A Ghost of a Chance

"Hi! I hoped you'd ring." Emma's voice sounded bright and cheerful.

"I left a message last night. Where were you?"

"Oh, just getting sloshed with Liz and chewing the fat about underwear and men's failings, nothing much."

"Listen, about the weekend..."

"It's all right, David. Yeah, it's a pity to lose a weekend but it can't be helped I suppose. I'll miss you."

"What'll you do?"

"I don't really know. Slob out, I guess. A slushy novel, a bottle of Merlot and early bed I expect." David had no idea why the hairs on the back of his neck suddenly stood on end.

"Anyway, call me tomorrow, David. Then you can make sure I'm behaving myself on Valentine's Day," she said with a giggle.

"OK, darling, I promise. Must dash, I'm late, bye."

As he dressed and left the hotel to go to work, David was troubled. Bits of his dream, nightmare really, started coming back to him.

Sex, yes, but there was more. Emma had been there. He had been making love to Emma. No, that wasn't right! He had been watching another man fucking his wife, except she wasn't his wife. That's stupid; of course she was his wife. He'd just been speaking to her, hadn't he?

As the morning wore on, he got more and more troubled and distracted as the events of the night before slowly crystallized in his head.

* * *

Part Five

Emma woke with a start, looked at the clock and nearly jumped out of bed. Then she remembered it was Saturday, Valentine's Day. No work, no David! She had promised herself a lazy, boring day. She stretched her warm, naked limbs under the bedcovers, taking a wicked pleasure as the sheet teased her bare, sensitive flesh.

Her hand brushed against something hard. Picking it up, she realized it was her vibrator, abandoned after the excesses of last night's self pleasuring. A dreamy smile crossed her face as she relived the series of orgasms she had given herself.

Two nights in a row she had sent herself to sleep with wild masturbation. "I'm getting to be a right trollop! I must be coated in juices," she giggled to herself almost proudly, as she ran fingers between her legs to investigate. She found her labia were still puffy and sensitive and, as she began gently massaging them, she moaned softly as small ripples of pleasure coursed through her body.

She took her time, quite the opposite of the urgency of last night. With two fingers she teased the creases at the tops of her thighs before moving to stimulate the petals of her outer lips, forcing herself to go slowly, to let the pleasure mount.

Feeling warm and lazy, luxuriating in the large bed, Emma clenched her ass and squeezed her legs tightly together. As her fingers were pushed gently into the depths of her pussy, she shivered excitedly.

The sheet rubbing against her bare breasts was making her hardening nipples tingle.

Basking languidly in a sea of pleasurable sensations, she was abruptly shaken back to life by the loud ringing of the doorbell.

"Who the hell can that be? I wasn't expecting anyone," she thought crossly, wrapping her burgundy robe round her as she skipped downstairs to see who was at the door.

"Mrs. Thomas?" The deliveryman looked enquiringly at her as she nodded dumbly. "Parcel for you," he added curtly, thrusting out the large rectangular packet in his hands.

In her surprise, as Emma reached out mechanically to take the proffered box, she forgot she hadn't tied her robe. The look of bored disinterest on the courier's face vanished instantly when the panels of the robe fell wide apart and he was presented with the full frontal nudity of the beautiful woman facing him.

Crimson with embarrassment, Emma hurriedly closed the door and leant back against it. Then she smiled.

"Well, I bet that made his Valentine's Day!"

She was still giggling to herself as she put the heavy package on the kitchen table and began pulling off the brown paper, to reveal a gold colored cardboard box.

All thoughts of her naked exhibition forgotten, Emma stared in bewilderment at the package in front of her. Thinking there must be some error, she sifted through the torn paper on the floor. No! No mistake! She read her own name and address, but the only clue to the sender's identity was the name of a mail order company she'd never heard of.

"There's only way to find out," she told herself while reaching out to lift the lid off.

Her jaw dropped when she saw what was inside the box. Neatly displayed in a frame were a bottle of vintage champagne, a pair of crystal flutes and a box of Godiva Belgian chocolates, beautifully wrapped in gold paper and red ribbon. There was a typed card as well.

"Couldn't let another Valentine go by without letting you know how much I think of you. Your secret admirer."

