by Wendy Burke
She shook her head, soft light-brown tendrils framed her face. She barely needed makeup—she was that pretty.
Coming to her, taking her hands, kissing her cheek, careful not to smudge her foundation, he whispered in her ear, “Are you wearing anything I can get my hands into under the table?”
Challenge colored her tone. “You’ll have to find out.”
Taking her hand, he settled her into a chair. Slipping the signature robin’s egg blue box from his pocket, he placed it in her hands. She looked at him with a shrug. “Open it.”
Her hand flew to her mouth, shocked at the box’s contents.
Perfect reaction.
Nestled in dark fabric was a lovers’ knot pendant of diamonds. Removing it from the box, he caressed her bare shoulders as he secured the gift about her neck.
She rose from the chair, moving to a nearby mirror. Moving behind her, he watched as she touched the gems.
“This is too much, Andrew. It’s beautiful.”
He didn’t care if his children observed and was oblivious to a possibly peeking babysitter. His lips met the curve of her neck. “Not nearly as beautiful as you,” he whispered, “Nothing’s too much or too good for you.” He touched the hollow of her throat with his finger, tracing her skin down to where the pendant hung. Touching it, he gazed into the mirror and into his wife’s eyes. Get it right, Knox. She won’t think it sounds sappy. “Look, it has no beginning and no end. It’s how I love you, Charlotte. I don’t know when I started and I know I always will.”
Their intense quiet moment dissipated with Breanna’s shriek. “Pictures, pictures!” The girl found the teen’s phone and handed it to Chloe, who hopped up and down in playful insistence.
“Put it down, Chlo.” Charly looked at her daughter in the way only an irritated mother can.
“Okay, Mommy.”
“You ask before you touch Kristen’s things.”
He held back a snicker when his younger daughter turned to her sitter and asked, “Kisten, take a picture?”
“Please?” The sixteen-year-old tickle-poked the girl.
“Peese?”
“Okay.”
Putting a firm, caressing hold around his wife’s waist, directing her in front of the mantle. He kissed her cheek, breathing in the aroma of the woman he adored more than anything else in the world. As Kristen clicked away with her phone, he whispered, “Is this dinner over yet?” He clutched her a bit more tightly, pressing himself to her.
Smiling broadly, Andy held back a snicker, wondering how quickly the two of them could get through appetizers, dinner, and small talk and get back home and get into bed… hopefully after the girls were tucked in and fast asleep.
***
It had been a lovely evening, a beautiful venue, excellent cause, and the company outstanding. Leaning over and speaking quietly to Andy, Charly excused herself.
Before she could stand, he did with a hand out to help her from her seat.
He kissed her cheek and whispered, “Come back quick, I miss you already.”
She hurried to the ladies’ room, thankful every stall was empty. She took the farthest one from the entry. In her head, somehow it provided more privacy.
What is going on? She couldn’t think. Sitting in a bathroom stall, she hadn’t gone there to “do business,” but rather to sort out her feelings. She dabbed at her eyes with a wadded tissue.
He’s so attentive. What is wrong with him? Although he’d always been a wonderful husband, this event had her second-guessing the man to whom she was married. He was always a gentleman, but since he’d last been in her presence for any extended period of time, he’d changed.
Sure, he’d been affectionate with her in public, but, tonight, a different approach—always a touch, the hold of a hand, a lingering caress of her thigh during dinner, his warm hand on her back as they mingled.
I’m included in everything. If a partygoer wanted to talk baseball, it wasn’t without her. He dragged me into every picture. How did I end up at the top of the food chain? The beautiful gift of jewelry, his affection in front of the girls and the babysitter, so many kind words and compliments, and the caring insistence of his lovemaking last night… I don’t understand this.
He looks at me, when I’m talking, like he’s actually interested in what I have to say, even something he knows nothing about.
And, he’s read more than just Art for Dummies. He had at least one intelligent thing to say about every piece—without hesitation. Usually, he’s glazed over halfway through the first one!
