by E M Bannock
She lay still in the bed next to him. He regained control and breathed heavily for a moment or two. She could see sweat beading up on his forehead and his body was glistening. She smiled.
He reached over and cupped her breasts in his hands. He kissed them. His hands found the warm, wet area between her legs and he began exploring it with his fingers. He found and rubbed her clitoris. She moaned blissfully and began pushing into his hand. As she reached over and grabbed his cock, which was still quite hard, he asked, “Now what did that book say you should do with that?”
“It said that you could put your cock in me,” she replied. “It doesn’t make me a dirty girl, does it?” she asked softly.
“The dirtiest,” he answered. “The kind of girl I like. I think you need a proper fucking, Miss,” he said. She giggled. She was hoping he would say that, and prepared for his next move.
He spread her legs. She gave him no resistance; in fact, she pushed herself into him. He could tell she was eager for it. After a minute, he could take it no longer. He pushed his dick into her, hard. Again and again he slammed into her, feeling her warmth around his cock. She moaned, arched her back and pushed right up to him, allowing him to enter her fully. The harder he pounded into her the harder she pushed him in. The two were moving as one. Their passion and lust reached its peak and they crested simultaneously, their cries of pleasure echoing through the room and the house.
He rolled off. They reached out and held hands as they caught their breath.
“Wow!” he said, breaking the silence. “That was incredible. I missed that. I love you, babe.”
“I love you, too. Welcome, home, my husband.”
Chapter 7
The heavenly smells of Thanksgiving permeated the house for hours as the guests talked and played video games to pass the time. The smell of roasting turkey tormented them all day. Now the wait was over. At long last Dave walked into the dining area, carrying out the beautifully roasted turkey on a silver platter. Carol followed close behind. “Time to eat, everyone!” she called out. Dave set the bird down in front of his seat at the head of the larger of two festively set tables, a smaller one for the kids and the larger one for the adults. Both were loaded with a variety of holiday favorites that could feed twice the amount of people in attendance.
“About damn time,” Lenny said. He set his beer down and took his seat. When everyone was seated the room became quiet and everyone held hands.
Dave spoke, “Heavenly Father, Divine Mother, we thank you for this bountiful feast. We thank you for our friends and family. We are grateful that Mickey is able to join us this year. Keep him safe in his travels. Keep us all healthy and happy for many years to come. Bless our…”
“Come on, man,” Lenny interrupted, “we’re starving. Good friends, good meat, good God, let’s eat!”
Everyone, including Dave, laughed and said, “Amen.”
Dave got busy carving the turkey and plates were filled as the holiday food was passed around. The sound of forks on plates replaced the room full of voices as stomachs began to fill.
It had been several months since all the friends had been together. Zoey had lunch with the girls when she could. But throughout the years everyone’s jobs and families kept them busy, and the monthly lunches became less and less frequent. Mickey’s job kept him away so much that the only time he really had to get caught up with his friends were the rare social get-togethers.
Everyone was just about finished eating when the conversation turned to Mickey’s job. “So, Mick,” Lenny said as he shoveled the last of his cranberry sauce into his mouth, “what’s new in the oil business? Why has the price of oil doubled since March? You got anything to do with that?” Everyone chuckled.
“Don’t worry,” Mickey said. “Iran just found a new oilfield in September. It’s about 26 billion barrels. Biggest one they’ve found in about thirty years, should produce about 400 million barrels a day. I see prices going down.”
“Iran, eh?” Dave chimed in. “Those people make me nervous. Their lifestyle and values are so different from ours. Are you sure you’re safe over there? You know, after those protests in Tehran last July I read where 70 students disappeared. They arrested about 1,400 people. I don’t think they think too highly of Americans either. You were around there then, weren’t you?”
