The Misadventures of Mrs. Taken

For as long as I could remember, we had done this, me, climbing under the covers and waiting patiently for the Old Man to pant a kiss goodnight on my lips to mark the end of another long, laborious day. Four more days to go till the weekend, just four more days, I could do it. Some nights, I begged to wake up and find myself fast-forwarded into the blissful days of retirement. But, then I remembered that with retirement came old age and I suddenly wasn't in such a hurry to put the next twenty years behind me.

To me, it simply isn't fathomable that there might be a night when my husband wouldn't tuck me into bed. Ever since our first night together, before we were officially husband and wife, no matter what, there had always been these five minutes or so of the day that belonged solely to us. Sometimes, I read a few paragraphs in whatever book I happen to be reading before finally calling it a night. Tonight was not one of those nights. I was exhausted, embarrassed by my thoughts of the more nefarious uses for kitchen utensils, and simply ready to put out the lights and go to bed.

Janie was tucked under the covers with nothing but the top of her head visible in the mountain of pillows and blankets. Sure, it was chilly outside, but she was bundled up for the Alaskan tundra instead of a typical mid-western spring night. I rolled my eyes and when she wasn't looking unplugged the electric blanket she had preset to nuclear fusion.

Some men considered having sex with their wives their husbandly duty, but for me making love to my wife was a privilege. Kissing her goodnight was, although comforting and somewhat pleasant, more of a duty and simply a habit of routine and normalcy. Thirty years from now, we'd probably be doing the same thing, me tucking her in and planting a kiss on her lips before bed. It was simply, as silly as it might seem, what we did. "Goodnight, babe."

I lifted my face for my kiss and received a gentle, well-meaning peck on the lips for my trouble. That was ok. My Old Man certainly didn't come close resembling the leading man in my book and as for the kitchen spatula. It was going to stay in the kitchen where it belonged. I smiled at him and I meant that smile. Getting that kiss goodnight was the highlight of my day and today I had definitely earned it. "Love you."

"Love you too, babe." I closed my wife in and the dog out. Farts was a restless spirit torn between his loyalty to my wife and the refrigerator. There was no way the bulldog with his potbelly dragging the floor was ever going to choose my wife over his stomach. I would be worried an on my way to the vet if he did.

Bored with nothing better to do and a little curious, I picked the book Janie had been reading up off the coffee table and skimmed a few paragraphs. I thought I would read a few sentences, just to see if I could figure out what had her so engrossed in the book. Her birthday was right around the corner and as to what to get her. I hadn't one damn clue. I was hoping the book would inspire me to come up with something monumental to give her for her birthday.

I wanted something better than a dinner out and a gift card stuck in a birthday card. Jewelry was out of the question. Janie was never one of those diamonds are a girl's best friend type. I had gone the jewelry route before and spent a small fortune on a pair of earrings she wouldn't wear because she was too afraid she'd lose them. Flowers were too cliché. I supposed I could paint the living room like she had asked me to, but nah. That was a little too much like work and birthdays were supposed to be fun.

I rolled my eyes and read a paragraph. So far, I didn't see what all the fuss was about. This was, as I suspected, just another sappy romance book. But, I kept reading anyway and quickly found myself lost in the pages of hardcore smut. Kitchen spatulas were only the beginning. I had never imagined such a creative use for zip ties or clothespins before. And as for a Saint Andrew's cross, I had no idea what that was before I started reading. But, I knew what one was now and in some small way wished I didn't.

I scratched my head and wondered how well I really knew the woman I had been married to for the last thirty years. Was she suffering from the bored housewife syndrome or did she really think this...the things the main characters did in the book...was something she was missing out on?

I really, really had every intention of going to bed before midnight. Morning was going to come awfully early and I had a brake job waiting for me at eight A.M. sharp. But, I couldn't stop reading or block out the ideas bombarding my mind. My wife. My Janie was going to get one hell of a good birthday present this year. A few taps on the keyboard and thanks to the magic of Master Card I had everything I needed. Now, I just had to figure out what to do with it.