What the hell is going on?
Her face in her hands, she stifled a choked realization into the wadded tissue. Her stomach churned, the exquisitely prepared dinner she’d consumed some ninety minutes ago threatening to return. Morbid memories flooded to the front of her mind.
No, this can’t be the same situation as Mom’s. It’d been an odd gesture, her father showering her mother with attention and a just-the-two-of-them vacation. The twelve-year-old caught somewhere in between thrilled her father was with them and terrified at what the end of their week alone together would bring. It was the best and worst seven days of her short life. But, left with her mother’s good friend, she’d calmed and opened up to her ‘Aunt Rita.’ She took such good care of me. It was quiet, no arguing, fighting, breaking things. I had such a good week there—the week Dad doted on Mom and took her on a trip. His last hurrah before leaving us for good. “No!” The echo of her own voice reverberating off the fancy tile of the ladies room startled her. This can’t be what Andy’s doing—he promised.
She sat for a while, not knowing what to think. Good and bad paraded through her consciousness. Each thought had opposite sides; each side held equal weight. He’s doting because he loves me—he’s doting because he’s leaving me. He was so anxious to make love last night, because he loves me—he wanted to “do me” one more time before he bolts! He loves the girls, but he wasn’t around this summer to take care of them.
I can’t stay in here all night! Putting a stranglehold on her emotions, she left the stall, checking herself in the mirror. Again, she dabbed her eyes, smoothed foundation, and checked for any running mascara. Just enjoy it!
***
The limo picked them up outside the venue. He kissed her cheek as she slid inside. After a short chat with the driver, he dove in beside her, the heavy door of the Lincoln closing soundly, sealing them in.
She seems nervous. She nibbled on her bottom lip and tossed him a wink. Leaning over in her seat, she toyed with the switch controlling the dark window between the driver’s and passengers’ compartments. With a whir, it went down completely. Leaning through the opening, she spoke quietly to the driver. The window went back up.
What is she up to? Not concerned, but curious in an entertained way, he leaned back into the leather seat. With a sigh and a grin, he couldn’t be more proud, recalling how well she had handled all of tonight’s attention; not only people looking at her because she was so incredibly stunning, but the attention of being beautiful and the wife of a Gold Glove-winning ballplayer. Party guests wanted to talk and visit with him, but he gently didn’t allow it unless she was part of the meeting/greeting and conversation. It was ultimately important to him that those wanting to meet him knew, and that she knew, she was as much a part of him as baseball.
She snuggled up beside him, draped her long, toned legs over his, and slipped off her heels. He relaxed into her when she rested her head on his shoulder, kissing his ear, his breath coming faster as her hand rested high on his upper leg. “Andy, what have you been up to?”
Resting his head against hers, he wondered, “What do you mean, honey?” He sucked in a breath as her finger made circles along his inseam.
Her voice was low, whispery. “Oh, I don’t know, your sudden knowledge of art, modern, classic, and otherwise. I thought for a moment you were going to give a lecture on Dale Chihuly. I’ll make sure to tell Emmy Klaussen you think her work is so much better.” Th
e tip of her tongue swirled about his ear. “That made me so hot.”
Follow the instructions. “I just admire what you do and what you know, Charly.”
He thought he heard a stifled whine of shock. Not that I’d be surprised. Hell, I don’t think I ever told her I’m amazed by her intelligence and everything else she is that I am not.
“I love you, number twenty-seven. And you’ll always be that number to me,” she whispered.
Closing his eyes, he attempted to temper his breathing as she continued to caress him through the expensive fabric of his tuxedo pants.
Her obviousness surprised him. “Charly, babe,” he grunted, stunned by her overt affection, especially here, in the backseat of a limousine after a classy affair. “What’re you doin’ to me?”
She quieted his question with a deep kiss. Her hand found his and directed it under the chiffon of her skirt, to the closing of her one-piece bustier undergarment. The snaps clipped open. He found her wet and ready; there was no turning back.