Worry swept over Zoey’s face. She knew that Mickey was in danger whenever he traveled, but especially in that part of the world. Luckily his dark Italian features helped him blend in better, but he was still an American. That meant he was a target. In August, for two weeks after the protests Mickey had extra bodyguards and had to wear a bullet-proof vest whenever he left the hotel. There was always some sort of religious or territorial war going on. She thought it was ridiculous and primitive that they still had tribes who fought each other. Through the years it hadn’t bothered her so much, but it seemed like this year was different. The partings were harder. The long separations became unbearable. It was worse when Mickey was in the Middle East.
She was plagued with an upset stomach more and more, and experienced what one might call panic attacks, which was something new to her. A client had described the symptoms to her when he told her about the panic attacks his mother had because of his divorce. Zoey did some research at the library in an effort to diagnose and treat herself. She thought that if she went to the doctor it would worry Mickey. Her symptoms fit the profile. She tried to meditate more, but found it harder and harder to center her thoughts and clear her mind. Zoey’s Place was becoming more elusive. She thought at first that it just meant she was burned out over being an absentee wife. But her inner self told her it was more. She had an unnaturally dreadful feeling about Mickey and his safety. She was beginning to think it was a sign. The world was starting to get crazy and her beloved, her soul mate, the man she couldn’t live without, was right smack dab in the middle of the turmoil most of the time. She learned to manage it in a fashion, but how long could she control her fears?
“Oh, it’s not that bad,” he said, trying to make light of the threat he knew was real. “I wasn’t in Iran then. I was actually safe and sound in Jordan. I’m always with my bodyguard, and because I represent a U.S. oil interest I’m treated like royalty. They don’t want anything to happen to me.”
She felt her body tighten and her breathing grow quick. Her stomach got that queasy feeling, and suddenly the food on her plate lost its appeal. She became slightly lightheaded and could feel the blood rushing from it. She wished they wouldn’t talk about it. She closed her eyes for a few moments and forced herself to take slow, silent, deep breaths. She opened her eyes and looked across the table.
As if he sensed it Mickey turned to face her, and was shocked to see how pale she was. He could tell she was thinking about the August incident and could feel her fear and panic. She was uncomfortable and he needed to do something.
“Hey, I don’t really want to talk about work.” He tried to quickly change the subject. “So, which game are we gonna watch: Bears and Dolphins or Lions and Cowboys? You think the Lions can win this year?”
Mickey looked over at Zoey again and she was still staring at him from across the table. He looked deep into her eyes and smiled with reassurance, as if to tell her he knew what she was going through and he loved her. They could read each other’s thoughts, feel each other’s emotions. She felt his love. A warm feeling spread over her and she began to relax. She smiled back, letting him know she was fine. Mickey turned and joined in on the football conversation.
“So, let’s talk about Christmas,” Joanne said to the table, taking Zoey’s attention away from the men. “Zoey, are you sure you want everyone at your house?”
“Sure,” she answered. “It’ll be fun. This is the first time Mickey will be home for the whole season in years, which reminds me. You both need to give me a Christmas list for the kids. They’re so old now, I just don’t know what to buy for them. You guys are easy. You like what I like.”
“Oh, yo
u’re such a good aunty. So, when is this soirée?” Joanne asked.
“Hold on, I’ll get the calendar,” Carol added. She walked into the kitchen and pulled a well-marked American Scenic calendar she got free from the bank off of the side of the refrigerator, flipped to December, and put it down in front of Zoey.
“Let’s see,” Zoey said as she dragged a finger across the weeks. “Christmas is on a Saturday this year, so Friday, Christmas Eve, say about three o’clock? That way we can have a nice dinner and still have plenty of time to open presents.” The ladies thought for a moment before agreeing.
“Don’t go overboard now, Zoey,” Carol said. “I know you can afford it, but you really don’t have to make it a big deal. Just do us all a favor and make sure you don’t leave any of your—” she put her hand up to her mouth to shield it from the kids’ table, lowered her voice, and enunciated clearly, “—dildos, ticklers, butt plugs, or other toys,” she raised her voice to her normal tone, “lying around like the last time.”
