I didn't mind the cold as we left the theatre that frigid January night, not even the little icicle fingers tearing through my shawl, my evening gown, and my bra to numb my breasts and harden my nipples. We had just been to a superb performance of an amazing opera, and I was still in my own special seventh heaven.
"The car's this way," growled the little man beside me. He was Wilbur Mason, a multi-billionaire and my husband. "Let's go!" he snarled. "I'm freezing." He strode off leaving me to crash land back on dirty old planet earth all by myself.
We had been married almost a full year and in that time he'd gone from something like an adorable and adoring little bichon frise puppy to a snarling, snapping little terrier. Oddly enough, in human terms, he'd gone the other way, from a mature adult to a petulant child, so that's exactly how I treated him.
Our chauffeur was waiting at the corner. Tall, dark and gorgeous and all decked out in her pearl grey uniform Rosie was holding the rear door of our limo open for us. Wilbur was standing beside her waiting for me to catch him up and get in first. He glared at me. I ignored him.
"Rosie," he said as he fastened his belt, "you can drop me at the Japanese consulate please, and then you can take Greta home. I'll grab a cab later."
"Right, sir."
I glanced at my watch. It was almost 10 past 11. "At this time? On a Friday night? You're kidding. Right?"
"I have a meeting with Ito Cho."
"Who's he?"
"Mrs Ito is one of their top international cultural liaison people."
"It is one hell of a funny time for a business meeting."
"That reminds me. Rosie, I need to be at the airport by eight in the morning please."
"Yes, sir."
He turned to me. "Her schedule and mine have just this tiny bit of overlap. She only arrived from Tokyo a few hours ago and I'm flying there in the morning. There are a few things I need her to clear up for me before I go. Just etiquette. I won't be long and learning how to avoid offending my hosts is worth the effort."
He was actually making sense, so I nodded.
A few minutes later we dropped him off and I moved up to the front passenger seat to join Rosie.
"You don't mind if I upgrade myself to a first-class seat?"
She chuckled. "Of course not." She pulled into traffic and there were a few moments silence until she added, "You hungry?"
"Damn right. And my bladder's about to burst. It's been hours and Wilbur was in such a bloody big hurry to meet his new Asian babe."
"We'll go to Andrea's. Best pasta puttanesca in town and it's only a few minutes away."
"Sounds good." She grinned and hit the gas.
"How was the opera?"
"I loved it. It was wonderful."
"And Willy hated it?"
"Probably. He only comes because he likes to be seen as a 'patron of the arts.' I told him before we came out that I was fed up with his bitching and whinging and he should keep his opinions to himself. After that, it was smarter not to ask him what he thought."
"Damn girl, you've got a set on you. Oh, and by the way, I just happen to know that Ms Ito is in her early 80's."
"So what? I've got ten years on Wilbur. I reckon he's got a thing for old biddies."
"No way! 10 years? Seriously?" I nodded. "Damn!" she said. "You sure don't look it." She took a quick look at me. "What are you? About 5'10"?"
"Puh-leeze. 5'9"."
"And a half," we chimed in unison, and we broke into laughter. It seemed an eternity since I'd had a good laugh.
Rosie shook her head. "Our Willy's quite the little perv, isn't he? He likes his women older, taller, bigger and stronger than him."
"Older? You? Seriously."
"By a few months."
"Doesn't count, but you're definitely stronger than him. After all you're a trained bodyguard. But me? Not a chance."
"Don't sell yourself short, sweetie. I have noticed you, probably more than want to know about, decked out in your hot little orgasm pink bikini. You got an awesome bod, lean, mean, and curvy all at the same time with about twice his muscle mass. What's your sport? Soccer? Tennis? Judo?"
"Ballet, up to about 20 years ago."
"Hot damn! It still shows. Hey, if you like I could teach you a few moves, and give you a few pointers on when and how to use them."
I shrugged. "Yeah, maybe."
"And when you're ready," suddenly she was a ring announcer. "'Ladies and Gentlemen, for our main event tonight, for the inter-gender wrestling championship of the world, we have, in this corner, the challenger, wee Willy Mason, and in this corner, we have our reigning champions, the world famous tag team, the unbeatable and unspeakably gorgeous Greta Mason-deBurg and her partner the indomitable Rosie O'Shea!'"
We laughed until we were both on the verge of tears.
Andrea's was a cozy little restaurant, and, at this time of the night, we had the place to ourselves. There was no sign of a guy called Andrea but Rosie and the blonde waitress greeted each other with a breast crushing hug and locked lips. There was tongue, and I could feel damp rising that might have been, but was probably not due to a leaky bladder. I'd never been attracted to a woman nor even had an interest in lesbian porn, but watching Rosie embrace and kiss the cute little waitress was making me as horny as any butch in heat. I made an urgent beeline for the restroom.
When I got back they had calmed down and weren't even holding hands. Rosie did the honours.
"Hon, this is Greta, Willy's better half. Greta, this is my wife, Simone."
"Pleased to meet you, darling." She hugged me briefly, but spared me the exchange of oral fluids and refrained from bruising my baby girls.
