by Sarina Bowen
So yeah. He’s pretty much perfect.
I peek outside again. It’s like looking at a snow globe that’s just been swirled. “They’re not going to make it!” I cry.
Braht harrumphs. “They’re going to make it.”
“The roads are probably hazardous. They should just stay home.”
“While the idea of feeding you tacos, naked, by the fire is really tempting, I gotta tell you, they’ll be here. Tom has a very macho truck. It practically revs testosterone.”
As if on cue, I hear the grrr of a massive engine.
I can’t see anything, but it’s okay. I know they’ve arrived. My besties and Tom are here, and there will be piles of food and wine, because Brynn and Sadie would never show up empty handed.
“They made it!” I cry and open the door. Then I immediately shut it because that shit is cold.
A couple of minutes later, the door opens again, and gusts of icy air and snow swirl inside, along with packages and ham and hugs and mittens and whatever. I half expect Tiny Tim to limp by carrying an enormous turkey.
“That was crazy!” Brynn cries.
“I was saying a silent prayer to Gaia on that last hill,” Sadie says.
I don’t know how to respond to that, so I just open my arms and the three of us hug. Our scents drift together: chocolate, clove, and Candy Kiss by Prada. We are warm and soft and I’m not crying. I’m not. I’ve got something in my eye.
“I brought booze!” Tom says. “And sparkling grape juice, for whoever is underage or preggers!”
Brynn is not pleased with her beverage choices, but the rest of us are super excited. When I turn to kiss Tom hello, at first glance I think he’s pregnant, too. But then I notice that it’s only that he’s wearing both of Sadie’s babies. They’re not exactly babies anymore, they’re more like little…people.
I stare at Amy and Kate. “Hello,” I say.
“Bullshit!” one of them says. And she says it with a lot of gusto.
I’m totally impressed. “Hand that one over,” I demand. He gets to work undoing the complicated buckle/pulley system that’s holding them, and I scoop the one who curses off the floor and snuggle her.
This is the best house party ever, even if Mom and Dad aren’t here. They’re visiting relatives in Canada and trying to decide on their retirement plan. If they move north, I will miss them. But they might not. The capital they got from selling me the cottage gives them more choices than they had before.
I closed on this place only a week ago, after my little house on the bike trail sold to a couple of yuppie accountants. It’s someone else’s starter home now.
And as for me? I’ve moved in with my man.
Braht wouldn’t hear of me looking for a little studio of my own. “I know it’s kind of soon,” he said. “But I want you with me.”
“Maybe it isn’t too soon,” I’d said. “I know you. I love you. I finally got it right this time.”
Then I let him tie me to the bed with Hermès neckties and it was glorious.
We are very happy in his house together, but I wanted to have a holiday party here at the cottage. It’s the start of a new era. I’m home with Braht and my friends. And it’s nearly Christmas.
The men get cooking in the kitchen, while the kids are set up with playdough in the corner. That’s when Brynn, Sadie, and I retreat to the living room to snuggle up on the couch and chat.
I bring them up to speed on Dwight. He’s in prison again and it doesn’t seem like he’ll be out anytime soon. “He had a safe in his sister’s basement, full of cash. They traced the serial numbers on the bills back to a scam he was running before he even met me.”
“What a dick,” Brynn says.
“Dick!” one of the twins yells.
Whoops.
Brynn tells us that she’s in her second trimester now and feeling loads better. She has the cutest little pooch of a belly. Her cooking show episodes are done for the season, and she’s racked up a few sponsors.
It seems like Brynn might be the next TV star in her family, with Tom helping behind the scenes. She seems really happy.
Sadie…Sadie is another story. “I’m fine!” she assures us. “The girls are doing well. Decker is paying extra child support because I have more custodial days than he does. And I just got two spots at the Small Packages daycare. It’ll give the girls time to socialize and time for me to focus on the health of my clients.”
Everything she’s saying is positive, but… “What the fuck, Sadie?”
There’s a bit of a pause, then Brynn chimes in: “Yep. What. The. Fuck. The girls are good. Your ex is fine. Your clients are doing well. But where are you?”
“What do you mean where am I? I’m right here! I’m fine.”
“You’re fine,” I say. “But you’re miserable. You’re usually all glowy. Now you’re sort of matte.”
“Yep,” Brynn agrees. “Definitely a matte finish. No shine.”
I slap my knee. “You know what you need?”
“What?” Her response does not express excitement. Then again I’m known for telling my friends what to do. But only because I’m right.
“You need a boy toy! Hot sex and relaxation!”
Brynn shakes her head. “Oh no. She doesn’t need a boy toy.”
“Thank you,” Sadie says. “I’m doing fine by myself.”
“What I meant was—” Brynn clarifies“—that she needs a man toy.”
“Oh my god!! A man toy! Yes!” Brynn and I high-five over Sadie’s head.
“I don’t need anything of the kind,” she grumbles. But I see the tiniest bit of blush to her cheeks.
