Before me sat the most beautiful speed yellow 911 Targa 4S Porsche. For years, I’d lusted after this car, but I never actually thought I’d have one. We’d been saving to buy a house, and such a luxury seemed so far fetched.
“I know it isn’t a SUV or a family friendly mini-van, but it has four seats,” Christian said. “I figured that it could still fit a car-seat if it needed to, and we could save the SUV for when the kids are older and feel cramped in the back of the Porsche.”
“No one could ever feel cramped in this car,” I whispered, blinking repeatedly to make sure I wasn’t dreaming. “How?”
“How what?”
“How could we afford this?” I turned toward him and saw the pride displayed on his face.
“I landed the marketing campaign for the wine distributorship. This is only part of the advance.” The gleam in his eyes shouted his joy. Now they could move ahead full throttle with all their plans. “We’re in the clear, Kat. We can have it all.”
“I already do,” I said, going up on my toes and kissing the man of my dreams with the comfort and desire of true love. “I have you.”
“I love you,” he said between kisses. “I love you so much. And I promise to keep things interesting and make every day a little better for you.”
After a ride on the deserted city streets, we returned home, and I fell asleep in my husband’s arms, wondering how I’d ever gotten so lucky and promising myself to make every day as interesting for him.
It was exactly one hour since he’d stormed out of the apartment. One hour since he’d taken his tight ass out the door and didn’t look back, leaving me in a brand new red teddy with my tits spilling over and no one to attend to them.
Well, screw him. I wasn’t about to apologize for blowing my top. I wasn’t wrong. Just because he was the most wonderful man on the planet half the time, it didn’t mean I had to put up with his insults the rest of the time.
I deserved to be pissed. He gave me a freaking coat. Double x-large. It looked like a huge red sail and I didn’t want it. But he forced me to put it on. Naked. And then he’d ask for us to go downstairs and make love on the hood of the new Porsche!
No way. It was daylight. People would be coming and going, and we’d be exposed.
“That’s the thrill of it. The possibility of being caught,” he’d said.
“You’re nuts. Just because you gave me a car, doesn’t mean I’ll act like a whore and do it anywhere and anytime.”
“What the hell is wrong with you?” he’d said, pounding his fist into his hand. “You’re giving me mixed signals.”
“Am not.”
“Fine. You’re not. You’re just an ungrateful and unimaginative woman who can drive me insane with your mood swings.”
Ungrateful?
Unimaginative?
Then why had I concocted a whole new role playing scene for our flourishing sex life? And why had he left me all alone on Christmas? I lived with Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. He was unreasonable, blaming the fight on my mood swings and saying that no reasonable man could live with such a hormonal woman.
I was not hormonal!
Waiting for the popcorn to finish popping, I checked my cell for the millionth time. He hadn’t called. No text. No message directly to voicemail.
“If he wants out, I’ll give him out,” I yelled to no one but the walls. “I hate him.”
I kicked my red feathered, kitten-healed slippers under the table and headed into the bedroom. Lifting the window frame, I reached for the nearest thing I could find to toss the three stories down onto the snow covered lawn. My fingers closed over the worn denim of his favorite pair of Levis. He’d placed them on my makeup table just before he’d started laughing at my lack of adventure. Just before he thought I’d swoon over his suggestion to add excitement and strip out of my clothes to parade around town with him in my new red coat.
As if I hadn’t shown him my
adventurous
side the past week? Damn, he had me being adventurous on
I took aim at the gross mixture of snow and mud near the sidewalk and threw like a quarterback in the Super Bowl. The slush splattered as the jeans met their target.
“Ha! You should appreciate that one. Six points for me. Pass complete.”
I threw my hands in the air and did a manic end-zone dance all the way to his bureau. Pulling out his Hard Rock Cancun t-shirt, an Aerosmith shirt, and his favorite threadbare sweater from ten Christmases ago, I walked back to the window and dropped them straight down this time. Watching the colorful garments flutter to the white ground sent a thrill of victory to my gut. It unclenched and started to do a dance of its own.
The smell of burnt popcorn reached my nose and my moment of triumph collapsed with the same intensity it had set on. The stench spread, and gray smoke infused every nook in the house. I walked through the rest of the apartment, opening windows as I made my way to the kitchen in order to throw out the offensive snack.
Adrenaline drummed through my body. I felt so tightly strung, that I knew I would snap if I didn’t calm down. So, as soon as all the windows were open, and the thirty degree air-out was under way, I made some coffee, passed on the popcorn in favor of some store bought brownies, and plopped down in front of the television set to watch a marathon of holiday movies in my lace teddy, all alone.
I needed the sanity that came with veging for a few hours and staring numbly at the screen. George Clooney had always proved to be good medicine, so he was my first choice. Once George had me back in the mood, I would splurge the twenty bucks needed for my harem of well hung men and bring out my B.O.B. to get off on my own.
I was adventurous. And, I could prove it. I didn’t need
him
. For all I cared, Christian could take a hike and not come back.
My clit didn’t agree. It gave a protesting throb, missing Christian, as my mind replayed the way he’d woken me up in the morning
.
His tongue circled the tip of my nipple which was jutting through the lace of the bustier. His fingers splayed over the lower part of my ass and moving in a definite path to my wet folds. I was so hot for him that I ached. An erotic haze settled around us. I placed my hands on his shoulders for balance as he dropped his head and moved the lace panty to the side, exposing my bare skin. His thumb settled on my clit and his tongue slid between my aching pussy. I was about to come, one more flick and I would have been over the edge, but the phone rang.
