When was the last time you played a board game to trade sex favours? That was the idea when my husband planned for our Friday night sex a few years back. We were working on spicing things up, having finally gotten our toddler to sleep through the night. We could manage something other than a quickie occasionally and needed some inspiration. Our bodies may have been getting sleep, but our brains were still two years behind.
Each week we would take turns planning a rendezvous. Sometimes we found ourselves in a closet, on the hood of the car, in a hotel room. You see, I had bought a book called 101 Nights of Great Sex. There were ideas for him to plan and nights for me to arrange. Wherever the book told us to bump and grind, we did. Some were smashing successes, some—like the closet—were not to be tried unless you had a masseuse nearby.
The candles were lit, the kids were tucked in and the board game (the only game in the house that my husband consistently wins), Trivial Pursuit, was placed in the middle of the living room floor well away from the kids’ toys and other reminders of our little daily cock-blockers.
The idea was to play to three pie pieces and the winner got to enslave the other for the evening. My mind was racing with ideas. I had to win.
We played for what seemed like an interminable amount of time until we were tied at two pie pieces each. Tied. Maybe that’s what my husband had in mind?
“Honey, can you get me another glass of wine?” I said in my sexiest of voices.
My husband left the room and I did what any other tired mother of a toddler and a kindergartener would do. I read the answers to the next four cards in the deck. I didn’t have time to read the questions but felt confident I could muddle through. You know you would have too. I can’t be the only one to think of it.
Unsuspecting slave returned and I landed on the history pie square in two turns. Easily my worst category and it is the only class in school I ever failed. There was one answer that I had read with the name of some Russian I didn’t recognize. Please God, let it be the one about Churchill!
God had my back and I answered correctly. My husband was pleasantly surprised that I won even though he knew he wasn’t going to get to order me into that way-too-small lingerie set he bought me before we had kids and demand a contortionist take over my body.
There were so many things I wanted him to do. Laundry, dishes, dusting, making a dinner for the freezer all came to mind. I decided to compromise. I figured he went to enough trouble to get the evening off to a romantic and fun start I should win without thinking I was not really playing along.
“Pour me a hot bubble bath,” was my first request.
“Pardon?”, my husband looked amused.
“You heard me slave. Get on it.”
I got 20 minutes of quiet alone time while my slave drew my bath, poured a glass of wine for me, transferred the candles and dimmed the lights. I got 20 minutes of hot bubble bath in that peaceful setting knowing that slave would attend to the children if the need arose. He got to see me naked. Think about me naked. I even let him wash my back and maybe other bits too. Don’t think it didn’t work out for him.
“Slave, fluff my pillow.” I finally requested.
“Yes master. Anything else?”
He never got a response. After a hot bath and an even hotter dry off, I was fast asleep. Do I feel guilty for cheating? Not a chance! Did he feel cheated? I am sure he got what he was looking for and he didn’t find it in the closet.