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CHERRY BLOSSOMS // Revisited // Montréal // 3.9
🕑 Added 2022-05-27 01:01:00 +0000 UTCBlack Glasses, Black Lingerie
Tuesday, July 11th
“Well, what do you think?” Nia held the arms of her new glasses at her temples and watched Geoff’s reaction.
She was sitting at the dining room table, Geoff just coming in from the city, back from a late-afternoon meeting with Jenny at Evergreen. Rocco had sent her home to work—the company had its quarterly, and she had to complete the HST for the retail and some of the aggregate sales. Rocco was working a tractor today up in King City because Doug had sprained his ankle and was off for two days. Odie was at the Arts Day Camp this week and next week, and she’d be home in about an hour for dinner before heading to gymnastics.
On her way home from Dragon, Nia had stopped at the optometrist to pick up her brand new no-longer-a-hot-young-chick glasses. She went with a heavy black frame. That was the mood she’d been in that evening when she’d picked them. Austere, going for gravitas. Now, closing in on the day she was going to have hot animal sex with another man, she felt like they made her look . . . well, old.
Geoff stopped mid-step, and she saw an honest look pass his face and she smiled—knowing that expression.
“Shit. Wow, hot, Nia.”
He meant it.
She smirked, twisted her mouth up, frowned at him, said, “Thanks, baby,” happy that he liked them but also aware he liked her with no makeup and messy hair. She could have put on swimming goggles and Geoff would say, “Oh wow, hey, you look hot.” Still, it was nice to be appreciated.
Geoff came to her, and she hugged his waist, and he kissed the top of her head. He busied himself in the kitchen, got dinner ready while she kept up with her inputs and when she was done, the laptop closed, she folded those glasses up and put them away, joined him in the kitchen and helped him with his pasta sauce. Showed her white husband how you did it.
* * *
Odie was growing tired of gymnastics. You could see it in her. She’d gone through the Shooting Stars program, Rising Stars last year, and now here she was in the recreational gymnastics program, All Stars, learning to vault for the first time. But she was an obviously disinterested seven-year-old, the youngest in a class that went to twelve-year-olds. The stage where things got a little, sometimes a lot, competitive. Odie had no desire to be a gymnast. Nor did she have the developing body that a gymnast would need. She was going to be a big girl. Big in a voluptuous, beautiful, breathtaking way. Her heart, it was showing, really lay in art.
Geoff sat with Nia on the sidelines of an hour and a half long class, watching Odie stand and wait her turn to run down the line and practice her vault approach, her run technique, two instructors down the line, encouraging and guiding. Mostly she stood and looked at the ceiling while the instructor was talking. She would occasionally try to do a handstand on her own. Then talk to herself about it. Nia looked at Geoff and smiled, shaking her head at their quirky girl.
Geoff touched his chin to Nia’s shoulder and then nodded his head to the door, communicating to her with his eyebrows. She nodded too and picked up her purse. Geoff got Odie’s attention, pointed to his watch, mouthed, “We’ll be back,” then motioned like he was drinking a coffee. Odie rolled her eyes.
Geoff caught up with Nia in the lobby, looking up at Odie’s class picture from last year. He took his wife’s hand and they walked out onto the sidewalk together.
* * *
“It goes with your black glasses.”
“He’s not going to see me in my glasses,” Nia said, holding a black panty and bra and stocking set by its wooden hanger and draping it along her body, one thin knee pointed out.
He’d brought her to the sex shop in the high Victorian home a block down from Odie’s gymnastics class. She’d been as nervous as him that first day when they snuck in—which was surprising given how usually confident Nia was. Of course, this was the neighborhood they lived in and it might be embarrassing to be seen by some of Odie’s friends’ parents.
“You need them to read on the laptop.”
“So?”
“How— you work right next to him . . . you’re going to squint when he’s around?”
“Yeah,” she said, smirking and looking down at the silky fabric of the lingerie.
“Is squinting sexy?”
Nia laughed, held the hanger out again and looked the set over once more. She said, “I think I like this one.”
“You are getting very vain,” Geoff continued, pretending to chastise her, talking about her reading glasses.
“What do you think?” she said and put the set against herself again.
“I think I’d like to see that on.”
“Should I try it on?”
“Oh, you should definitely try it on,” he nodded, eyebrows high and encouraging.
She got girlish and very unlike his cool-headed Nia, and she hopped over to the fitting rooms with her lingerie. He hoped she understood he meant she had to show him.
He wandered while she was in there, looking around at some of the other kinky items they had for sale. There were harnesses and things that were crotchless, leather masks of excellent quality, whips and crops and . . . a lot of fucked up things going on in this city, he thought. And they were just another piece of the puzzle, weren’t they? Who knew the crazy things some of the people they knew might get up to.
They were only here for Nia’s weekend away—his wife had a shortage of nice under garments. Beautiful girl like Nia can’t go out in cotton underwear. Not on a special weekend like this one, not one wh—
A quiet hiss: “Geoff!”
