by Sasha Gold
Gwen calls a few minutes before the meeting. She can’t come on such short notice and is trying to get the meeting delayed to this afternoon. A few moments later she calls back, furious because they won’t give her time to get there.
Wes and Jane have already called a dozen times, both of them frantic that they can’t get their till nine. By then we’ll probably be done.
Maggie and I are shown into an office. Not what I expected. I’d imagined we’d stand before the judge in the courtroom. It doesn’t really matter.
Dark wood panels the walls and framed diplomas hang around the room. Each gold frame has its own light illuminating the credentials. The judge is a woman. She’s mid-fifties, black hair slicked back to a bun just like Maggie has. Her face is pretty, or would be if she cracked a smile.
She doesn’t.
“I see the charges have been dropped, but that still leaves the matter of your citizenship.”
Maggie nods. “Yes, ma’am.”
The woman steeples her fingers, ignores me but scrutinizes Maggie. “What do you do?”
“I’m a student at Stowe.”
I want Maggie to tell her about her grades and her early admission and scholarship but she’s petrified. Clearly, she’s not going to offer any extra information. Gripping the armrests, her knuckles are white.
“What are you studying, Miss Callaghan?”
“Her last name is Kendal, not Callaghan,” I tell the judge. “She’s married to me.”
I open the file and push the marriage license across the desk.
Judge Fentress doesn’t even bother looking at it. She jerks her head to glower at Maggie. “You realize you’re breaking the law?”
I watch as Maggie wilts under the Judge’s angry gaze.
“By getting married?” I ask.
“Trig…” Maggie says softly. “It’s okay.”
She doesn’t want me to get mad at the judge, I guess. But I won’t sit here and let her intimidate my wife. The woman turns her icy gaze on me.
“Obviously not, Mr. Kendal. But if you’ve married to try and help Margaret stay in the country, I’ll find out and throw her out so fast your head will spin.”
“That’s okay if you do.” I shrug. “Go ahead.”
Maggie whips around to face the judge. “I’m a handful, Your Honor. He’s probably just realizing that.“
“If you throw her out, I’ll go with her.”
Maggie makes a noise that sounds like a yelp.
The judge tilts her head and glares at me. “Really…”
“Really.”
Judge Fentress leans back in her chair and smiles at me. Not a friendly smile. “What do you do Mr. Kendal?”
“I’m a mechanic. I own Kendal Garage.”
I half-expect her to say something shitty about being a mechanic. Doesn’t bother me. I don’t want her to frighten Maggie but she can say whatever she likes to me.
She nods. “Kendal Garage has been around a while, hasn’t it?”
“Yes, Your Honor. My father started it in 1972. He had two men working for him. I’ve expanded it and employ eight mechanics and a clerk.”
“And you’d be able to walk away from that?”
I slide the other papers towards her. “The top sheet is a bill of sale to Melvin Nichols. It’s contingent on my actually wanting to sell and I’ll retain ten percent ownership as well as the property. The sale would be for one-point-five-million.”
The judge sets the bill of sale aside.
“The next is a copy of my application for Irish citizenship. All that needs doing is an interview in Dallas.”
Maggie’s staring at me while Judge Fentress sifts through the papers.
“I love Maggie. I lost my parents and younger sister in a car wreck when I was seventeen. The only blood relative I have left is my brother. He lives here. My preference is to stay. But Maggie is my family now and I won’t be parted from her.”
The judge sighs and glances at Maggie’s left hand. “That’s quite a ring, Mr. Kendal. Is it real?”
I blink a few times and grit my teeth. Maggie has a pleading expression in her eyes. Like she doesn’t want me to get mad. She’s worried I’m going to lose it, like respond with a What the fuck do you think? Would I be willing to walk away from every fucking thing I know to follow my wife across the ocean, yet buy her a fucking fake ring?
I smile at Maggie, clench my jaw and turn to Judge Fentress. “Yes, Your Honor. It’s the real deal.”
