Chapter 1
SCENE 1
Honey, I’m Home
The wife is in the kitchen fixing dinner at 6:07 pm. The husband enters the house and shuts the door.
“Honey, I’m home.”
“Hi, there. How was work today?”
“It was a good day--finally.”
“Good, because I need you to help me put some stuff in the attic. It’s been lying around here forever and it’s driving me nuts.”
“Oh, help! I just get home and you’re putting me to work already? I worked all day.”
“I want you to hand a few boxes to me, that’s all.”
“You remember we’re going out to dinner tonight, don’t you?”
“Yes, you can see I’m dressed for it already, but I want to get these boxes out of my way first. Then we can relax the rest of the evening.”
“I’m so hungry! And I’m ready for a drink.”
“Come on, honey. I need your help. I’ve worked hard today, too. You don’t want me lifting these heavy things by myself now, do you? I might fall off the ladder.”
“We can’t afford any hospital bills, that’s for sure. Are your going to wear that nice skirt?”
“Yes, I’ll be careful. Let’s get it done before we get comfortable. If we sit down, we’ll never get up again.”
“Okay.”
“Can you pull down the ladder to the attic?”
“Yes.” He does it--she climbs the ladder and stands at the top.
“See those boxes down there in the corner? Hand them to me, will you?”
“All of those? That’s a lot of boxes!” He picks up a cardboard box and pushes it up to her. She reaches down, grabs it, and sets it in the attic.
“Now another one.”
He hands it up to her. “This is pretty nice work.”
“What’s so nice about it? Oh, I know--you can see up my skirt, is that it? It’s a little fringe benefit. I mean, would I ask you to do something that wasn’t beneficial?”
“Never—of course not.”
“Hand me another box.”
He does. She shoves it way back into the attic.
“You have beautiful legs. You should write a book and get rich selling beauty secrets. How do you do it?”
“I work out and stay active. I don’t sit in front of the TV all the time. Hand me another box.”
“With legs like that you could be a dancer.”
“It’s a little late now.”
“What a shame to hide those legs under a skirt.”
“I could wear a tutu around the house for you. You like those little tutus, don’t you?”
“That ballerinas wear?”
“Yes. You know--the ones that stand straight out.”
“Oh, yeah, those are great.”
“Keep the boxes coming,” she says.
“So then, if I find you a tutu will you wear it?”
“It’s not really a thing to wear around the house. It’s for the stage.”
“I mean, could you do it just for fun, just for me.”
“You’re a little warped, you know what I mean?”
“Because I want you to wear a tutu around the house?”
“Yes. Nobody wants that, nobody does that!”
“Sure they do. Maybe they don’t have the guts to admit it, or maybe they don’t have the imagination to think of it.”
“Keep the boxes coming, please.” He pushes another one up the ladder.
“It would keep me very interested in you.”
“You seem interested enough already.”
“Life can become terribly routine, you know?”
“Nobody will accuse you of letting things get routine.”
“How about it? Can I buy you a tutu?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. I’m not a ballerina. I’m over thirty. I won’t make a fool of myself walking around the house in a tutu. What if somebody comes to the door? I would look like an idiot.”
“So don’t answer the door.”
“If someone comes to the house and sees our cars in the driveway and all the lights on, and then I don’t answer the door, that won’t look good, will it?”
“Yes.”
“Okay, you’ve got all the boxes now.”
“Great. Then we’re done! Thank you.” She sits down at the edge of the attic and takes a deep breath. She looks him in the eye. “So you like my legs, do you?”
“Very much.”
“It’s a fetish with you, isn’t it, looking at my legs?”
“What’s wrong with looking at your legs?”
“You’re way too interested, that’s all--you’re obsessed.”
“I’m interested.”
She rolls her eyes, and considers for a moment. “You want to see them now?”
“Sure.”
“You’re a rascal, you know that?” She pulls her skirt up a few inches. “You like that?”
He looks at her. “Yes.”
“You’re a sick man.”
“There’s nothing sick about wanting to see your legs.”
She looks at him a moment, then pulls her skirt higher. “How’s that?”
“Now we’re getting somewhere. Oh, yeah.”
She pulls her skirt up to her waist. “Is that better?” She looks at him. “I don’t know what to do with you--you know that?”
“You’re an inspiration.”
“I’m glad you think so.”
“I do. What else have you got to show me?”
“You’re greedy, you know that?”
“No.”
“You only want my body.”
“You look like a thousand bucks--your legs, eyes, hair, your face--everything. I love your mind and your soul, and your sense of humor.”
She stares at him, then unbuttons her blouse and lets it fall open. “How about my breasts?”
“Yes, I totally like your breasts.”
“Want to see more?”
“Yes. Can you slip it off your shoulders?”
“You want me to sit here in the attic and take off my blouse?”
“It’s warm enough up there, isn’t it?”
“Yes, it’s warm up here. In fact, it’s too warm.” She pauses for a moment, then takes off the blouse and drops it. “Catch.”
He does. “That’s the idea. Drop some more stuff. You’re looking good.”
“It’s a bad hair day, though.”
“What’s wrong with your hair?”
“It won’t do what I want it to, that’s what! Can’t you see it’s a mess?”
“It looks good to me.”
