tapping, nary a hint of worry in her voice. She knows it’s what I want. “So, after dinner, Enzo and I are going to get an Uber and head straight for the airport Sheraton. He’s only in town tonight and has an early flight in the morning. Oh–and please tell me you got that box of condoms I asked you to…and…if you’re not OK with this, just say the word, and I’ll..”
“Yeah, yeah. OK uh, yeah, the Walgreens bag in the back.”, I interrupt, my heart pounding with angst.
“Chris, I need to hear you say the words…’I am OK with this’,” she insists.
“Kelsey, yes, I am OK with this. You are making my dreams come true. I love you. Have fun tonight. I am OK with this. I am so much more than ‘OK’ with this,” I assure her.
“Thanks, hon, you’re the best. I love you too. I am so lucky to have you,” she says, pecking me on the cheek as she puts eight or ten condoms into her tiny purse. “I want to stay with him as long as I can–like we talked about–so maybe you could pick me up at the airport Sheraton about 4:30 this morning? He’ll probably be going through TSA check in by then.”
“Yeah. Uh-huh.” I say, barely able to swallow.
“Just text me when you’re close, I’ll meet you outside.” she says as she gives me another peck on the cheek. She reaches between my legs one last time with her right hand. I’m heavily spotting the front of my pants. I guess I won’t be getting out of the car.
“Fuck, this is really making you leak isn’t it!” snickering at my predicament. “Holy shit, the mind of a cuck….anyway….NO JERKING OFF TONIGHT! The cage will see to that!” she demands firmly, but lovingly as she dangles in front of me the tiny key to my cage on her necklace. She knows this will make me strain harder against the metal but she does it anyway.
“Yeah, I’ll….I’ll…see you at 4:30” I stammer.
“Oh, there he is, there’s Enzo. You two finally get to meet! How cute. Wave to him.” she commands.
I wave, and Enzo notices Kelsey in our car, and heads over toward us. Enzo comes to open the passenger door.
“He’s here, I’m gonna go now, I’ll see you in the morning, OK?”
“Ciao!” Enzo exclaims in his Italian accent as soon as the door opens. He is immaculately dressed. What I’m fixed on are his shoes–perfectly polished Italian leather.
“Kelsey, che stupenda!!” Enzo compliments her as he takes her right hand and helps her out of the car. Their brief greeting kiss hints at the passion they’ve already shared for each other as she rises from the passenger seat.
Kelsey turns back toward the car. “Enzo, this is my husband, Chris. Chris, Enzo,” as she introduces us.
“Buona sera”, he greets me in his native tongue. “Pleased to finally make your acquaintance, Chris.”
“Pleased to finally…meet you.. Enzo...molto piacere!” I return, managing to haltingly remember the smattering of Italian I learned years ago.
Enzo turns to my wife, “Shall we?” he offers as he places his arm around her waist.
“Andiam’!” she returns, busting out some Italian of her own.
They approach the restaurant entrance where the maitre d’ is waiting for them to open the door and seat them at the table I reserved earlier.
I head back home, all my synapses firing in a disarray. My stomach is churning and I feel like I’ve been punched in the gut, or kicked in the nuts or worse. It’s excruciating and intoxicating at the same time. Underpinning it all is the strong attachment and affection I have for Kelsey and she for me.
I cannot wait to hear all the details about their evening together. I coach myself, “Take slow, deep breaths to help you make it through the night.”
“Wait for 4:30.”
