Mysteries and surprises

- This new one, you'll do her on Saturday, at five... here. Full week! – Marisa closed the planner and turned off the PC; in the meanwhile, I dished out the tuna and olive spaghetti I had just cooked, perfectly al dente.
- What do you mean, "new"? – I asked her, as we sat down at the table.
- New, as in, she's new... I don't know her: that's all. – a sarcastic smile appeared on her lips as she helped herself to a delicate Soave, chosen carefully to match with the summer meal.
- Uhm... you're hiding something... – I said, half joking and preoccupied.
- Ok! This "new one" is a certain Messalina-70 – she added quickly– and she describes herself as a Switch... basically, I can't tell what she wants: she pays well, and has already bought a lot of things... now let's eat!
My mouth was already stuffed, but I couldn't hold it in:
- Hey, is this one a beater? – I asked, worried.
- So? – She had already clouded up, and I didn't want the tension to increase, then she added:
– What's the problem? Honey, this is a job, understood? It's gotta be for both of us... don't forget. It's not like I bust my ass around the house and you go fuck around, happy and satisfied! If you don't want to do this just say it, I'll do everything on my own, ok? I might even make more out of it.
- No, honey... what's the problem? Can't we even talk about it? – to avoid fighting I focused on the spaghetti. I knew she was completely right. Selling services to couples or lone women was a delicate work, at least in the beginning. Earning their trust wasn't easy. It wasn't easy for a respectable woman to allow, so easily, to a stranger, to come into her home; and into her existence. There were a thousand fears... While my love, constantly received proposals from men (but also from many women) of the site, some of which were really interesting.
The fact that men are exhibitionist is well known. Once it was clear that Mater Obscura was a terrible and unreachable woman, men went wild: masters, slaves, and smart-asses. The offers were, sometimes, so tempting, I myself had trouble advising her to turn them down.
Saturday grew closer. I was becoming increasingly embarrassed and pensive, even the clients noticed. What was troubling me, was the equipment that Messalina-70 had required, beyond my services: handcuffs, ropes, a whip, and other, dangerous, "tools". Marisa had been inflexible on one point in particular: I would have worn a rubber mask at all times... this, I really couldn't understand. I had been meeting many people for a while, without ever worrying about my identity; Marisa was sure that clients would have never admitted to knowing me. They were the ones who had lost the most anyway.
 
The rendezvous was in a hotel, a bit far off. I got there at three, with a suitcase full of BDSM equipment, all completely new. I undressed, down to my underwear, black and tight, and I carefully prepared the goods on the living room's couch, next to the room, which was equipped with a large king bed.
At four o'clock precisely, the room's phone rang, a weird voice told me it was the person I was waiting for, and that she would have been there in a few minutes.
I turned off the TV, rinsed my mouth, to wash off the taste of the beer I'd just drank, and wore the latex mask, which covered my face down to the nose. When I took a look at the mirror I felt like a true idiot! I was in my underwear, with my forty-years-old physique, neither athletic nor toned. The head, tight in the shiny rubber, seemed smaller. I looked like a black-headed match, or a hero from the comics with an idiotic expression; I was almost tempted to remove that ridicolous mask... Then, "Messalina" came in the room, and suddenly I thanked the heavens I didn't take the mask off.
Luckily I was sitting on the couch, that's probably why I couldn't drop to the floor from my astonishment: I perfectly knew Messalina70, a beautiful, elegant, and very attractive lady, and I couldn't understand what sort of game we were playing!
What kind of prank was Marisa pulling on me? The woman who had just entered the room, with an authoritative and hasty look, who had stopped between the two rooms of the suite, decided and firm, grading me, from head to toes, as if I were a lab-rat, was Annalisa, my ex-wife!
I didn't know what she knew. I didn't know how much she knew... The situation was extremely embarrassing: I feared Marisa; I feared Annalisa; I was completely floored.
- Drop on the floor... down! – My ex-wife told me, decisive and aggressively, without giving away whether she had recognized me or not – Stay there, on all fours! Hush, and be good. – meanwhile, she was pointing at the floor with her finger.
I obeyed; as I was trying to gain some time to understand. I thought back on Annalisa as lover: I couldn't deny she wasn't half bad, but over the five years when we had fun, she had never given away any signs of being sadist or masochist. True, we had done everything and beyond, she really liked sex, but... well, it wasn't the time to drive down memory lane.
Annalisa ignored me; she removed her red silk shirt, got comfortable, and started to study the equipment I had brought with me.
- Ah, ah... I like this! – she laughed, heartedly, and picked up a studded collar with a leash, studied it, and then threw it to me, with indifference: – Put this on, dog!
As I obliged, I saw her coming towards me: she really was a beautiful woman. Thin, lean, her wiry legs were clad in black stockings, which gleamed off silky reflections.
She was wearing black high heels shoes, but I was used to her exciting garments, she liked being liked.
 
Truth be told, once you took away the incompatibility of character and mind, from a physical perspective, I always liked her a lot. I had also loved her sensual femininity, constantly shown carefully, to flash, and stand out... actually, yes: Annalisa had a dominant character, even though, when she'd been my wife, she could never intimidate me.
Now, as I was seeing her as a stranger, I was realizing she was very sexy, and she dressed up to show it, always. I mean, she wasn't one of those ladies who dress up like a mechanic three hundred and fifty days a year and suddenly, one night, show up dressed as a porn star, with frills and laces.
Honestily, I couldn't find that arousing, their inability to wear stylishly the most seductive lingerie reminded me more of a Mardi Gras...