What happened next time'?' I asked, he had piqued my interest and I realised it was no accident.
It was around 11 a.m. and we were all working outside, the whole crew, when she came out with a basket of washing to hang out,' adding quickly fully dressed!'
She does do the washing sometimes,' I said a little sarcastically, not a little disappointed that she had been fully dressed' as he put it.
I'm not so sure she does it in the same way she did that day,' he said, pausing for effect.
I'm intrigued,' I said, because I was!
The dress she was wearing was wringing wet,' he said with a triumphant grin.
It seemed that she had put on one of the dresses she had washed. It clung to her like a second skin, he told me with relish, she was wearing a black bra, he told me, but her thong was invisible. It occurred to me that if it was invisible then how could he know she was wearing one? I had a feeling that would soon be revealed - just as the thong had been!
That great arse', as he referred to it, was clearly visible, wobbling' through the clinging wet cotton of the powder blue dress.
I love her in that dress,' I told him, sadly, but I've never seen her wearing it wet - and it looks good enough dry!'
I stared into the middle distance, imagining the scene. I had missed a lot of fun and my premonition was working overtime, I had the feeling that he was itching to tell me of more I had missed.
Work pretty much stopped,' he said everyone was watching and there were a few wolf whistles. I had to rebuke a couple of the guys for making - err -inappropriate comments.'
Apparently she had dropped some of the clothes as she was hanging them, having to bend down to retrieve them caused her dress to ride up over the full round cheeks of that great arse' and expose the thin black line of her thong disappearing between her legs. She didn't bother pulling the dress back down after retrieving the clothes that had made a bid for freedom, it clung wetly over the curves of her buttocks and water droplets ran down her legs, sparkling colourfully in the bright sunlight.
He didn't wax lyrical, but that's how I imagined it would have been!
When she had finished hanging the clothes from the basket onto the rotary line, much to her audiences delight (his words), she grabbed the hem of the dress and in one swift motion she had dragged it over her head and off.
Calmly she had bent over to retrieve some clothes pegs, presenting what he described as a glorious view of her almost naked bottom' and then, ignoring the applause, wolf whistles and lewd suggestions that met the sight, she hung the dress on the line. To their even greater delight, she reached behind her and unhooked the strap of her bra, slipping it quickly off her shoulders before hanging it alongside the dress. When she turned around, she held the basket so that her breasts were actually lying in it like a pair of pink melons, though tipped with very prominent swollen nipples!
Without acknowledging the catcalls and whistles she disappeared back into the house, leaving them with the memory of a very small black lace triangle, sinking in the cleft between her legs as she strode.
He sat back, smiling and confident now that he knew there was little he could tell me that I might take issue with. She really is gorgeous,' he said, you are a very lucky man!'
Truth was I had hoped for a little more.
I had another premonition.
To be continued...
He made no attempt to get up, I assumed that he hadn't finished, and if he hadn't finished it could only mean one thing, there was more to come.
Do you know her friend?'
I knew she had friends, she was a gregarious person.
Which one do you mean?'
I mean the lesbian.'
He definitely had a talent for taking me by surprise and I had no talent for hiding my surprise.
You don't do you,' it was a rhetorical question.
Well, if you mean did I know one of her friends was a lesbian, no I didn't. I'd be interested to know which one and how you come to know that about her!'
Of course it may be that she isn't actually a lesbian,' he said, after all, I'm assuming your wife isn't...?' he let the question hang in the air until I plucked it out.
No she isn't,' I replied, thinking that this was only going to go in one direction, do you have a reason for this line of questions, or is it wishful thinking!'
Oh yes, there is a reason,' he said, clearly now enjoying being fully in control of the conversation about my wife, no need for wishful thinking.'
I sighed, come on then,' I said surrendering the initiative completely, what happened next, I know you are dying to tell me.'
Your wife has a friend, red haired?'
I nearly choked, You are joking right?'