A few weeks later

"What did you get me for my birthday?" I asked. We played this game every year. I'd ask Jack what he got me for my birthday and he'd pretend not to have a clue. I have to admit though there was some years when the whole thing seemed so pieced together that I didn't think he really had any idea until the day actually came. I was going to be forty-nine. This year was my last romance with my forties. I hoped like hell Jack had something special planned. He'd never, as hodge-podgy as my gifts sometimes seemed to be, disappointed me on my birthday. It was just that sometimes, a girl needed something more than a trip to the local burger joint, a kiss on the cheek, and a gift card to the Super Center make her feel special.

I was having lunch with the kids today. At thirty years old, almost thirty-one, I expected the announcement from my oldest any day now. Janie had been married for five years and it was time, as much as I hated the thought of it, for me to become a grandmother. Jack was tagging along for the ride. Nothing got a son close to his mother like family obligation. He was a grad student now. More like a professional student at this point. He claimed he was still trying to find himself. I thought he needed to find a job and do something constructive with the minor fortune his father and I had shelled out for tuition.

I didn't have plans to strap the kids for anything fancy for lunch. I just wanted something other than the usual burger and fries I was certain to get for supper from their dad. As a matter of fact, Jack had begged out of this little family outing. He claimed my lunch outing was more of a mother and kid thing than a husband and wife kind of thing. Maybe, he was right and I did need to spend some time alone with the kids.

With Janie out of the way and the shop closed for the rest of the day, I got down to business. I had been researching the Internet for weeks to make sure I had everything just right. Now, the question was. Could I pull it off? I had two hours, thanks to the kids and the creative diversion of a lunch outing, to prepare.

I had already stopped by the barbershop and gotten a quick haircut. I had showered, trimmed my beard, and even took the time to scrub the remnants of motor oil and grease out from underneath my fingernails. I got out my electric shaver, did a little man-scaping, and glared at the leather pants I had hidden way, way back in the back of the closet along with the funeral suit I hadn't been, luckily, forced to wear in years.

My jeans were a size thirty-eight, but the leather pants should have been a size forty. Sucking in a breath and praying I didn't pop the button or burst the zipper, I zipped up and hoped oxygen was optional. The little pooch of my belly over the beltline really didn't scream sexy, but I hoped to keep Janie occupied enough by other things that she wouldn't notice.

Janie claimed the bedroom was uninspiring. Looking at it now, dressed in skintight black leather pants and carting a box of sex paraphernalia I'd hid in the garage. I could see what she meant. The brown walls and striped curtains were nothing short of a nightmare. The bed was covered in dog hair from Farts. With no time and no clue of how to turn this room into a sex palace, I got to work.

Off came the flannel sheets and the cheap comforter and on went black satin sheets and dozens of little throw pillows in every conceivable color the Super Center had to offer. I stashed away the trinkets on the nightstand and laid out a length of black satin. I was so nervous that my hands were sweating and I could barley manage to rip open the boxes containing my various and sundry implements of sex.

The Internet was a well of knowledge and the best I could hope for was that I got a few things right. I had sex toys, a soft leather flogger, a fuzzy hand mitt, sweet smelling incense, a bowl of ice, candles, and of course, a brand new kitchen spatula with a bow tied to the handle. I was as ready as I was going to be.

Flipping through the pages of the book for a little last minute inspiration, I counted down the minutes till Janie came home. I didn't have to worry about the kids barging in. They were old enough to put two and two together and got the gist of it when I told them under no uncertain terms that this was mom and dad's afternoon alone.

I palmed the blue pill in my hand and wondered when I should take it. I wasn't sure if I'd need a Viagra, but I wanted it for backup just in case. I was forty-eight and I was having my first BDSM encounter with my wife. I considered taking a nip off the whisky bottle. I might need something stronger than a blue pill to give me courage.

Along with researching the Internet, I also did a little research on my wife. Janie had more than one erotic romance in her book stacks. If she was embarrassed about reading them, she'd made no attempt to hide them. Maybe, she figured at forty-nine and holding. It wasn't anybody's business what she read.

I was certain I was on the right track with this idea of mine. Absolutely certain. I set the box wrapped with a red ribbon in the center of the black satin sheets and waited, my heart pounding with nervousness and my intestines quivering, for the sound of the car ambling up the drive.

