The Compromise





Part One



"You're disgusting!" I exclaimed, pushing my husband away from me. "I can't

believe you'd say that to me!"



"No, I'm not disgusting. You're just a prude," Phil retorted. "Other women like

sex. Why is it such a chore for you?"



"It isn't a chore. Who cuddled up to you this morning, trying to have some fun

before you leave? I didn't have to do anything, but I did."



Phil slipped out of bed and headed for the bathroom. At the door, he turned and

looked back at me. "That's just it. You look at in terms of whether or not you

'should' or 'have to' have sex. I guess I'd like someone just once who wanted

to."



When I heard the shower start, I got out of bed and went downstairs to make some

tea. I usually made coffee for Phil but I was too mad. He could get his own

damned breakfast. I waited until I heard him in the bedroom, then headed back.

Round Two.



Phil was already dressed, carrying clothes from his closet to the large suitcase

on the bed. He ignored me as I leaned on the doorjamb and gave him a tentative

smile.



"Look, honey, I love you and I try to show you that all the time," I started.

"and I'm willing to try new things- some new things- but I'm not a sex maniac. If

that's what you wanted, you married the wrong person."



"I didn't ask you to be a sex maniac," he replied. "All I said was that things

were getting sort of boring and maybe we could try a few new things. Nothing

drastic, just loosen up and have a little fun. You have a great body and I love

seeing you act sexy. Why won't you open up a little?"



"Nothing drastic?" Against my will, I felt my voice rising. "You said you wanted

me to dress up like a hooker and go downtown! How much more drastic than being a

whore can it get?"



"I never asked you to be a whore," he snapped back. "Just pretend to be one and

I'll be the guy who hires you. No other guys, just you and I playing a little

game. Is that so bad?"



"Yes, it is! It's terrible!" I screamed. "What if people I work with saw me, or

my parents or something? You wouldn't be the one standing out there, half naked.

Maybe that's what you really want- a whore. Is that it? You'd like to pick up a

prostitute?" I paused. "Or maybe some of those tramps you work with?"



Phil slammed his suitcase closed. "Those women are not tramps. Just because they

dress nicely, you think they're all cheap and loose. Did it ever occur to you

that they just might like feeling sexy, feeling beautiful, feeling wanted?

Instead of slamming them, maybe you should try to be more like them."



I snorted. "You want me to be more like Kelly? Your secretary couldn't keep her

legs together on a bet. She'll fuck anybody. If you're not sleeping with her, you

must be the first boss she's ever had that didn't."



"Let me tell you about Kelly," Phil flared. "She's never done anything to you,

yet you continue to slam her every chance you get. You think she hasn't heard the

things you say about her when you come to the office? She's a good secretary-

efficient and energetic. Sure she wears sexy outfits, but so what? I for one

enjoy looking at an attractive woman. That doesn't mean I'm having an affair with

her. I'd rather be attracted to you. You could be as sexy as her if you would

just try. Instead of insulting her the next time you see her, maybe you should

ask her for advice on being a woman!"



"If you think so much of her, you can have her!" I yelled, shocked that my

husband would say such things to me. "She's a fucking slut!"



He looked at me for a minute, then spoke in a low voice. "No, she's not a fucking

slut. You're a fucking prude. I'm not sure what you're saying but I think we both

need to examine our marriage and see where we're headed. I'm not going to go on

like this." With that he brushed past me, out the door.



I looked out the door as he backed out of the driveway. There went my husband of

19 years, leaving for a week to travel up and down the coast visiting vendors and

finding solutions to tough questions. I wondered if he had an answer to mine. Was

I going to celebrate my twentieth anniversary? It didn't look good.



I don't know what would have happened if Phil hadn't been away that week. Maybe

he'd have come home that night and we'd have apologized to each other and gone

back to our comfortable life. Maybe he'd have come home mad and we'd have had a

huge fight and it would have been over for good. With him gone for a week, we

both had time to examine our marriage. I just hoped he didn't do anything rash,

out of anger, while he was away. We needed to try to put our relationship back

together.



Monday and Tuesday I was so mad I almost filed divorce papers myself. How dare he

call me a prude? By Tuesday night, though, I was missing him and getting lonely

and a little more ready to examine myself. I didn't like what I saw. Phil was

right, I was a prude.



Wednesday afternoon my boss caught me weeping at my desk. He pulled me into his

office and, with a little prompting, I broke down and told him the whole story.



"Look, Rhonda, I'm no psychologist and I'm no marriage counselor," Mr. Foster

said. "I do know men, though. It might be time for you to compromise a little.

