Coming Together: With Pride (29 page)

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www.mychaelblack.com

Fire and Ice

Cassie Exline

"Here's a cold beer and the sports section for you. A lemonade and magazine for me," I said, brushing a lock of his dark hair from his eyes and kissing his forehead, before sitting on my chaise lounge. I drew my knees up so David couldn't see what I had hidden in the magazine—the invitation to the Crystal Ball, which would be six months from today.

There were only fifty good seats in the Hamilton Center. Well, seats that were close to the dance floor. If I wanted one of them, I had to reserve a seat immediately. The problem was that tickets would be sold in pairs—for couples only. That meant I had to talk my husband into going with me. Normally, one of my girlfriends would go, but it wouldn't work for this Ball, not when the evening featured ballroom dancing—from the foxtrot to the Viennese waltz. David hated what he called "fancy Nancy" dancing.

I sipped my drink while plotting my mission. The check for the Ball had to be in the mail as soon as possible. I wanted a good seat. Too bad today was the day that he planned a cookout with his family. I glanced at my watch and was pleased to discover I had three hours before anyone was expected to arrive. Plenty of time to convince my husband that he wanted to go to the Ball.

"Please!"

"No, Muriel. I'm not going to the Crystal Ball or any ball."

"Oh, honey, please."

"You know I can't dance."

"David, we slow dance all the time,"

"We sway. I barely move my feet. Besides, I'll never be a Fred Astaire to your Ginger Rogers."

"Aw... Come on, please."

"Drop it." David raised the newspaper so he couldn't see me. "If it's that important, you can go by yourself and watch."

"The tickets are for couples." I settled deeper into the chaise lounge. David could be so stubborn at times. "There's only a few good seats, and I need to RSVP now to guarantee them."

"No!"

"Just one dance, and that's all." I had belonged to a dance troupe back in college and loved to dance. One dance was better than none.

He lowered the paper and peered over the top. "You're telling me that you'll be content to just sit and watch after one dance?"

"Well..."

"See! I knew it! You'll get me there and beg and plead all evening to dance. I'm not Fred!"

"I don't want you to be!"

The paper went back up. It might as well have been a brick wall. I was going to have to be a lot more persuasive. While we were dating, David couldn't wait to get his arms around me on the dance floor. In fact, he couldn't wait to get his hands all over me. I took another sip of my lemonade and noticed the ice. The blouse I was wearing tied under my breasts, and I wasn't wearing a bra. I quickly untied the knot and let the white cotton fall loose. I fished an ice cube out of the glass and stood. "Honey, are you hot?"

"It feels good out here," he said behind his paper.

"I'm so hot, baby. Mmm..."

The paper dropped, and I went into my act, rubbing the ice cube over each nipple, while moaning and gyrating. Each pinkish aureole puckered and my nubbins became hard points filled with throbbing sensations. A trickle of water rolled down my stomach and pooled in my belly button before disappearing inside my shorts. Shivers raced through me.

"Oh, yes—you're hot," he said. "Come here and let me help you."

Trying not to grin or do a cheer of victory, I sauntered over, wiggling my hips and causing my breasts to sway back and forth. I tossed my head, and my long blonde curls danced in the air. When I reached him, I cupped my tits and held them together, brushing them against his waiting lips.

David took over, squeezing and kneading each breast, before sucking on my nipples. The fire from his tongue mingled with the fire the ice lit within me. When his teeth lightly grazed my nipples, desire coursed through my body.

"Yes, baby, yes," I whispered and pushed closer to him. His hot breath washed over me. His mouth and hands drove me wild. Those ice cubes weren't the only thing melting. I was going to have a major wet spot in my panties. I wanted his fingers buried deep in my cunt.

"Knock! Knock!"

Horrified, I looked over my shoulder to see my mother-in-law. I straightened and hurried to fix my blouse. "Uh, Bernice. We didn't hear you arrive." The material of my blouse adhered to my damp chest, clearly outlining my nipples, which looked and felt sharp enough to slice through the fabric. I managed to tie the knot firmly under my breasts before crossing my arms to cover myself.

"I guess not. Apparently you forgot you had guests coming over."

"Mom, you're not guests." David hurried to his mother and hugged her. "You're family."

Bernice had snuck around the back of the house and down the narrow alley. She sniffed and asked, "Are you all right, son?"

"Of course, Mom. Muriel was trying to con me into going to a dance. She can be so lusty at times. She has a one-track mind." He grinned at me behind his mother's back, and my face reddened.

Bernice glared at me. Her rose-colored lips were pinched tight as she shook her head. "Well, we knocked and knocked at the front door. It's the back yard, Muriel!"

David laughed out loud, and I wished a hole would open up and swallow me.

"Mother? Where did you go?" It was David's father.

"Dad?" David peeked down the alley. "Dad, c'mon back here."