She may not think she needs one, but she wants one. I can tell.
Braht
The next night, after everyone has left, the snow is really swirling. We may have to stay up here at the cottage for a few days, and that’s just fine with me. I decide to give her an early Christmas present. “I have something for you,” I say, “But I need to change into my bathrobe first.”
“Uhm…” she says. “If you need some help undressing, I’m totally here for that.”
That’s super appealing, but I tell her to be patient. “Actually, why don’t you make yourself more comfortable in front of the fire?”
Her eyes sparkle with amusement. “I think I will.”
“Here we go!” When I return a couple of minutes later, my hands are full. “Three gifts.”
Her eyes narrow. “I see two?”
“You’ll understand in a second. Here.” I hand over the larger, squishy one.
She gives me a happy smile and then tears the paper off. “Oh my god. This is hilarious.” She’s smiling at the rug I just gave her, and it’s smiling back. It’s a faux bearskin, complete with a stuffed animal head.
“That goes right here,” I say, pointing to the floor in front of the fireplace.
“Really,” she says with a smirk. “Whatever would we do there?”
“Tough call, really,” I say. “But before you work it out, open this.” I hand her a slim little package.
“It’s obviously a book,” she says, smiling down at the wrapping paper. “Let me guess. The complete collection of Naked Braht, photography by Bramly Hunter?”
“I’m saving that for Christmas morning,” I tell her. “Open it.”
She tears off the paper and gasps. “Omigod. It’s perfect.”
I’ve bought my girl a new planner—a luxury, personalized version. The cover reads: “Ash-kicker’s Plan for World Domination.”
She lets out a happy squeak and opens the cover, then proceeds to fondle the pages. “Ooh! A section for goals and lists. Nice paper weight. Great layout! I love it.” She flips forward to where the calendar starts. “Thank you for not writing hot sex with Braht on every page. I need to be able to open this in public.”
“Pfft.” I wave a dismissive hand. “That’s just understood. I wouldn’t write breathe in and out in a planner, either.”
But speaking of ho
t sex. I reach into my bathrobe and give myself a slow, happy stroke. “It’s time for your third gift.” I part the two halves of my robe, giving her a nice look at my braht tied with a shiny, satin bow on.
“You did not!” she says, clapping her hands over her mouth. “You put a bow on your dick!”
“I thought putting it in a box was a little creepy.”
She laughs until she almost can’t breathe. I use this time to kiss her neck. And then the laughter stops, and the moans begin. I remove her clothes and toss the bear rug on the floor.
There is still a bow on my erection.
“Come here,” she says in my favorite bossy voice. “It’s just what I wanted.” We roll around on the bear, kissing, until Ash says, “Bring me my purse.”
“What?”
“My bag. I need it.”
“I think you need something else instead, baby.” I tongue her nipple.
“Patience.” She pushes my face away with the heel of her hand. God, I love her. “You’re not getting any until I get to give you a gift.”
Since she means business, I sit up and find the damned bag and hand it over.
“Thank you. I got you two things.” She rifles through the purse.
“One”—I touch her breast—“two”—I touch the other…
She bats my hand away. “Two other things. Here’s the first one.” She hands me a tiny envelope, taped shut with that cute designer tape that she orders from Korea. When I open it, there’s a metal card inside.
“MAN CARD” is engraved on the front. Then, in small letters, Can never be revoked.
“Aw!” It’s the coolest. “Can I keep it even if I make you watch Love Actually again tonight?”
“You can,” she admits. “The minute you stood up for me, I knew you were the real deal.”
“Oh, honey bear. I need to celebrate by…”
She holds up a hand before I can say, boink you on the floor now. “One more.” She reaches into the bag and pulls out another little envelope.
When I open this one, I’m really surprised. It’s a business card. A real one. And it isn’t like those crafty ones she carries, proclaiming her expertise in everything.
It’s even cooler. It reads, Ash Power & Sebastian Hunter Braht Realty.
“Wow.” It’s a big idea. I love it already. “You know, we could shorten that to Power Braht Realty,” I say.
“Oh my fucking God,” she says. “We could! But does that sound dirty? Or is it just my nakedness talking?”
Her nakedness is talking, all right. It’s shouting, even. “I love it. And I love you. And your nakedness. We’ll figure it out later.”
Ash doesn’t bother agreeing with me. She just reaches down and takes me in her mouth.
I let out a not-so-manly gasp of surprise and delight.
The snow falls. Music plays. And I make sweet, sweet Power Braht love to my girl. Hopefully there’s a real blizzard outside so we can just stay here for a while, cocooned from the world. I’ll worship her every minute I can, for as long as she’ll let me, because that’s what a real man does with his lady love. He worships her.
I’m starting for real, right now.
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Also by Sarina Bowen & Tanya Eby: Man Hands.
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Copyright © 2017 by Sarina Bowen and Tanya Eby
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