Emma was at a complete loss. Who on earth would think of sending her such an expensive Valentine gift? Her heart and soul longed for it to be from her husband but she knew it wasn't. It couldn't be David because that kind of thing wasn't his scene and, anyway, he wouldn't be anonymous. She racked her brains but couldn't, for the life of her, conjure up any likely suspects. Then it came in a blinding flash.

"Tony! It must be Tony Stevens!" she exclaimed to the kitchen walls.

She made herself some coffee and sat down to think about it seriously.

Logically it had to be Tony, she argued. They'd been working closely together on the magazine now for a couple of years, she in charge of features whilst he was responsible for advertising, and they'd clicked straight away. With his rugged face and mop of uncontrollable dark hair, he was the complete opposite of David but she had been attracted to him instantly. Not sexually, she insisted to herself. No, because of his easy manner and good humor, his boyish enthusiasm and... and because he was constantly flirting with her, she finally admitted.

It wasn't cheap or offensive, in fact, quite the reverse. Tony always noticed her clothes and told her how good she looked. On frustrating days he would often whisk her out for a snatched lunch and a half hour of his witty banter would change her mood completely... and he remembered anniversaries.

Each birthday and Christmas there had been a card and a little present waiting on her desk, something personal; a pen, a brooch, but never clothes. She'd asked him once.

"Thanks, Tony, the leather organizer is beautiful."

"It's so you can start arranging clandestine trysts with me."

Laughing, Emma replied, "Surely would-be seducers go in for lacy garter belts and suchlike"

"Not this one, Princess, I haven't even got an account at Victoria's Secret yet."

"But, seriously, Tony –"

"Seriously, I think you should only give clothes to lovers and, despite all my best efforts with you, I haven't even reached first base yet. I won't give up, though. I'll get there and one day I'll be able to shower you with sexy lingerie"

"What a lovely, romantic idiot," she giggled to herself and reached across the table to kiss his cheek briefly. It was the first time she had ever kissed him.

"Success at last," Tony announced. "Now I can start planning my way to second base!"

Chuckling together, they had headed back to work.

Smiling at the memory, Emma stood and put the bottle of champagne in the fridge, just in case.

"Just in case of what exactly?" her conscience asked accusingly.

"Oh, I don't know... anything. In case I get thirsty, in case Brad Pitt wants to borrow a cup of sugar." Certainly not 'just in case' Tony called round tonight; she tried to convince herself, going back upstairs.

Deciding this Valentine's Day was going better than expected so far, she pampered herself with a long soak in a hot, fragrant bath. To keep in the mood, she rejected her usual Saturday sweats and put on a pale blue silky bra and thong before picking out a white, silky blouse and a very short red skirt.

She flitted round the house aimlessly for an hour or two, not able to settle on anything.

"All dressed up and nowhere to go," she mused.

The thought of calling to thank Tony came to mind, but she decided she couldn't do it. It wasn't the done thing for a woman to chase after her 'secret admirer' and, anyway, she was a respectable married woman, for goodness sake. Whatever would she say to him?

"Let him call me, if he's got the courage!"

"Gosh, I am popular today. Perhaps this is Tony," she exclaimed a while later as the doorbell rang again. Opening the door, she was faced with a delivery driver thrusting a long, flat white box at her. She was very relieved it wasn't the same one she had flaunted her feminine charms at earlier.

Ten minutes later, Emma was pacing the kitchen, her mind in turmoil. This was going too far! This couldn't happen; their relationship could never be the same again if she did this. She sat and stared at the contents of the box for the umpteenth time.

It wasn't just one relationship but two at risk here, she thought, gazing at the thin, black silk dress. The printed card was lying on top.

"Wear this for me tonight. Be ready at 7.30 sharp and be hungry. Your secret admirer."

It seemed as though Tony was thinking of getting all the way home in one shot rather than just second base.

"It's so out of character for him," she puzzled. "Perhaps it's not him at all." She had checked the dress and the pair of black shiny stilettos accompanying it. They were exactly the right size and there was no way Tony could have known.

