Trophy Wife



Steven always liked her to shower before coming to bed. He was particular in his expectations and she didn’t want to disappoint him. It’s not that he would be upset with her. There were no demands or spoken instructions. She learned what he liked and disliked by simply paying attention.

Marilyn carefully washed her hair. She made sure that it was clean and conditioned perfectly for Steven. Her arms reached up into her long, flaxen hair. Her fingers gently rubbing her scalp. The water cascaded down her pale flesh.

She firmly turned the water off and remains motionless for a bit. Her hair dripping onto the tile. It is a grand, spacious bathroom. The bright light fixtures  illuminate everything. Marilyn reached out to grab a towel to wrap her head in before stepping out of the shower. The rug felt soft and warm between her toes.  She took a good look in the mirror. She is content in her reflection, though she silently takes note of flaws that weren’t there a few years ago. She reluctantly pulled on a robe over her wet skin.

The bedroom was a large, open room with a California King Four-Poster bed  opposite the window. The big, heavy blackout drapery had been pulled closed for modesty’s sake. Dark wooded nightstands stood on each side, with Tiffany style lamps placed in the center of each.

Marilyn walked over to the armoire and pulled out powder blue lace underwear and a matching bra that she hoped Steven would like. In the next drawer down, she picked out a pair of thigh highs. She took the robe off and threw it on the bed before getting dressed. She heard a knock on the door.

“Miss Marilyn?”

“Yes, Pamala?”

“Mr. Steven asked me to bring you some drinks.” She said through the door.

“Okay, just a second, please.” She slipped the robe back on and walked over to the door. She took a breath and turned the heavy brass knob. “Good evening, Pamala.”

“Good evening, Miss Marilyn.” Pamala stood holding a tray with a crystal pitcher of martinis, a jar of green olives and cocktail onions on skewers and two coupe glasses. 

“Please come in.” Pamala walked to marble topped table off to the right. She set the tray down and walked directly out. “Thank you, Pamala.”

“Enjoy your evening, Miss Marilyn.” Pamala bowed slightly and closed the door. Marilyn heard the door locking and then the sounds of footsteps walking back to the staircase. 

Marilyn smiled at the gift from Steven. He was always thoughtful like that. She hung her robe back up before pouring herself a drink. She walked to the bathroom and sat down at her vanity. She took a sip and cringed gently at the bite of the gin. The burn felt good going down. She exhaled before applying light makeup and deep red lipstick. Content with the results of her work, she walked back out to the bedroom and stretched out on the chaise lounge. She turned some Coltrane on the wireless speakers with her phone and then dimmed the lights. She slowly sipped her drink until it was gone. Usually, the olives would have been gone before the martini was, but she didn’t want to leave their scent on her breath. Marilyn closed her eyes and let the sounds float through her mind.

Her eyes remain closed as she hears the door open. Steven enters and softly closes the door behind him. He looks upon his beloved with a mix of admiration and infatuation.

“Hello Dear.” He said as he stood a few steps from the door. He loosened his tie and took off his coat. He walked to the closet and hung up his jacket, as to avoid any wrinkles. “Have you been waiting long?”

“No, I just got out of the shower.”

“Good. Would you like another drink?” Steven removed the tie and laid it on the back on her chair.

“Yes, please.” Her eyes were still closed. There was no movement upon the chair.

He bent down and placed a kiss on the top of her head. The empty glass was on the side table. He picked it up and returned to the drink tray. He poured two drinks and walked back to Marilyn.

“Have you brushed your hair yet?”

“No, I waited for you.”

“You look amazing.”

“Thank you.”

Steven walked over to the nightstand on the left side of the bed. Inside the drawer, he pulled out a silver hairbrush. He stroked the stands of hair that were stuck in the bristles. He held it close to his nose to get a whiff of her hair. He smiled and walked back to the lounge and Marilyn.

“Would you like me to brush your hair now?”

“Yes, that’d be nice.” She sat up and turned her back to him. Marilyn tucked her nylon covered toes under her shapely derrière. He moved in behind her and pulled her hair back into a pony tail and off to one side. Leaning in close, he smelled her skin and kissed the nape of her neck. Goose bumps rose on her and she shivered in pleasure. Steven smiled and began to brush her long, golden hair.

“How was your day, my love?”

“It was good. I’ve been eagerly waiting for you.”

“Have you, now? That’s good. I like that. It makes me feel appreciated.” Steven brushed her hair with long, slow strokes. He made sure to be gentle when coming to a tangled piece. The brushed strands were placed to the side. He was deliberate and affection in how he took care of her hair. “Will you sing to me?”

“Of course. I’d love to.”

Her voice carried into the air. The sounds of the jazz became the background to her singing. Neither of them made a move to turn off the music. It was the perfect compliment to the moment.

She knew how much Steven enjoyed brushing her hair. It made her feel like she was taking care of her man. She smiled that she was able to provide this for him. 

Steven’s left arm wrapped around her body and rested on her thigh. Marilyn could hear his breath quickening and becoming more and more shallow. She felt Steven’s hands get tense. His whole body began to shudder. She noticed how he stopped brushing. He moved his right arm and the brush around to hold her. Steven’s body tensed tighter and then relaxed.  He took slow, deep breaths. A final shudder cam from his body.

He laid the brush on the chaise lounge.  He stiffly stood up and adjusted his pants. He bent down and kissed Marilyn on the top of her head.

“I love you, Woman. Goodnight.”

Steven walked out of the room, shutting the door firmly. He paused and placed his forehead against the door. It felt cool upon his skin. He then walked back to his bedroom.

Inside her room, Marilyn waited until his footsteps went away. She removed her delicate undergarments and pulled her a nightgown out of the armoire. The nightgown was threadbare cotton and came below her knees. It was her favorite thing to sleep in.

Back in Steven’s room, he was balled up on his bed. He still wore his suit pants and socks. He was overcome with guilt and doubt about his peculiar preferences. Thoughts of the evening replayed in his mind. He cried himself to sleep for yet another night.

Marilyn laid awake on her bed. The size of it made her feel small and alone. Steven meant well, he honestly did, but that didn’t make her feel reassured. She felt like a china doll, whose owner is afraid of leaving a smudge or fingerprints. By day, she did not want for anything. Steven made sure she was taken care of. But his money did not provide comfort in moments like these. She wondered if it was worth it. Was this the life she had signed up for?

“Miss Marilyn? Are you alright? Can I get you anything?”


In Today’s Cruel World




In today’s cruel world
Is it okay to be happy or even smile or grin
Will you tolerate me if I’m not depressed
Or must I hate myself from deep down within
Is it kosher if I happen to love my wife
Or dote upon my daughters along the way
But I won’t be judged for being content
God gave us sunshine to bask in the light of day

You’re A Questionable Soul




You’re a questionable soul
Lying in the Captain’s brig
After drinking his scotch
& wearing his wife’s wig
Definitely conduct unbecoming
Her voice sounding the alarm
The man knows your name now
Surely you’ll swing from the yardarm

I Love You, Dear Woman


I love you, dear woman
You make this life worth living
You always know how to make me smile
You really care & are always giving
I’m proud to call you my wife
You’re beautiful with ample –
Damnit –

What rhymes with cleavage?

*previously posted on former blog

Devoid Of Personality


Devoid of personality
Lacking in your domestic duties
But worse still
Ignoring your wife’s shapely booty
I just don’t understand
A queue for your chores
She’ll come wanting
The role of someone’s housewhore
Now, don’t you fret
I’m not going to step on toes
You still have opportunity
To provide all her throes

*previously posted on former blog