The Secret from the Sex Box
“Every woman wants to be a slut, even if it’s just for a day.”
I wrote that. I wrote that on a slip of paper, and dropped it into my hubby’s “Sex Box”.
Okay, okay, let me explain. After a year of marriage, I gifted him two boxes. One red, his; and one blue, mine. Two identical boxes, two inch cubes, each with a “post box” slit on the lid and a tiny lock. I kept his key, and he, mine.
“Honey,” I explained to him, “Here’s what we do. All our secret sex fantasies we write down and post into these boxes. Once a while, I will open mine, and find a task or fantasy that you need, and I will do that. In the same way, you can review my ‘Sex Box’ and do your best…, or your worst!”
The first thing I uncovered was a request to remove my panties at a public restaurant, and, hand them to him over the table. Now ladies, if you are reading this, you will know how difficult this can be! My six inch heels, the short skirt, and the crowds of people around us! Still, I got it done. He was excited, and so was I. We never made it back to the house before he assaulted me in his car, and, I loved that about him. I loved his car too! Although I now drove a sporty red two-door car he gave me for a completely different favor, his old, black luxury car still held a special place in my heart.
“Every woman wants to be a slut, even if it’s just for a day,” was the note he drew. It wasn’t the easiest demand, but it was certainly the most interesting. He didn’t trade it for another; he just mused over it for days.
A week later we found ourselves flying to Japan, hubby had spent many years there, as his military dad was stationed in the land of the rising sun.
“I’ve been thinking of your challenge… you know,” he said, “‘Every woman wants to be a slut, even if it’s just for a day’? That one, yes. And I think you would want to get away with it too! I mean not noticed by any of our friends, or relatives!”
He was perceptive, this one!
“With one stranger?” he asked.
“Of course, that would be great!” I responded encouragingly, then added, “Hardly a day though…”
“So two strangers?” he asked.
I answered by looking longingly into his eyes and rewarding him with a careful smile.
“More!” he decided, “How many more…”
I left him there. Enjoy the holiday, I reasoned.
“So I have a plan,” he confided sometime during our visit.
That plan came to me bright and early on the third day we were in Japan. He rushed me through the shower and laid out clothes for me to wear. Bright red skirt, that did not fall below the knee, black panties, red bra and black blouse with buttons down the front. Men! No damn idea! I selected shoes that were easy to kick off, Japan was all about no shoes indoors.
Hurried breakfast, and my anxious excitement was growing, was this my day? Surely. We made our way into a fabulously neat and tidy school, at around seven in the morning. Students bowed and waved at the stranger in their midst. All boys I noticed, oh wow, what was he planning?
He made his way with some confidence into the Headmaster's office, and the balding man behind the desk rose and bowed profusely to both of us. They chatted in Japanese, and I was oblivious. Clearly he had arranged this meeting, and we were expected. He was offered one of the two chairs on this side of the table, I reached for the other.
“Stay standing!” hubby barked harshly.
Frankly, I froze in surprise at the tone, rather than the instruction. The headmaster’s head bowed and looked intently at something on his desk. And hubby continued to chat to him. I heard the words, “Slut for a Day!” and hubby then translated. The headmaster’s face looked at me with surprise, and returned to bowing at hubby.
Headmaster called in a teacher who was waiting at the open door, and he entered with more bowing. He claimed the empty chair, and Mr. Sato was introduced to all. The three men sat facing each other, and I was at the end of the desk, unaware and ignorant of the conversation, but strangely very excited.
I too earned a bow. As the Headmaster went into a long monologue and inserted the words, ‘Slut for a Day!’ and that got the now red-faced Mr. Sato, and his ill-fitting suit, looked at me in surprise. Hubby laughed.
“Here, young men avoid sex,” he said and I noticed he was chatting to me, “So Headmaster here had the idea that the Eighteen year olds should get to see a woman…”
“And touch…” Headmaster affirmed.
“OH!” exclaimed Mr. Sato.
“Yes,” continued Hubby, “And touch a very beautiful woman. Mr. Sato here is head of class and he will take you through the steps. See Headmaster feels that if they touch a woman as beautiful as you are, then it may be easier for them to approach another woman.”
“Without you?” My voice was more hesitant than I expected!
“You’re in good hands with Mr. Sato,” he assured me, “Right Mr. Sato! Good hands!”
“Very good hands!” Said Mr. Sato and then repeated his words, “Very good hands!”
“Besides,” hubby said with a sly smile, “Slut for a Day! A whole Day!”
“Slut for a Day,” the other cheered in unison, and with that I was led away into the belly of the school by Mr. Sato.
“You waiting here,” said Mr. Sato as he showed me into a cupboard in the front of an amazingly clean and large classroom, with no students.
It must have been a good half hour in the headmaster's office, so the wait was brief, and anxI heard a shuffling after a while, and the voices of many scraping into desks. Mr. Sato commanded attention and soon the words from him drew embarrassed snickers. As he continued, the laughter was a lot more open, clearly the topic was risqué to teenage boys!