Then she thought. She always kept spare shoes in her desk at work in case of disasters and, sometimes, when there was an evening function, she would take her dress and change in the office. Yes, if he had been planning all this for a long time, he could have found her measurements easily enough. Hell, if she'd left her desk unlocked by mistake one night he could even have found out her bra size.

He didn't know she was going to be home alone today!

Yes, he did! He'd asked what her erotic plans for Valentine's were as they left work on Friday and she'd told him the truth. That seemed a stupid idea in hindsight, her conscience told her.

Her head was splitting as her conscience fought with her inner devil.

"What's wrong? It's just a bit of fun, an exciting, romantic evening with wine and candlelight! It doesn't have to mean anything more if you don't want it to."

"You mustn't go, it's too dangerous. Things could get seriously out of control if you lead him on."

"Go on! He's not a stranger or anything. You know his character pretty well by now. He's not the sort to push if you say 'no' firmly enough."

"Whatever happens, how will you be able to work with him in the future?"

"Pah, conscience, you're a boring old fuddy duddy! Let your hair down and live a little; it's Valentine's Day!"

Tired of the mental wrestling, Emma thought she better put the dress away. As she reached for the package she tipped it on to the floor and a little box she hadn't seen before fell out. Opening it she found a beautiful pair of diamond earrings that exactly matched her necklace.

"See, conscience, is this guy class or not. You don't dole out that sorta dough if you just wanna get your leg over. A hooker would be a lot cheaper"

"Quite the opposite, you fool. This changes things completely, don't you see? Wear those tonight and there's no way to avoid paying for them later; naked and flat on your back."

Rational argument wasn't going to solve this dilemma, she just knew. She needed something to push her into a spontaneous choice, but how could she make an on the spot decision to go out or not.

The solution came to her when, glancing at her watch, she saw it was five o'clock.

"A good two hours, perfect," she thought. "I'll get ready as if I am going to go, then make the final decision when he arrives; on the spur of the moment, a spontaneous choice. If I want to go, I can go and, if not I just won't answer the door. Pretend I'm not here and stay in and read a book."

Happy with her plan, Emma picked up the white box with its contents and went upstairs in a cheerful frame of mind.

Putting the box on her bed, she turned to the stereo. Barry White, Sting – no, she couldn't have anything that might affect her decision. She needed something neutral and finally selected an album of romantic arias by an Italian tenor.

"Right ambience," she congratulated herself, "and it won't influence me as I don't understand a word he's singing."

As the violins struck up, she stood in front of the mirrored closet doors and slowly unbuttoned her white blouse. Accompanied by the melodic sounds, she watched herself slowly undressing, trying to be as graceful and erotic as she could. When red skirt and blue underwear had followed the blouse on to the floor, she stood and looked at her naked body. She remembered the time, years ago, when David had given her the diamond necklace and she had stripped for him and really enjoyed it. There was an exhibitionist streak in her, she knew. So far she'd kept it private. Sensuously, she drew her hands up her bare, creamy white thighs and across her belly until she was lightly cradling her breasts. Gently pinching her hardening nipples, she asked her reflection,

"So who's Valentine are you going to be tonight then?"

A serious program of preparation then started. She washed her hair and ran her second bath of the day. Although she knew they didn't need it, she shaved her armpits and legs. As she was about to put her razor down she stopped. Before she had time to consider the implications, she had knelt up and was lathering her pussy. Slowly and carefully she began removing all her pubic hair.

Drying herself, she studied her shaved pussy in the bathroom mirror, the bare leaves of her labia clearly displayed under her smooth mound.

"It's for me, to make me feel good on Valentine's Day. It's like the early days. No-one else will know I've shaved my pussy, no-one's going to see it, for goodness sake." She wasn't at all convinced she believed herself.

Chinking bottles, she rubbed body lotion all over and sprayed perfume on her neck and wrists. She couldn't explain what compelled her to put a generous application of Calvin Klein between her legs.

Hair dried and set, and make-up and red nail polish applied, it was time to get ready. That dress deserved some serious underwear, she thought, as she chose a set of strapless, black satin bra and thong that was virtually transparent. Then she remembered that the garment was backless. A little frisson of excitement ran through her as she dropped the bra back in the drawer. It had been a very long time since she last went out in public braless. After pulling the thong over her hips, she rolled stay-up thigh high black silk stockings up her legs. No way could she wear a garter belt; everything would show.