Her brows lift. “You must be doing all right for yourself.”
“Now that I have Maggie, I am.”
The judge gathers the papers and hands them back to me. “This has certainly been a great deal different than most immigration hearings. I’ll write up my report and have the clerk mail you a copy. Mrs. Kendall you’re free to remain in the country. If your marriage dissolves in the next seven months, you’ll need to appear before me to revisit the issue of residency and citizenship.”
She dismisses us, but not before insisting on seeing Maggie’s ring. She says a few words about the cut of the diamond, gives me an approving look and we escape her office. Well. Fuck. If I ever needed a Hail Mary Pass, it was now.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Maggie
Summer school goes by quickly. It’s intense, but I love it. My favorite class is Child Development and I’m leaning towards studying Speech or Occupational Therapy. I like the idea of working with kids and when I tell Trig he pretends to be terrified.
After pulling an all-nighter to study for final exams, I stop to do a little shopping. There’s something I’ve always wanted to buy but never had the nerve. A lacy nightgown. Something sexy for Trig. Usually I’ll just grab one of his old t-shirts, but I want to surprise him tonight.
I’ve had my eye on this little shop for a while. Lillian’s.
An older lady, standing behind the counter, greets me.
“I’ll be right with you,” she says with a heavy French accent.
I wander around the shop, trying not to gasp at some of the price tags. At the end of the spring semester, I worked for a math professor, grading exams. During the summer, she had me do a little more work, so I have a little of my own money.
The best thing about having money isn’t saving it, like I’d always imagined. It’s doing unexpected things for other people. When I got my first little check, I bought a gift certificate from a spa for Jane, so she could get a pedicure. I got another check just before Father’s Day and I bought tickets for Wes and Trig to take the monkeys to go see the Astros in Houston.
That pretty much wiped out my earnings, but the look on the boys’ faces made it totally worth it.
Trig always tells me he doesn’t need anything, but today I got my paycheck from the last summer session and I want to buy something for him.
I could spend the money he gives me, but somehow that doesn’t seem as special. I’m not crazy about him paying for everything. He tells me not to be ridiculous and that he’s planning on retiring when I graduate, anyway. He says he’s going to take up golf. Join a country club. Or do whatever men with rich wives do.
After my van was lost in the flood, he took me car shopping and bought me a cute little truck. I would have been happy with anything, but he insisted I have something fun to drive. He could picture me in something sporty and so that was that.
The truck had some super-high safety rating, and once he told me that, I knew there was no arguing with him.
Holding a silken baby doll nightie up I try to imagine how Trig would like it. Every night we make love and he tells me I make him feel like an animal. But he’s not. Ever. He’s gentle and tender and perfect. He treats me like I’m fragile and precious.
I draw a sharp breath. Thinking about him always makes butterflies swirl inside me.
I put the baby doll back and continue looking through the racks for just the right thing.
The shopkeeper smiles as she crosses the shop. “I had to select and wrap a few gowns an
d a robe, for a customer who is coming any moment.”
“That’s fine, I’m just browsing. I’m looking for something that isn’t one of my husband’s t-shirts.”
The woman laughs. “You American girls need to dress for your husbands at night. A t-shirt, yes is sexy, but you need something feminine too. At least every so often.”
Her warmth puts me at ease. “I agree.”
She shows me a few negligees, chatting amiably, telling me she moved to Texas when she married her husband, an Air Force pilot. She talks about her two grown children and asks me about my family.
The assortment of sexy nighties gets more and more risqué the further back into the store we go. I hold up a lacy bodysuit and she gives me an approving smile.
“Exquisite,” she murmurs. “Very sweet. Innocent. You might also like to get something more seductive.”
She holds up a corset. “You might enjoy something like this. If you want to take charge in the bedroom. A little dominatrix attire?”
My face heats with embarrassment. Aside from a little bit of dirty talk, Trig’s always gentle with me. But he makes it clear that he’s in charge. Not that we’ve ever talked about who’s in charge.
