A Fruitful Intimacy

by Donna Gallagher

  “Whoa there, everyone, let’s all take a breather,” Ben said, as she stormed toward them. “Beth, are you okay?”

  Great. Now, not only did I look like some crazed reality chef gone wrong, but I’m screaming like a shrew. No wonder the man wants nothing to do with me!

  “Your sons thought it acceptable behavior to have a food fight at the table. You arrived just as I was trying to discipline them. If you had been home when you promised, this probably wouldn’t have happened at all.” Beth really hadn’t meant to add that last bit. The words had just flown from her mouth before she’d been able to stop them—this was not about her and Ben’s problems. This was about the kids.

  “Don’t start, Beth. I know. Time just got away from me—” Ben’s cell phone came to life in his pocket, the familiar ring tone stealing his attention.

  He took the intrusive device from his pocket and glanced at the screen. Do not answer that call, Ben, Beth begged silently, to no avail. Her husband’s mood changed before her eyes as he recognized the caller. Gone was that look of frustration that had him closing his eyes and shaking his head from side to side wearily, replaced by a smile and a glint in his eye that made it obvious to Beth that Ben was happy to hear from whomever it was. Beth wouldn’t have been at all surprised if Ben broke out into song and dance. He looked so pleased with himself.

  “Sorry, I need to get this. It’s important.

  Beth didn’t feel like his apology was all that sincere considering how happy he appeared to be about the call.

  As Ben walked away from them all—her and the kids—Beth’s heart splintered just a little more. There had been more than one occasion in the last few weeks where Ben had, with a grin on his face, snuck off to whisper into his phone. As far as Beth was concerned, the whole scenario smacked of an affair.

  Now was not the time or place for Beth to start worrying about her marriage, not in front of the children. She turned her attention back to the small people shuffling their feet, looking like they really wished they could be somewhere else, anywhere else except in front of her.

  Her sons clearly understood their father appeared unlikely to be running any interference this time around.

  “You lot, bathroom—this second. I want your faces washed, teeth brushed and the three of you in your pajamas by the time I clean up the mess in the kitchen. Then your father and I will think of a punishment befitting your crime. But if I hear one more squeak out of any of you tonight, I promise you, there will be big trouble. Do you understand me?” She was coming down hard, probably taking her frustration at Ben out on the boys, but she couldn’t help it. As her three children’s heads lowered in contrition and they slunk off toward the direction of their rooms without another peep, Beth felt a mixture of relief that she was finally being taken seriously and guilt that she had lost control of her anger, again.

  Feeling more of an emotional wreck than usual, Beth headed in the other direction, her mission to clean up after what could only be described as a fiasco of a dinnertime. Making her way through the arched entry to the kitchen-dining area, she couldn’t stop the tears from flowing. The room looked like a disaster area. Splashes of red sauce streaked the floor and stained the tablecloth. Chairs were knocked over—a result of the kids rushing to greet their father. Plates had been upended, drinks spilled. To top it off, the pots and pans Beth had used to prepare the meal—that had ended up as cannon fodder—were still sitting dirty on the stove. Cleaning up was going to take forever.

  Beth started on the mammoth task by first clearing a place where Ben could consume his own meal in peace. “If he ever gets off the phone,” she mumbled under her breath. No point heating it right now. He knows where the microwave is. She set his lukewarm plate of pasta in the cleaned spot before turning her attention to the rest of the mess.

  Lost in a world of her own amid the chaos and her own dark fears over her marriage, the ding of the microwave startled Beth, making her jump so she nearly dropped the plate she was holding. She hadn’t realized Ben had finished with his mystery phone call and had entered the kitchen. Obviously ready to eat, he had warmed up his own meal. Her back still to him, Beth continued to wash the dishes. After a few moments spent getting her thoughts in order, she finally spoke.

  “We need to come up with some sort of punishment. They cannot get away with this. You have to back me up on this, Ben. I’m losing control of them. They don’t listen to me. From the moment the boys walk through the door after school, they are at each other. This has to stop!” Scrubbing harder on the pot in her hands, battling to keep her tears at bay, her emotions under control, Beth waited for Ben to respond.