Joanne gave out a loud “Ha!” and almost spit out her food. It was so loud everyone stopped talking and looked at her. “Sorry,” she said sheepishly. “Carry on.”
Zoey tried to cover her blushing face with her hand as she shook her head. “I promise. Mickey and I will do a quick inspection before you come over to make sure there will be no embarrassing moments like the last time.” A smile crept across her face. “Although I’ll never forget the look on your face when Betty walked out of the bathroom, holding out my crotchless underwear, and asked how they got ripped. You’ve got to admit that was classic.” They started laughing.
“That was hilarious,” Carol said sarcastically. She thought for moment. “Hey, that was the last time we did Christmas at your house.”
The women fell silent, letting their minds wander to think about each of their own lives since that time. Carol looked at her own children, now almost teenagers. Joanne thought of her kids and her brother Jonathan and his divorce. She saw him sitting at the kids’ table with his son, feeding him mashed potatoes. Zoey thought of all of wonderful things she had done with Mickey. “Time flies,” she added.
“You got that right,” Joanne said with melancholy. “Nothing stays the same.”
Zoey could tell sadness was creeping into Joanne’s thoughts because of Jonathan’s divorce. She reached over and squeezed her friend’s hand and whispered, “It’ll be all right,” in her ear, adding, “I promise.” Joanne smiled and nodded.
“Seriously, though, Carol’s right about Christmas, Zoey,” Joanne said. “Don’t go overboard.”
“Are you kidding?” Zoey replied with a smile. “You forget that Mickey and I don’t have family. You guys are all we’ve got. Mickey is home and I’m in a good mood.”
“Well, can we bring anything?” Carol asked.
“Nope,” Zoey insisted. “I’ve got it all under control. You know how much Stella likes to throw parties. She’s just as excited about it as I am. And now that Mickey’s home, I’ve got a helper.” The women looked at each other before they burst out laughing.
Zoey felt relaxed, even happy. She looked across the table at Mickey. He was smiling and talking to the guys. Suddenly her anxiety came back full force. She reached out and grabbed her wine glass. She hoped Carol and Joanne didn’t notice that her hand was shaking, but they did. The smiles on their faces vanished in an instant and turned to concern.
“Zoey, are you all right?” Carol asked in a low tone. “What’s wrong?”
Zoey could feel her face redden. “Oh, it’s nothing. I’m fine,” she answered, not convincing anyone.
“You are most certainly not fine,” Carol said as she got up and motioned to the kitchen. “Come on, ladies.” The women flanked Zoey and ushered her into the kitchen.
“Now, what’s going on?” Carol asked as Zoey leaned against the kitchen counter. “Are you and Mickey fighting?”
Zoey chuckled, “Oh, God no. It’s just…” She hesitated.
Joanne put her arm around her friend. “It’s okay. You can tell us. We love you.”
Tears welled up in Zoey’s eyes and began rolling down her cheeks. “I keep getting the feeling that Mickey’s in danger, like something’s going to happen to him.” She began to gently sob as the women hugged her.
“Oh, sweetie,” Carol said softly. “I thought you were used to his being away by now. It never bothered you like this before. Do you know something we don’t?”
“No, yes, oh, I don’t know,” Zoey replied with confusion. “It’s just a feeling I’ve been getting lately. I’ve never felt such apprehension.”
“Maybe it’s just the Y2K thing and all the crazy things that have happened this year,” Carol said. “I know I freaked out when that kid went crazy at Columbine in April. I thought about my kids and their safety. And then when JFK Jr. died in that plane crash in July, how crazy was that? I thought about that for weeks. Everyone’s emotions are high right now.”
“That’s right,” Joanne said. “There’s a weird vibe going around the world. All those kooks who think the world will end just because it’s the end of the millennium… it’s nuts.”
Zoey regained her composure, taking comfort from her friends. “I guess you’re right. I’m being silly. But I don’t know what I would do if I didn’t have Mickey.” The thought of life without him brought another flood of tears.