“I don’t think that’s for me,” I say.
“Maybe some other time.” She hangs it back on the rack.
The doorbell rings and she excuses herself to greet the customer.
“I have your gifts wrapped and ready to go,” she says.
“Thank you.”
The voice belongs to my husband. Trig is here in this shop. I clap a hand over my mouth and duck behind a rack. My truck is parked outside. Fortunately, the parking lot was crowded, so there’s a good chance he won’t know I’m here.
“Maybe now my wife will stop stealing my bathrobe.”
Lillian laughs softly. “Perhaps you’d like to look around while I run your card? We have some pretty nighties in the back.”
No, no, no…
Trig doesn’t reply for a moment. My heart thumps against my ribs. I’m not doing anything wrong, I tell myself, but for some reason I don’t want him to find me back here. Not only would it ruin the surprise, but I know he’d tease me every chance he got.
“I don’t think so,” he says. “It might be dangerous if my wife wore anything like that.”
A breathless laugh escapes my lips.
Lillian thanks him and I listen for the doorbell to ring. When he’s gone, she returns to the back of the shop. I don’t say a word about Trig coming into her shop. Instead, I ask her opinion on the handful of lacy things I’ve picked out.
“The pink,” she suggests.
“Even though I’m a redhead?”
“Especially because you are a redhead.”
When she assures me that the fit will be perfect, I make my purchase, feeling a little giddy about the whole idea of dressing for Trig. Just before she finishes ringing me up, I get a surge of recklessness and add in the corset and a pair of stockings. She smiles, but says nothing, wrapping each item in tissue paper and putting them in a pink bag.
After getting by on very little sleep this week, I should be exhausted, but I’m not. The idea of a nap sounded great while I was finishing up my tests, but now, even though it’s late afternoon, I don’t feel a bit tired.
I thank Lillian and tell her good-bye. Stepping outside the door, I look around to make sure Trig’s big truck is nowhere in sight. The coast is clear. I hurry across the parking lot, jump in my truck and head for home.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Trig
I get home a little before dusk. Maggie’s home and hopefully resting after her last week of school. Instead of going inside, I go to the pasture and call the horses. None of them come. Why should they? I’ve ignored them all summer because I’ve been distracted by my sweet wife. When I get home, I don’t feel like doing anything other than spending time with her.
With a sigh, I head into the barn for a bucket of feed. Shaking a few scoops of oats in a bucket always works. Sure enough, the horses trot over the hill, Tex leading the way. Before I left this morning, he was a little off on his left hind. He’d thrown a shoe and I hadn’t even noticed.
I called the farrier who promised to come out today. Tex’s limp is gone and I’m relieved. He gets the first turn at the bucket and then I let the others have a little.
Now that Maggie has a break from school, I’m going to show her how to ride. She’s got almost a month until the fall semester starts which should give us a chance to ride several times a week. Last week I had her fitted for some chaps.
I pet the horses for a little while, throw them a few flakes of hay and head back to the truck.
The lady at the shop wrapped the presents and they look pretty. Today’s our two-month anniversary, and with her finishing up with school I wanted to do something special. Along with a few presents, I picked up dinner from an Italian restaurant Maggie loves.
I’d like to do so much more for her than just a few gifts and dinner. I’d like to take her on a trip. Anything. My wife could have any single thing she wanted from me, and not just because we’re married. From the beginning, I wanted to be the one to do good things for her. Fix things.
Somewhere along the way she didn’t need anything fixed. I saw it on her face. The relaxed and happy expression in her eyes. I need to see her joy and contentment. I’m addicted to it. Maggie’s my fix. She likes to tell me that I’m hers.
Since we married, I haven’t had a single headache. The guys at work say I walk around with a smile on my face all day long. They give me shit about my needing a good woman in my life. I never deny that. I’m certain they’re right.
The dogs barely thump their tails in greeting and I shut the door quietly. After I set the presents in the middle of the table and put the food in the fridge, I pop the top off a beer.
