Moira leaned back in her seat and stared at the traffic stretched out before her, the roofs of the multitude of cars glaring with the sun’s blinding reflection. A pounding headache was beginning with a dull throb settled right behind her eyes, and she slumped in resignation. “Another day, another dollar, my ass,” her mutter was quiet and she nearly gasped in joy as the traffic finally began to actually move in the lanes aside from the mind-numbing pace of stop-and-go. She turned the radio up again, quietly, just loud enough to drown out the noise of the tires on the pavement, and jolted in shock when her car made a noise at her. “CALL FROM JACK” it intoned in it’s robotic voice, and Moira hit the answer button on the steering wheel, smiling her first genuine smile in what seemed like forever. “Hi, baby!” “Sugarbear! How’s traffic?” Jack’s warm voice seemed to melt out of the speakers, and Moira shivered all over. He was her southern gentleman, a skulking grey corporate minion, as he liked to coin himself. Even though they’d been together several years now, she still had the hots for him like no other man before. She preened, even though he couldn’t see her, and her headache was nearly forgotten. “Abominable, but finally moving. I’m actually going forty right now, believe it or not!” His laugh boomed through the car, and she joined him in laughter. “But, really, on a serious note, it will probably be another forty-five minutes before I get home.” “That’s just what I was calling to ask, sugar.” She could hear the smile that was doubtless across Jack’s face as he paced around their house, his energy constantly keeping him going, though he was in his late forties now. Though, you sure can’t tell it Ümraniye Escort to look at him, Moira thought, idly picturing him in his sweatpants as he ran the vacuum cleaner in the living room, back smooth and tanned from relentless afternoons at the gym each weekend. Her mouth grew dry as she then imagined those same sweats half down, exposing the firm cheeks of his ass to the light as he took her, bent over the end of the sofa. She shoved a lock of hair back behind her ear, and smiled toward the phone, “Oh, this day was utter hell. Can you make sure to have a glass of wine poured for me when I get home? I’ll sit at the bar and then we’ll make dinner. I think some pasta and chicken sounds great tonight.” “Sure thing, babe,” he intoned, and she heard soft clinks and knew he was looking through their wine rack for a good choice for her. Such a perfect man, she thought. “Ok, I’m gonna hop in the shower, I should be done by the time you hit the ramp toward home, and I’ll open a bottle to breathe before you get here. Love you.” “Love you, too.” The call ended with a soft beep, and she turned the radio up, mood much improved, and a half hour later, she sighed in joy as she pulled off on the exit that would soon have her home. It was just past dusk when she pulled up the long drive of their modest two-story home, and she noted to herself that it was odd that so few lights should be on, especially with Jack making dinner. She shrugged mentally as she stepped from the car and walked up to the door, blinking in surprise at the note tacked to the matte black finish: “COME ON IN, DOOR IS UNLOCKED.” Shutting the door behind her, she dropped her purse and bag on the foyrer Ümraniye Escort Bayan table, and walked in to the kitchen through the dining room, pausing to take in the unlit taper candles, place settings and a chilling bottle of wine. One plate held another note, and, smiling, Moira lifted it to read in the dim light. “GRAB YOUR GLASS OF WINE AND COME UPSTAIRS. YOU’LL KNOW JUST WHERE TO GO.” Laughing like a schoolgirl, Moira nabbed the glass of white wine and headed for the stairs, the free fingers of one hand already unbuttoning her blouse. Turning at the bannister, she looked up and saw a tail of pink ribbon laying along the next riser, and smiling, she began to follow. Stooping to nab the pale silk in her fingers, she recognized it as the tie from one of her robes, and arched a brow, wondering what on earth her crazy hubby was up to. Advancing up, she reached the second floor, and saw one of her slippers laying half-in the doorway to their bedroom. Snatching up the slipper, she saw the other laying on the bed, yet another note propped against it. “SO, YOU’VE GOTTEN THIS FAR. STRIP OUT OF THOSE TIRED WORK CLOTHES, AND THEN HEAD TOWARD THE BATHROOM.” Both of Moira’s brows winged up as she read Jack’s cryptic note, mind cranking to try and figure out his plans. Moira took a drink from the glass and set it on the night table, shrugging the violet colored silk from her shoulders, tossing it on the chair by the closet. Next, her fingers slid into the waist of her skirt, unhooking it and sliding the zipper down along her hip, and she smoothed it down over her thighs, and caught a glimpse of herself in the long mirror on the closet door. She paused in Escort Ümraniye the act of stepping from the skirt, and looked at herself. Bent as she was, her breasts swayed forward to further fill out the cups of the pale pink demi bra, still full in her mid-thirties. She freed her feet, tossing the skirt over the blouse, and stepped closer to the mirror. Her hands cupped her breasts, squeezing slightly, and her eyes went hazy with unexpected arousal as she watched her own touch. Her panties matched the bra, and she smiled at the straining silk. She was fuller-figured, and Jack loved to watch the way her body moved, she noted, now really seeing his interest in watching her dress and undress. Her waist was thick, her belly smooth and soft, and her hands ran down, one idly cupping the soft flesh as her gaze roved further down. Her stockings had run earlier at work, so her legs were bare, slightly tanned, but still pale from not seeing the sun, smooth and soft, long and tapering down to her amazingly slim ankles, tucked into purple pumps that she kicked off with a smile as her hands trailed back up, to unclasp the bra and set her breasts free. Giggling to herself, Moira watched as she tugged the bra away, and slid her panties off her hips, down her thighs, and merely stepped out of them, leaving them in a pretty pink pile for Jack to find as she finally turned to the bathroom door. There, her robe! She slipped it on, loving the way the dark pink silk rubbed against her flesh, and she pushed the door open. Gasping, she took in the scene before her; low lights, and her husband perched on the toilet, fully clothed, his own wineglass in his hand. “Ah, you made it,” Jack’s baritone voice was smooth, and he stood, walking over to her, taking her in his arms, and kissed her softly. “I had something else planned, but you sounded stressed under your light banter earlier, so I changed my plans.” His arm stretched out to sweep over the bathroom. “Your favorite bath salts, soaps and lotions are at the ready, m’lady.