"A couple of puttanescas for a couple of sluts?"
"You got it, babe." They blew kisses at each other and Simone made for the kitchen. We were barely seated before she was back with a glass of red wine for me.
"Where the fuck's mine?" Rosie asked, as Simone started back to the kitchen.
"You're driving, bitch, and, before you say another word, you have a very precious passenger." Rosie gave her the one finger salute.
"So, Rosie. How long have you worked for Wilbur?"
"I've been his driver and bodyguard for about 7 years now, but we go back about 5 or 6 years before that."
"Did you date him? Did he ever fuck you?"
"No sweetie. I've only ever dated girls and no man has ever fucked this bitch. It was just a business thing we had going."
"Sometimes I wish I could say the same."
"What? Women? Or business?"
"That I'd never got involved with him." I paused, she waited. "I know sweet fuck all about business and I've never been attracted to a woman…" I looked her in the eye but she just sat there, waiting. She knew damn well I'd left it hanging. I looked away and in barely more than a whisper, "before now."
She still didn't say anything but I was pretty sure she'd heard me and simply decided not to react. The silence weighed heavy and then Simone delivered our pastas plus one for herself. The three of us made unconvincing small talk until our plates were clean.
When we were ready to go Rosie took her time embracing and kissing Simone, with a lot more of the duelling tongues thing. Finally Simone gave her a sharp slap on the butt. "Hey bitch," she said, "better get going. Take the lady home and then bring that gorgeous ass of yours back here to me."
It was more than a quiet ride home. It was the silence of the grave.
I got up early the next day to have breakfast with Wilbur before Rosie took him to the airport. I needn't have bothered. The silence was deafening. Rosie arrived on time and after they left I cleared up and dried the dishes while our kitchen maid washed. As soon as we were done I gave her the keys to the SUV and told her she could take the rest of the weekend off.
Now I had the whole house to myself. Oh joy. I went back to bed with my iPad, my Hot Movies for Her account and my Magic Wand. That killed about 40 minutes and left me feeling a bit empty. I got up and found something easy to read in the library. I didn't even bother changing out of my thong and the old, loose, somewhat faded house dress I'd worn to breakfast. I get like that when I'm bored.
Around mid-morning I dragged myself out of my funk. I was pretty sure she would be back from the airport by then so I put on a winter coat and went looking for Rosie. I found her in the main garage washing and valeting my Maybach.
She greeted me with just the hint of a shy smile on her lovely face. “Good morning Mrs Mason-deBurg," she said as she turned off the tap and dried her hands. "Did you sleep well?"
This was the first time I'd ever seen her less than fully dressed. Her breeches and boots were still covering the bits of her they were meant to cover, but her uniform jacket and shirt were draped over a nearby bench. A thin, sleeveless vest showcased Mother Nature's generous gift of almost perfect breasts. It was just wet enough to prove that, for her, a bra could only ever be an erotic accessory for the pleasure of a lover with a thing for ladies in hot lingerie. The thought gave me a nice feeling of rising heat. I could almost feel her stiff nipples on the palms of my hands and the plush resistance of her shapely bosom to my gently squeezing fingers. She must have noticed me checking out her bounteous beauties but, God bless her, she didn't even try to cover up.
"Aren't we well past that Mrs Mason-deBurg crap? I'm Greta." The garage was of course heated and very humid, so I slipped out of my coat and laid it over the hood our Mercedes E-class. No. I was not trying to show off. Much.
She chuckled. "Sorry. How did you sleep? Greta."
"Very well, thanks. You?"
"Fine, yeah. So, what can I do for you?" She spoke gently and calmly but in what seemed like a carefully neutral tone of voice in spite of her slight smile.
It was a better question than she knew. On the one hand, I wanted her but without letting lust interfere with either of our marriages. On the other hand I needed to know if she was in some way, knowingly or not, coming between me and Wilbur. If so, I wanted it ended as of yesterday, if not sooner. Last night she had played the lesbian card to dodge my subtle, little probe, but that didn't mean I was going to drop it.
That was all in my gut. My head was saying that it was all a bit silly. The very idea of Rosie and Wilbur together seemed ludicrous, almost hilarious. He was a scrawny little pasty-faced popsicle-stick of a billionaire, hitting maybe 5’6” in dress shoes and here she was, a gorgeous, vibrant African-American lesbian goddess, about my height, with a slim, but athletic build. If she ever put her mind to it, she could snap him like a dry twig. Apart from her skill in the martial arts, it was no different from me and Wilbur, come to think of it.
When in doubt do nothing. Keep your mouth shut and your ears, eyes, and mind wide open. My daddy taught me that.
"Wilbur and I were supposed to go to the ballet tonight," I said. "With him away - well - I just don't want to go by myself so why don't you and Simone go?"
Her eyes widened and her jaw almost dropped. "Oh! Wow! Really? That would be brilliant! Let me give her a call." She reached for her jacket and dug out her phone. I stepped aside to let them talk freely. Less than a minute later she came over and handed me her mobile. "Do you mind? She wants to talk to you."