Carol handed her a tissue and Zoey blotted her eyes dry. “Honey, you want to lie down for a while?” she asked. Zoey shook her head and declined the offer.
“You want some water?” Joanne asked as she reached for a glass and began to fill it. Zoey nodded and took the glass. The friends had never seen her so distraught.
Once again Zoey pulled herself together. “No, I’ll be all right.” She took a deep breath. “We’d better get out there or they’ll think something’s wrong. I don’t want Mickey to know how upset I am.”
“You sure you’re all right?” Joanne said as she put her arm around her friend.
Zoey straightened up and smoothed back her hair. “I’m fine,” she replied confidently. “Let’s go out there.” They all hugged.
“Grab a pie and the plates,” Carol said. “They’ll think we just came in to get dessert.”
Carol grabbed the pumpkin pie off the stove and Joanne took the cherry. Zoey picked up the nearby plates, spoons, and a knife off of the counter and grabbed the whipped cream can out of the fridge. They walked out together. All attention was focused on the pies.
It was about ten o’clock before Zoey and Mickey got to bed that night. “You were awfully quiet on the ride home,” he mentioned casually, reaching for her hand and kissing it. “Everything okay?”
“Sure. I’m fine, just tired.”
“No, you’re not,” he said firmly. “I know you. You’re not fine. Are you still worried about me?”
She hung her head before answering, “Yes.”
“Babe, I told you. I’ve got bodyguards. I’m never alone. There have been no specific threats against our company. I’m safe.”
“I know,” she replied, “but I’ve got this bad feeling. I can’t shake it.”
He felt helpless. “Zoey, I’m not in danger. Trust me.”
She began to doubt herself. “I guess you’re right.”
“Have I ever been wrong, babe?” He rolled over to his side and pulled her close. “Now, how about I do what I’ve wanted to do to you all day?” He planted a wet kiss on her mouth.
Felling safe and a little foolish, she relaxed completely. She was in the moment again. She kissed him back with passion and pressed her body to his. “Let’s,” she said. “Whatever you want, I’m all yours.”
“Oh, baby,” he moaned. “I’m on fire. That’s why I love you.”
Chapter 8
The feelings of trepidation gradually faded as the days went on, and Zoey began to enjoy the novelty of having Mickey home all the time. Well, most of the time. He took a few business trips, but they were just overnighters, and he
was always home late that night or the next day before noon.
He actually was a big help in organizing the Christmas party. Although everything was subject to Zoey’s final approval, he met with the caterers to choose the menu, picked out the floral arrangements, and as long as Zoey gave him a list of stores and complete descriptions, sizes, and brand names of the items to be purchased, he actually did Christmas shopping by himself while she was at work.
Dinner time with him every night was joyous. He attempted to cook a few meals, but Zoey had him so busy it was easier on them and Stella if they went out or had it brought in.
It had been a rough year for both of them. Zoey’s heavy case load and Jonathan’s divorce added extra stress. His case was different, however. She couldn’t help but be emotionally involved.
Mickey’s work became more political than legal and a lot more dangerous. World events were changing quickly and anti-American sentiment was fast becoming a big concern, especially when it came to oil. In the last two years he spent more time out of the country than in, and it didn’t look like that was going to change.
There was so much he was privy to that the public didn’t know. Things he couldn’t even tell Zoey, which was actually better. If she knew how perilous his job had become, she would make him quit. He actually thought about it himself. The job had lost its appeal. There was a new breed of contenders who played by different rules. It was all about money and corporate greed now. He put a lot of thought into it. Just a few more years and he could quit and be set for life. He hadn’t told Zoey anything about it in case things changed, but it was hard to keep it from her. They knew each other so well.
She had noticed the change in his demeanor the last few years. He was more somber. She had even asked why he didn’t smile as much anymore. She thought it was something she’d done. He blamed it on complicated contracts and difficult negotiations. But he knew she would figure it out sooner or later. It was no wonder she began to have panic attacks.