The idea that Suzanne, my wife's business partner, was involved in any of the shenanigans he had been recounting was absolutely unbelievable. She was a stunning redhead, an ex-model turned professional photographer. She totally deserved the overused word stunning'. She was six foot tall, elegant, though small breasted, her gorgeous long legs seemed to go on and on, all the way to the top, more than compensated for any shortfall in the breast department! Believe me, Helen of Troy had nothing on Suzanne, she had not only a face but an arse that would launch a thousand ships!
The phrase grinning ear to ear' was a perfect fit for my builder, he was hugely enjoying this!
Not joking. From your reaction I think it's the same lady, though I don't actually know her name. Tall, legs to die for, red hair, little tits, lovely face?'
I nodded dumbly, the possibilities jostled in the limited space of my mind like a crowd in a telephone kiosk.
So to your knowledge she isn't a lesbian?'
I shook my head, Neither, to my knowledge, is my wife.' I didn't mention to him that I had often entertained the idea, not without a little desire that it should be the case.
I like that even better!' he said, clearly very pleased with this revelation.
I'm listening,' I said.
She...Suzanne you say?' I nodded, he continued, Suzanne then, called me over to the kitchen door. She asked if I was the boss, I said I was. She told me your wife had asked her to fetch me, apparently she wanted to discuss something important'. Of course I thought that it was odd, your wife sending this woman to fetch me like that, but I had an idea this might not be anything to do with the building work, so I didn't ask why she couldn't have come to speak to me without using a messenger. I took off my boots and followed her into the house.'
She wasn't in the kitchen?'
No, frankly I hadn't expected her to be, honestly,' he looked me in the eyes and his expression was earnest, you didn't expect me to say she was did you?'
I looked away, embarrassed that this man had seen my wife in a way that had undermined the normal relationship between a supplier and his customer.
He didn't wait for an answer, continuing, We went out of the kitchen into the hall and Suzanne started up the stairs and I hesitated at the bottom, feeling uncomfortable. She realised I hadn't followed and without stopping or turning around she said follow me','
Where was she then?' I asked, nervously.
In a bedroom, the master bedroom, your bedroom,' he said, the marital bedroom?'
I nodded mutely. This was emasculating, though nothing had happened as yet, he had a reason for emphasising the status of the room!
I followed her into the room, the curtains were closed and apart from the light that came into the room from the door we had come through, the only light came from the bedside lamps.'
This was easy to imagine, it was my bedroom he was talking about. The lights produced a soft subdued light and I'd often complained that I couldn't read in bed, though they created an ambience that was ideal for an occasional, though increasingly rare, sexual interaction. What he described next was a little more difficult to imagine.
She was on the bed, arms and legs akimbo and bound with what appeared to be black ribbons around her wrists and ankles. Her eyes were covered with a black blindfold. She was completely naked.'
He paused, I assumed for dramatic effect.
She?' I asked stupidly.
Your wife, of course,' he said, the faintest of smiles communicating his satisfaction.
My wife of course,' I said distantly, my wife naked and tied to our bed...how?'
He allowed the smile to break through, Suzanne, obviously, had tied her.'
She is a photographer,' I said, realising that Suzanne might not just have tied her.
There was a camera on a tripod at the foot of the bed,' he confirmed, Suzanne put her finger to her lips, signalling me to keep quiet, then pointing at a chair in the corner of the room. It seemed I was to be the audience.'
...her right nipple responded as she felt the touch of silk sliding across her breast, stiffening as much through the image of Suzanne leaning across her as to the touch.
The warm wetness of a tongue slipped across lips which parted to invite invasion, the invitation was accepted and she responded by probing with her own tongue. She revelled as she tasted lipstick from the lips of another woman for the first time, a moan escaped as she felt Suzanne responding even as she had.
She had often imagined what it might be like to kiss a woman, but she had never imagined it would be so sensual. Of course, she had never imagined that when she experienced her first feminine kiss she might be naked, blindfold and bound, or have an audience!
To be continued...