by Claire Woods
"I don't have a husband," I answer when all eyes at the table turn towards me.
"No, you don't... but I bet you could get man candy to do it."
"Ooohhh," the other moms moan at the thought.
"What? No... h-he would never."
"Come on Kate. I heard the two of you were spotted having a pizza date with your boys."
“I heard his truck was parked outside your house… all night long.”
"What? No! Luca and Tommy are buddies in that new school initiative to counteract bullying."
"Uh-huh..." Bobbi Hunter, the PTA president, pipes up, raising her eyebrows and winking.
"Fine. I'll ask him.” I huff out, "But don't get your hopes up."
"He'll do it. That man would do anything for his son."
Although I agree, I hope he says no. He gets ogled enough as it is. The thought of him dressing in a Santa suit to make the kids happy even makes my womb flutter. I'm probably ovulating just thinking about it.
"But where would we find a suit big enough for man candy's muscles?"
"My Aunt Rose could make alterations on the one we have in a jiffy. I'll just ask her to make it snug you... know, where."
"I might faint."
I smack myself in the forehead at all these married women panting after Gianni like mares in heat.
But then again, I'm no better—I'm just not married anymore. I’m even in more trouble since I know how his kisses taste and how large of a candy cane he has between his rugged thighs.
But can I do it?
I’ve become a harried working mom, hardly the sex goddess he miraculously sees me as.
How could I not do it?
I bite my lip, deciding to text my babysitter. I’m going to ask him out and hopefully get another taste of him.
Crap, I notice the time on the clock hanging on the wall. I need to get out of here, or I’ll be late picking up Luca from basketball.
“Hey sweetie, how was your day?”
“Fine.” He grumbles.
“Luca? What’s wrong?”
“I hate basketball. Do I have to go back?”
“Oh, sweetie.” I stop walking to bend down and look him in the eyes. “You know I need you to do an after-school program because I’m still at work when your bus comes home.”
“I hate basketball. It sucks.”
“Language Luca.”
His face turns red. I pause noticing the sheen of tears.
“What happened?”
“I’m not good at it. All the other boys are so much better than me since their dads taught them how to play already.”
He’s too young to hold them back, and as fat tears fall from my son’s eyes, I take his trembling hands in mine wishing Gianni had done it again—break Tony’s friggin’ nose. Lord knows I’m going to break his balls next time I see him. I’ve had enough of this shit already.
“I can try to play with you.”
“It’s not the same,” he wails.
“I know sweetie. I know.”
My hands wipe away his tears, and I pull him close for a tight hug. “I love you, Luca. How about Chinese for dinner?”
“Yeah!”
I smile, my little Italian boy can’t get enough chicken lo mein and fried rice, and I’m just grateful to be able to distract him even if it’s only for a moment.
My fingers clutch the stem of my wine glass as I stare into space. Luca’s finally in bed, and it’s time to fire up my laptop and work on those proposals Chet wants by Friday.
He was such a prick this morning.
Maybe Tony was right, and I’m too stubborn for my own good. I never needed this job, but I wanted to earn my own money, and I’d crawl over broken glass before asking him for more if I was to quit.
Because I have an income: Tony got off paying less alimony than he would have if I had been a stay at home mom. If I quit… I’d have to ask him for more or get another job—quickly.
I take another sip of the Merlot, slamming it back when I open up my email.
There it is: the formal 30-day plan from Chet marked with a red flag and cc’d on it is his boss, the Regional Director.
I’m so screwed.
I open up the three-page document where he’s laid out hardcore objectives no one could ever hit in a month’s time, and he knows it.
I minimize it, opening my resume. Time to do some updating. My cell lights up with an incoming call and my tummy flutters.
“Hey.”
“Hey, beautiful. How did it go today?”
“It was awful. There’s no way I can hit any of the goals Chet put on paper. I’m toast.”
“I’m sorry babe.”
“Thanks. Luca had a tough day, too.”
“What happened? I thought he was turning things around. Tommy said they sat together at lunch.”
“That’s the thing. He gets better in one area, and something else fails. I signed him up for basketball after school, but all the other boys have dads around that shoot hoops with them in the driveway…”
“Ah, poor guy. Bring him by anytime. I can work with him.”
“You are too good to be true.”
“Nah, I get it. Tommy’s been struggling with his sight words and has a hard time writing his letters. I just don’t see him reading by the end of the year like they say kindergartners are supposed to.”
“I can help. I taught Luca, and I think I kept all his level A books.”
“Look at us trading favors. So… do you have plans this weekend? I laid into Tiff real good about blowing Tommy off. I threatened to take her back to court and cut back her child support payments since she never has him anyway. Worked like a charm.”
“Oddly enough, Tony did leave me a very long voicemail today apologizing for his behavior and said he bought hockey tickets to take Luca to the rink Saturday night. I’m driving Luca into the city after school on Friday.”
“We’re both kid free then, huh?”
“It seems so…”
I know what he’s hinting at.
The two of us alone… naked and sweaty and in my mind—it’s already Friday night. I’m in his bed with my hair falling all around me as he thrusts in and out, going deep and taking me home to heaven.
