About a year and a half ago, I was looking at Emily's schedule and noticed she had the Opera Gala on her calendar.
"Em, I didn't know we were going to the Gala again this year. It isn't on my schedule." See, we both have access to and share one another's google calendars.
"I know, sweetie," she said looking over the top of her book. "That's cause we're not going."
"But it's on your calendar?"
"Yea. The firm is one of the major sponsors this year, so I'm going to be a volunteer."
"Shouldn't I put it on my calendar, too?" I live by my calendar. If something is not on there, the odds are I'm going to double book.
"Hon," she said in that tone she gets, "I'm going to be volunteering for half the night, I can't bring a date." She said that in her , "stop annoying me" tone.
"But I thought we were talking about going to that again this year, Em? I had fun last year."
"So did I, but my firm is one of the sponsors and I need to go there to volunteer, not to have fun."
So, bummer. Well, about a month later, Emily said she needed to go shopping on Sat. morning and wanted to know if I wanted to come alone.
"Sure, what for?"
"I need a gown for the Opera Gala."
I was puzzled. "I thought we were not going."
"We're not...remember, I'm volunteering."
"So what do you need a gown for?"
"Hon, you think volunteers are wearing jeans and tee shirts? At the Opera Gala? Everyone is going to be there, I need a new gown to wear. What am I supposed to do, wear something I've worn before?"
Well, I'm usually always up for clothes shopping, duh. But it felt strange to go with Em to buy a gown for an event I could not go to. We spent the better part of the day trying on ball gowns (only she did on that trip, though I had my eye on one or two.) Emily found a gorgeous black A line gown with a stunning accent ribbon on the waist. She didn't need the cut to cover any part of her beautiful body, but it nevertheless accented her breasts and waist in an almost irresistible fashion.
A week before the Ball, thinking what I was going to do that night, at the time in the most innocent manner, I asked Em what time she was leaving.
"Hmmm," she said looking up from her work.
"What time are you leaving Saturday?"
"Oh," she said, looking back down at her work papers, "I I'm picking up Jason around six, so probably five thirty.
I shook my head for a second, so unexpected was her answer.
"You're picking up Jason," I half repeated, the words sounding strange even as I said them. Jason was a colleague of hers at work. Friend would be too strong a word, but he was more than just a co-worker.
"Yea," she looked up, again with her "what's the issue" look.
"He's going, too," I asked feeling something strange inside my stomach, something I could identify, place.
"Yea, I told you, the office is sponsoring the thing. We're both working the first shift, six thirty to eight, so we thought we'd drive together."
"Oh," I said, perking up just slightly. "I didn't know you'd be home early, maybe I don't have to find something to do."
"I'm not coming home at eight," she said, furrowing her brow. "We are allowed to eat and dance after we get done working, so Jason and I thought we might as well enjoy ourselves."
"So, what, he's like your date," I asked, ending my question with a chuckle, trying to stay light, not pick a fight with her. I think my light tone, instead of conveying the feelings I felt, conveyed acceptance.
"No, hon, not a date...we're just going together and will probably stay and have dinner a dance some.
Well that sounded something like...a date!
That night, in bed, I was kind of quiet. Em was rubbing my shoulders. "You're quiet, what's wrong?"
"Nothing," I mumbled. Of course, that tone said just the opposite.
"You're not upset about Jason taking me to the ball, are you?"
"No, no, it's just...I don't know...a little weird. It...it...I can't help thinking of it as a date, even if it isn't, and I just feel weird about it."
"Honey, stop. Are you really afriad that the big, strong man is going to take me away from you?"
Maybe that was it. Big, strong man. Maybe, having my girlfriend rub my shoulders through the satin of the pink babydoll I was wearing while calling Jason a man, a big strong, man, confused me.
"No," I gulped.
"Sweetie, men are fun and all, what girl doesn't want a man now and then, but I love you."
"Okay," I said, somewhat hesitant.
"Just cause he's attractive doesn't mean anything."
At that point I started shaking. It did not take much effort to roll over so she was on top of me, quickly taking me inside her, and unusual for us, fucking...fucking instead of making love.
After, laying in each others arms, she asked me again. "You sure you're okay with me taking him?"
Yes. Yes.
All week that was in my mind. Just cause he's attractive. Just cause he's attractive.
Just cause he's attractive.
But worse were the thoughts I had when I was falling asleep, those moments after we'd said goodnight, when we were cuddling, falling asleep.
Those few minutes before sleep overtook me were when the thoughts started.
I did not get it or understand it.
"Are you sure you're okay with me taking him?"
The thoughts. Taking him.
Was I okay?
Taking him to the ball? Yes.
But that wasn't where my thoughts were.
