Dear X,

First off, I thought a lot about your e-mail. I mean your idea that my sex fantasies usually involve anonymous partners and that this means I don’t really fantasize about men or women I know. That’s not always true, but I think you’re right, and I know this. Funnily enough, I guess I’m old fashioned about these things. If I’m honest, in the back of my mind it’s the man who should seduce a woman. I’ve had quite a few lovers in my life, but most of the time I just put myself in the way, if that makes sense. The men seduced me. I was just there and showed that I was open to it (it helps that I’m the friendly type). The only time I can really remember making the first move is with my husband, actually, and that was only because I was so sure he wanted it. Anyway, that story’s really not the point, but I did think about these things as I set off to attempt your difficult dare. Your other dares have been so wonderful – “tactful” really – that they’ve let me have a lot of fun anonymously, without putting myself in any kind of social danger (danger may be a strong word). This one, though, forced me to take the initiative in a way I almost never do, and honestly that made me uncomfortable, even if there’s always something sexy in that, too.

Anyway…. Shall we? So it was late afternoon on a long Sunday. My husband was out with a friend. I wasn’t sure the neighbors were home, but I thought I had heard them moving them around. I was cooking some tapas to take over to friends, and I actually did run out of olive oil (I still haven’t found a good brand in the stores, so we use oil that a friend of ours produces, and I had run out). Your dare and my thoughts around it had been on my mind for several days, and although I hadn’t particularly been planning to do it that afternoon, as soon as I saw that the olive oil was gone, I thought of it again. So I decided to go over to the neighbors and ask if they had some. I’ve never done that before, but we’re friendly enough that I knew it wouldn’t seem unusual. We haven’t seen much of them recently, but as you know all too well (!), we’ve had them over for dinner before.

I knocked at their door and the wife appeared (wearing a somewhat skimpy robe, which made me laugh to myself and wonder if she’d been tanning naked on the terrace like I do). She was very friendly and invited me in. Her husband was in the other room watching television in a t-shirt and shorts. He called out hello. I tried to seem relaxed, but I felt unusually nervous, even though I was just asking for some olive oil! She had an extra bottle and gave it to me almost absent-mindedly, as if it was of the slightest importance (which I guess it was). She was really chatty and didn’t seem to want me to leave. She was talking about the weather, summer vacation plans, the other neighbors, and about a dozen other things. I watched her talk and also watched her robe a little bit. I don’t think I could ever be best friends with this woman, but I like her and she really does have a sexy body. Really fantastic tits!

On the kitchen counter there was an open bottle of white wine and a half full glass. She asked if I wanted a glass of wine. “Why not?” I said, still feeling irrationally nervous. She got out another glass from the cabinet and poured me one, then topped hers up. Then she took the bottle and led me out to the living room where her husband was watching TV, which he turned off when we sat down on the couch. He already had a glass of his own, and his wife topped that up too. He’s a good-looking man, but he was dressed so casually and we were all feeling so lazy that sex was hardly on my mind. He has seen me naked in a photo, however (thanks to my little monster X!), and he seemed to be very pleased to be sitting next to his sexy wife and me. As we talked I caught him looking at my body a couple of times (for the record I was wearing blue jeans and a fairly skimpy camisole).

After a while I thanked them for the olive oil and the wine, and said I had to go. Before I said this, however, I had been a good little spy, just as instructed. I had come over with my phone in the back pocket of my jeans, and as we had chatted I had slipped it out and between the couch cushions – not too deep but deep enough that maybe it wouldn’t be noticed when I stood up.

They said I should really stay and have another drink, but I said that we were going to friends for dinner and I still had to get ready. As I stood up I was really terrified, believe it or not! Somehow I felt like if they saw my phone than they would instantly know all of my sexual secrets. Ridiculous, I know, and so I just got on with it and they didn’t notice the phone. I kissed them both goodbye, fluttered my fingers a bit, and went back across the hall.

Whew! As I closed our door behind me, I breathed a deep sigh of relief. I felt like I do when I have accomplished your dares (although not so sexy as that), and the tough part hadn’t even begun! I needed a shower anyway, so I put the olive oil down and quickly got out of my clothes, then put on my teeny-weeny robe (yes, you horny beast, the one I entertained that delivery man with!). Whoever came over, I didn’t intend to show as much as I had to him, but it shows a lot all the same – all of my legs (and probably a little more) and it’s severely low-cut even when it’s belted tight. Then I waited. And waited. I finished up my tapas, and still there was no knock at the door.

You masterminds of international espionage just sit in your offices giving orders, but it’s not so easy out in the field, Mr. X! Thankfully I’m creative, particularly when sex is involved, so I decided I had no choice but to give myself a little call. I dialed my cellphone from our fixed line and waited until I heard it ring a couple of times, then hung up. I didn’t want them to pick up and then have to offer to come over and get it myself. Then I waited again, and within a minute there was a knock at the door.

I took a deep breath. I really felt like I was in high school and my date was at the door! Okay then, what the hell. I quickly checked the state of my robe and opened up. It was the husband, with a big smile on his face. “You left your phone,” he casually said, and I gave him a bit of my ditzy blonde routine. Really? I didn’t know how else to play it. He held it out to me and said, “We wanted to look through your photos to see if there were more arty nudes on there, but unfortunately you’ve got a password.” I don’t use a password on my phone, and so it was clear from the way he said it that he wouldn’t have dreamed of actually looking. However, he was looking at yours truly, arty nude in the flesh. At our dinner he had seemed nervous, but now it was clear that he wanted me to see him looking at my body. He wasn’t shy at all. This time he was making it clear what he wanted. “What a shame,” I said with a smile, still light and easy. “There are probably thousands of them on there, each one artier than the last.”

“Show me one,” he said, meeting my eyes and grinning like a little kid.

“Well you’ve got the real thing right here,” I said, blushing stupidly. Then I shook my head as if I could erase that little remark and said more seriously, “I was just about to jump in the shower.”

After another quick glance down at my body, his eyes met mine again. “Well if you run out of hot water,” he said, “we’ve got a big tank. Anytime.”

I frowned a little, half charmed but half not sure I was liking this anymore. He was being cute, and I found him as sexy as ever, but somehow it seemed too much like a bad soap opera to me. So I asked him what his wife would think about that – banal, I know, and not exactly my style, but I was a little bit tongue-tied.

“About the shower?” he asked with a friendly, unthreatening smile. “My wife would very happily soap your back, if that’s what you mean. Anytime.”

“Okay,” I said with a smile, rolling my eyes a bit. “I’ll keep that in mind.” Then I thanked him for the phone, shut the door, and went straight to the bed, where I lay down and tried to figure out what had just happened and how I felt about it.

There were so many mixed feelings. I was really surprised how forward the husband had been this time, and I wondered if maybe they were swingers, or whatever you want to call it. Part of me didn’t like how obvious our little flirtation had been, but maybe that was just the old-fashioned part of me I talked about. The other part of me found it really exciting. It had been a kick, after all, and you know how I love a kick.

I don’t know, X. I’m still not sure how I feel, but when I do I promise I’ll let you know.

Kiss kiss,

Me

Array

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