The Arm Chair
I found the pink envelope on my desk, propped up against my telephone, addressed with my
name on it. The handwriting was unmistakably hers and I could smell her perfume in the
air, so I knew she had been there in my office only a short time ago. Opening the
envelope, I found a key and a note. On the paper, she had written:
"This is a key to room 345 of the Ambassador Plaza Hotel. I will arrive at precisely
5pm. You are to be sitting in the burgundy armchair ... naked and in the blindfold
provided there for you. Do as I ask, my lover? you will not regret it."
I smiled as I read the note from my wife. I loved her little surprises, wondering what
she was planning for the night. It would take everything I had not to call her at work to
find out what was on her lovely, yet sometimes naughty little mind for our evening, but I
would restrain myself and do as she requested.
I took off from work a little early that afternoon, arriving at the room at 4:00, wanting
to give myself time to shave, take a shower and have a scotch from the mini-bar before she
got there. The blindfold was there, sitting on the burgundy chair as she had said it would
be, and my mind reeled with fantasies, my imagination running riot. Our sex life would be
quiet and calm for a little while, then all of a sudden she would have an idea that she
wanted to try, and I was always obedient to being her experimental plaything. Her passion
and imagination never ceased to amaze and excite me.
As 5:00 approached, I quickly drained my drink, sat down in the chair that she had
specified, and put the blindfold on. As I waited, the minutes ticked away in years instead
of seconds and my senses became aware of every sound within my range of hearing? the
elevator moving on its cable behind the walls? the ticking of my watch? the humming of the
mini-fridge in the corner? the sounds of the other hotel guests out in the hallway as they
went to their rooms.
Just as I was thinking about taking the blindfold off and getting up from the chair, I
heard the key turning in the lock and the door creaking open. Was it her? Or could I be
sitting naked and blindfolded in front of the housekeeper? My palms began to sweat when
she didn`t identify herself for a moment and then a calming went through my body as her
fragrance reached my nostrils. It was she.
The door closed and then there was a bit of shuffling and whispering, as if someone else
was in the room. Had she brought another woman with her? We had talked about it once or
twice, but I had never encouraged it, since she alone was enough for me.
"Laura?" I spoke her name into the air.
"It`s me, Lance," she assured me.
My body began to relax, although my cock began to rise at the sound of her delicate and
honeyed voice.
"You were a good boy to do as I asked," she continued, putting her handbag and
keys down on the table, then smiling appreciatively at the stiffness of my shaft, "so
I think you should be rewarded."
She leaned down to my face to kiss me and I felt her dark hair brush against my cheek.
Her lips were soft and loving, and there was a touch of excitement in her kiss. Moving
around behind me, she put her arms around my shoulders and her moist lips close to my ear.
Her warm breath tickled my hair and sent shivers to the nape of my neck.
"Do you trust me, lover?" she asked, her long, slender fingers lethargically
stretching through the dark hair on my chest.
"Yes," I said quietly and without hesitation, nodding my head and feeling the
beginning of a shudder go down my back. Even though I knew she felt the tremble go through
my body, she knew I trusted her completely.
"Will you let me do what I want to do?" she questioned.
Again I nodded and said yes.
I felt her moving around, then her hands on my arms, lifting them to the upholstered arms
of the chair. Once there, she patted them approvingly and leaned down to kiss my cheek.
"Keep your arms right there for me, my good boy," she whispered, "I have a
surprise for you."
A light covering touched me, swiftly making the hairs on my arm stand on end, and I
quickly realized that she was tying my wrists to the chair arms with silk scarves.
"Baby, please," I pleaded and pulled against the restraint, "I can`t touch
you if I`m tied."
"You will get your chance to touch," she replied as she busied herself with the
other arm, "but first I will do as I wish to you without you stopping me."
The tone in her voice took on a commanding quality, not harsh, but certainly not one to
be reckoned with. I decided I had better not give her any trouble, not knowing what she
may have in mind.
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