The first time the image entered my mind, I felt myself stir in the satin panties I was wearing.
The image. Jason. Inside Emily.
Are you sure you're okay with me taking him? Her voice, calm, reasoned.
I grew, sexual excitement.
Are you sure you're okay with me taking him? This time, when in my mind, Em asked me, she said it in a panting voice. Gasping. Are you sure you're okay with me taking him? She was moaning, biting her lip.
"Hmmm, someone's excited," Emily said. My fictional Emily was looking up at Jason, inside her.
I felt a touch on me. It dawned on me I was spooning Emily. In bed. In reality. I was spooning her and my erection was pressed against her ass. Deftly, Em reached between us and suddenly again, I was inside her. In reality, I was inside my girlfriend, but in my mind, unspoken, was the mental image of Jason taking her.
And then Saturday came. Saturday.
Saturday I was in the study doing some work while Emily was showering, getting ready for the ball. I took a break, wandered into the bedroom, to see how Em was doing. I tried hard this morning to find a picture that came close to what I saw. This is as good as I could get. Em was wearing a strapless bra, since her gown was strapless, and she did not have a tiara perched on her head. Other than that, I saw something like this. Em, my love, my girlfriend, wearing a black bra and panty set, black lace top thigh high stockings (no garter belt kind), strappy heels, daintily putting on lip gloss:
"Fuck, Emily," I burst out, my jaw dropping.
"What, you like?"
"Yes," I swallowed.
"What's wrong," she asked, picking up on the hesitation in my voice.
"I...fuck...I mean...wow," I took a step towards here, the hunger clearly obvious on my face.
"Whoa, whoa, there, what are you doing? I don't have time for that," she said, frowning.
I stopped dead. I assumed, just assumed, that she was dressed like this for me. It dawned on me that of course, she was going out to the ball by herself.
"You're awfully done up," I said, biting my lip, unsure how to say what I suddenly felt.
"You like," she asked, quickly moving from frown to smile.
"Yea. I...I guess I just wish I was going with you," I said, swallowing some pride.
"You sound jealous," she commented, touching up her lip gloss.
"I am, a little."
"Well don't worry, I'm my date will be the perfect gentleman."
"Date," I asked, raising my eyebrows.
"Oh, stop, I'm just being facetious." Emily picked up a bottle of perfume, sprayed her wrists, neck, ankles. Then, as I watched, eyes widening, pulled the waist band of her panties forward, and sprayed her neatly trimmed hair.
"What," she asked, seeing my face.
"What? What did you do that for?"
She signed, tilted her head. "I always like to smell pretty when I'm going out."
"Going out with me," I retorted right away, "when it might matter. Does it matter tonight?"
"Really," she sighed again, obviously beginning to get irritated. "Of course. After the ball, Jason and I are going back to his place and I'm going to fuck him silly. Is that what you want to hear?"
I looked away, suddenly embarrassed, blood rushing to my face. First, I was questioning Emily's fidelity to me. That was foolish. I was embarrassed to even think something like that. But worse, I looked away because I realized something much worse. My face was not the only place blood was rushing. I felt it, felt the energy, the rush. I was growing. I felt my penis swelling.
"You're not jealous of Jason, are you? Does a man like him really make you jealous?"
"A little," I said, still looking away. "Especially when you get dressed up like that."
Her voice was softening still. "I...I don't really have time, but I could change if that would make you feel better. If you're going to spend all night thinking about what the lingerie I'm wearing when I'm out with Jason..." She let the thought hang in the air.
"No, I...I'm being silly," I quickly answered, wishing she'd look away before she saw the growing tent in my pants.
"A little," she agreed. "Jason's hot and all, and there's no denying I'm going to feel totally sexy tonight..."
"You think he's hot," my voice quivered.
"Well yea, all the women at the office think..." She paused as I turned away, thinking she said something wrong, when really, I wanted to hide the stupid erection in my trousers. "I'm sorry, I'm doing it again. Don't worry, I promise I'll come home and screw your brains out, okay?"
And that was that...she finished getting ready, left for her "date."
That was that. Except all night, all I could think of was Em and Jason. Eating dinner. Dancing. Worse...
The worse thought and my reaction. Emily at Jason's house. In his bedroom. In his bed. And my reaction. Shaking. Jealousy. Erection.
A little after midnight, Emily got home, found me in bed wearing a satin babydoll and panties, waiting for her.
I don't think I've ever been so passionate in bed with her. So excited. So...
That's where it started, where my brain wrapped around this fantasy.
I'd never do it. There is nothing wrong with fantasy though.
Em knows about it. Sometimes teases me. Sometimes role plays with me. She gets into it. It is safe, hot, passionate, and something totally ours.
I can fantasize.
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