Phil isn't asking you for the world, just to act a little sexier in the bedroom.

You don't have to do things you're not comfortable with but why not try a few new

things?"



"But some of the things he wants to try are perverted," I complained. "I can't

even say what they are, how am I ever going to do them?"



"Hey, far be it from me to tell you what to do, but if you love him maybe it

wouldn't hurt you to experiment a little. Maybe you'll find out you like it."



I shook my head. "No way. I could never look myself in the mirror if I did some

of those things."



He shook his head. "I think that's part of the problem you're having with your

husband. Stop worrying so much about your image. Your sex life is between you and

Phil and if you want to save your marriage, maybe it's time to surprise him. Do

it in the privacy of your own home. Nobody will know and you'll have him panting

after you again in no time. I think you'll be surprised how much you can do and

still look yourself in the mirror."



I sniffed. "Do you think so?"



He laughed. "I know so. I'm a guy, remember? Give him a welcome home Friday night

that will put a smile on his face for a week. In fact, things are pretty slow

here right now. Why don't you take next week off? Take Phil up to my cabin and

rekindle your romance."



"Really? You're the greatest," I said, hugging him. "I'll do it! Phil will be so

surprised."



Mr. Foster smiled and patted me on the rear. "Atta girl. You can do it. Now get

back to work."



I spent the rest of the day and all day Thursday planning my surprise. My

coworkers must have thought I was on drugs or something, the way I sat there

smiling and daydreaming. By the time I left work Thursday night, I knew what I

wanted to do.



If Phil wanted me to role-play, that's what I'd do. I still wasn't comfortable

with the hooker deal but I thought I could be a French maid, at least around the

house. It was sexy but didn't require going anywhere.



I drove across town to a costume store. After checking all the racks, I still

couldn't find what I was looking for so I asked a salesgirl for help. When I

shyly described what I wanted, she grinned.



"You're looking for the private section of our store. Follow me." She led me to a

small door in the back of the store. As soon as I stepped through, I blushed.



"Don't be embarrassed. We're the only ones back here," she said when she noticed

my shock. "Come on, I'll show you around."



Phil would have loved this place. It was a monument to erotica. The racks were

lined with all kinds of sexy outfits- nurse's uniforms, cheerleader's outfits and

bunny costumes for women, superhero costumes and pirate outfits for men. Several

maid outfits were there, each skimpier than the next. I saw one I knew Phil would

enjoy.



Unfortunately, it didn't fit. Obviously meant for someone with a much smaller

chest, I couldn't even get the top to button. I tried several more outfits but

ran into the same problem. Either I was tumbling out the top or the bottom

disappeared up my butt. I wanted to appear sexy for Phil but these costumes

looked ridiculous on me.



"Wait," cautioned the clerk as I decided to leave and just buy a nightie. "I've

got something that's perfect for you and I think it will fit." As soon as I tried

it on, I knew she was right.



"Wow, you look great," the clerk sighed as I stepped out of the dressing room. I

surveyed myself in the mirror and liked what I saw.



It was a black leather bustier, unadorned except for a single zipper up the back

and a wide belt at the waist. Strapless cups lifted my breasts and pushed them

together, ending just above my nipples. My entire upper breasts were visible,

along with enough cleavage to get a dead man's attention. The bottom of it flared

out onto my hips just enough to contour and flatter them. It clung like a second

skin as I zipped it and when I cinched the belt tight, my waist pulled in and I

saw an hourglass figure I hadn't had in years.



"Wow," I said.



"Wow is right," the clerk agreed. "If my boyfriend were here, he'd elbow me out

of the way to stare at you. You're lucky, not very many women have the chest to

wear something like this. I know I don't. Your husband is going to go nuts when

he sees you in this."



I nodded my head in agreement.



"Wanna know the best part? Watch this." She retrieved my blouse and quickly

slipped my arms back into it. Buttoning it half-way, she tucked it back into my

skirt. "Look, you're back to being respectable, but still very very sexy. You can

wear this out to dinner and wow your husband and every guy in the place with your

body, then take him home and make him beg for mercy. He's going to think he's

died and gone to heaven."



I laughed at her infectious enthusiasm. She was right. It looked great on me and

I felt sexy wearing it. Best of all, it wasn't outside my comfort zone. I

actually could wear this out of the house if I wanted to.



"I'll take it," I said, pulling off my blouse as I headed for the dressing room.

I stopped, puzzled, as I felt two large rings on the belt. "What are these for?"



