Maryanne

Chapter 1

"Got a minute, Travis?"

"Got a minute?" That's a question that has launched more than a thousand conversations. In this case it was serious as it was my boss' head that was framed in the doorway to my office. When Steve says to me, "Got a minute?" I do, and as many other minutes as he'd like to tack on after the initial one.

"Sure," I said, looking up from my terminal.

"I'd like you to attend the 11 o'clock meeting on moving the distribution center to Long Island."

I wrinkled my brow, "Why the hell does he want me to attend that meeting? I've already given all my input, and it's a done deal from my point of view." What I said was, "What value do you think I'd add to the meeting? Events are pretty much out of my hands, now."

"I need you there. I want your perspective on how they are going to carry it out."

I twisted my mouth, "Oh well, I'm ahead on my other work, but I'd like to get today done so I can get back to Maryanne Doesn't Steve know it's our 25th wedding anniversary. Of course, he doesn't." Aloud once again, "OK, boss. I'll give you a summary this afternoon."

The meeting was an absolute bore. I had absolutely nothing to say, and there wasn't a single item in the meeting that I didn't already know, and hadn't already seen in the plans. What a colossal waste of time!

As I was simultaneously fighting off boredom, and wondering about what I would have for lunch, Christine, the office manager came into the conference room and handed me a note. It said, "Urgent call holding." With two grown sons and a daughter scattered all over the state in various jobs and colleges, "urgent" could have a number of meanings.

I rose swiftly, muttered an, "excuse me," and paced out to the hallway. Part of me was relieved to escape the meeting from hell, but the rest of me was apprehensive. Christine met me and led me by the arm towards my office. "I'll transfer it in there," she said pointing.

As I reached the door, I was greeted by Maryanne bearing two glasses of champagne. It took two full heart beats for me to figure out that I was set up! I turned and pointed a finger at Christine and shook it. She laughed. I turned back to Maryanne and kissed her. It was one of those kisses.

"Happy Anniversary," she finally managed to say., I broke our embrace, held my index finger vertically to indicate that she should wait silently, and paced next door to Steve's office. I stuck my head in and said, "You son of a bitch!" He laughed at me and said, "Good afternoon to you, too! Before you can ask, you have the rest of the afternoon off."

I was still chuckling as I made my way back to the office. "What a devil Maryanne is. I love that devious mind of hers."

By the time I got back, Maryanne had a blanket spread on the floor of my office, and was taking items out of a basket. "I was hoping to go to the park for a picnic, but the weather isn't cooperating." Indeed it wasn't. This was Bellevue, Washington, and my sometimes splendid view of Mt. Rainier was often obscured by my more-time mundane view of northwest rain.

Maryanne looked at me and smiled. Something in the smile, and something in the Irish eyes told me that she was in the mood for play. I like it when Maryanne is in the mood to play. I hastily scribbled something on a postit note, stuck it on my door, closed it, and locked it. Let the rest of the staff figure out what it was they were not to disturb.

Maryanne unwrapped our lunches, and we sat on the floor talking and flirting. She was wearing a floral print sundress and sandals and a large floppy hat to protect her from the non-existent sun. Knowing her, I suspected that she was wearing nothing else.

We finished lunch surprisingly fast with many a sip of champagne. As she was putting away the lunch, Maryanne said, "Stand up and get your clothes off." It was delivered in the same matter-of- fact calmness as she used minutes ago when she asked me to hand her a napkin. To me, it was a commanding order.

I could play, too. I had already shucked the jacket, and decided that the rest of the suit would follow in a more sensuous fashion. I slowly undid the tie and twirled it around burlesque-style letting it fly and flutter into Maryanne's lap. She rewarded me with a smile. I wiggled in front of her, both my back and front. By the time it came to wiggle the front, I was beginning to have something worth wiggling. At the completion of my act, Mr. "Prim and Proper" (as I was known in the office for my meticulous dress) had his suit and every other article of his clothing strewn all over the office. It almost looked like a teenager's bedroom.

