The October Music, Stanza 2 - Day 11

You Know I Like Red

            I sighed, long-suffering me that I am, and buried my face in my hands as my beloved wife tried on her twelfth gown in the last half-hour. Her wardrobe – her main indulgence among so many – extended nearly into the horizon at times. She had dresses and gowns for literally every occasion. She knew exactly which outfit to wear for specific purposes and yet every single time, we were obligated to undergo the song-and-dance in which I currently found myself encumbered.

            “What do you think about the white chiffon dress?” she called from somewhere deep in the closet.

            “We’re going to be outside in the moonlight, my dear. Best case scenario, you get grass stains on it. Worst case, it becomes diaphanous and everyone can see your lovely tits. I wouldn’t mind, of course, but I know how you feel about propriety.”

            The annoyed huff from the room gave me a slight frisson of satisfaction. Not that I didn’t want her to look her best – as if it were even possible for her to not be the most beautiful woman in the room – but she knew what she wanted and, more importantly, she knew what she wanted me to say. I just wasn’t informed of what that was so the game continued.

            “Dark green silk then?” she asked.

            “Again, my love, we will be outside. It is not autumn or winter. It is the heat of summer. You will be slick with sweat as soon as you step outside the door.”

            “Damn you. The yellow vest and blue jeans?”

            “This is a formal affair so the jeans will be gauche. You know that. And the yellow vest? You mean the vest that always slips because you refuse to wear a shirt under it, thus exposing your – again – lovely tits? Are we looking to be exhibitionists tonight? Not that I’m opposed, mind you.”

            “Should I just wear a burlap sack, then?” she snapped, “Something that completely obscures this body of mine that so offends you?”

            “My darling,” I said, trying not to let the irritation seep in, “you are fully aware of how I feel and I believe you already know which dress you should wear. I don’t know why we’re playing around.”

            “If I put it on, will you fetch the tester?”

            “Of course, my love. Back in a jiff.”

            In the hallway outside our chamber, the banker we had kidnapped waited in chains. I grasped him firmly by the hair and dragged him into the room where my beloved stood. There she was, draped in the fire-engine red dress that was my favorite of hers. It made her look like a goddess which, in a way, she was. I pulled the poor fellow over to her and exposed his neck.

            She smiled and sank her fangs into the flesh. He howled as his life waters spurted and splashed her face and chest. When she withdrew, she demurely wiped her lips.

            “How is this?” she asked with a sly smile.
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            “Perfection.”