Page 11 of Stolen Hours

“Hawaiian Thunder,” Molly smiles.

“A new spa mattress. It has enough support for a couple’s massage, and the top third can be arranged in different ways for different types of massages. Champagne. Your favorite sweeties. I even have that horrible chocolate hazelnut spread you love and a plate full of strawberries in the fridge.”

“You know you kind of like it now. You’ve been slightly Americanized,” Molly whispers, stepping out of her heels.

“What are you doing?” I ask, holding her arms. “Don’t get undressed. I’ll go change. If you want to go to the ball, Cinders, you shall go in style! Musketeer would love to be a fiery steed... Although he’ll probably knock down every lawn ornament on the way and eat half the hors d’oeuvres when we arrive.”

“We could also take my car,” Molly whispers, nose to mine. “This looks so good.”

“But you look so good,” I counter, and I mean it. “I shouldn’t have said anything about the ball. I should have told you my plan, but I wanted it to be a surprise. And when you said you wanted to have a relaxing day off after all of your shifts, I never thought you’d think a ballwas relaxing.”

“I don’t. I think it sounds glamorous, elegant, and fun... And not at all what my feet want to do after fourteen hours of standing yesterday,” she winces and steps out of the second heel. “How about... How about if I put on some flats, we go out to the River House for dinner, and when we get back, we have some private trick-or-treating before spa time?”

In a literal blink, I’m in a black shirt and silvery waistcoat, neatly pressed trousers, and polished shoes. “We’ll bring Musketeer a doggie bag,” I wink, blowing out the candles.

DINNER WAS DELICIOUS, although we had to eat in a hurry since the River House was also closing early. Everyone thought we were going to the ball, but in truth, I was getting wet thinking about going home and getting out of my dress and into a whole different outfit.

“You lay down in what you were wearing earlier,” I instruct Toby when we slip into the front door and let Musketeer outside with strict orders not to turn any moths, frogs, or other lifeforms into ghosts. (No, seriously, one bite from him, as in one deadly bite, will turn the local wildlife into ghosts. There are at least three ghost squirrels in our backyard tormenting the birds at the feeder, thanks to that tiny menace.)

“In that same outfit?” Toby arches an eyebrow and tugs on his collar. He’s back in short, shimmering, silky boxers, all of his moon-white muscles on display, and the outline of something hard and uncut resting on his thigh.

“Lie down. In that,” I say, mouth drying out and pussy having the absolutely opposite reaction.

“But you’re going to get a massage first, love!” Toby protests.

“Yeah. But you’re going to get a check-up,” I tease, and dash away before he can ask me to elaborate.

I can hear him calling after me, “But you said trick-or-treat. That means candy, doesn’t it? I have chocolate. Very special chocolate!”

“You can’t get treats without a costume, silly!” I shout back, then practically tear out of my stylish black velvet dress in favor of skintight Nurse McSlutty.

CAN’T HAVE THE TREATSwithout a costume, hm?

I have to control myself, breathing nice and slow, letting my body change into what I call Reaper Lite. No massive scythe. No scary hood. Definitely no flames.

But a long, thick, blue-black tentacle-like cock now rests against my thigh, and the faintest outline of skull and dark hollows over my face. My tongue changes and fits a wider, bonier jaw, a second tentacle, made to split Molly’s perfect pussy in half and delve in deep.

I wonder what she’s wearing? I bet it’ll be scrubs. Probably the cute corgi ones I got her last month. They remind her of Musketeer.

“Is the patient ready?” a sultry voice calls, and my cock snaps to attention just from the sound of her voice.

“Ready,” I rasp as Molly rounds the corner in a dress that must be made of body paint.

Long, long legs. Short, short dress.

Molly falters, but she’s a professional. She keeps her composure, even as she drops down next to me, knees together, face emotionless. “What brings you in today, Mr. Reaper?”

“My nurse practitioner was concerned about some irregularities,” I hiss as I struggle to control myself. I want to touch my wife. Pull her down, kiss her, and get that dress off of her.

“I can see something is surely unusual, but...” Molly sits on one hip and pats my hand comfortingly as it rests on my chest. “Unusual can be perfectly normal in some cases. Would you like me to do an examinationof the area?”

“I would love that.” I look up at Molly with sudden concern. “You don’t normally talk like this to your patients, do you?”

Molly glares. “No! This is special nurse and husband treatment,” she hisses and pokes my hip.

“Then carry on.” I give her my best apologetic eyes, and she purses her lips, but then smiles again.

“All right, sir. Is there any pain? Any pressure?”