I find room 464 and knocked. Mark was a good husband in that he always told me were he was staying, right down to the room number. While I waited, I did a last minute adjustment, straightening my dress and rearranging my boobs in my bra to look a little bit bigger, then ran my hand through my hair in lieu of a brush. Mark opened the door.
“Surprise!” I cried and put my arms out for a hug.
“I’ll say.” Mark hugged me back and invited me in. The door closed behind him, he asked “What’re you doing here, Cynthia?”
“Well, I thought you’ve been so stressed about work lately, you might enjoy a romantic surprise from your wife to help take your mind off everything. So I got a lift here with Joel and packed all manner of sexy outfits for you.”
“Cynthia…” his tone didn’t fill me with confidence. “We’ve discussed this a number of times.”
“I know, but-”
“I’m just not interested in sex anymore. I don’t know how many times I’ve had to tell you that.”
“Maybe I was in denial? I don’t know, Mark, it just doesn’t seem like you. What happened to the sexy, horny man I married all those years ago? Don’t you like my body? I’ve worked so hard to get myself nice and slim again for you.” Not willing to concede defeat, I stepped closer to my husband and started to rub his cock through his suit trousers. It was still soft, but that didn’t stop me trying. “Doesn’t this guy miss me? Lord knows I miss him, honey.”
He let me continue for a few seconds before he removed my hand from his pants. “You’re still as beautiful as the day I married you, but I’m so sorry to say that I just don’t want to have sex with you anymore. And I should stress it’s not just you. I can’t ever imagine wanting to have sex with anybody again. I’m so sorry, Cynthia, I do still love you. I know you’ve travelled a long way to be here, so I want to make sure you don’t feel like I want to get rid of you, so you’re most welcome to stay here till my conference is over.”
He clearly did feel bad, but it wasn’t enough. I said that wasn’t necessary, and that I needed time to think. Alone. I picked up my suitcase and left, telling Mark that I’d see him at home at some point.
I was just about to leave the hotel and take a cab straight to the airport, but something stopped me. I asked the girl at the desk where their toilet was.
“They’re for guests only, ma’am.” She was a pretty girl, but her attitude definitely could do with some work.
“I know. My husband’s staying in room 464; Mark Jones, he’s here for that conference. Check if you want.”
Of course she checked. “That’s fine.” She then directed me to the bathrooms. I grudgingly thanked her and followed her directions.
I brought my luggage with me and got changed in the very cramped cubicle. I changed my bra and underwear to an almost-transparent matching bra and g-string set I’d bought for our last anniversary (as you can guess, they didn’t get used that night). They were red, a little lacy, and the bra was a full-fledged push-up bra, so I could barely see my feet when I looked down. Of the two sexier dresses I’d packed, I chose my old favourite – a black, very fitted cocktail dress. It had thin shoulder straps, and the skirt ended about halfway down my thighs. I had some trouble doing up the zipper by myself, but as the old saying goes, where there’s a will there’s a way, and once it was done up, it fit like a glove. It accentuated all my curves, and even gave my butt a bit more shape than normal. I didn’t stop there, however. I put on a pair of my silver strappy high-heeled sandals. It had been quite some time since I’d worn heels, so my first steps out of the cubicle were very shaky indeed. But, just like giving head, soon enough the motions all came back to me, and by the time I reached the sink, I was a natural heeled walker again.
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