Red Roses for a Blue Lady

Does anyone beside me remember that Bobby Vinton hit?  Or Bobby Vinton for that matter.  I guess I'm dating myself. 

I've managed to come up with a couple of new stories this week, first time in a while I'm actually a week ahead of the game.  All that thinking must have addled my brain because I can't think of a thing to write now.  So without further ado, here's this week's story. 

Jack Hawkins ordered a dozen long-stemmed red roses be delivered to Jill by the end of the day.  He hoped it would make up for disappointing her yet again. If the roses got there before he did perhaps she would take the news that they couldn’t go away this weekend a little better. He had been promising this weekend for months, but his group was working a project that needed completion yesterday.  They kept running into problems, and another one popped up today canceling his weekend off. 

When he pulled into the driveway, he noticed her car wasn’t in the garage.  He wasn’t concerned; she could be shopping or late getting home herself.  He walked into the kitchen and called out.  No response.  He looked around for a note, then remembered the flowers.  He went to the front door and there was the note from the florist stating they had tried to deliver.  He checked his phone, no messages.  He dialed her cell phone, and the message went straight to voicemail.  He fixed himself a drink and was about to sit down and give her another thirty minutes or so, when he felt his phone vibrating.  It was a text message saying she’d be late getting home, but he would love the reason.

Feeling relieved, he called the florist and asked for redeliver, rang their local Italian eatery and ordered their favorite dinners for delivery, then sat down and enjoyed his drink.  The doorbell rang and it was the florist, glad they arrived before Jill did.  He removed the card and just left them on the counter in the kitchen where she would see them. 

The garage door opened, and he went to greet Jill.  She was loaded with packages.

“You’re going to love what I found for this week…” She never even finished the sentence when she spotted the roses.

“We’re not going, are we?”

“I’m sorry, honey; we ran into a problem, and I have to work this weekend.”  He tried to hug her, and she walked away from him. He knew how bad she wanted this weekend; he wanted it too.  He left her alone while she processed her disappointment.  He poured her a glass of wine and went to sit.  It wasn’t long before she joined him.  She came in, sat in his lap and cuddled into him.

“I know you can’t help it, but I so wanted this weekend for us.”

“I know, Babe, and it will happen, I just can’t tell you when.”

She kissed him and said she would go start dinner.  “No need, I called Noni's, and they should be here soon. “

“I love you.”

“I love you too. Babe.”

The food came and after dinner, she decided she would treat him to a modeling show of the items she purchased for their weekend together.  She left him sitting in his chair as she retreated into the bedroom. 

Her first outfit was a red wrap dress in a clingy material that hugged her breasts, flared just below the waist and swished when she walked.  She strolled past him and as she started to retreat, she ‘accidentally’ pulled aside the front, so he could see the garter belt and thigh-high hose she wore.  He readjusted his position on his chair.

The next time she came out, she had on what appeared to be a beach cover-up and beneath it a red bikini.  As she provocatively removed the cover up, he smiled knowing that she would never have the courage to wear that anywhere but in the safety of their hotel room, but he loved that she did it for him, but damn she looked good.  Maybe with a little encouragement I might be able to get her to wear that in the light of day, he thought to himself.

His pants were getting tighter by the minute as she strolled into the room and back to the bedroom.  Her next outfit was a French maid’s costume.  Little frilly apron, garter belt and hose, fuck me black heels, a little cap, holding what looked like a riding crop.  He almost dropped his jaw as she paraded by him dragging the crop across his lap as she passed and looked over her shoulder and crooked her finger in a come with me move.  He damn near fell trying to get out of his chair to follow her.

He tried to take her in his arms, and she scooted just beyond him. 

“Did you like the fashion show?” she asked.

“You know I did, come here and see how much.”

“No, it’s okay.  I can see.”  He tried reaching for her again, and once more she scooted just beyond his reach.

“Why do you keep moving away?”

“It’s kind of like our getaway weekend, isn’t it; always out of reach.”

“You’re not going to pull that card, are you?”

“I merely want you to want to have something to look forward to also.”

“Does that mean I can’t touch you until we go away?”

“Of course not.  You just can’t have me tonight.”

“You know that’s not part of our agreement.”

“I know that.”

“You know that’s a spankable offense.”

“Yes, it is, it also would be a punishment spanking, and we don’t do sex after punishment, so you still won’t get what you want.” 

“But I make the rules.”

“But I can withdraw my consent.”

“You win this round, I guess I’ll go take a cold shower.”

“Good idea.”

While he showered, she removed her French maid’s outfit and put the rest of her clothing away.  She knew she had proven her point this evening, and even though he may not have a final say in whether or not he worked a weekend, he had some say.  If the weekend was important to him, she was sure he could have worked out something.  Now, he too, had a reason to want to take a weekend away.

She pulled down the bedcovers and crawled in.  She was laying there reading when Jack walked into the bedroom, the towel wrapped low around his hips, his wet hair hanging down, little water beads covering his chest.  She wanted to jump his bones, he looked so damn good.  Jill pretended she was deep into her Kindle and not paying any attention to him; he noticed she was faking and when he turned, he purposely dropped the towel, so she had a full view of his ass in the mirror, and his cock was almost in her face. The cold shower had not done much to alleviate his problem.  He watched her squirm in bed and laughed to himself. It seemed he wasn’t the only one who was experiencing a problem.

Jack finally climbed into bed, Jill reached over and kissed him good night.  She heard his breathing change, and soon the snores began.  She reached over to her nightstand drawer and pulled out her rabbit.  She was in the midst of enjoyment when suddenly the light turned on, and she was caught – red handed- so to speak.

“Oh no you don’t.  If I don’t get any relief, neither do you.  He jerked the vibrator out of her hand and heaved it across the room.  His next move removed the covers from her, and he hauled her over his knee, pulled up her nightie and spanked her ass.  He started slowly, rubbing and kneading, and her own heat level rose.  The spanks came harder, and harder, and then he stopped to lecture her. Jill hated being lectured, and she tried rolling away from him.  He pulled her in closer, pinned her down and really started spanking in earnest.  He covered every inch of her behind, sit spots and thighs; he was almost through because his hand hurt, and he knew her beautiful butt had to; it was practically glowing, and he could feel the heat.  He finally felt her let go, and he stopped.  He let her lay there until she started to move, then he righted her and pulled her to him.

He kissed her hair and ran his hands up and down her back, while she cuddled to him. He whispered against her ear “Neither one of us got what we wanted tonight, did we?”

“Speak for yourself.” She whispered back.  He pulled his head back and laughed.

“That may be Babe, but my ass won’t be sore in the morning.”

See you later for more Aimless Ramblings.