The Compromise
By Kathy B.
(kathybxx@hotmail.com)


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."