Before he could slip fingers into that hot, wonderful place, she pulled away. Kneeling before him, her gray eyes never leaving his, she unfastened his belt, popped the button, and unzipped his pants. He moaned through her gentle digging until she fully exposed him.
She lifted herself and wrapped her arms about his neck. She rubbed herself on him. He buried his face in her cleavage, breathing in her subtle perfume and sex. She kissed him again and then held his face in her hands.
Looking into her gray eyes, he had no doubt about the utter seriousness of her venture. He brought his mouth to hers, kissing her intensely, and his other hand under her lacey undergarment. Gripping him securely, Charly moved atop him. “Fuck, baby.” She thrust herself on him again and again.
Although supremely turned on, he couldn’t help but watch his wife enjoy herself.. “Do you know how much I’m in love with you?” As if having to make that point, he grabbed a handful of her thick hair, controlling her, kissing her with indescribable passion. His pelvic, gluteus, and thigh muscles continued to move him gently in and out of her. His face in her neck, he felt her struggling to writhe on him, and he clutched his wife tightly as he burst within her.
The feral nature of this encounter had them both sprinting to the finish.
“Andy!”
Not wanting any of this to end, he gripped her waist firmly, holding her down on him as she convulsed. Before either of them had fully recovered, he tickled her ear with his tongue. “I know a place where we can have some more fun.”
***
Hand in hand they entered the grand Pfister Hotel in downtown Milwaukee. When Charly tried to head toward the reception desk, Andy clasped her elbow and herded her straight into the elevator.
He held up a keycard. “Already taken care of, Charlotte.”
Unsure where her old husband had gone, still she was going to relish every moment of this evening. And considering the way the summer had played out, she would have the fun they’d missed, and not concern herself, at least for the moment, as to where their somewhat irritated relationship was headed.
With a little shove, she forced his back against the wall of the car. As quickly as she’d done in the limo, his fly was opened and she grasped him.
“Hey!”
Not one for extremely high heels, she’d donned four-inches-plus tonight. The extra height came in handy as she turned her back to him, lifted the skirt of her dress slightly and wedged his growing hardness between her legs. “Comfortable?”
His strong arm wrapped about her waist, pulling her nearer. “What the fuck, Charly!”
Gently, she ground herself against him, swayed her hips, feeling him hardening more and more.
“Are you giving me an art lesson?” he breathed in her ear.
“What do you mean?”
“Frottage, honey. Getting a picture from taking charcoal or pastel and rubbing it over something.” He now ground himself into her. “Although, I’m thinking we’re using that technique for a different outcome right now.”
She found herself tighter in his hold. Wait, who’s doing the moving here? And where are you getting all this art knowledge?
The car came to a bouncy stop. Glancing at the floor indicator, they were nowhere near the twenty-third floor.
She smoothed her skirt, making sure they were both properly covered. They stood, unmoving, as the door opened and an older couple stepped inside. All four nodded a congenial hello. The silence was excruciating.
The floor indicator lit up nineteen, and the car stopped again. Before the doors opened, the man turned to them, giving them a slight squint.
“I’m hoping you’re out of those terrible pinstripes soon, Andy Knox. We need you back here in Milwaukee.” Then he put out his hand.
His left arm tightening around her middle, Andy reached out with is right to shake the admirer’s hand. “Well, thank you. I can only hope.”
“Best of luck. Good night, then.”
She barely contained her giggling, hoping the elevator doors were closed before she burst out laughing. She calmed in short order as Andy’s lips met the curve of her neck.
“Good thing you had those baby wipes in your purse, or that’d guy have our ‘juice’ all over his hand!”
“Baby wipes or not, do you know how difficult it is to look distinguished, walking into an upscale place like this with your jizz leaking down my leg?” The car stopped on the twenty-third floor. She reached for the “close door” button. “This is a classy place, Mr. Knox. You’d best be putting your penis away.”
