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From: Night Writer <night_writer99@hotmail.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} Persephone in Winter - Prologue (Wife, cheat?, MDom, Fsub) Night Wrter
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Date: Sun, 08 Apr 2007 12:10:04 -0400
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                        Persephone in Winter
                            by Night Writer



                                Prologue

Elyse waited patiently by the open trunk of the car as the boy placed
the last bag of groceries inside. She found herself smiling, for no
particular reason. The sun was warm on her face, and a slight breeze
played with her hair, tickling her cheek, teasing her in and out of her
daydream.

The soft knit of the light sweater fell away from the firm swell of her
breasts as she reached to close the trunk lid, then settled smoothly
over them again as she turned to the boy to tip him. She caught him
staring and blushed, almost having forgotten how a boy might be
distracted by the slight sway of a woman's bare breasts and nipples
beneath the ordinary white turtleneck.

Looking over the boy's shoulder, her smile widened, and she waved.
Steven had disappeared at the last minute, and now came bounding across
the parking lot clutching a small bouquet of wildflowers.

"For you, my lady," he announced as he bowed, raising the offering as
though she was royalty. "You!" she said, giggling.

The boy watched them play. He saw the sparkle of happiness in her eyes,
and the kiss that Steven planted on her lips, then turned away to give
them their privacy. There would be a day in his future as well, he
thought as he walked back to his eight hour shift, a day when he would
see the same sparkle in the eyes of the perfect girl, the girl of his
dreams.

They drove with the top down. The immaculately restored Triumph
convertible took each turn as if it had just come off the production
line, hugging the road with familiar security as they left the highway
behind, traveling the winding lane that led them home.

Elyse stretched her arms upward, the fall air rushing through the
spaces between spread fingers. Weeks ago the leaves had changed from
summer green to blazing yellows and reds. Now a fresh layer of red and
brown covered the roadside as the last of the forest harvest fluttered
reluctantly to earth.

Steven glanced at her as he drove, smiling at her playful gesture. He
could see where the sweater revealed the soft skin of her belly as she
stretched, and the shape of her breasts and nipples under the white
knit.

"I've never seen you leave the house like that," Steven said, breaking
a long silence. Elyse grinned at him with satisfaction and stretched
higher, relieved that he had finally noticed.

"I thought you might like it," she said, her face now tilted upward
into the wind.

"I'm sure the boy at the market liked it," he answered with a hint of
irritation.

"Mmmm, I didn't think about that. I suppose it's harmless enough. I
doubt that I've corrupted him for life." She laughed and turned to look
at him. As she lowered her arms, a falling leaf met her outstretched
hand and tangled itself in her fingers.

He kept his eyes on the road ahead, refusing to return her look. "What
I'd really like is that my wife not expose her breasts to every
teenager in town."

Suddenly the joy of the crisp air and fall colors was drained from her.
She sat next to him, hands in her lap, shocked into silence. "I - I did
it for you..." she said quietly. She stared at the leaf, turning it
over and over in her lap. It was perfectly shaped, but brittle and
brown, without color or life.

Hidden away in the woods at the end of a gravel lane, the sprawling
house's presence was surprisingly overwhelming to anyone who might come
upon it by chance. A wedding present from Elyse's father, the summer
"cabin" as he called it had belonged to his father as well. Though
made of large logs taken generations ago from deep within the same
forest, its sheer size and modern interior made it anything but the
diminutive description her father was so fond of.

"I'm sorry," Steven said as he turned the key and the car's engine
died. "I love the way you look; I love everything about you. You know
that. It's just that I don't want everyone in town staring at your
body. I know you did it for me, but it's a small town. Someone may take
it the wrong way. If everyone thinks you're flirting, well, who knows
what might happen? It's embarrassing."

Elyse stared at the leaf, now turned to hard branching veins as its
petrified flesh crumbled into her lap. "I know," she told him. "It was
silly - I just didn't think about the consequences. I'm sorry."

Steven leaned over and kissed her. "Don't be sorry. Besides, you can
show me your nipples, at home, any time, in fact, all the time, if you
want." He grinned, hoping to get the same response from her.

She did her best to show him the grin he wanted. As she returned his
kiss, she felt his hand on her breast, his fingers teasing her nipple
beneath the thin knit sweater. She kissed him harder, the sounds of the
woods bringing her alive again, making her wet for him then and there.
His belt opened easily, and in seconds her hand closed around his
erection, stroking it, pulling it free into the wilderness she loved.