An older version of David appeared. "Hello, son! Where's your mother?" He turned, spotted his wife, and faced his son. "That woman! One minute I'm trying to get the cooler out of the trunk, and when I turn around, she's gone!"

"Cooler?" David asked. A big smile crossed his face. "Did you bring a pie?"

David's father snorted. "Pies."

"A chocolate, a lemon meringue, and a coconut cream," Bernice said. "Well, I figured since Muriel is too busy to bake you anything, someone had to do it."

I smiled while trying not to break my teeth from clinching my mouth so tightly.

"Where is everyone?" David's sister yelled.

"Patty, we're back here!" David called and hurried to his sister. "Dad, I'll get the cooler."

The older man nodded.

After everyone's coolers were unloaded and the goodies put on the picnic tables, Patty held out a bag and said, "Here's your kitchen rug, Muriel."

I opened the bag and pulled out the hand-braided rug. "Oh, I love it. You picked the perfect colors. The rug will suit my kitchen to a T. Look, honey, isn't it beautiful?"

David ran his fingers over it and said, "Sis, you did a good job on this rug. It must have taken you weeks."

"Not really. It wasn't that hard. Besides, nothing is too much for my little brother," Patty said. "Oh, Mom, you have to come over and see the new curtains I made for the dining room. They turned out better than I hoped."

I saw David nudge his sister.

Patty cleared her throat. "Uh... You, too, Muriel. Please, come over."

"Yes, she should see them," Bernice said. "A man loves it when a woman decorates their home. It shows she appreciates how hard he works for her. Muriel, dear, I've noticed that you don't have flowers anywhere in the house. That's a shame."

I smiled, shrugged, and clinched my teeth.

"Patty, did you try that recipe for sweet potatoes I gave you?" Bernice asked.

"Last night. Harry loved it."

"You know, Muriel, it wouldn't hurt you to try to cook a little. David loves my sweet potatoes. Cooking is a much more necessary skill than dancing. A man loves a woman who cooks. It's not always about sex, dear."

"My goodness—pies, curtains, flowers, sweet potatoes, and no sex. I'm going to be a busy girl, and apparently horny," I said.

Bernice stiffened, and Patty giggled.

"Uh, honey, can you help me get the hamburgers from the kitchen?" David asked.

"Of course." I got up and almost ran into the house.

David was right behind me. "Now, Muriel, please. My mother means well."

"I just don't understand." I pulled out a chair and plopped down. "When we were dating, she seemed to like me."

"She does. She just worries about me."

David knelt beside me and took both of my hands. "It doesn't matter if you can't cook or make things. I love you."

"Does that mean you'll go to the Crystal Ball with me?"

"No!" David kissed my hands and stood. "Nice try, though." He got the hamburgers out of the refrigerator and headed outside toward the grill. "Come here, Dad. I need your expertise."

David's other sister arrived and from that moment on, I was left out of the conversation. Not that I had much to contribute. I didn't sew, cook or make rugs.

****

"They get in this huddle and go on and on about their latest project. I have nothing to offer," I said to David while we were cleaning up.

"You worry too much. I love you as you are." David kissed my forehead, and I sighed. "Muriel, if it bothers you that much, sign up for one of those sewing classes that Patty told you about."

"I don't see why I have to change to please Patty or anyone else in your family."

"You don't have to change—just bend a little. My mother and sisters don't understand a thing about your activities. They don't hike, bike, or swim. God knows they don't dance. So, they discuss what they know."

He was probably right. They were homemakers—homemakers of the June Cleaver variety. I'd never known anyone who made her own clothes, let alone knitted sweaters and scarves, crocheted doilies, made afghans, and hooked rugs. On top of that, those women were excellent cooks. I burned toast. David was the chef in our home, and that was only on the grill.

"Look, all I'm saying is go to that place and check it out."

I gritted my teeth but nodded. There was no need for a repeat performance of what happened when David asked his mother to sew a few buttons on his favorite shirt. I thought the woman was going to have a stroke. She gasped and clutched her chest. If she knew how those buttons got loose, I'd be more than dead.

As I wiped off the counter, I couldn't get that look out of my head. Perhaps I could bend. Since it was summer and I was off for the next couple months, it wouldn't hurt me to check out Needles & More. After all, I'd overheard Patty telling her mother that David's ex-fiancée was back in town and single. I knew she could do all those things that Bernice wanted me to do.

Needles & More was huge. The brochure stated that classes were offered on practically anything involving a needle—basic sewing, crocheting, knitting, cross-stitch, needlepoint, quilting, weaving, rug hooking, even stringing beads.

After I entered the building, I didn't move. There were groups of people everywhere, and all of them seemed to be talking at once. I was getting ready to leave when a well-dressed woman rushed over to greet me. "Hello. My name is Anna. Welcome to Needles & More. Can I help you?"