The moment was temporarily lost as his family confirmed the time for breakfast. I was on the phone, as he slyly licked his lips and lowered himself between my legs. I tried to push him away, but he held me tight and refused to let me close my legs. Trying to finish the conversation, I dropped the phone as his tongue caressed my clit and his fingers filled me. Thankfully, he pulled the cord from the jack and disconnected the call.
“Merry Christmas,” I’d said as my orgasm hit.
I smiled and had a wonderful day, up until the moment he’d pushed me too far. It was his fault, not mine. So, where did he get the idea that I was hormonal? How dare he accuse me of being hard to live with?
I told him I didn’t need his shit, and he flipped. He was the hormonal one, not me. The yelling which followed left my throat sore. It had been brutal, and I didn’t want to think of it.
Turning up the volume on the television, I focused on George, but George wasn’t helping. The image of Christian’s face between my thighs was stuck in my mind. In a frustrated search for some delayed gratification, I rubbed my clit. Round and round, the friction and heat burned, but I couldn’t come. I ground my hips up to my hand, tweaked my nipple through the lace, and nothing. Nada. Couldn’t do it alone.
Tears filled my eyes, and I grew angrier with each one that spilt. There was no doubt that I was crying over him. I was crying because I wasn’t enough. I didn’t have the guts to make him happy. Anyway, he was asking for way too much. I couldn’t let him
eat
me on the hood of my new car. It just wasn’t right. I was not an exhibitionist. Even the way he’d said ‘eat’ was crude.
Moisture pooled between my thighs. My mind might be a prude, but my body liked it.
Throwing my head back on the couch in frustration, I spied the candles I’d set up for my night of seduction. Unfortunately, burnt popcorn had settled into my skin, in my hair, and on the cushions of the couch. It turned my stomach a little bit more with each breath I took. I’d be stuck with the revolting smell for days. I needed to light those freaking-fourteen-dollar-candles to get rid of the odor that was inhibiting my orgasm and enabling my sour mood.
Striking the matches, I stood and lit each of the candles. Seventy dollars worth of candles for me to enjoy on my own. Then it hit me. Christian’s favorite clothes were spared the clinging stench!
Damn, I got the short end of the stick again.
I hurried to the kitchen trash like a crazed woman. Fishing through the coffee grinds and paper towels I’d intentionally stuffed the can with only moments earlier, I pulled out the singed popcorn that was sealed in two plastic supermarket bags and a gallon-sized baggie. Carrying my weapon at arm’s length, I hurried back to the bedroom and emptied Christian’s t-shirt drawer on the floor. Then I unzipped the baggie, poured out the popcorn, and set it in the center of the pile. I jumped on it and rolled my body from one end to the other, making sure the smell was evenly distributed. I gathered the mess in my arms, walked to the window, and simply dropped it.
There! Now, his clothes stank as bad as mine did and had the added benefit of being wet.
Maybe I was just a little hormonal.
Maybe.
But, who cared?
The shivering got too great for my body to handle and I wondered what would get me first: the icy cold or my nerves? I slammed the window shut. Grabbing the throw at the foot of the bed, I tried to return to George on my forty-two inch plasma, but there was ‘some sort of something’ at the door. Not a knock, not a pounding… it sounded again. Louder the second time.
“Open the door,” a muffled voice called. “Kat, open the door before I kick it in.”
It was Christian. But why wasn’t he using his key?
I contemplated letting him stay out there, but I simply couldn’t do it. Hearing his voice melted my resolve, and I wanted to give him a chance. Still shivering from the cold, I stretched up and slid the chain off its latch. “You’d better not have anyone with you,” I warned.
I cracked the door open and leaned to the side to peek at him. There he stood, grinning at me like he’d just gone out to the corner store and forgot his key on a regular night. His damp hair was covered with fresh snow, his cheeks stung with red cold dots, and his stinky clothes were snug in his arms.
At the sight of him, my traitorous heart beat faster and was about to explode when he dropped his bundle and gathered me into his arms, holding me to him like a long lost treasure. I sank into him, inhaling the fresh woodsy scent so different than the one that had engulfed me in the apartment. My hands snaked under his jacket and around his back. My fingers clenched onto his sweater and I buried my sobbing face into his chest.
“I wasn’t sure you’d come back,” I said.
“I’m here. I could never leave. No matter what,” he breathed against the top of my head, rocking me in his embrace. His broad hand cupped the back of my head and held it against the melting snow just beneath his shoulder. I could feel the erratic beat of his heart, and I could hear the air pushing through his lungs. “Let me kiss it and make it all better,” he said, using his thumb to raise my chin, and then lowered his head and captured my lips.
I thought I tried to refuse, which looking back on, I must admit wasn’t much, I couldn’t. I knew the double meaning of those words, but I couldn’t push him away again. I couldn’t risk losing him. I wrapped my arms around his neck, intertwined my fingers in his hair, and ensured that his lips wouldn’t leave mine. I’d make him understand.
Christian’s hands sprawled down my back, settling on the curves of my bottom, and he pulled me tightly so that my body was flush with his. He kicked the clothing through the apartment’s threshold, and placing my bare feet on his boots, walked me backwards through the tiny hallway.
I needed him. In spite of the cold he brought in from outside, the heat of his body soothed my trembling and chased away the shivers. The taste of bitter ale lingering on his lips urged my mind into a state of instant intoxication. And lastly, it was his groans of strained control that fed my battered ego.
He wanted me.
He needed me more than I needed him because I could stop at any time.
Couldn’t I?
Propping me against the wall, he shrugged out of his jacket and let it fall to the floor. He stepped out of his boots and threw them to the rubber mat. Then he shook the melting snow from his hair and turned to me with a sheepish grin. “Sorry, Kat.”
I waited, but he didn’t elaborate. What the hell was he sorry for?