As she held the dress up in front of her, she gasped. She hadn't fully realized earlier quite how revealing it was. Slipping it on, she fastened the little catch behind her neck before turning to the mirror.

She had to admit she looked spectacular but there was no way in the world she could go out dressed, or more accurately, undressed like that. She stared horrified. The thin strap around her neck widened into two narrow swathes of soft black silk that swept across her breasts before gathering below her navel. All that kept the silk covering her breasts was a single silver string connecting the two sides.

From the air playing on her back, she knew it was very low cut but when she turned round her worst fears were borne out. It barely covered the swell of her bottom, a half inch lower and the cleft of her ass would be on display. That caused another problem. At the back, the waist of her thong was clearly visible. She paused for a long moment then, sighing profoundly, put her hands under the mid thigh hem and pulled her panties off.

She looked at her reflection again. The warmth of her body had softened the silk and it was clinging to her breasts, belly and bottom like a second skin. She was as good as naked. In fact, she thought, one flick and she would be naked. All that was stopping the garment sliding to the floor was the tiny hook at the back of her neck.

The dress wasn't decent, was it? Despite telling herself 'no', she knew she was very excited at the idea of people seeing her like that. Hell, she could see not only her stiff nipples pushing through the soft material but also the outline of her areolae.

"Anyway," she reminded herself, "this isn't decision time. You don't have to open the door!"

With this, she struggled into the very high heels, clipped on the diamond earrings and went downstairs. She turned all the lights off and stood in the dark hall.

"Remember, you have a choice!" she thought, but knew it was a lie. She had made up her mind already. She wanted to show herself off and feel like a young, sexy woman again, whatever the consequences. When the bell rang, she grabbed her purse and opened the door.

"Hi, Tony. Oh..." Standing in front of her was a uniformed chauffeur. How many more surprises had Tony got in store for her?

"Emma Thomas?" the man enquired politely. "The car is waiting."

Stepping outside, she felt the chill of the February evening. She had decided she couldn't spoil the effect of the dress with a coat and was relieved the weather was mild for the time of year.

In the car, she saw there was a major problem. If she sat on the car seat, her silk dress would get horribly creased. She tried supporting herself with her hands but gave that up as impossible after a few seconds. She could kneel on the seat, perhaps. "No, don't be silly, girl!"

She glanced at the back of the driver's head in the dark and suddenly feeling very wicked, lifted her bottom a fraction and slid the hem of the dress up until it was round her waist. The cool leather felt good on her bare ass and she couldn't resist wriggling a bit to increase the sensation in her loins.

Moisture began seeping from her pussy down to the crease in her bottom. Emma giggled silently. The driver was going to have a big surprise when he discovered the wet patch her juices had made on his expensive upholstery.

Lost in her indecent thoughts, Emma didn't notice the car come to a halt. She was startled when the interior light went on and the driver turned round, getting a panoramic view of her naked lower body.

As he opened the restaurant entrance for her, she thought,

"Oh Christ, that's two complete strangers I've flashed my pussy at today! What's come over me?"

Once inside the restaurant, she panicked. She hadn't been prepared for this. What should she do? Who should she ask for? As she desperately wondered what to do, the maitre d' walked across with an unctuous smile. He looked her up and down very slowly, clearly feasting his eyes on the sight of the seductively dressed woman. Emma knew she should be offended at being ogled but, instead, found it quite exciting.

"Mrs. Thomas, I believe. You are expected. Please follow me."

There was to be no quiet corner for Emma! The man set off across the middle of the large, packed restaurant and, as she followed, she could sense all eyes turning towards her.

"Hell," she thought, "they don't have to mentally undress me. I've done most of the work for them already!"

As if it had been carefully planned to exhibit her to as many people as possible, she was ushered into a little semi circular banquette at the far end of the room.

"The gentleman will be with you presently," gushed the maitre d', turning on his heel with a final appraisal of her and walking away. Emma sat down, in a confusion of embarrassment and arousal, to wait for Tony.

* * *

Part Six

"Good evening, Emma. I'm so glad you wanted to come to dinner with me," said a familiar voice just behind her.