“Betty, are you ready to go?” My fiancè, Mark, yells out excitedly. We’re about to go to the shop to find him a suit shirt.
Mark is an artist, which is one of reasons I liked him so much in the first place. Most men work in business, finances, boring things really, but Mark is expressive. And nice, well sometimes. When Mark is angry, he gets very angry. I know I should be a good fiancè, and take his blows. Often times, I’m the cause of his anger, so I should be punished. What am I saying? I can’t stand the thought of being married to him, with his quick fists. To cook and clean for him would be hell.
He proposed to me, and I said yes, so we must get married.
We arrive at the shop, It’s called La Belle’s. Mark doesn’t own anything very nice, so we have to buy him a full suit. We open the door, and we’re hit with a new song. It’s one Ms. Teresa Brewer, ‘Till I Waltz Again with you’.
“Till I waltz again with you. Just the way we are tonight. I will keep my promise true. For you are my guiding light” I quietly hum to myself.
“Hello Sir, Madam, what can I help you find today?” The shopkeeper asks. I immediately stop humming, for, right before my eyes is the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen.
Dark hair, grey green eyes, and the softest skin you can imagine. All of a sudden, before I can stop myself, I imagine slipping of her shopkeeper’s blouse, unbuttoning her brassière, to reveal her supple tender breasts. Kissing her up and down, slipping my head between her thighs.”
“Bet, honey, what exactly are we looking for?” Mark says, breaking me away from my fantasy.
“Madam?” The shop girl sounds
“Yes, uh, men’s dress shirts.”
“Our men’s department is in the back, I’ll show you the way. What’s the special occasion?”
“A wedding, our wedding.” Mark chimes. “I still don’t know how I convinced her to marry me!” The shop girl gives out a polite laugh.
“Here are the shirts. Can I help you with anything else?”
“Oh yes, what color should we choose? I was so sure about white, but now I see all these choices and-” I already know exactly what shirt I want to buy. I’ve known since I was a small girl.
“White is traditional, but grey would compliment your fiance’s eyes better.”
“And what about the tailoring?” I know all the answers to the questions I’m asking. I’m only asking them to hear the shop girl’s hypnotic voice. Her voice is creamy and smooth, like dark chocolate, or champagne.
We leave with a shirt I wouldn’t have chosen, but I love it anyway, because she picked it out.
Mark opens the car door for me, and poses a question.
“Bet, are you okay? You seemed preoccupied in there.”
“The girl, the shop girl. Something about her struck a chord with me.”
“She’s a working woman, that’s unnatural. She bothered me too.”
“That’s not what I meant, I liked her.”
“Maybe she could come to our house for coffee, we could show her the benefits of being married.”
“Yes, she should come to our house.” It’s decided. This mystery woman, this sexy, alluring creature would be in my house, in my bedroom, on my bed. I must stop this thinking, I’m with Mark, after all.
Mark is out, for more paint I think. It takes him hours to get paint. He tells me that the paint has to speak to him for him to buy it. I don’t understand artists. Since Mark and I have no plans today, save for chatting and eating, I’m in a translucent baby blue lace nightgown, which doesn’t cover much of my innocence. I hear the sharp ring of the doorbell, so I quickly grab my satin robe, and open the door. The shop girl stands at the door way.
“I’m so sorry, it looks as if you’re busy.” She says in that sexy voice.
“What are you doing here?” I say in a voice that’s harsher than I mean.
“When you left the shop, I looked at the address you left. I know you have a fiance, and you’ll probably throw me out for saying this, but I was entranced by you. Captivated. You’re the sexiest woman I’ve ever met.” My breath catches in my throat. The fantasies were easy to kill when I thought she didn’t feel the same way, but now, I can’t stop imagining us together.
“Come in.” I say in a quiet voice. She enters, and I shut and lock the door. I run into the kitchen, and pour two glasses of red wine. When I enter the living room again, she’s taken a seat on my couch, coat removed. She looks so beautiful, just sitting there. I offer her the glass of wine.
“So what’s your name” I probe cautiously.
“Alice.” She replies in a bold voice.
“Your fiance, he calls you Bet?”
“Yes, he calls it my motivator. He tells me that every time he calls me Bet, what he’s really calling me is Fat. He thinks I should lose weight.”
“I think that your fiancè just doesn’t know how to handle a woman.” She replies.
“And you do?” I ask, sexily.
“I like to think I do.” She shoots back. I wiggle my shoulders to slip off the satin robe. She gasps at the sight of my lingerie. I set my wine glass on the table, and take off her shirt, just as in my fantasy. She leans in to kiss me. When our lips connect, it’s like euphoria. I press my tongue against her lips. She opens them, like an invitation to explore. I lay down on top of her, and begin to feel the contours of her body. Her soft skin, her perky breasts that fill my hand so perfectly, her rounded bottom. She un-buttons my nightgown, and slides it from me. She flips us, so I’m now on the bottom. She breaks away from our kiss.
“Are you okay with this?”
“Yes, please keep going.”
He kisses my chin, then the valley between my breasts, then she begins to suck on each one, causing little tingles between my legs. She continues kissing all the way down my stomach. The tingles get more and more intense as she moves closer and closer to my clit. She finally kisses each of my thighs, and I giggle a bit. She puts her head directly between my thighs and starts moving her tongue. I feel the deepest sense of euphoria I’ve ever felt. She starts licking harder and faster. It causes me to moan. She circles her tongue around my clit. I’m giggling and moaning. She darts her tongue in and out of the opening. I start to scream louder and louder until, I finally feel like the world is starting to break apart. She takes a break from the licking to laugh for a moment. We both sit up, facing each other. She brushes the hair out of my face.
“Amazing” I say, cutting her off. Just then, the phone rings. I pick it up.
“Hey Bet, It’s Mark, calling from the paint store. I just want to see if you’re okay.”
“We’re over Mark.” I say in the most defiant tone I can muster.
“Very funny Bet.”
“No Mark, we’re over. You call me names, and you hit me, and you can’t make me orgasm.”
“Bet, what are you talking about?”
“Don’t come back to this house Mark, don’t even think about it. I’ll set your clothes on the doorstep.”
“You can’t live without me! How will you pay for your things?”
“Maybe I’ll become one of those working women you hate so much.” I slam the phone into the cradle. Alice is looking at me with admiring eyes.
“Want to go again?” She asks.
“Yes,” I say, “But this time, let me return the favor.”
Her moaning is like music to my ears.