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| Site contents Copyright © 2005-2015 Bridget Midway All Rights Reserved |
"Suburbia"
Helen squeezed her eyes, wondering now why in the world she’d decided to do what she’d done.
Facing Jason, she tried to smile but it came off more like a twitchy, nervous expression.
She let out a haggard breath before she unfastened the belt and undid the buttons. When she
opened her coat, she didn’t expect so much laughter to erupt from Jason but once he got a look, he
fell back on his haunches and couldn’t stop.
“You look like a ham,” he said.
Helen bolted to her feet. She lifted the plastic above her knees as much as she could so she could
run back upstairs to take off the plastic wrap she had around her body. She managed to make it up
two steps before she teetered back, nearly falling to the floor. But Jason caught her, netted her in his
strong arms like scooping up a bigmouth bass.
“I got you,” he said, his light brown eyes twinkling.
She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and leaned her head against his. The warmth of his
body made hers tingle. The sore spot on her leg pulsed with each of his steps, but she
wasn’t about to complain.
In their bedroom, Jason sat her on the four-poster bed then took a step back to gaze at her.
“Did you really wrap plastic wrap around your body?” He covered his mouth to stifle a giggle.
“A whole roll. It’s so damn hot in here.” She shrugged off her coat revealing her clear, mummified
casing that started at her breasts and went all the way down to her knees.
The process to making the translucent dress took all of an hour to complete. And even as she’d
cursed the entire time, especially when the plastic bunched and stuck together, Helen just knew the
end result would have been worth it.
“And what made you do this?” The question came between fits of laughter that he could no longer
suppress.
“Fine. Laugh. You’re right. It is funny.” She struggled to stand but fell back onto the bed twice
before succeeding.
Jason put his hands on her shoulders and stood behind her as he had her face the mirror. “You don’t
think this is funny?”
She held a hard face, refusing to break. But seeing her breasts squished under the clear wrap, and
her thick thighs looking like two legs of lamb from the butcher, even she had to snicker at the sight.
“Wait right here.”
He darted from the room leaving her to stare at her pitiful reflection. Her breasts, lower than they
were twenty years ago, peeked through the wrap with their dark pink nipples. Even through the
translucent wrap, she saw the dimples on her thighs.
Helen let her hands coast over her breasts then down her stomach and over her hip. She had a real
woman’s body, the kind of body turn-of-the-century artists would have loved to paint.
But she was no Renaissance woman. And as much as Jason loved her, she always wondered if he
desired more. Was he disappointed that after giving birth to three children that her body wasn’t what
it used to be?
Helen had been disappointed in her own appearance. Jason couldn’t have been that enthused
about the way she looked now…could he?
The music downstairs stopped. By the time Jason returned, she stopped being in a jovial mood.
Whatever sexy moment she’d tried to create vanished. An aroma of smoky, sweet flowers hung in
the air. Jason must have extinguished all of the candles before she burned down the house.
In his hand he carried scissors, a sandwich baggie filled with ice and a magazine, the one she’d
tried hiding when he came home for a surprise lunch date.
Not since Helen had been a teenager had she bought a magazine like this. But an article title caught
her gaze and it compelled her to buy the rag.
“‘How To Surprise Your Man In 8 Easy Steps’? Hel, since when do you read crap like this? We
used to laugh at these articles when we were dating.” He crouched down in front of her and starting
cutting up the front of the mummy wrap.
“I thought it would help, um, us.”
He stopped cutting when he got to her vagina, also freshly waxed, a pain she still remembered
vividly, more so than the pain of giving birth.
“Are we in trouble?” He continued cutting, being careful at her stomach and up to her breasts.
“I’m not the tomboy with the toned thighs anymore. I can’t wear a t-shirt without a bra like I used to.”
The dress fell down to her feet in a crumpled and sweat-filled heap to the floor. Cool air brought her
body temperature down rapidly and made her tremble but not as much as seeing her bewildered
husband crouching down at her feet.
“Oh, yes you can.” He winked.
“And I can’t compete against those young admins you have working in your office now.”
With that line he furrowed his eyebrows. “And you don’t have to.”
Before she could pursue her argument further, the phone rang. Helen split her attention between
Jason and the shrill ring until she looked at the caller I.D. display.
“It’s Tracey up the street.” She sat on the bed and picked up the receiver.
Her neighbor had agreed to babysit the children for the evening when Helen thought that her
afternoon delight plan would work. Seeing how everything was playing out, she figured she wouldn’t
need her neighbor’s help.
Jason, still on his knees, crawled to her. At her feet, he parted her thighs as he held the icepack to
her swollen skin.
“Lie back,” he whispered.
She shook her head at first but staring into his intense brown eyes, she obliged. Knowing Jason, he
was probably telling her to lie back because of some Boy Scout training he’d remembered. Next
step he may take would probably involve elevating her feet.
“Stay on the phone,” she heard him say.
Helen nodded absent-mindedly. But when she felt a delicate touch at the apex of her thighs, she
jumped and gasped.