I pulled in the driveway and marched up the front porch steps. It wasn't like the Old Man to be home in the middle of the day whether it was my birthday or not. Reluctant to call him my Old Man to his face, although sometimes, I slipped up and did. I called out for him. Something was definitely wrong. The house smelled like a mix between a French whore's underpants and a head shop. There was slow, sexy, bump and grind music playing over the speakers on the stereo. "Jack?"

I stood there between the hallway and the kitchen with my mouth hanging open. At first I thought I must have been having a stroke, because there was no way I was seeing what I was seeing. Jack stood in the doorway to our bedroom, wearing nothing but a pair of very tight leather pants. He had gotten his hair trimmed and had even had someone style the usually unruly mass. He was showered and wearing the cologne I bought him last Christmas. And on his face was an expression I'd never seen before, dominant, confident, and unquestionably male.

My toes curled in my Keds tennis shoes at the sight of him. This wasn't the Jack that sat in his underwear and read CNN to me every evening nor was it the Jack that tucked me into bed with a peck on the lips and wished me sweet dreams every night. This was Jack...my Jack...only it wasn't.

The expression on Janie's face was priceless. She stood there staring at me with her jaw hanging open and her purse dangling from one finger. After I'd given her time to close her mouth I motioned her forward with a snap of my fingers. "Come."

I blinked at Jack and stayed planted in place. Who did he think I was? Rin Tin Tin? I dropped my purse on the kitchen table and stared at him in disbelief. A part of me wanted to do the happy dance and trot after him, but the bigger part of me that was the forty-nine year old woman I actually was instead of the twenty year old I wished I were stayed rooted in the spot.

Ok, this wasn't going so well. I refocused my energies on my wife and thought to myself, what would one of the dominants in her books do? The answer to that was easy. The woman would come, one way or another. I took a step toward Janie and then another and another. Reaching out a hand, I peeled her jacket off her shoulders. She looked at me as if I had suddenly announced we were voting Democrat instead of Republican in the next election. I stopped, leaving her jacket bunched at her elbows and her arms immobilized behind her back and dragged Janie down the hall.

What. The. Fuck. I dragged my heels determined that I wasn't going anywhere unless I wanted to. I certainly hoped Jack liked the garage because I was going to be living in it for the rest of his natural life and perhaps beyond. I wasn't afraid. In all our years of marriage, Jack had never raised a hand to me. Hell, for all the fights we'd had the worst thing that had ever come out of his mouth was 'bite me'. I had no reason to fear him now. "Jack, what are you doing?"

I turned Janie to face the bed. A true Dom might have forced her on her knees and demanded that she suck his cock. Well, I valued my cock a little more than to trust it to Janie's teeth right now. She needed time to get used to the idea that I was the one in complete control and, just like the characters in her books, all she had to do was agree with the plan. "Put it on," I said motioning to the box in the center of the bed.

"Oh, you got me a present." I opened the box expecting something other than what I got. I had been eyeing a purse at the Super Center for weeks and was waiting for it to go on sale. Maybe, he had noticed and bought it for me.

I held up the flimsy material no bigger than a dishrag and wondered exactly how something not even large enough to respectably cover a Barbie doll was going to fit on my size ten body. The corset and matching panty was a pretty thing, black satin, intricate embroidered silver flowers, and dangling shiny crystal beads. Jack had thought of everything including the spiked heels made of black patent leather and very delicate straps around the ankles. He even had included garters and silk stockings. But, I wondered where in the hell he had gotten the idea in the first place. "It's beautiful, but I don't think...well, I think my corset and spiked heels days are a little behind me."

"Either put it on or I'll put it on you." Janie was nervous, biting her lip and staring doubtfully at the corset and shoes clutched in her grip. I really wanted to give her a hug and reassure her that yes, the outfit would fit and it would look perfect on her. But, I had to stay in character, if I were going to make her fantasy come true. "Decide. I'll give you ten minutes to shower and change. If at the end of the allotted time, if you're not properly attired I'll have to punish you."

"Punish me?" I stifled a giggle. The idea of Jack punishing me was simply hilarious. He was not and had never been the heavy in the family. If the kids or the dog were in trouble, it was him that they ran to and me they ran away from. Jack was trying so hard though. Afterwards, we were going to have a long talk about where he'd come up with this outrageous idea, but for now, would it kill me to play along?