“It’s another date then?”
“Yes, but I do need to ask a favor…”
“Go…”
“We need a Santa for the annual school fundraiser…”
“Ah shit, anything but that. I had to run out of the Halloween fundraiser after I got cornered, then groped by a pack of cougars.”
“But I’d be there to protect you.”
“Are we going public then?”
“I’m not ashamed to be dating, you, man candy. Besides, I hate most of the moms on the PTA. I can’t relate to any of them. Imagine the scandal, if I kissed Santa Claus?”
“Okay, fine I’ll do it. But only because it’s you that asked, and only if you’ll be Santa’s helper. I want you in an elf outfit with a short skirt. A very short skirt.”
“I can do that.” In my mind, I’m picturing all the ways I could help, “Santa.”
“I’ll see you Saturday night then?”
“No. I can’t wait that long. I’ll pick you up Friday around six?”
“It’s a date,” I confirm, feeling giddy until I realize I haven’t waxed in about six months. I stare at my feet resting on the coffee table grimacing. I’m overdue for a pedicure. Actually, I need to call my bestie Jen who manages the top salon in the area and take her up for the day of beauty treatments she’s been trying to get me to take since my divorce.
“I’ll call you tomorrow—just because I can’t go a day without hearing your voice.”
“I’d like that,” I murmur.
“Good night.”
“Sweet dreams.”
“Oh they will be,” he answers.
Before I can change my mind, I make sure our call has ended before tapping the phone to call Jen, but I get her voicemail. “Hey, it’s me.
I have an emergency… I have a date with Gianni DeLuca that might involve my pants coming off. I need the works. Full Brazilian to my highlights being re-done. Oh, and I need to be completely beautified by Friday night.”
I place my phone back down and stare at my work laptop until my eyes blur, wondering if I should even bother trying, or if I should just sink like the stone Chet expects me to be.
I’d love to pull this off just to see the smug look on his face crumble. But that would require schmoozing and late dinners with clients. Working until after midnight, putting together business proposals and driving way the hell out to Long Island—maybe even to Philadelphia to find new accounts. I can’t do all that and be here for Luca.
I work on my resume instead.
An hour later, I pick up my empty wine glass and rinse it in the kitchen sink. I can barely keep my eyes open as I climb the stairs.
Falling into bed, my eyes swiftly close. In my mind, I see his dark eyes smoldering at me from the foot of the bed as he pulls his shirt off chucking it to the floor. His torso is ripped and cut with thick muscles. But his skin looks soft and smooth. It's hairless, and all I want to do is read it—like a blind woman reads braille.
He unbuckles his belt, and I gasp in shock seeing what he’s packing between his thighs.
“I went commando. I knew I’d be hard for you all night and didn’t want to suffocate in my jeans.”
I lick my lips and scoot down, ready to take him in my mouth; knowing I wouldn’t be able to go much past his thick tip. It’s just as full and hard as the rest of him. I know without a doubt Gianni’s going to pound the hell out of the ache I’ve had deep inside.
“Touch yourself.”
I comply.
He pumps into his hand; my eyes focus on the pre-cum dripping out, and I dive forward to catch it with the tip of my tongue.
I get my first taste of him and get addicted for life.
He pushes me back on the bed, ripping my panties aside.
“Oh, babe,” he breathes. “The things I’m gonna do to you.”
I moan as his tongue slides down my slit before his mouth separates my folds. I clutch at his hair, needing what I saw between his legs, thrusting in.
He rips off my dress, eyeing my lacy black bra. His hands worship my breasts, and his wet mouth closes on my nipple. His tongue licks and licks through the lacy fabric while his hands play with me.
I moan thrashing around in the bed. The ringtone of my alarm interrupts my dream just when things were getting good.
My eyes pop open.
My hands are between my legs, and I’m on fire. My other hand reaches between the mattress, and the buzzing of the vibrator mixes with my moans as I close my eyes and go back to my dream—where Gianni makes love to me with fire and passion until I cry.
“I CAN’T BELIEVE I WAITED so long to do this.”
I meet Jen’s eyes in the mirror as she paints caramel lowlights into my hair before wrapping it with a small square of foil and starting on the next piece.
“Tell me about Gianni.”
“He surprised me. When you look at him, you’d think he’s just another Guido from Jersey—all solid Italian muscle with an ego to match. But he’s… sweet, smart, genuine and such a damn good father.”
“That’s great. But is he good in the sack?”
“I’m sure he is. I’m hoping to find out on Friday night. We’re both child-free for most of the weekend.”
“Um… I bet he’ll even give you mind-blowing morning sex with a side of pancakes after.”
My nipples harden, and I feel myself getting turned on just thinking about it. “Am I a dirty mom slut?”
Jen’s eyebrows raise, “Hell no. Everyone wants a piece of man candy.”
The stylist cutting hair next to us snickers and shakes her head, apparently eavesdropping.
“He hates that nickname.”
She shrugs, continuing my makeover.
“What’s that prick boss of yours been up to?”
“Oh god, I haven’t mentioned he’s trying to fire me for New Year’s?”
“Dick breath. You are the hardest worker on his team.”