He turned, saw his wife in a glossy parquet circle surrounded by a half-moon of mirrors. Ten Nias, all angles, her almost bare ass reflecting behind her, the swell of her hips, the slender back and the sharp edges of her shoulder blades. She waved him over, laughing because her call had brought some looks from other shoppers, now trying not to look like they were still looking. He went over, saw she’d come prepared, the lingerie over a nude set of underwear she was wearing, a thong though, like what she was trying on, so her bare globes were free for anyone to see right now. His wife was stunning.
“Is this all right?” she asked him. She wore a balcony bra with a thin frilled edge, a thong panty in black lace, and a lacy embroidered (and sheer) suspender belt.
She stood, sexily poised, one knee bent, toe pointed, her face confident but friendly. He got a little jab. He just got pushed back to friend status. She was looking for an opinion. Will my boyfriend like this? Do you think he’ll notice me? That feeling he had with Nia, so strangely sexually imprinted on him twelve years ago—clutched his heart and surged his prostate at the same time. He felt a rigidity between his legs.
“These slides,” she said, adjusting the straps of the bra, “are real gold, Geoff.”
“You’re so incredible, Nia. This is it. This was meant for you.”
She smiled, her face softening and showing him her love.
He said, “Turn around for me,” running his index finger in a circle through the air.
She did, turning around, throwing her hair over a shoulder and watching him enjoy her. She went around twice, doing it on her tip-toes and flexing those long legs. A happy but strange sadness fell over him, welling in his eyes—no tears, but a surge of warmth for her. Like the bittersweet tinge of a parent sending their daughter off to college, happy for the future but sad for what will be gone.
* * *
Nia had left the lingerie items she’d got on the counter with the same young girl with the tattoo on her neck that he’d bought the silver dildo from the last time he was here. He’d tagged along with Nia as she walked some shelves and flicked through some books. She’d stopped at a display of gag gifts and he’d wandered off, found himself at the archway that led to the room of phallus shapes. His big veiny friend was still there—thick, heavy, curved with the tiresome effort of supporting its own weight. It stood proud, yet somehow aloof, under the white beam of a halogen spot still on its special glass pedestal.
“Hey, Nia—come here,” he hoarsely whispered, and he nodded his head to her where she stood looking at the boxes of condoms. She wandered over, frowning.
“What?”
“Come here.” He walked her to the enormous dildo on the stand that mesmerized him on the first visit here.
The starburst NEW! announcement was gone, but it still stood on the same glass pedestal in all its veiny glory. Thick, gnarly, a slight downward curve, an enormous flared glans that looked as big as a doorknob.
“What is it?” she said, looking at it as she came to stand beside him.
His heart raced having her witness this horrible thing with him—wondering what she might think of it. “It’s a dildo. Look at the size of it.”
“Yeah, it’s big,” she said, eyes going up and down it.
“You don’t think it’s . . . ridiculous?”
“Why?”
“The size.”
She looked at it again, frowning, said, “It’s a really big dick . . . what?”
“You’ve . . . you’ve, like, been with . . .”
Nia chuckled now, realizing what he was thinking. She looked over her shoulders to see if anyone was watching, then she cautiously reached out and put both her hands around it. It was huge in her grip. Her fingers couldn’t close on it and half of it still showed above her fists. She said, “That’s . . . yeah, that’s a big dick. That’s like Dino.”
His heart pounded. “What?”
“Yeah, that’s a lot like Dino,” she said. “Except he has a heavy foreskin.”
“Oh, Nia,” he reeled, put a hand out behind him and gripped the edge of a shelf, part acting for her benefit and part natural response. He steadied himself against it.
“What?” she laughed, putting her hands down to her side again. “What did you think a big dick looked like, Geoff? They’re big, buddy.”
His heart tingled warmly now at the delight she was taking in this. This was exciting and hurtful, and it was all on the very edge of being more than he could handle. She put her side against his and her hand rubbed his back, soothing him. “You okay?”
“Wow, shit. That big?”
“Yeah, Geoff. I suspect that will be quite like Rocco, too.”
“It’s so big.”
“It’ll fit.”
“Fuck, Nia, you’re killing me.”
She laughed again, put her arm around his waist and he leaned into her.
“Do you want . . . do you want me to buy it for you?”
“No, Geoff, I like my little one you got me.”
Little one? It was longer than his.
“I like my cocks to be real, to have hot blood pulsing through them,” she whispered, knowing now she was driving him crazy. “I don’t want a rubber one, I want Rocco’s hard throbbing meat inside me—picture it, Geoff, picture that opening me up.” She clutched his arm now and nodded at the big flesh-colored weapon.
“Okay, Nia, we gotta get out of here.”
“Getting hard?”
“Yeah. Yeah,” he agreed, wanting to say more but worried that people would notice what they were up to. Plus, any more talk like this and he would not be able to hide what was happening between his legs.
“Stop looking at it then and come help me pick out some condoms.”