“That’s because you don’t know what I was trying to do with it, and what it wouldn’t do for me, and what it didn’t do.”
“I don’t know how it could look any better than it does.”
“Ha! That’s a good line. You know how to say the right thing.”
“Do I? Hey, since it’s so hot up there, why don’t you just slip off that skirt?”
She rolls her eyes. “Will this never end?” She shrugs. “I figured you’d say that sooner or later.” She unzips her skirt, slips it off, and drops it to him. “There you go. Now you have most of my clothes.”
“But not all. We can take care of that. Take off the bra now.”
“Have you no shame?”
“I would be ashamed not to ask for your clothes. You look so good without them. It’s time for me to visit your Museum of Human Art. Don’t be shy.”
“You know, I never realized what I was getting into when I got involved with you!”
“Nobody knows what they’re getting when they marry. But remember now, I handed lots of boxes up to you.”
“Yes. You killed yourself with effort, didn’t you?”
“Uh-huh. So will you take off your bra now?”
She glares at him. He waits. She takes it off and drops it to him. “Ta-dah! There you go!”
“And now the rest of it.”
“Everything?”
“Yes. Show the art.”
“Are you just going to stand down there and stare at me?”
“I don’t know--one thing at a time.”
She shrugs, then takes off her panties and lets them float down.
“Are you happy now?”
“Yes, you’re so artistic.”
“Glad you like me.”
“Can you come down the stairs a few steps?”
“This can’t be a fashion show since there are no clothes, so what is it?”
“An art show, of course.”
“Whatever.”
“Art must be displayed. It must be posed. You’re the show, so why not pose like a Greek sculpture?”
“Shall I stand like I’m made of marble?”
“Yes.”
She strikes a pose. “For how long?”
“For an hour.”
“You’re crazy!”
“Okay.” He stares at her.
“Why don’t you stop looking and start doing something.”
“Like what?”
“Use your imagination.”
He considers for a moment then moves up the ladder and kisses her belly. “That’s awfully soft marble!”
“Can you come up higher, please?”
He climbs the ladder, putting his feet between hers. He kisses her. “High enough?”
“Well, I don’t want you to kiss me on the top of the head.”
“How about here?” He kisses her mouth and puts an arm around her.
“Try touching me, will you?”
“I’m already touching you.”
“Well, touch me more.”
“Where?”
“Everywhere.”
“I can only use one hand, or I might fall.”
“So do what you can do, not what you can’t.” He caresses her chest with his free hand.
“That’s nice. It’s a good thing you have two hands.”
“Feels pretty good?”
“Yes. Keep at it. Do both sides.”
“And fall to my death?”
“Okay, then lean against me,” she says. He leans on her and uses both hands to rub as best he can. “Pull on the tips, would you?”
“Really?”
“Yes, my nipples. Squeeze them, pull on them.”
“I’m in a very awkward position.”
“Don’t talk about it, just do it. Make your fingers work some magic. Maybe it would be better if you move down the ladder a little? Get into a right position.”
“If I fall, that will be the end.”
“Oh, who cares about that?” He moves down lower on the ladder until his head is at the level of her bellybutton. He reaches up with both hands and caresses her breasts, rubbing in circles, running his fingers across her nipples, rolling them between his fingers, tugging outward. She moans and groans.
“That’s nice, honey—magic fingers.”
“Glad you like it.” He kisses her stomach and pushes his tongue into her bellybutton, then brings his hands down to her waist and squeezes. “You’re so round, so soft, so beautiful.” He brings his head down to her Mound of Venus and rubs his face against it. “Lovely little forest down here. Open your legs a little.” She does. He licks between them. He runs his tongue along her folds, tasting her, smelling her. He laps the petals of her slit while pushing inward, making her moan.
He separates her lips as he licks, then runs two fingers inside the soft flesh, pushing in deep, turning his fingers toward his face and rubbing them along the inside wall of her vagina as he licks her nubbin. His fingers make music in her soft, wet flesh.
“Oh, that’s good!” she says. ”Do it, do it, do it to me!”
“Put your legs apart further.” She opens wider. He pushes his mouth against her vulva, licking with long strokes. He teases her nubbin with the tip of his tongue.”
“Yes, more of that! More of that!”
He reaches up and slips one finger from each hand into her opening and rubs, pushing her apart as he strokes, pushing and pulling upward and outward. She moans. He moves higher on the ladder and caresses her breasts. He kisses her mouth, pushing it open with his tongue. “Unfasten my pants,” he says. She reaches down and does so. “Push them down.” He moves higher. “And my shorts too. Set my cocono free.”
She pushes his boxers down, takes hold of his cocono, wraps a hand around it and pulls on it.
“Yes, that’s good.” She strokes it and curls her fingers around it, drawing them up to the top where she rubs the velvet head in circles. He moves higher, close to her head. “Take it in your mouth.” She brings her lips down upon him, kissing his cocono, then she slides down on it until it reaches the back of her mouth.
She strokes it, licking and tasting and trying to swallow his length. She does this long enough that he can’t resist the urge to enter her below. He brings his member down to her vulva and shoves it in. “Oh, yes,” he says with a groan, wrapping his hands around the rungs of the ladder and lifting her hips with his forearms to open her legs. He thrusts himself into her, driving deep, stroking hard and fast until at last he explodes.