"It comes with accessories," said the clerk. "They're free, you don't have to pay

extra for them." She pulled a plastic bag off the hanger and handed it to me.

"Want me to show you how they work?" she asked as she saw me staring at the

confusing tangle of chains and leather. I nodded.



"It's really pretty easy," she explained. "This outfit is sort of a slave girl

fantasy costume. This is a dog collar." She fastened a wide leather collar around

my neck. "Now get on your hands and knees." When I hesitated, she gave me a

reassuring smile. "It will only take a minute."



When I was on all fours, she pulled out two long chains, with leather on the

ends. "These are like handcuffs, only they go from your wrist to your ankle, like

this." She carefully strapped them around my wrists, locking them into place. She

fed the chains through the belt loops, then pulled one leg up and fastened the

other end of the cuff to it. After repeating the process on the other side, she

stood and surveyed her work.



The chain was about two feet long and the way it was looped through my belt

allowed me limited movement of either my hands or my feet, but not both. With my

feet doubled up near my hips, I was able to have enough hand freedom to crawl or

reach as high as my shoulders. As soon as I lowered my feet, however, my hands

were pulled back toward my waist. Even with my hands all the way at the belt, I

wasn't able to straighten my legs completely.



"I think you'll find that the easiest way to get around is to crawl," the clerk

told me. "I tried something like this once and the only other way is to get into

a crouch. You can lie down as long as you don't mind being on your side or having

your legs in the air, and you can even sit on the floor pretty comfortably. Just

don't lose this." She held up a small chrome key. "The cuffs and the collar all

lock when you fasten them. The belt doesn't lock but you can't unbuckle it if the

cuffs are threaded through the rings, so always put the key where you can get to

it."



I moved a little, experimentally. The clerk was right, crawling was fairly

comfortable, except my ankles were pulled up against my buttocks. Sitting on my

heels, my arms were nearly unrestricted. I was handcuffed, but not completely

trapped. I could live with this, and Phil was going to love it.



"I'll take it," I giggled. "Help me up."



Friday I left work at noon and rushed home. Phil was supposed to get home around

four and I wanted to be ready for him. Having decided to accommodate his

fantasies, I was determined to impress him.



Before I got in the tub, I dug out the hair clippers I used to use when the kids

were small. Using one of the guides, I ran the clippers through my pubic hair

until it was trimmed uniformly close, then shaped the edge of my bush into a nice

sharp triangle. I didn't want to shave myself completely, but I thought my pussy

looked very sexy with the hair neatly trimmed and short enough for my lips to be

clearly visible. The buzz of the clippers aroused me and as I gave myself a

haircut I watched my pussy redden and swell. By the time I was done, my clit was

peeking out from under its fleshy hood and I could smell my arousal.



I soaked in the tub long enough to calm down and shave my legs, then stood up to

rinse off and shampoo my hair in the shower. Before I styled my hair, I rubbed

scented body lotion into my skin until it was soft and supple. I paid particular

attention to my breasts and was pleased to see how quickly my nipples responded

to my touch.



By three I was clean and fragrant, my hair was styled, my face was made up and I

was zipping myself into the bustier. I watched in the mirror as I cinched the

belt, smiling as I saw my new figure appear before my very eyes. I toyed with the

idea of wearing panties but realized there was no convenient way to get them off

if I was cuffed, so I decided to go bottomless. I slipped on a pair of black

heels and went into the kitchen for a glass of wine.



Lying on the kitchen counter was an envelope. Inside was the key to the cuffs and

a note telling Phil that whatever he could unlock with that key was his property,

for ever and ever. I taped it on the garage side of the kitchen door, right at

eye level. Everything was in place.



After careful consideration, I'd decided to set myself up in the living room,

where Phil would see me as soon as he entered. I closed and locked the cuffs

around my wrists, then threaded them through the belt loops and closed the other

end around each ankle. I turned so I faced away from the kitchen and put my head

down on the floor. I'm sure I made quite a sight with my ass raised high in the

air, my pussy thrust back and my hands pulled back against my side. I was ready.



I'd knelt there about ten minutes when the phone rang and I heard the answering

machine record the words that would change my life.



"Rhonda? It's Phil. Listen, things went a little long here and I didn't make my

flight. Actually, uh... I'm going to stay here for the weekend. I'd just have to

be right back here Monday morning anyway and, to be honest, I don't really want

to come home right now. I'm not sure if I want to come home next weekend or not.

I guess that depends on you. I'll call you next Wednesday and we can decide where

we're going from here. I'd just like... I wish you would... Well, by now you know

what I want. I'll talk to you next week."