“Trig?” Her voice is soft, coming from our room.
I leave the bottle on the counter and head to the bedroom. Soft light glows under the door. Candles. Maggie loves to light them at night. It’s not dark just yet, but she never cares. They make our bedroom romantic, she likes to say.
I wanted her to rest but now my body has other ideas. My blood heats as I near the door. My cock is painfully hard just from hearing my name on her lips. I turn the knob and push the door open.
She’s sitting on the bed and wears some sort of… what do I know? I have no fucking idea what it’s called. Just that it’s pink. Lacy. The straps are delicate and the material molds to her breasts and narrow waist. It clings to her legs and goes all the way to her feet.
“Damn…”
I shove the door closed and cross the room in three strides. There’s a voice in my head that always cautions me, telling me to go slow with Maggie. To be gentle. Yeah, not listening. All control slips from my grasp as I pick her up and toss her back to the pillows.
Pressing a kiss to her lips, I run my hand over her body. She wraps her arms around me, submits to my kiss and arches beneath my touch. The mesh of the fabric makes me want to tear it from her. I trail kisses down her neck, to her breasts.
I suck the nipple through the fabric, making her giggle and squirm beneath me.
“I love your tits, baby.”
She gasps. The only place I tell her dirty things is in this room and she’s always shocked, but I know she loves it too.
I’m still dressed in jeans and a work shirt, but I can’t stop myself. I need to explore every inch of her. And I need to taste her too. She loves when I tease her pussy with my tongue, but she almost never lets herself go. She’s shy about it, usually tugging me up and begging me for more.
I kiss her stomach and lower. “This thing should be illegal, Maggie.”
“So, you like it?” She laughs softly.
“I fucking love it.” I nudge her knees apart with my shoulders. “But look, it’s got a ripped crotch.”
She laughs again and flinches when I lower between her legs.
“Lift your arms over y
our head, Maggie.”
Her eyes widen, shining in the candlelight. “Why?”
“Because I want you to grab hold of the headboard rails.”
“Oh.” She blinks a few times but obeys.
I lower my mouth and lick her gently. “You taste so good.”
She squirms a little and I feel her hands settle on my head. I growl at her and she pulls them away.
“Keep your hands there or I’ll tie you.”
A huff of outrage makes me smile. I pin her to the bed with one arm and begin teasing her with my tongue. She’s wet. Drenched. Her folds are swollen. I suck her clit and groan as it plumps between my lips. Her arousal makes me wild but I won’t stop until I’ve made her cry out my name. I want to taste her orgasm. Show her who owns her.
I can feel her pleasure building inside her. Small, plaintive cries spill from her lips. She bows her back off the bed. With each passing moment, she’s climbing higher. Her cries turn to soft pleas. I won’t relent. I suck and taste and tease until she arches and cries out my name. The sound echoes off the walls of the room.
I move up her body, kissing her all the way while her orgasm grips her body, making her tremble.
Caging her with my body, I look down at her. I love the way my sweet wife looks after an orgasm. Even in the candlelight, I can see that her pale skin is flushed with pleasure.
I run my finger under the delicate strap of her sexy-as-sin outfit. “I like this. A lot.”
“I bought it at that little shop, Lillian’s. I was there today when you were.”
Her smile makes me smile. She loves teasing me.
“You have three weeks till school starts back up?” I ask. “I might make you wear one of these outfits every night.”
“I only have one.”
I tug the strap down and kiss her shoulder. “I know where to buy more.”
“I bought something else at Lillian’s.”
“Maggie, you’re going to make me lose my mind.”
“I don’t know if I have the nerve to wear it…”
I can’t imagine what that means but I’m not going to give it too much thought. Pulling the strap back up, I’m struck by how delicate the fabric is and a surge of need comes over me. I stand and without bothering to unbutton my shirt, I tug it over my head. I yank off my boots. Toss them aside. Even in full-on-Viking mode, I refuse to fuck Maggie with boots on.