The sentiment hit him just the way she’d hoped. His laugh filled the small space as he tucked and zipped. Satisfied with his appearance, she removed her finger from the button, the doors opened and they headed to their room.
At the door, Andy slipped the card into the key reader and the lock popped open. She’d forgotten the exact room number at the Pfister where they’d spent their honeymoon, but when he scooped her up in his arms, taking her over the threshold, the memories of this room flooded back.
“You thought I forgot, didn’t you?”
Her face nestled in his neck, she nodded. What is up with you tonight, Andy Knox?
“Are you kidding? I thought you screwed the skin off my dick that night.”
Back on her feet, she leaned into him. “I couldn’t walk for a week.” In his embrace, she closed her eyes, not wanting to let go. It felt like he didn’t want to either.
Opening her eyes, shock filled her. Photos were scattered about the room. Our life, it’s everywhere.
From the earliest days of them knowing one another in high school to a photo taken less than an hour ago. Moving about the room, touching the pictures, she relived each moment in them. The warmth of a calf on the Knox farm. Andy’s laugh as she tried to bottle feed the bovine. A hot August day, his sweaty hug on the field of Milwaukee’s ballpark. Her husband goofing, posing as Michelangelo’s David outside the Accademia Gallery in Florence. The new father, tears in his eyes, holding their newborn daughters.
He squeezed her shoulders. “Don’t cry, baby.” He kissed her cheek at the same time he unzipped her dress. “Charly, you have the most beautiful skin.”
Turnabout is fair play. Turning in his hold, she folded back the lapels of his jacket. Getting the message, he took it off and, as he draped it over an upholstered chair, she began on the buttons of his vest then shirt. She carefully undid his tie and stripped it from around his neck. Time slowed; his removal of his vest, shirt, and tank top took time. Her eyes never left his as he slowly stripped. He took her hands, bringing them to the buckle of his belt and she nearly buckled, stunned by his meticulous removal of clothing.
“Go on,” he breathed.
Her hands trembled. They’d trembled in the same manner when she undressed him the first time they’d made love. His fingers were electric on her skin as he unclipped the front closure of her torso-covering undergarment.
She stripped out of it and kicked out of her heels, a
t the same time he shed his tux trousers and everything else he wore.
Forced onto the bed by his tall, strong body, she gave up trying to understand everything that had transpired this evening. She stopped trying to decipher the message, ceased wondering about his intentions, quit second-guessing his love for her. Her rational self checked out, giving in to his long, deep kisses and his strong hands caressing every part of her body.
Chapter Seven
Her insistence in the limo had screwed with his mind and libido, but, watching her now, a whole new level sexual enlightenment. She seemed another woman, yet his Charly, only she fucked him in a whole new way.
He loved watching her as they made love. Astride him, she forced herself down on him as he pushed up. Her hands always wandered, touching herself, touching him, playing, reaching to massage him, spur him on. Tonight, however, she did something he’d never seen before.
Mesmerized, he couldn’t take his gaze from her. She rolled her fingers over her nipples, pinching, pulling. Her moan amazed him. Then, her eyes locked with his, she cupped one of her ample breasts, moving it upward. She bent her head and flicked her tongue over a nipple, then licked her lips in invitation.
He had no idea what spell she had on him. Shocked, intrigued, he heard himself breathe, “Do it again.” She took her time licking her breast and areola. He couldn’t imagine what it felt like.
“Watch.” She winked, then took her entire nipple in her mouth and sucked herself with gusto.
“Oh fuck, Charly.” Grabbing her hips, he steadied her and slammed into her even harder.
Sure, he’d had his randy days in the past. Those few years the two of them were in-between a relationship with one another, he’d played the field. But at no time in those wild, devil-may-care days filled with baseball and sex, had he been as turned on as right now, with the woman he loved.
The two of them had definitely fucked in the past, but this moment was well beyond that—more than illicit, this coupling would make even the most prolific of porn connoisseurs blush.