"Not here," he said finally. "Let's go inside."

"Here," she moaned, as she lowered her face to his lap, reaching for
the hard tip of his sex with her tongue.

"Elyse," he said abruptly. "What's gotten into you today? What if
someone should come by?" She took an inch of him, then another, into
her mouth. She knew he wouldn't resist; she was sure he couldn't, once
she began to move her lips and tongue over him. When he cradled her
head in his hands, she melted inside, and closed her mouth even more
tightly around him. "Please," she thought, "show me, show me what you
want me to do to you, show me how you want me to suck you, how you want
to fuck my mouth, oh god, please show me..." But he pulled her face
away from his lap, her soft hair tangled in his fingers, her eyes
pleading for something he didn't understand.

"Inside," he whispered. They sat, trembling, staring into each others
eyes. Elyse nodded, and, with a smile Steven didn't recognize as one of
consolation, felt his hands slip from her hair. The air had taken on a
sudden chill as she helped carry the groceries to the house. Winter was
coming. If only she had worn her jacket.

That evening Elyse sat curled up in a big overstuffed recliner by the
fire, her nose buried in a book. Her robe had worked its way open,
revealing a delicious, smooth expanse of thigh, as well as the deep V
between her breasts. Steven sat across from her on the sofa, his papers
scattered over the wide, rustic coffee table. Now and then she glanced
up at him, checking to see whether he noticed each time she shifted
positions, letting her robe open another inch.

"Damn it!" he muttered. "Where in the hell - Elyse, have you seen part
of my manuscript? A loose page maybe? Something with a lot of
calculations on it?" He still hadn't looked at her.

She knew how important his paper was to his future - at least she
thought she understood. His explanation was always a little cryptic to
her, all that math and those strange symbols. She did understand that a
college professor would always be just a college professor if he didn't
distinguish himself in his field. Publish or perish. She had heard him
say it so many times, as though she might have somehow forgotten the
clich,.

"You're tired," she told him, her voice as silky and inviting as she
could make it. "Why don't you come to bed? We'll look tomorrow."

"But it was just here!" he insisted. "Maybe I left it in my office." He
rose and left the room, never glancing at her open robe. "For Christ
sake! Damn it, damn it, damn it!" His curses echoed from the open
doorway down the hall.

Elyse sighed, put her book on the floor beside the chair, gathered her
robe around her, and went to help. She stood at his office door,
listening to him rant and watching him tear though stacks of papers.
"It must be here! It has to be!" He still hadn't looked at her.

"I'm going to bed," she told him finally. "You coming?"

"Soon," he told her, finally looking up at her. She had let her robe
fall open again. She was naked under it, and smiled when she saw him
staring at her body. Steven paused and sighed, as though he was annoyed
at being caught ogling her. "I'll be up soon," he said evenly, still
shuffling through a chaos of white paper.

An hour had passed before he woke her from a light sleep as he slipped
into bed beside her. She felt his hand cup her breast, then move slowly
down her belly, finally probing between her legs. Pushing away the numb
calm of an hour's sleep, she turned toward him and placed her hand
along the side of his face. Another minute, and he would kiss her, then
move closer, working his hips forward tentatively, as if asking
permission to enter her. She would find his penis and hold him, playing
with him lightly, coaxing him nearer, assuring him with her pounding
heart and loving touches that she wanted him inside her.

He made love to her with tenderness and precision. She knew every move
so well. He would wait hours for her to cum. On the rare occasion when
an orgasm eluded her, times when merely enjoying the closeness of being
one with him was enough, he seemed relentless. It shamed her to think
of the times she had pretended, offering up a quiet sigh of a climax so
he could finally enjoy his own release.

She stroked his chest and shoulders as he worked, his erection reliable
and tireless, pushing into her with machine-like predictability. He
would lean closer to nibble on her neck soon, then find her ear with
the tip of his tongue. So loving. So caring. So careful.

Elyse studied his face until his eyes closed. Concentrating, she
thought. Trying to please me. Trying to make me cum. As time passed,
she stared past Steven, into the darkness of their bedroom. He loves
me. He loves me. He loves me. She would make the practiced sigh, tense
her body, then give up a crescendo of moans, her sign to him that he
had satisfied her, and all was right with the world. Elyse wondered if 
he
counted her moans, analyzed them with the precision of the mathematics
that had become his life.

He loves me. He loves me. He loves me.

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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