  Ben was at a loss for words. He’d never seen the place as bad as this.

  The kitchen looked like a scene from a horror movie or a war zone—like a bomb had gone off. The pasta, which was spewed across the room, stuck to the walls, looked for all the world like eviscerated body parts. The bolognaise sauce resembled blood spatter. The boys had gone too far this time, really done the wrong thing. Judging by Beth’s comments, she was looking at grounding them or more precisely, excluding them from all football games this week. It was hard to fault her punishment, but Ben hated the idea of letting down the teams. Especially the twin’s team—the under sixes would be short of players if both the boys didn’t show up, but something had to be done to make his sons understand this kind of behavior could not be condoned.

  Beth hadn’t looked at him since he’d gone into the living room to take the call in private. Ben had recognized the number as that of the concierge at Heron Island Resort, ringing to confirm the delivery of fruit. The hotel employee, after promising Ben the juiciest mangos in all of Queensland, had come up with another helpful romantic idea of filling the bathroom with candles and had organized for that to happen while they enjoyed dinner at the hotel restaurant. Of course, Ben couldn’t tell Beth any of that or who had been on the other end of the line. Spoiling the surprise he’d spent so long planning wasn’t an option. No, he needed to deal with this latest drama. “What sort of punishment did you have in mind, honey?”

  “Something that the boys will remember, reflect on next time they get out of hand—or it’s not worth the effort.”

  “I guess you mean missing footy then,” Ben replied trying to sound casual, as he ate another forkful of his meal, not wanting this conversation to end up like so many of their others, in an argument.

  Ben watched as Beth stopped what she was doing and walked toward him. She dragged out the chair beside his and sat down. The sigh she made as she took her seat a sure sign his wife was exhausted, had reached the end of her tether.

  “Playing footy is the only thing they care about, Ben. I know you don’t agree on disrupting the boys’ teams because of their behavior, but maybe just this once would get the point across.”

  Ben had argued this point with Beth before but he could see this time she wasn’t in any mood for further discussion. The kids had really screwed up, judging by the mess. He knew when to admit defeat.

  “Okay, I agree. I’ll give both coaches a call to give them the heads-up. Hopefully none of the other players will be away this week, leaving the teams short. Let me handle this. I’ll tell the boys, make sure they understand what they did was totally wrong. Why they are being punished in this way. You look beat, baby. Go have a bath, relax. I’ll finish cleaning up.”

  “Like you haven’t been working hard all day as well, Ben. I can’t just go relax and leave this all to you—”

  “Rubbish, Beth. You work harder than me every damn day, looking after all of us, making a home for us. Go relax, take some time out. I can handle this. Please, as a favor to me, go soak in a bubble bath, read a book. I haven’t seen you pick up one of your naughty romance books in ages. I’ll even bring you in a cuppa.” Tears were slipping from Beth’s eyes. Taking her hand in his he lifted it toward his lips, but before he could deliver the planned kiss, Beth snatched it away.

  “Don’t put my hand near your mouth
, Ben. I’ve got detergent all over me from the washing up water,” Beth chastised, her response at first quite sharp, softened when she added, “but if you’re sure you don’t mind cleaning up in here, I’ll go check on the boys’ preparations for bed. Maybe then I’ll consider having a bath.”

  As Beth dragged her body up out of the chair and went off to see to the kids, Ben shook his head in despair, still thinking about the way she had pulled away from him. He wouldn’t have cared if her hand had tasted of detergent. Just a chance to touch some part of her body with his lips would be a worthy reward and make him happy. Even the quick pecks on the cheek, as he was coming or going from work, had become infrequent—Beth always doing something else or racing from the room as he approached her. It really was starting to worry him, this growing distance between them.

