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God, it's good to be queen
Lisa picked up the phone on the third ring.
“I'm on my way home from work,” he said. “Do you need me to pick anything up on my way?”
“No, Dave. I think you should come straight home.”
Dave could hear the edge in her voice. She sounded pissed.
“Is anything wrong?”
She almost whispered it: “Do you trust me?”
“Of course,” he said, puzzled.
The steel was back in her voice. “Then come home. Right. Now.”
“All right, see you in a few. Love you?”
As he drove, he racked his brain, wondering what that was all about, and came up empty as the car was pulling into the driveway, so he steeled himself to walk into the house and see just what the hell was going on.
“Babe?” he called, as he dropped his keys on the counter.
“Back here,” she answered, and he wended his way down the hall to their bedroom. The door was partially closed, and when he opened it, the first thing he noticed was a chair partially blocking the way. He moved it so the door could swing freely, and was just about to ask why it was there when he noticed his wife on the bed, nude but for a slight sheen owing to the hot June evening and an inadequate ceiling fan. She looked delicious.
“Ooooh...nice...is this why you wanted me to come right home?” he asked as he moved in closer. He was stopped by her outstretched hand.
“Not so fast, Dave. Have a seat,” she said, pointing to the chair he'd just moved. He sat down and looked at her expectantly. “I am not happy with you,” she said, her tone and her look equally stern, “and you're going to be punished.”
He was thrown, then, and nervous.
“You think you might tell me what I did, or am I supposed to guess?” he said, getting a little irritated himself now, despite the distraction of her soft breasts rising and falling with her breath.
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