I have undressed for Maryanne on many occasions. This time was different. Normally we were someplace where nudity was acceptable such as a bedroom or hotel room. This was my office! The incongruity of being in a place which my mind so firmly associated with business and stripping naked for my wife's amusement astounded me. It made the act of disrobing all the more "naughty." I actually felt more than naked.

Maryanne applauded quietly. "Sit down," she commanded. It seems the picnic basket contained more than lunch. She soon produced the familiar cuffs and bungee cords. Bungees are a must for bondage on the road. They are so versatile. You can wrap them around just about anything, and I have helped Maryanne arrange them to strap me down to a number of hotel beds. Those of you who have tried this know how difficult a task this can be.

Today her task was a lot easier. Using some of the shorter bungees, she fastened each of my wrists to the legs of my desk. "Spread them." she ordered using the minimum amount of words to convey the message.

She got into my chair and rolled herself into position between my legs. She placed her sandaled foot on my now-erect penis and rolled it around. I got a view much better than that I normally got out of my window. She allowed her dress to ride up and I could clearly see that my earlier suspicions were correct.

She reached for my phone and dialed some digits; twelve of them. I could barely hear the buzz of the phone ringing on the other end. The other party apparently answered. "Carolyn! Maryanne here. How are you?" It was her sister!

I listened more to the conversation, "I'm fine. It went just like I said it would. Travis is literally at my feet as we speak." Maryanne had discussed our "special arrangement" with her sister on several occasions. Carolyn also admitted to be in a femdom-male-sub relationship with her husband too. Although we never did anything "kinky" together, my brother-in-law and I have had, on occasion, to sit by silently as the sisters talked about our fates.

I would have felt flattered if the conversation stayed centered on me, but it drifted, and soon they were discussing things that kids do, various ailments, and friends from high school days. All the while, Maryanne was absent-mindedly toying with my penis with her sandal.

I honestly believed that it was not as absent minded as appearances would let on. I strongly suspected that she knew exactly what she was doing as she brought me closer and closer to orgasm but never quite gave me the push to go over the edge. For 20 minutes she played with me this way.

I felt like the mouse that the cat plays with. I was not going to escape, and I would not be given the coup de grace. I would simply be toyed with and tortured. Maybe it was just as well. I don't think I could explain the come stains on the office rug.

Maryanne finally relented. Without untying me, she had me change positions so that I was now kneeling under my desk facing outwards. She rolled the chair forward, lifted her dress, and lowered it over my head. I now have a stain in the upholstery on my chair -- I cannot explain it to my co-workers, but I think fondly of it every time I see it to this day.

"I'm not finished with you," she said as she released me. "but we have to get moving if this day is going to get along." She used the mirror on the back of my door to freshen up as I got dressed.

As we left the office, an hour and a half after I locked my door, my wife and Christine exchanged glances as only two women can. The contact was brief -- seconds at best -- but I am sure volumes were spoken. I am certain that my office manager knows that something has happened -- maybe she is not sure exactly what -- but something did happen between Maryanne and me and Maryanne came out on top.

Instead of leading me to the garage, Maryanne led me to the street and down the block to the Safeway. "We have to pick up some overnight stuff," she mentioned, "Brutes and Lucifer (my dog and her cat, respectively) are in the kennel."

Shortly thereafter, we found ourselves on I-90 heading east towards the mountains. Our next stop was in North Bend at the outlet stores. "I don't know about you, but I didn't pack any clothes." Maryanne chided me. She did some shopping for lingerie and a few other items and I picked up some clean underwear. Maryanne also insisted that I pick up a pair of "thong" underwear much to the amusement of the teenage sales girl. Eventually, Maryanne got more practical and picked up a running suit and a pair of Keds. Not wanting to be left out of her plans, I picked up something similar myself.