“One more thing I want you to know Jack, while we are here.” She reached across to another shelf and picked up a strange looking object to show me.
It was a sort of cricket ball size red plastic bulb with a black tube sticking from it. The tube had a series of small holes in it, like a shower head does.
“When the bleeding finally stops, I use this to clean and purify my vagina with a solution of warm water and vinegar. It’s called a vaginal douche. So when we do make love for the first time you can be sure I’m clean and pure for you. And you can kiss me there if you want to? I’d like that!”
I think she saw me imagining kissing her vagina, so she helped embroider my mental pictures.
“Your Dad, the traitor, loved kissing my lips there, running the tip of his tongue around the edges and then inside me.”
She paused to let the mental images whirl around my head.
She must have sensed the importance of this moment to me and had chosen to add further eroticism to my anticipation of taking her.
“He often said they were my other beautiful lips. Soon they will be yours to kiss Jack, yours to run your lips round and caress with your sweet tongue. Early on in our marriage he persuaded me to wax the hairs from there so he could enjoy the feel and shape of me. Even though he’s gone, I still like the feeling of smoothness and cleanliness that it gives me. Don’t get me wrong, waxing hurts like hell but it’s worth it. Especially now, since I’ve got a better man to be beautiful for!”
Chapter 8
It was 8:45 by the time we set off in the car.
That morning I had nothing timetabled at college until 11 am, but I needed that time to collect the soft light box, back drops and extra lights I would need later.
So I drove Sue to work and kept the car for the day.
I was waiting in the car with the engine running as Sue came out of the house, paused to lock the door and slid in to the passenger seat.
She looked so different from her usual dull work image.
Her raven hair was drawn back over her ears and secured by a black velvet bow into a sort of loose pony tail hanging down her back.
She wore a knee length grey-green dress made of the sort of stretchy fabric that clings to every curve, over it a smart black business jacket and completed with black stockings with those `fuck me` heels.
Her makeup was immaculate but subdued.
She shot a smile at me as she got into the car, pausing deliberately to hitch up her skirt to reveal glorious stocking tops and suspenders.
While she struggled to fasten her seat belt I reached across and ran a hand down her thigh, briefly caressing her stocking tops. It felt amazing.
She looked and smelled very desirable, her lips a gentle pink with matching nude pink nail polish.
Very smart, very businesslike and very, very fuckable.
And for the first time in my life I began to feel a tinge of jealousy for the men at her work who would be drooling over her all day.
“How do I look in this outfit love?” She asked me, checking her makeup in her vanity mirror.
I ran my eyes over her, from the top of her raven hair, following every curve, past those alluring stocking tops down to the tips of her patent black `fuck me` heels.