Tag: Wife

I went for a quick walk around the grounds after dinner, a chance to feel the salt air blowing off the reeds. Entering my darkened room, I saw a strange light coming from what I thought was the wall, but was in fact the mirror, and which was in fact no mirror at all. Through the glass, I could see into Madison’s room. And in it, Madison. She placed her earrings on the bedside table. She unpinned her hair and shook it loose. She reached up the front slit of her gown to pull down her panty hose.
I turned away, took off my clothes, and climbed in bed, determined to tell her about the mirror in the morning.
Just as I closed my eyes, there was another knock on my door. I opened it to see Madison in the light blue tank top and frilly cherry panties.
“I dont plan to make a habit of this, but this house is enormous, and…” she said. “Do you mind if I stay with you just tonight, Charlie?”
I said of course and let her in, forgetting the light still shining through the mirror. She crossed her arms, examining the glass.
“You can see into my room?” Madison asked.
“I planned to tell you in the morning,” I said. “I didn’t look”
“That’s not from watching me undress?” She asked, pointing toward the bulge in my boxer briefs.
“That’s from watching you walk in here,” I insisted.
She went back to studying the mirror.
“Maybe this used to be his room,” I said. “And yours is where he always put the young coeds.”
“He’s not that creepy,” she said, slapping my shoulder.
“Such stately standards, Miss Lounds,” I said in my poshest accent. “He just calls me Charlie, you know.”
We fooled around a little that night. Made out in bed, groped at each other beneath the sheets, but Madison stopped short of anything serious. She fell asleep that night, intentionally or not, with her ass pressed into my lap. Read more »

My professor summoned me to his home, a grand estate on the marshland of the sound. He invited grad students for dinner occasionally, but not since his accident last year, a motorcycle mishap that left him with a severe and worsening limp.
“Charlie!” He greeted me at the door, only holding himself upright with the help of a silver-tipped cane. He led me, fast as his cane could carry him, through the house. We walked tile by tile down a cavernous hallway, step by tortuous step up a grand central staircase, until, twenty minutes later, we reached his study, the walls lined with awards and honorary diplomas, all citing his work in biochemical innovation or applied neuromechanics. Out of breath, Professor Harry opened the lid of a globe bar and pulled, from the ice, a plastic water bottle.
In the corner, near the professor’s desk, there stood a life-size marble statue which, strangely, wore a high-slit, backless gown.
“Venus?” I asked.
“My darling wife Clara, may she rest,” he said, hobbling toward it. “Her face, her exact proportions. Her nose, her shoulders, her breasts.” He cupped a hand against the statue’s ass, a far off look in his eyes. A basket full of women’s clothes sat on the floor nearby.
“I need your help,” the professor said at last. “With a new project.”
The work was for credit, though it also included room and board, he said. A good opportunity. He assured me it would mark a landmark advancement in biochemical engineering, a way to make a name for myself.
“This leg, I can’t get as much done as I used to,” he said. “But not for much longer if we’re successful.”
“Some sort of surgical procedure?” I asked, wary about the prospects of such a self-serving venture.
He shook his head.
“We’ll never have eternal life, nor should we,” he said. “But why not eternal youth for the living?”
The professor said we’d need one other grad student. He recommended Madison, but he left the decision up to me since I was to take the lead.
Then, too tired for the return trek to the front door, he let me see myself out even though I never officially accepted the job. Read more »