Listed: Volume V (11 page)

“I’m
good,” she told him. “Come, Paul. Come.”

He
might have wanted to argue, but he didn’t have enough restraint. With a muffled
groan, he began to thrust again, even faster and harder than before. She
squeezed him intimately and with her arms and her legs, holding him as tightly
as she could since it felt like he was on the verge of breaking.

Then
he broke. He let out a hoarse roar, and his face ducked into the hollow of her
neck as he jerked against her with clumsy urgency.

She
loved how it felt when he let go, loved how it felt when he started to relax,
when his body started to soften in her arms. She loved that he needed her as
much as she needed him—even though the knowledge still sent shivers of panic
through her that she had to repress.

She
stroked his back. He was gasping as he pulled himself together, and it took her
a minute before she realized he was gasping out, “I love you, baby. I love
you.”

She
wanted to cry—for so many reasons. But she didn’t. She said, “I love you too.”

***

Emily stared down at
the wrinkled, faded page on which were written the fourteen items of her list.

Nine
of the items were crossed off. She had only two more Shakespeare plays to read,
and then she could cross off the tenth item. But that left four more remaining.

Part
of her wanted to put the list away—fold it up and put it back into the
nightstand drawer where she kept it. She wanted to pretend she didn’t need the
list anymore, that it was no longer relevant since she was being cured by the experimental
treatments.

But
the weight in her gut that never really went away told her she did still need
her list. She’d gotten so far already, and she didn’t want to die without
completing it.

She
wasn’t sure how long she had left to live.

She’d
gotten another treatment and blood test that morning. Nothing had changed,
according to Dr. Franklin. He was going to try something else.

It
was too early to give up hope, but she just couldn’t assume she was going to
live. Her life wasn’t some silly, shallow story where all troubles disappeared
at the moment the couple realized they were in love.

She
loved Paul. And Paul loved her.

And
she might die anyway.

Her
list still mattered to Emily. Paul couldn’t leave town right away because of
his responsibilities at work, so three of the items couldn’t yet be
accomplished.

But
there was one other thing. One thing she could do on her own in Philadelphia.

Paul
wasn’t going to like it.

But,
since it was important to Emily, she squared her shoulders and stood up from
the edge of the bed, where she’d been sitting.

Paul
was in his office, of course. He always went there when he was upset. Buried
himself in work so he wouldn’t have to dwell on what he couldn’t control.

Emily
tapped on the office door. It was only halfway closed, and she pushed it open
when Paul looked up from his computer.

He
smiled at her faintly, looking too tired and too guarded. “You feel all right?”

“Yeah,”
Emily said, walking into the study. She’d had a fever the day before, but she
felt mostly all right today. No fever. Just endlessly aching. “I’m fine. Just
looking at this.” She showed him the wrinkled list in her hand.

Paul
nodded slowly, as if he understood. “Sorry we got interrupted. I think I should
have a few days at the end of next week. We can go to Hawaii to climb the
volcano and maybe fit in at least one of the other items.”

“Thanks,”
Emily murmured, leaning against the edge of his desk next to where he was
sitting in his chair. “I don’t mind doing some of them on my own. I really
don’t want to get in the way of your work stuff.”

Frowning,
Paul replied, “You’re not in the way of anything. I want to go with you. I can
talk to Dr. Franklin and see if there’s a way to continue any treatments he
comes up with while we travel.”

Emily
nodded again. Then she reached over and picked up Paul’s left hand from where
it was resting on the arm of his chair. She held it in both of her hands,
looking down at the strong, slender fingers and the simple platinum wedding
band. She stroked his palm with her thumb.

Paul
cleared his throat. “Just tell me.”

She
cut her eyes up to his face and swallowed. “There is one thing on my list I can
do now.”

His
features twisted briefly before he composed them. “Is this is your way of
breaking it to me gently?”

Emily
smiled and met his eyes. “I should have done it early on, but I was too scared.
It would have been a lot easier for both of us if I’d done it first, though. It
wouldn’t have bothered you so much back then.”

“It
would have bothered me,” Paul said. “I never would have been all right with my
wife stripping for other men.”

“It’s
not really stripping,” she objected quickly. When he just arched his eyebrows,
she hurried on, “I mean, it will be sort of like that, but I’m not going to get
totally naked or anything.”

“I
should think not.” His voice was low and slightly rough, and something
primitive had flared up in his eyes.

Emily
released a long sigh. “I’m sorry. I know it’s not want you want, but I really
want to do it. I want to finish my list.”

“Why
the hell is stripping even
on
your list?”

“I
know it's a little weird, but I’ve always been kind of…kind of insecure about
my ability to attract men. When I was twelve…I don’t know, doing a sexy
striptease on stage seemed like a symbol of my being a confident, desirable
woman. A woman that men would want.”

“Of
course, men want you,” Paul said in almost a growl. “Can’t you just do a dance
for me?”

Despite
herself, Emily almost snickered. “Nice try, but that’s not what I was
envisioning when I wrote the list. I’m sorry, Paul. I really am. But I want to
complete the list for real—not just give it lip-service.”

She
stared down at his face worriedly. She didn’t need his permission, but she
really wanted his support. It was going to be hard enough to go through with
this as it was.

When
she saw the resistance in his expression break slightly, she continued, “I’ve
talked to Stacie about it. She knows a club that has an amateur night on Sunday
evenings. She says the mood is more fun than sleazy, and she’ll help me
practice the dance. I could do it this weekend and get it over with. Stacie
will go with me.”