  Pushing aside the unfinished plate, Ben’s appetite now gone, he surveyed the room around him. Beth had managed to clear away most of the mess already. Ben lifted his dirty dish from the table and headed over to the sink to finish washing up. As he placed his hands in the cooled water, Ben couldn’t help reminisce of times gone past—when he and Beth had taken advantage of every opportunity to be together.

  Beth had never held anything back from Ben in those days. Always open, so sensual, trusting him to bring her pleasure whatever they tried sexually, and Beth returning that pleasure to him tenfold. Back in the early days of their marriage, they’d spent most of the time indoors—undressed. His wife had been so uninhibited back then, self-assured and comfortable in her own skin. Now, Ben couldn’t get her to undress unless the lights were off. She had become so self-conscious over time, worried about the changes in her body—most a result of the rigors of pregnancy and childbirth—that she hid herself away. He so wished she would believe him when he told her how much those changes to her body made him love her even more—if that were possible. Beth had given him the best gift in the world—his sons. He loved them so much, those three little humans—miniature versions of himself. Their bold personalities and abundant energy reminded Ben of how he and his brother Luke were as children and as equally hard to wrangle. She had brought them into the world for him.

  “You have to try harder, mate,” he told himself, as he dried his hands, wiping them on the front of his shirt. “Yeah but how can I convince her? She won’t let me try.”

  Ben’s head was filled with thoughts as he added water to the kettle to make Beth the tea he had promised her. This holiday should help. Maybe I should book Beth into the day spa for a massage? I’m sure I saw one listed in the resort’s list of facilities. Some pampering is just what she needs. Another idea also sprung to his mind, one Ben really liked the sound of. Some hot ’n’ heavy loving from her husband wouldn’t go to waste either.

  Chapter Three

  Relaxing in a bath was supposed to be relaxing. Beth found being idle, even for short periods, meant she had time to think, to worry about her life. All the things she hadn’t yet achieved. Tasks not fulfilled. Time to dissect all the ways she had failed to make this place a perfect house and home. The emotional damage she had caused her sons by her latest outburst only added to her worries. The notion Ben could be having an affair yet another addition for her long list. The phone call he had taken earlier and the ones in the days prior really had her doubting him for the first time in their relationship.

  Even the mango scented bath soap Beth usually saved for special moments didn’t help her mood, but it did bring back memories of another time—one that had been a standout moment of all their couplings, an all-time favorite—erotic, naughty and so unexpected.

  It had become a bit of a regular joke between them. Beth always made such a mess eating a mango. Ben often teased her about how incredibly suggestive it was watching the way she sucked on the fleshy goodness of the fruit, the way the juice got away from her. So, on their honeymoon when he’d jokingly suggested she eat her mango in the bathtub so as not to spill juice on her clothes, Beth had decided the idea had had its merits.

  Naked, Beth climbed into the tub, playing up the moment for all she was worth. She lifted the piece of fruit she held in her hand toward her mouth. Bringing it to her lips, Beth began to suck the sweet treat in and out of her mouth seductively. Her cheeks hollowed with the motion as she not so innocently simulated the mechanics of oral sex. Back and forth she drew the slice of mango as the juice dripped down her lips, trailed from her chin, and spilled onto her breasts, just as she’d intended.

  Ben’s gaze never faltered from her direction as if he were mesmerized by her every action. His nostrils flared slightly but it was his eyes that showed how much her actions turned him on. They burned bright with a hunger for her that caused her skin to break out in a wave of goosebumps. Finally, obviously not being able to contain his desire any longer, Ben stripped out of his clothes and dragged her from the tub, pinning her body with his against the bathroom wall.

  The sight of Ben naked was enough to send Beth’s desires soaring at the best of times, but the intensity, the pure unadulterated lust she discovered in his eyes at that moment, awakened another side of her.