Lit candles cast soft shadows in the room. On the bedside table were mysterious shapes draped in black satin. He had stripped the usual flannel sheets off the bed and put on slippery black satin sheets instead. The music playing from the speakers was from my favorites list. Yeah, I could lose myself and play the submissive. After all, how hard could it be? "Yes sir."

Jack set the wind up timer he had swiped from my kitchen and gave me the look that said he meant business. He shut the door behind him as I scrambled for the shower. I had ten minutes to transform myself from middle aged, mid-western, housewife into a sex kitten and oh boy, wasn't that going to take a miracle.

I showered and shaved every conceivable part of my body in record time. Pausing to glance at my smeared makeup in the mirror, I tried to go for a smoky, sultry, somewhat slutty look. I didn't exactly pull it off. My eye shadow was too dark and it looked like I had given myself a black eye in my haste to dress. I didn't have any bright red lipstick and had to settle for my usual pale pink. I dabbed on some perfume, gathered up my courage, and contemplated the corset and the stockings.

I had never worn an outfit like this in my life. Jack preferred naked. Naked and under the sheets I could do, but stuffing my overly curvy body into this teeny tiny corset was going to take a miracle. Holding my breath and loosening the laces, I wiggled into the thing and hoped for the best.

I was terrified to exhale for fear I wouldn't be able to inhale again. The corset was tight and the boning poked me, but astounded, I stared at myself in the mirror. I had boobs. They were full and bulging over the beaded top of the corset. Hooking the closures tightly closed, I somehow managed to work the panties and stockings into place.

The corset was snug enough that the cut accentuated my curves and the stout boning and tight satin held me in precisely in all the right places. My waist, instead of being the lumpy, bumpy, bulgy, wiggly fat that just comes with bringing two kids into the world, was smooth and curved in an hourglass shape. I wobbled in the spiked heels, but I really didn't care. The shoes made my short, stubby legs look ten miles long. Besides, I didn't plan on wearing them for very long anyway.

I struggled to do something with my unruly hair and settled for a quick French twist at the nape of my neck. In the bedroom the timer ticked away the remaining seconds and from the kitchen, I could hear Jack padding barefoot across the floor as he impatiently paced.

I wasn't exactly sex kitten material. That ship had sailed a long time ago and no amount of satin was going to change that fact. But, I had to admit that I was pleasantly surprised. Uncertain of myself and not exactly sure of what other surprises Jack had in store for me, I wiped my sweaty palms on a bath towel just as the timer rang announcing my time was up.

I cracked my knuckles and sauntered toward the bedroom as if I owned it. And technically, I did. While waiting for Janie to shower and dress, I had unfastened the top button on the ridiculously tight leather pants. But, now with the fly buttoned up so snugly and biting into my waist, I barely dared to breathe. Giving into my fears of middle age, I had popped the little blue pill that promised an erection as firm as a flagpole. With the confidence that came along with knowing I was not going to disappoint, I flung the bedroom door open wide.

She stood there at the foot of the bed, a vision of black satin and loveliness. Her eyes veiled by mascara and heavy makeup, still my wife, but somehow transformed. I had been a teenage boy and as such knew the ache of a hard on. Not that I got hard every time the wind blew anymore, and hadn't for sometime, but looking at her, I was. It couldn't be the pill, not working that quickly. It had to be her, the mood, the smell of erotic musk in the room, and the music working me up into a frenzy of male hormones. Low T could kiss my ever-loving ass. This boy was raring like a stallion and ready to show his little filly a damn good time.

God, what to do with her? My first instinct was to toss her down on the bed and score one for the home team. In all the books I had read there was a plot and a plan to be carefully played out before the magic moment. I had jack shit except for my imagination. I ran my eyes over Janie as if she were a cut of prime beef in a butcher shop window. Inspecting her, I nodded my approval. She wobbled in the high heels and her cheeks blushed furiously red. Nervously, she clasped her hands in front of her stomach and nibbled at her bottom lip. I wanted to reassure her that I was just as nervous, but that would completely bungle the effect I was going for. I had to be confident and in complete control in order to pull this off.