Holiday Kink by Eve Langlais

 
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
    Holiday Kink
     
    By
     
    Eve Langlais
    This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
     
    Holiday Kink
    Copyright© 2010 Eve Langlais
    ISBN:   978-1-60088-618-8
     
    Cover Artist:   Sable Grey
    Editor:   Darcy Quinn
     
    All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.
     
    Cobblestone Press, LLC
    www.cobblestone-press.com
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
    Chapter One
     
    ‘Twas the night before Christmas and all through the house
    Not a cock was a thrusting, not even aroused.
    The slaves were all hung spread eagle with care,
    In hopes Master Nick soon would be there.
    I, in my corset and Andrew in his strap,
    Had just settled down for a well-sated nap.
     
    I slammed my notebook shut when I heard familiar footsteps, and just in time too for Andrew came into my study—early from work for once—still dressed in his office suit.
    “You’re home early.” I stated the obvious trying to give my nerves time to calm down. A few minutes earlier and I would have been caught with my hand in my cookie jar so to speak. As it was, the smell of my orgasm hung in the air, an erotic perfume my husband didn’t seem to notice. I furtively wiped my sticky fingers on my pant leg.
    He shrugged. “With Christmas only a few days away, the office is almost empty and most of my clients are on vacation. Hungry?” he inquired, holding up and rattling visibly steaming bags of food.
    “Starved.” I shoved my notebook under a pile of papers and stood up with a smile, which might have shone a tad too bright. The crotch of my panties was still damp from my recent bout of self-pleasure, and I wondered if the moisture would seep through my slacks. Andrew turned away from me and headed to the kitchen, oblivious to my racing heart and guilty conscience. Married for almost twenty-five years and hiding things from my husband. I didn’t know what was worse. The secret I hid or the fact he didn’t seem to perceive something was amiss. How could he not realize our relationship had changed? Or should I say, I had changed. Hell, how could he miss my flushed cheeks and the smell of my orgasm in the air?
    I followed him into the dining room and not for the first time wondered why I was too scared to tell him about my clandestine thoughts and doings. Well not so much doings as researching and fantasizing. Looking at Andrew shrugging off his suit jacket and loosening his tie—the epitome of strait-laced—I restrained a sigh. I can’t tell him. He’ll think I’m a freak, or even worse, think I don’t love him, which couldn’t be further from the truth. There was no changing the reality though; I was bored with our sex life. What was left of it anyway.
    We ate in silence. I shovelled tasty Chinese food into my mouth while nodding my head as Andrew related his day. I smiled in the appropriate places. I laughed at his jokes. I did so love this man who’d held the position of best friend and lover for what seemed like forever. However all the while I pretended to pay attention, my mind was in that other place. The dark place I’d discovered inside me that craved the excitement of sex, lots of sex, and not the plain vanilla variety I’d indulged in since I’d lost my virginity so long ago. I craved the kinky stuff.
    Having never sowed any oats, I now clearly saw the benefit, not that I regretted my life. I just wished I’d known more, experienced more, before settling down. Andrew and I had started dating in high school a million years ago. I gave him my virginity in the standard method, in the backseat of his car with steamed windows. We