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Chapter 2 – Coming home

When I returned home that evening, my wife greeted me in her usual affectionate kiss inside. Looking at her sweats I thought about how beautiful she still was but was such a shame hiding her lovely figure. She quickly saw the roll of velvet in my hand. "Ooo… what's that?!?"

"Oh, John pointed out this great little shop downtown that had some awesome classic furniture and decorations that would be perfect for our bedroom, even if the owner is a bit odd." At that I began to roll out the parchment on the table.

"Odd, huh? Wow! Great parchment!" She gently turned both pieces over than looked at me quizzically. "They're blank."

"I know. I thought it was weird too. The guy went on and on about using them for some therapy exercise, but I thought they'd be great to make some artwork ourselves to frame and hang them in our room as sort of a personal touch, but still in theme. And I couldn't pass up $10 for both pieces."

"$10!?! But these must be over 200 years old!"

"I know; I don't get it either." I went to the kitchen to grab some water from the fridge.

"What type of exercise was he talking about?"

I proceeded to relay his instructions to her to the best, then followed it up with my own bit of commentary, "seems like a silly waste."

"I don't know," came her response to my surprise. "I think it could be nice to do something personal like that, then decorate the other side and hang them up on the wall. Maybe when we're old and gray we could look at them and laugh about it."

"Heh, I don't know… he did say 'never'. Still, sweetie, I think it might be silly."

"I tell you what." She went into the office and came back with two fountain pens she likes to keep around for signing legal documents, "You take this into the office," handing me a pen and parchment, "and I'll take this one into the den." At that, she skipped off to the den. "Well, I guess I'll go to the office."

Plopping down in the "comfy" office chair, I stared at the parchment trying to decide if I really wanted to deface it like this. After 15 minutes of staring and her not coming to check on me, I figured I might as well.

For the next half hour I wrote every fickle aspect that I might change in my exquisite wife, laughing the whole time about how I it will be such a great chuckle when we're old and gray. I touched on everything from wardrobe & dressing style, to a plastic surgeon's dream & behavioral changes. Once I finally thought I had covered all the bases, I reread over it, expecting my wife to come back by and laugh it off. Since she never came, I added one final line and chuckled to myself knowing it would never happen and figured I'd venture out to see what she was doing. I feared how many flaws she might be writing to change in me.

Instead, I found her finishing up dinner in the kitchen. "There you are," she responded upon seeing me enter the dining room. "The pasta and sauce are almost done. The rolls are on the table. I didn't think it'd be that hard to find a few flaws in me.... or did you find that many?"

"No, no… just couldn't figure out what to write." It was a lie, but I didn't want to hurt her, so I strategically kept the blank backing to her.

"I love you. Well, run upstairs and put it under your pillow and then come down and eat, sir. Need to keep you well fed."

I ran upstairs cursing myself that I was so petty about the little things. Oh, well, as long as she just never looks till much later when we can laugh it off there will be no harm. I gently placed the paper under my pillow and returned downstairs to seeing my wife serving dinner.

Dinner was rather uneventful, but was filled with a rather bit more of flirting from her than usual. I kinda liked it and hoped it headed for more. However, as she placed the plates in the sink to be washed she let out a deep yawn, "I think I'll get these tomorrow. I'm just gonna go hit the hay. Care to join me?"

Suddenly feeling the sandman enter my brain, bed didn't sound like such a bad idea. "Yah, sounds good."

As I followed her upstairs, I liked watching what little of her hip definition I could see beneath her sweats swing from side to side. She looked back as she turned the corner and caught the stare and chuckled, "enjoy these raggedly old pants do you? I thought you begged for skirts and stockings?"

"Heh, well, just thinking about what I'm missing I guess," and winked at her.

She then grabbed a night gown from her drawer and went into the bathroom. 'Damn! Not even gonna get a strip show tonight,' I thought as I yawned. 'I had no idea I was this tired.' I proceeded to strip down to my boxers and crawl into bed.

She exited the bathroom in a very long and modest gown. She crawled under the covers and turned on her side. I then proceeded to snuggle up next to her. "honey, its too hot for being so close. Some other time. I'm just too tired." To which she shifted and yawn and appeared to fall asleep. Well, just my daily life.

I rolled back over and closed my eyes. Nearly immediately falling into a dream world. I remember thinking about all I had wrote. How I'd love to see her in much more revealing clothes, a bit fitter, a bit more receptive, and a bit more explorative. Well, maybe not quite that subtle but close enough.

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