  They had made love numerous times, but this particular moment had always been the most memorable for Beth. What had started out as her trying to seduce Ben had quickly turned into something so much more. It had been raw. Exciting. Knowing that she had the power to bring out this pure elemental lust in Ben had given her such a rush. There had been no time for gentle caresses or murmurs of endearment as they’d both took what was needed from the other. It wasn’t gentle, Ben driving his cock inside her cunt as he’d lost control of his senses. Her pussy walls gripping him eagerly with every thrust of his hips—and her, returning those forceful movements just as fervently. She’d wrapped her legs around his hips. Grinding her pubic bone against him so her clit would be the beneficiary of that pressure and bring her pleasure. It was all about taking. This was fucking and she had been an uninhibitedly willing equal in every way as she’d scratched and bitten at whatever part of Ben’s body was within reach. He in return had marked her skin with his teeth and lips as he’d sucked on her shoulder and drawn her nipples between his teeth. Groans and grunts had been forced from their throats with breathless urgency confirming the pleasure they’d both feeling as each had grown closer to orgasm. Their bodies covered in sweat from exertion, they’d climaxed together in a fierce and immediate burst of sated relief.

  Beth felt they had never achieved that rawness and inhibition again—especially not since the birthing of her beautiful boys. She truly believed that it had been that night she had conceived her first son. Beth found it ironic that at a time where she’d found such power, the result would eventually be the cause for her inadequacies.

  Unfortunately memories could not stave off reality. She and Ben had grown apart. The thought had tears welling in her eyes, again. Stroking her hands over her skin, she tried to emulate the feel of Ben’s on her body, pretending she could feel the heat from his touch as he caressed her. She slipped her hand down toward her pussy, spreading open her labia as she felt for her clitoris, all the while imagining it was Ben’s fingers touching her so intimately.

  Massaging her sensitive nub, she brought forward an image of her husband naked, head between her legs. Beth could almost feel the hot breath from his lips blowing gently on her clit, just as he had done so many times before as foreplay to their love-making—

  “Beth, can I come in? I’ve brought you some chamomile tea. Thought it might help you relax.”

  The sound of Ben’s voice not only made Beth jump, spilling water over the edge of the tub, but also made her cheeks burn with embarrassment. Oh my God, he nearly caught me masturbating. Not that this was something new. Beth had pleasured herself before, but normally as Ben watched, encouraging her. He had loved seeing her bring herself to orgasm. This would have been entirely different. She wasn’t trying to turn Ben on, her actions not an erotic form of foreplay. No, this time was all about self-gratification. Totally selfish consider
ing she had spurned any of his advances lately. So much so he had eventually stopped trying.

  She didn’t deserve any gratification. How could she reward herself when she was failing at everything she tried?

  Mentally pulling herself together, making sure the flannel washcloth was strategically placed over her tummy, Beth answered, “Come in.”

  “Feeling any better, sweetheart?” Ben asked her as he placed the mug onto the ledge just behind her head. As he stood gazing at her, his eyes, now dilated slightly, roaming the length of her prone body, Beth knew what Ben was feeling. After so many years together, she knew this meant he was interested, getting turned on by her nakedness, be it slightly covered by the water, bubbles and washcloth. She also understood only a slight signal of acceptance from her and Ben would finish what she had started. He would make love to her, build her up slowly until she fell over the abyss of bliss into a nerve-shattering orgasm.

  So, why didn’t she move?

  What stopped her from reaching out to encourage him, from being the woman she used to be?

  Her body might have been willing but her mind wasn’t. With the trust in her husband faltering, her insecurities were too strong, her body issues too debilitating. She looked away from Ben, closing her eyes so she couldn’t see the disappointment that would surely show in his eyes when she dismissed him—again.

  “Thank you for the tea. Have you spoken to the boys yet?” Beth knew her words would kill any desire Ben might be feeling toward her but she couldn’t stop herself from uttering them. So the small sigh Ben made as he realized she wasn’t going to acknowledge his yearning was no surprise.

  “Not yet. Thought I’d deliver you the tea first. I will go speak to them now. Then I need to make a few phone calls, check on a couple of things for work. Have a nice bath, Beth.”

  She heard the door quietly close with a click and the sound of her husband’s footsteps as he walked away.