In the United Kingdom, in Chester, a husband I'll call Bob lives a fairly simple life. He travels from time to time. In fact, we met in a mid-western state while he was on holiday. Amongst the throng taking pictures and admiring the scenery he pointed out his companions and waved to have them distinguish themselves from the other tourists. This was very early in July of 2009. I don't remember his wife. I remember the normalcy of his intonation and the non-distinctive features of his conversation, his appearance and the way his eyes wandered about taking everything in as if all were a feast and his eyes were his mouth.
I found his accent intriguing because it didn't annoy the way some British accents annoy my ears. He explained how he had live in England, and Scotland and the various areas where he'd formed a personality and a view of life. I didn't catch the significance of those area's importance much the same way he wouldn't catch the differences of the mid-West versus the Boston accents and sensibilities. The wife, he said, was a bit older than him. 51, he said. Fifty-one years old seemed to be an ideal age for him. His eyes glistened thinking of this, and her, and I realized in an instant he was aroused by the thought of and the sensation of his wife.
She was a secretary. They had a grown son, and could afford to spend a lot of time together while their son was in the university. He told me how they met and what was interesting about their marriage. I got a wee bit nervous listening because some men get very comfortable with me, and share intimacies I probably shouldn't hear. Thankfully, he spared me, but found a way to insinuate in a way that did not invite trouble, betray confidences, or suggest his interest in some weird liaison until I realized our walk had led us to a privately run lingerie shop. Instinctively, I turned to lead us away.
"Would you like to see something nice for your wives?"
A compelling dark haired woman stood at the entrance modestly dressed. Her dark round eyes suggested we come in, and that she would not insist upon anything beyond quality of service and product. I said no with my gestures, and Bob caught up with his storytelling politely apologized and said no until his eye caught something and he excused himself and stepped passed her. I brushed by the sales representative politely enough following Bob. The fragrance she wore was arresting and the slight tease playing on her face did not go unnoticed by me.
"These are marvelous." Bob said with a dreamy sound to his voice. "These are made by who?"
The sales lady glided to Bob's side and expertly displayed the black lingerie in a seductive way that left little else to imagine other than her wearing the same. "These are our sheer black suspender panties by Cameo Intimates Lingerie. They are from Canada."
I glanced around the store and felt its ambiance, and wanted to see what else was there, but I didn't want to miss the sales presentation. The woman was a master craftsman at her trade. In short order she not only sold Bob the lingerie she gave him a memory and an idea he later shared with me in a photograph he sent me of his wife wearing the outfit with black heels. That must have been their trip, their fantasy. I didn't know what to do with it. Who do you share something like this with in my world? In my mind I had a lot of intellectual musings and wondered aloud about how marriages stay volatile, trusting, exciting, and intact in this complex world. - Gregory E. Woods, Keeper of Stories 9.23.13
I found his accent intriguing because it didn't annoy the way some British accents annoy my ears. He explained how he had live in England, and Scotland and the various areas where he'd formed a personality and a view of life. I didn't catch the significance of those area's importance much the same way he wouldn't catch the differences of the mid-West versus the Boston accents and sensibilities. The wife, he said, was a bit older than him. 51, he said. Fifty-one years old seemed to be an ideal age for him. His eyes glistened thinking of this, and her, and I realized in an instant he was aroused by the thought of and the sensation of his wife.
She was a secretary. They had a grown son, and could afford to spend a lot of time together while their son was in the university. He told me how they met and what was interesting about their marriage. I got a wee bit nervous listening because some men get very comfortable with me, and share intimacies I probably shouldn't hear. Thankfully, he spared me, but found a way to insinuate in a way that did not invite trouble, betray confidences, or suggest his interest in some weird liaison until I realized our walk had led us to a privately run lingerie shop. Instinctively, I turned to lead us away.
"Would you like to see something nice for your wives?"
A compelling dark haired woman stood at the entrance modestly dressed. Her dark round eyes suggested we come in, and that she would not insist upon anything beyond quality of service and product. I said no with my gestures, and Bob caught up with his storytelling politely apologized and said no until his eye caught something and he excused himself and stepped passed her. I brushed by the sales representative politely enough following Bob. The fragrance she wore was arresting and the slight tease playing on her face did not go unnoticed by me.
"These are marvelous." Bob said with a dreamy sound to his voice. "These are made by who?"
The sales lady glided to Bob's side and expertly displayed the black lingerie in a seductive way that left little else to imagine other than her wearing the same. "These are our sheer black suspender panties by Cameo Intimates Lingerie. They are from Canada."
I glanced around the store and felt its ambiance, and wanted to see what else was there, but I didn't want to miss the sales presentation. The woman was a master craftsman at her trade. In short order she not only sold Bob the lingerie she gave him a memory and an idea he later shared with me in a photograph he sent me of his wife wearing the outfit with black heels. That must have been their trip, their fantasy. I didn't know what to do with it. Who do you share something like this with in my world? In my mind I had a lot of intellectual musings and wondered aloud about how marriages stay volatile, trusting, exciting, and intact in this complex world. - Gregory E. Woods, Keeper of Stories 9.23.13
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| sent by Bob |
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