Copyright © 2005 by Bridget Midway. All rights reserved.
Facing Jason, she tried to smile but it came off more like a twitchy, nervous expression.
She let out a haggard breath before she unfastened the belt and undid the buttons. When she
opened her coat, she didn’t expect so much laughter to erupt from Jason but once he got a look, he
fell back on his haunches and couldn’t stop.
“You look like a ham,” he said.
Helen bolted to her feet. She lifted the plastic above her knees as much as she could so she could
run back upstairs to take off the plastic wrap she had around her body. She managed to make it up
two steps before she teetered back, nearly falling to the floor. But Jason caught her, netted her in his
strong arms like scooping up a bigmouth bass.
“I got you,” he said, his light brown eyes twinkling.
She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and leaned her head against his. The warmth of his
body made hers tingle. The sore spot on her leg pulsed with each of his steps, but she
wasn’t about to complain.
In their bedroom, Jason sat her on the four-poster bed then took a step back to gaze at her.
“Did you really wrap plastic wrap around your body?” He covered his mouth to stifle a giggle.
“A whole roll. It’s so damn hot in here.” She shrugged off her coat revealing her clear, mummified
casing that started at her breasts and went all the way down to her knees.
The process to making the translucent dress took all of an hour to complete. And even as she’d
cursed the entire time, especially when the plastic bunched and stuck together, Helen just knew the
end result would have been worth it.
“And what made you do this?” The question came between fits of laughter that he could no longer
suppress.
“Fine. Laugh. You’re right. It is funny.” She struggled to stand but fell back onto the bed twice
before succeeding.
Jason put his hands on her shoulders and stood behind her as he had her face the mirror. “You don’t
think this is funny?”
She held a hard face, refusing to break. But seeing her breasts squished under the clear wrap, and
her thick thighs looking like two legs of lamb from the butcher, even she had to snicker at the sight.
“Wait right here.”
He darted from the room leaving her to stare at her pitiful reflection. Her breasts, lower than they
were twenty years ago, peeked through the wrap with their dark pink nipples. Even through the
translucent wrap, she saw the dimples on her thighs.
Helen let her hands coast over her breasts then down her stomach and over her hip. She had a real
woman’s body, the kind of body turn-of-the-century artists would have loved to paint.
But she was no Renaissance woman. And as much as Jason loved her, she always wondered if he
desired more. Was he disappointed that after giving birth to three children that her body wasn’t what
it used to be?
Helen had been disappointed in her own appearance. Jason couldn’t have been that enthused
about the way she looked now…could he?
The music downstairs stopped. By the time Jason returned, she stopped being in a jovial mood.
Whatever sexy moment she’d tried to create vanished. An aroma of smoky, sweet flowers hung in
the air. Jason must have extinguished all of the candles before she burned down the house.
In his hand he carried scissors, a sandwich baggie filled with ice and a magazine, the one she’d
tried hiding when he came home for a surprise lunch date.
Not since Helen had been a teenager had she bought a magazine like this. But an article title caught
her gaze and it compelled her to buy the rag.
“‘How To Surprise Your Man In 8 Easy Steps’? Hel, since when do you read crap like this? We
used to laugh at these articles when we were dating.” He crouched down in front of her and starting
cutting up the front of the mummy wrap.
“I thought it would help, um, us.”
He stopped cutting when he got to her vagina, also freshly waxed, a pain she still remembered
vividly, more so than the pain of giving birth.
“Are we in trouble?” He continued cutting, being careful at her stomach and up to her breasts.
“I’m not the tomboy with the toned thighs anymore. I can’t wear a t-shirt without a bra like I used to.”
The dress fell down to her feet in a crumpled and sweat-filled heap to the floor. Cool air brought her
body temperature down rapidly and made her tremble but not as much as seeing her bewildered
husband crouching down at her feet.
“Oh, yes you can.” He winked.
“And I can’t compete against those young admins you have working in your office now.”
With that line he furrowed his eyebrows. “And you don’t have to.”
Before she could pursue her argument further, the phone rang. Helen split her attention between
Jason and the shrill ring until she looked at the caller I.D. display.
“It’s Tracey up the street.” She sat on the bed and picked up the receiver.
Her neighbor had agreed to babysit the children for the evening when Helen thought that her
afternoon delight plan would work. Seeing how everything was playing out, she figured she wouldn’t
need her neighbor’s help.
Jason, still on his knees, crawled to her. At her feet, he parted her thighs as he held the icepack to
her swollen skin.
“Lie back,” he whispered.
She shook her head at first but staring into his intense brown eyes, she obliged. Knowing Jason, he
was probably telling her to lie back because of some Boy Scout training he’d remembered. Next
step he may take would probably involve elevating her feet.
“Stay on the phone,” she heard him say.
Helen nodded absent-mindedly. But when she felt a delicate touch at the apex of her thighs, she
jumped and gasped.
Copyright © 2005 by Bridget Midway. All rights reserved.