Paul
straightened up in his desk chair. “
I’ll
be going with you too,” he said
with a frown.

Relieved
that he’d accepted the idea, Emily squeezed his warm hand with both of hers.
“You can come if you want, of course, but I’d be more comfortable if I just
went with Stacie.”

“You
don’t even want me to come?”

“It’s
not that I don’t want you with me. It’s just that you’ll make me more
self-conscious, sitting there glowering.”

“I
won’t—”

“You
will too,” she interrupted with a fond smile. “I know that just the fact that
I’m doing this will be hard for you. You don’t have to actually be there, Paul.
I’m a big girl. I can do this on my own.”

She
wasn’t sure at all how he would respond. She knew he was a possessive,
territorial. She knew he was used to controlling things. He’d been working on
letting go a little in his relationship with her, but he hadn’t yet let go very
much. And having his wife do a striptease on stage in front of a club full of
strangers would force him to let go of more control than he could easily do.

Paul
stared at an empty spot in the air for a minute. Then he finally let out his
breath and gave a stiff nod. “All right.”

Emily
relaxed and squeezed his hand again. “Thank you. It won’t be that bad.”

“You
say that now…”

She
giggled and leaned down to hug him. He pulled her into his lap and held her
tightly.

Burying
his face in her hair, he murmured dryly, “You’re sure you don’t want to just
strip for me? I promise I’ll be a very receptive audience.”

She
laughed again. “If you’re very good, I’ll give you a private showing on Sunday
when I get back from the club.”

She
was relieved when he laughed too, low and husky.

He
held her for a few minutes in silence, and she took comfort in his lean strength.
She knew by the tension in his arms that he was trying to work through his
instinctive need to hold onto anything that was his.

The
striptease would be hard for Emily. Just the idea of it made her heart flutter
nervously. But, in some ways, her doing it would be even harder for Paul.

“It’s
important to me,” she said after a long while, making one more attempt to
explain why she was pursuing such a silly thing when it wasn't really what
either of them wanted. “The list is important.”

Paul
brushed a kiss against her hair. “I know it is, baby. If it’s important to you,
then it’s important to me too.”

*
* *

Late on Sunday evening,
Emily came home from the club, exhausted and kind of shaky. She was happy she’d
managed to do the striptease, but she was really glad it was over.

And
it felt like she was getting sick again.

She’d
had a fever the previous day, but she‘d felt better that morning, so she spent
most of the afternoon practicing her dance with Stacie.

Her
dance was short and simple, since Emily wasn’t the best dancer in the world and
had only limited time to practice. She and Stacie had gone shopping that
morning and had decided on her outfit. Since Emily was already nervous, Stacie
had suggested that she not wear something too tacky or overtly sexual - like a
dominatrix or an exotic showgirl. So they’d found a prim librarian outfit with
old-fashioned blouse and wrap skirt that could be easily taken off, which she’d
worn with a bun, heels, and glasses. And she’d strip down to a vintage bustier,
lace panties, garter-belt and stockings. It was very sexy, but wouldn’t
actually reveal any more of her body than a swimsuit would.

Emily
had been absolutely terrified by the time they got to the club for amateur
night. If Stacie hadn’t been with her, she definitely would have chickened out.
She felt a little better when she started to see some of the other acts. None
of the other women were much better than she would be, and the audience seemed
to enjoy them anyway.

But,
when it got to her turn, she was terrified again, and Stacie practically had to
push her onto the stage.

Emily
had been a hit—getting a better audience response than any other of the
amateurs performing. In some ways, it was gratifying. She’d known for many
weeks that Paul found her sexy, but it was nice to know that strangers could
too.

By
the time her dance was over, though, Emily was quite sure she never wanted to
do it again. Being ogled by strangers just didn’t come close to being admired
by someone who loved her.

So,
when she returned to the apartment afterwards, Emily was glad she had summoned
the courage to do it, but she was ready to cross it off her list and be done
with it.

She
went to the office immediately and was surprised that Paul wasn’t there. She’d
figured he would have spent the evening buried in work to distract himself from
thinking about her.

She
searched the apartment and finally found him in the master bathroom. He’d just
gotten out of the shower, but he opened the door at her knock, a towel slung
low around his hips.

“How
was it?” he asked, smiling at her, his face mostly relaxed although his eyes
looked a little stressed.

“It
was fine,” she said, grinning back despite the fatigue that kept creeping up on
her. “I did pretty well.”

“I’m
sure you did.” He came out of the bathroom and went into the closet to get a
pair of pajama pants.

“What
have you been doing?” she asked. “I thought you’d still be working.”

“I
couldn’t focus, so I worked out instead.”

The
words were mild, but Emily suddenly understood what they meant. He’d probably
spent the last couple of hours working out his frustrations on the weights and
treadmill. He was acting perfectly calm about the whole situation, but she knew
it must have been hard for him.

Paul
dropped his towel and pulled on the soft, black pajama pants. Emily watched,
absently admiring his lean hips, long legs, and other impressive body parts.

He
studied her face after he pulled up the pants. “You don’t look like you had a
very good time.”

She
shrugged. “I’m really glad I did it, and I’m glad I did a good job. But I
definitely don’t want to do it again.”

His
lips turned up slightly. “Good. I know some men are fine with it, but I’m not
sure I could handle having my wife stripping for other men regularly.”

She
walked over to hug him. “Thanks for understanding, Paul,” she whispered.