Chocolate
Knight
(M/F, nosex)
[VBC]
Copyright © 2002
Jeanine said, "'Somebody
needs to go to the store.'"
Repeated back that
way, not really a question, but made so by raised eyebrow, cocked head
and hand on hip, it made me feel foolish. I still nodded to confirm
that she's heard correctly. After all, why should she be the only one
who ever initiated our games? We both knew the codewords. We both enjoyed
the play. I mean, really! Light bondage was my idea, originally, so
why shouldn't I be the one to request it?
Jeanine looked as
though she were considering it. Since the day she lost a wager and agreed
to my repeated request to at least try it, she had always been the one
to call for the ropes and cuffs. I had no complaints - a coin toss decided
who was wearing the restraints - but it had been a while.
Okay, okay. Morning
sickness does tend to throw a monkey wrench into games that restrict
movement, and dampen the mood besides. But it had been weeks - at least
one, anyway - since she had experienced her unpredictable bouts of nausea.
And we had hours before the costume party.
She smiled that
starburst smile and I knew I wasn't wrong.
But I wasn't necessarily
right, either. "After the party, if you're still up to it,"
she said.
Even better. I had
a little scenario in mind that would be in keeping with the party theme,
which (if I haven't mentioned it) was "Nights in Armor." It
didn't matter who won the toss, my fantasy would work either way.
Of course, I hadn't
seen the costumes yet. Jeanine had worked on them in secrecy rivalling
the Forbin Project. I didn't have any idea if I would be dressed as
a knight or a "faire damselle," or maybe as Jeanine's squire. I was
sure I could make any of these work in the fantasy.
I did not
take into account how much my scents of humor had corrupted my lovely
mate.
After a light meal,
it was time to dress for the party. I did the dishes while Jeanine laid
out the costumes and put hers on. Then it was my turn. Walking down
the hallway to the bedroom, I felt a growing sense of anticipation.
I'd get to see these "award winning" costumes (Jeanine assured
me) for the first time, and see Jeanine in hers. Would she be an armored
knight? A damsel in distress? The queen who bestows her favors on the
knight?
I nearly stopped
laughing when she kicked me lightly where I lay helpless on the floor.
But wiping the tears from my eyes just allowed me to see her in her
regalia again, and started another round.
She allowed me to
calm myself, grinning the while. Her efforts had had the desired effect
and she was justifiably proud of the results. "You like?"
she asked.
I worked back to
my knees and bowed forehead to floor, arms extended towards her. "I
am not worthy, O Mistress!" I fawned and scraped before her superior
display of punsmanship.
She bade me rise,
and I got the full appreciation of her pun. How to describe our costumes...
The theme was Nights
in Armor. Jeanine stood modeling what appeared to be a can of Chili
with a well-known blue lable. Adorning the label was the yellow band
ending in a trade-marked star. (Can you picture it? We were going as
Knights in Armour.) The only difference I noted was that hers said,
"Chili without Beans" and mine was "with Beans".
A stiff hula-hoop affair at the top kept the generally round shape.
There was provision for another at the bottom, but she said we'd insert
that when we arrived, or we'd never get in the car. The bottom of the
"can" was zippered to the rest, with elasticised leg-holes . A pair
of four-foot can openers completed the costume.
 I had to kiss her before I got dressed - we'd have a hard time getting that close, once I was in my can.
We won "Most
Original Costume" and the prize was, appropriately enough, an electric
can opener. Sometimes the Almighty has a strange sense of humor, too.
Jeanine drove home - despite the best (or worst) of intentions for the
remainder of that evening, I'm afraid I drank a bit too much.
Someday I'll get
her to tell me what happened when we got home. I woke up the next afternoon
pleasantly sore, and with plenty of dried evidence that somebody's fantasies
were explored, but every time I ask, she get's a silly grin and clams
up. Snickers and Mars Bars haven't worked as bribes, either.
I'm going to have
to pull out the big guns. Ghiradeli will make her talk, and then I'll
share it with you. The End
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