want to touch me. It’s a real boost to my self-esteem, let me tell you.”
“Oh my God.” I reach across the table to cover Annelise’s hand. “Honey.”
“It’s driving me nuts. I’m at my wit’s end. I’m trying so hard, but he’s always so tired, so stressed. And when I touch him, it’s like he’s a block of stone.”
“I had no clue.”
“I didn’t want to say anything, but since we’re talking about sex. I welcome any suggestions you might have.”
“You could always borrow my strap-on.”
That gets a smile from Annelise. We both laugh.
Then I ask, “What have you tried?”
“Candles, nice dinners, wine. All that. Stuff to relax him and get him in the mood. But nothing’s been working. So, last week, I went to a…a sex shop. I picked up this slutty French maid’s outfit. It was raunchy, let me tell you.”
“That didn’t work?” I ask in surprise. I don’t know a man alive who doesn’t get turned on by the French maid fantasy.
Annelise shakes her head in disappointment. “He completely ignored me. Turned on a soccer game, and I don’t think he even likes soccer.”
“Wow. This calls for drastic measures.”
“I know, but what?”
Going to a swingers’ club…. But I don’t dare suggest that because I can’t admit to anyone that I went there with Adam, albeit unwillingly.
“I don’t know,” I say after a moment. “Let me think about it. In the meantime, I hope his stress level lessens. He is working on that big case.”
“I know, I know. Believe me, I know. And I feel for all those people who got sick from Kitler’s Cookies. I support all the hard work he’s doing. But isn’t sex supposed to be a great stress reliever?”
“I thought so. For Adam it definitely is.”
Annelise sighs softly, and she looks so disheartened that I can’t help but feel bad for her.
“Well,” I begin, “if this is work related, then it won’t go on forever. I know that’s not much comfort now, but tomorrow’s another day. Don’t give up hope.”
“I’m hanging in there,” she says. But she sounds as if she could burst into tears any moment.
Here I was, thinking I had it bad because Adam’s sexual appetite is endless. But maybe I don’t have it bad at all.
Sure, he wants to try everything, but like Annelise said, at least he’s trying it with me. He obviously trusts me with his fantasies, and that says a lot.
Yeah, I guess I’ve been a bit of a prude. Nothing is shameless between committed partners—between two people who love each other with their whole hearts and souls.
Chapter Five
Annelise
A ll that talk about sex with Claudia over dinner has me totally hot and bothered and completely frustrated. So the first thing I do when I head back home and find that Charles is still at work is lock myself in the bedroom and masturbate.
I imagine that I’m with the Charles from the early days of our relationship. The Charles who was always passionate for me, even when I woke up next to him with morning breath. The Charles who would slip his hand down my pants on a ride at an amusement park, or undo my blouse and fondle my breasts in a movie theatre. The Charles who would know with just a look that I was ready to make love.
“Charles, Charles, Charles,” I mutter as I touch myself, imagining it’s his fingers on me, his tongue tracing circles around my nipple.
I cry out as I climax, happily riding the sensuous wave—but only for a moment. Because immediately afterward I feel cold and empty. So cold and empty I could cry.
I have a husband, damn it. Why do I have to pleasure myself, when I have a man who’s young and should be wild about me?
“Forget Charles,” I tell myself and climb off the bed. I head to the bathroom and start the shower. Maybe cool water will help put out the fire inside me.
Ten minutes later, I step out of the shower and towel off. I try to forget about sex, but even as I apply scented lotion to my legs, I can’t help but think of the way
“Oh my God.” I reach across the table to cover Annelise’s hand. “Honey.”
“It’s driving me nuts. I’m at my wit’s end. I’m trying so hard, but he’s always so tired, so stressed. And when I touch him, it’s like he’s a block of stone.”
“I had no clue.”
“I didn’t want to say anything, but since we’re talking about sex. I welcome any suggestions you might have.”
“You could always borrow my strap-on.”
That gets a smile from Annelise. We both laugh.
Then I ask, “What have you tried?”
“Candles, nice dinners, wine. All that. Stuff to relax him and get him in the mood. But nothing’s been working. So, last week, I went to a…a sex shop. I picked up this slutty French maid’s outfit. It was raunchy, let me tell you.”
“That didn’t work?” I ask in surprise. I don’t know a man alive who doesn’t get turned on by the French maid fantasy.
Annelise shakes her head in disappointment. “He completely ignored me. Turned on a soccer game, and I don’t think he even likes soccer.”
“Wow. This calls for drastic measures.”
“I know, but what?”
Going to a swingers’ club…. But I don’t dare suggest that because I can’t admit to anyone that I went there with Adam, albeit unwillingly.
“I don’t know,” I say after a moment. “Let me think about it. In the meantime, I hope his stress level lessens. He is working on that big case.”
“I know, I know. Believe me, I know. And I feel for all those people who got sick from Kitler’s Cookies. I support all the hard work he’s doing. But isn’t sex supposed to be a great stress reliever?”
“I thought so. For Adam it definitely is.”
Annelise sighs softly, and she looks so disheartened that I can’t help but feel bad for her.
“Well,” I begin, “if this is work related, then it won’t go on forever. I know that’s not much comfort now, but tomorrow’s another day. Don’t give up hope.”
“I’m hanging in there,” she says. But she sounds as if she could burst into tears any moment.
Here I was, thinking I had it bad because Adam’s sexual appetite is endless. But maybe I don’t have it bad at all.
Sure, he wants to try everything, but like Annelise said, at least he’s trying it with me. He obviously trusts me with his fantasies, and that says a lot.
Yeah, I guess I’ve been a bit of a prude. Nothing is shameless between committed partners—between two people who love each other with their whole hearts and souls.
Chapter Five
Annelise
A ll that talk about sex with Claudia over dinner has me totally hot and bothered and completely frustrated. So the first thing I do when I head back home and find that Charles is still at work is lock myself in the bedroom and masturbate.
I imagine that I’m with the Charles from the early days of our relationship. The Charles who was always passionate for me, even when I woke up next to him with morning breath. The Charles who would slip his hand down my pants on a ride at an amusement park, or undo my blouse and fondle my breasts in a movie theatre. The Charles who would know with just a look that I was ready to make love.
“Charles, Charles, Charles,” I mutter as I touch myself, imagining it’s his fingers on me, his tongue tracing circles around my nipple.
I cry out as I climax, happily riding the sensuous wave—but only for a moment. Because immediately afterward I feel cold and empty. So cold and empty I could cry.
I have a husband, damn it. Why do I have to pleasure myself, when I have a man who’s young and should be wild about me?
“Forget Charles,” I tell myself and climb off the bed. I head to the bathroom and start the shower. Maybe cool water will help put out the fire inside me.
Ten minutes later, I step out of the shower and towel off. I try to forget about sex, but even as I apply scented lotion to my legs, I can’t help but think of the way
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