Regrets

1. Jeannie

For all the women with the superpower of invisibility

She looked down at her chest. She couldn't help it. There were good hair days and good boob days, but rarely did they coincide. And for it to happen on the day of her twenty-fifth high school reunion was more than she could have hoped for. It was the dress, and the bra, and of course her tits. They were all working together in perfect harmony. But her husband didn't seem to notice. To him, she was invisible.

She surveyed the room. She didn't remember anybody from high school. And why should she? She had the body of a cheerleader and the brains of a math league champion. So all the girls hated her, and all the boys were scared of her. She was alone in high school. Invisible. She never would have come to this stupid reunion, except Steve really wanted to. He was popular in high school. He knew lots of people who were coming.

She was aware of Steve in school, but the two finally met the summer after they graduated, when they were both being trained for the same job—selling knife sets door to door. Her tits and his charm had sold a lot of knives that summer. And they ended up together, and then kids, and... here she was twenty-five years later. Where did the time go? Back to being invisible. Nothing had changed.

She decided to get a snack. She pushed her chair back and Steve didn't even seem to notice. He kept on jabbering away with his old buddies. She walked purposefully to the food display. Her posture was always great, and tonight with these heels and these tits, she knew her walk should draw every man's eye. She kept her head forward and tried to watch the response with her peripheral vision. It wasn't working. Not the part about looking sideways—that was working okay. But the walk wasn't drawing the response she hoped for.

What was wrong with these men? Why were they so much more interested in each other? Were they so whipped by their wives that they couldn't look at least a little? Then she noticed a man. Out of the way, at a small table in the corner that didn't even look like it was part of the planned dining space. He was alone. And he was watching her.

She filled a plate with cheese and crackers and walked back to her table. She didn't make eye contact with the man in the corner, but she made sure he was still watching her. She approached her table from the opposite side and leaned forward at the waist to put down the plate. From this angle she gave both Steve and the strange man a perfect view down the front of her dress. Steve not only didn't look up, he didn't even acknowledge she was there. Invisible.

She sighed and made another pass across the room. Still nothing. She loaded a second small plate with fruit and started the trip back to her table. She smiled at the man in the corner and he smiled back. But not a happy smile. More of a knowing smile. The kind of smile that said, "I know your secret." Fuck, she thought. He knows my secret. What secret? Do I have a secret? Why is he looking at me like that? She stopped and narrowed her eyes at him. He held her gaze.

She walked toward him and he stood as she approached. Finally, a gentleman! she thought. She put out her hand and he took it, but he didn't shake it. He held it. Firmly, but not tightly. She looked at his name tag. It was blank. She looked in his eyes and asked, "Do we know each other?"

He smiled and shook his head slightly. "I'm Jeannie," she said. He nodded and leaned in so his mouth was right next to her ear.

"I suppose that makes me Master," he said. Almost whispering. The heat of his breath hit her ear and she felt her stomach start to tumble like Alice down the rabbit hole. He straightened and she looked him in the eye, trying to read him. He was still holding her hand.

"Like in I Dream of Jeannie," she said. "Nobody has ever made that joke before."

He raised one eyebrow, then went back to that knowing smirk that caught her attention.

"What? Why do you keep looking at me like that?" she demanded, squinting at him, "What do you know?"

"I know that you are a very good girl," he said quietly. "I've been watching you serve your husband all night. I noticed, even if he didn't."

Something about the words "good girl" struck her deep in her gut. She melted. He was talking like a Dom in a romance novel. She liked that fantasy. She had even tried to suggest it to Steve a few years ago, but he had no interest. She liked the way this man was talking.

"Is that what you think?" she asked coyly. She noticed that he still held her hand. It felt so natural. But she realized it might look odd if Steve glanced over and saw her holding this man's hand. So she moved to sit down. He let go of her hand and held the chair for her. She sat. He returned to his chair and took her hand, holding it with that same perfect grip.

He shook his head. "I don't think. I know. I've never been more certain of anything."

She tilted her head and watched him speak.

"You live to serve. You want to serve me right now."

She burst out laughing. "Oh, really?" she challenged.

"Really," he said firmly. "You are going to get wet for me. Right now."

Her cheeks flushed. Fuck. What the fuck? she thought as she felt her panties soak through.

He nodded. "Good girl. Doing as you are told."

She grabbed his martini with her free hand and took a long pull. Maybe he is like a hypnotist or something, she thought.

"Now show me," he commanded.

She wasn't sure what he meant. But she wanted to comply. "Show you?"

He nodded. "Give me your panties."

"How do you know I'm wearing panties?" she asked.

"You're a good girl. You'd never wear a dress like that without something underneath," he said as he released her hand.

"Yes, Master." She carefully wriggled out of her panties without standing or lifting her dress or really doing anything that could be seen from Steve's location. Even though nobody was looking at her anyway.

She slid the panties to the man under the table. He felt them, touching and holding her hand for a moment. She felt him pinching the moist fabric between his fingers. Then watched as he raised his finger to his mouth and brush it across his lower lip. He parted his lips and breathed deeply. All these motions were so small, so subtle. She watched in fascination as he smiled a broad smile. A happy smile. "Such a good girl," he said.

She glanced at the panties still in her hand and realized she had no pockets and no purse. She gently bumped her hand against his leg and he looked down. "For me? Thank you," he said, taking the panties and slipping them casually into his suit pocket.

He reached into his pants pocket and pulled out a small envelope containing his room keys. His room number was written on the outside of the envelope. He removed one of the keys and slipped it into his suit pocket with the panties. He placed the envelope on the table. Without another word, he stood and walked out of the room.

She felt a little faint as the martini hit her.She watched him leave and then stared at the room key. She didn't know what to do. Going to his room would be crazy. But she couldn't simply leave the key there on the table. She picked it up and slipped it into her bra. She inspected her curves from the outside, to ensure the outline was not visible. It wasn't. She stood and carried the plate of fruit back toward her table. She could feel the cool breeze against her now bare center, still wet. She felt butterflies. She arrived at the table and sat down. Nobody noticed.