She walked him away, holding hands, leading him to where she’d been standing in front of the condom display. She read condom boxes while he stood next to her, rubbing the heel of his palm into his warm forehead. His upper back felt clammy. He stepped back, still reeling, wondering if he was going to get over this hurdle. He felt like calling it off now. He felt like saying that it was fun to pretend, but it was time to get real. He looked again at that precious figure of hers. Her slim legs, the seams of her little toes along the curved edge of her leather ballerinas. She wasn’t a small girl—she was as tall as him—but she was slender and graceful. He looked at the thinness of her thighs, her fine wrists as she held a box of Extra-Large Rough Rider condoms and thought of that vicious looking cock and how his wife was unperturbed—Yup, that’s a penis, she said. It would be thicker than her wrist. It would surely hurt her, wouldn’t it? God, what did Nia think the first time she’d put her hand on his penis? Was she disappointed?
“These ought to do,” she said to him, tapping the cardboard box with a long, hard nail.
“You going to use all of them?” he said, trying to be funny but surprising himself at how distant and hoarse his voice sounded.
She made a happy sort of shocked face, clutched his forearm and said, “Wouldn’t that be something?”
They walked to the counter for the checkout together, and Geoff put his hand in his pocket for his wallet. “Here, let me get this for you.”
“I make money now, Ge—”
“Yeah, but I want to pay.”
Nia nodded with a knowing smile. “Is this part of it? You know,” glancing over at the girl at the counter, trying not to give away too much.
He nodded. This was part of it. Nia was his wife. He was buying her things for her to wear to seduce another man, for her to when this other man used her. His heart was pounding. He was even paying for the latex that was going to be stretched over another man’s enormous cock before he shoved it in and out of his beautiful lady. He was buying something for another man to come inside while his cock was buried deep in the woman he loved. Why the fuck was this so exciting? His only regret now was that he’d not arranged to be there. Maybe he really wanted to do more than allow her this dirty freedom. Maybe he wanted something from it too.
The girl glanced at the extra-large condoms—Rough Riders, a black silhouette of a cowboy riding a bull against a setting sun. She placed them in a plain black shopping bag with the very expensive but oh-so-worth it lingerie, and Nia said to him loudly, earnestly, “Well, if you burst those ones, I don’t know what we’re going to do.”
The girl looked at Geoff—blank, not lustily—she’d heard and understood what Nia had said. He went beet red.
When they were on the street, she finally burst out laughing and put her arm through his and leaned against him while they walked.
“Jesus, Nia—what the hell? My face went so fucking red.”
She was still laughing, cracking herself up with her own joke. “I’m putting in a good word for you, help you get a date.”
“With that girl?”
“No!” She smirked, waved her hand at him, waved the idea away, showing him she was only joking.
“Nia, I don’t want to sleep with anyone else—I’ve got the most perfect woman in the world on my arm.”
Her face crumpled, brow down, mouth pursed.
“What?”
“You just made me feel so bad.” She stopped on the sidewalk, people parting around them. Her shoulders slumped, and she looked guilty.
“Don’t, Nia,” he said and put his hands on her shoulders.
She said, “You’re everything to me, you know? You’re enough. More than enough.”
“I know, baby. I didn’t say that to hurt you. I’m not interested in other girls, like, at all. But I know I’m your cutey-pie. I know I have charm. I know you love me.”
“I do. I really do. And I was kidding about a girlfriend. I’ll never share you.”
He said, “Now you made me feel bad.”
Nia hugged him and whispered in his ear, “We’re pretty fucked up.”
He hugged her tight.
* * *
They got back and took a spot against the wall of the small gymnastic centre in the lower retail level of a four-story office block, and Odie was none the wiser. They each had a tall paper cup of Kenyan Pig Irons they bought between the class and the sex shop. We just went out for a coffee. Nothing to see here.
They watched the end of the class. Odie was off in Odie-Land again, doing her own dance, talking to herself, anything but paying attention to the instructors. She was silently singing a song now, and doing a dance for her dad behind some bigger kids’ backs, making Geoff laugh and almost double over, holding his coffee out so it wouldn’t spill.
The end of this week was a heartbeat away. Seventy-two hours from now, she’d be in the hotel with Rocco, and with a license to do what she wished. This wonderful laughing man next to her, this beautiful daughter who didn’t give a shit about gymnastics anymore—they were everything to her. She was about to embark on something crazy, and as lascivious as it may seem, she still wanted it. Despite this warm, happy moment with her family, she knew—one-hundred percent knew—that she would fuck Rocco this weekend.
She put her hand on Geoff’s back and he turned, smiled, and gave her a kiss. He leaned back against the cinderblock wall with her, still smiling, watching Odie now run up and prepare for a vault.
She watched him, watched her husband’s happiness. He was beautiful. He was her best friend.
Comments
Bill F Protagoras
It brings back all the moments of sadness later in the book foreshadowed in their gullible faithfulness. Superbly written, your prose already having the immediacy of Homer. It always meant something to me Nia was the sole Greek amongst her Italian girlfriends. That 'in the middle of the action feel' that so many of your admirers point to as a defining trait. Personally it gives me the sense of riding balanced on the rushing then breaking wave of NOW! Reality coagulating in its wake. In Homer though it's like a super camera oscura surveying a foreign past. I noticed three or four times in the book some hint of disturbing taboo in Nia's family. The only one I remember right now was a description of Nia's memory of how Dino's strength even in his youth made him a match for her father... Correct me if it's a product of my overactive imagination.