“I know, but he holds my responsibilities with Luca against me. He can’t legally ever admit it, but I know that’s what it is. I can’t wine and dine the doctors like the single and younger people on our team. Hell, he bragged about the new guy Pierre, taking a few tops docs from NYU’s medical center out clubbing, ‘till three in the morning last weekend.”
“That’s some juvenile bullshit.”
“I know. But some men can’t face the truth; that their, glory days are behind them.”
“I think you should tell Chet to shove his 30-day plan up his ass.”
“That’s what Gianni said too.”
“Do it. You don’t need the money.”
“I could make it work for a few months, but Tony would never let me live it down.”
“Fuck him too. Who gives a shit what he thinks, anyway? This is your life, Kate. Get your groove back.”
“I’m trying.”
“Well, when I’m done with you today—you’re going to look and feel like a new woman. I think we should do eyelash extensions.”
“What? No. I don’t want to look like all the other women panting after Gianni.”
“Fine. I won’t give you a spray tan, but definitively the silk lashes. Don’t worry they’ll look natural.”
“Promise?”
“Of course. Gianni’s going to be the one panting, over you.”
“I hope so.”
“Come on, while the color sets Bianca’s gonna start getting to work on whatever you’ve got going on down there… ” She gestures to my crotch.
“Yeah… I shave, but it’s been over six months since my last wax.”
“Don’t worry. Bianca’s the best. Gianni won’t be able to stop touching you. She makes even the ugly ones look beautiful.”
“Oh, god…”
“It’s art. All of this is art.” She gestures around her busy salon.
“I need a gel mani/pedi too and my eyebrows threaded.”
“How much time do you have?”
“Until four. That’s when Luca’s bus gets home.”
“Are you blowing off work then?”
“Why not? Chet can go fuck himself. Maybe it’s time to let it go and find something else.”
“That’s probably the best thing to do.”
“I know. I just hate that creeps like Chet still rule the world.”
“Can you go to somebody in human resources?”
“Ha, I wish. They always protect the managers as their first priority. He might get a slap on the wrist, but I’d still be toast.”
“Well, you are going to be the most beautiful woman in Jersey when you walk out of here.”
“Thanks, Jen. I couldn’t have gotten through the past few years without you.”
“That’s what best friends are for,” she smiles pointing to the back room. “Go. It’s time for that wax.”
My hands finger a silky strand of freshly highlighted hair. I press my face closer to the mirror to inspect my new silk lashes. They are delicate and placed so strategically that they blend in with my real lashes making my eyes look wider.
I feel more than glamorous—I feel like the woman I was ten years ago. The woman, who wore sexy cocktail dresses and flirted in dark corners of the most exclusive clubs in Manhattan.
The years of stress, fighting with my ex, and worrying about Luca have fallen away from my face. I feel refreshed, re-energized, and ready for a hot night of sex with Gianni.
When I eased on my thong, the silk fabric felt decadent on my skin. I imagined it was Gianni’s hot tongue sliding over me. The thin strip of silk rubs my soft folds with every step I take.
I’m wet—soaked and our date is still three days away.
I better go pick up more double A batteries. My vibrator’s going to get a lot of action until Gianni can put out the fire he
lit.
MY FINGERS TAP THE STEERING wheel, as cars dance in traffic. Every Friday I pick Luca up from school and take him into the city to stay with Tony—well every Friday where Tony doesn’t blow him off.
It’s been months since we’ve come face to face. He’s usually still at the office when I drop Luca off in the hands of the competent sitter/housekeeper Tony hired.
“You alright back there? Not feeling car sick?” My foot alternates between the gas and the brake every fifteen seconds. I get the urge to pop a Xanax every time I drive through the city. I switch my blinker on giving him a quick look. He’s been quiet for most of the ride.
“I’m feeling okay.”
“What’s up then? You’ve been awfully quiet.”
“I miss Dad. I can’t wait to see him and go to the game. All my friends were so jealous when I told them. But I’m worried Dad’s gonna call and cancel like he always does. But it’s too late now, right? I mean we’re five minutes away.”
“He’s taking you to that game,” I answer firmly.
In the rearview mirror, I catch a glimpse of a smile. Luca’s coming back. The cloud that hung over him for months seems to be clearing. I need it to stay that way. I’ve been avoiding Tony in person purposely, but maybe it’s time to have a face-to-face chat. Our son’s been suffering, and I won’t have it anymore. Tony’s slutty girlfriend needs to go on the back burner, and Luca needs to go on the front. But common sense and Tony… don’t always mix.
“I know you’re going to have a good time, but remember even though you’re with your father, I expect you to follow my rules. No soda, only one hour on the iPad per day, and no lip.
“Yes, Mom.”
“Good.” My foot hits the gas. There’s one parking spot left on Tony’s block. It’ll be tight, but I should be able to squeeze the ass of my car in.
Luca knocks on the door, shifting his legs from side to side as he waits with a hopeful grin. The door swings open, I look up with a smile on my lips ready to greet Mrs. Tirelli. But the woman standing before me is not the doting fifty-year-old housewife from Queens that I was expecting.
