place is stunning. Outdoor Jacuzzi tubs, palm trees…This is romantic at its best.
I look heavenward and utter, “Thank you, God.”
Hours later, I can’t sleep.
Beside me, Charles is lightly snoring. He hasn’t touched me, of course, despite the red negligee I’m wearing. I know priests who couldn’t resist me in this outfit, yet Charles is painfully oblivious.
I stroke his arm. “Charles.”
He doesn’t move, so this time I shake his shoulder. I don’t care that it’s two in the morning. I want to make love, or at least talk to him.
“Charles.”
“Hmm?” he finally mutters.
“Sorry to wake you up,” I tell him. But I’m not. I need to talk to him about this, and it has to be now.
“What is it?” he asks in a sleep-filled voice.
“I was wondering…wondering if you might be able to take some time off work soon.”
“What?”
“There’s this place I found out about, and I’d like us to go. It’s in Arizona.”
Charles groans. “Can’t we talk about this in the morning?”
“I guess so…But I’m excited. Do you know when you will have some time?”
“I don’t know.”
“Can you check tomorrow?”
“What’s this about?”
Now I hesitate. “It’s about us reconnecting. Going away together so we get out of the routine we’re in.”
“Oh.” He pauses. “Can I go back to sleep now?”
My heart is beating hard as I edge my body closer to his. It shouldn’t be, damn it. This is my husband. I should feel one hundred percent comfortable holding him in the night, comfortable slipping my body onto his, comfortable taking his penis into my hands…But I don’t, because I’m afraid he’ll reject me.
Slowly, I slip an arm around him, settling my hand on his warm stomach. My fingers tease the hairs around his navel.
I don’t realize that I’m holding my breath until Charles does something that he hasn’t done in a long time.
He places a hand over mine.
A surge of warmth rushes through my body. I release the breath I was holding on a low moan. The ache inside me is so intense as I trail a finger down past his belly button, straight toward his groin. I feel the mass of hair and already I’m getting wet.
Finally, Charles and I are going to make love.
I cover him with my hand and as soon as I do, he covers my hand again. I press my lips against his shoulder. “Oh, Charles…”
He pries my fingers off of him.
“Ann, it’s two in the morning. I’m tired.”
I stifle my moan of disappointment as I roll over, but I can’t stop the tears filling my eyes.
I’m obviously desperate.
That explains what I’m doing here this afternoon, at my sister’s workplace, instead of at my studio developing the film I’m supposed to. I absolutely hate coming here, because I don’t agree with my sister’s lifestyle, but I have to face it—she gets laid and I don’t, so there’s clearly a thing or two I can learn from her.
Despite the eighty-five-degree weather, I’m wearing a scarf wrapped around my head, and the biggest, darkest sunglasses I own when I walk into the Pleasure Dome, the club where Samera works. When I called and didn’t get her at home or on her cell, I figured she had to be working, because even if she’s on a hot date, she always answers her cell.
The club is dark and smoky, just the way I’d expect a place like this to be. In the middle of the room, a large stage is illuminated with fluorescent blue lighting. For a Wednesday afternoon, I’m surprised that there’s more than a handful of men in the place, and I have to look around to find a table that’s unoccupied. It’s to the very far right of the stage. I keep my eyes focused on the table as I head toward it.
Only when I’m safely seated do I check out the stripper onstage. The woman performing has long black hair and is wearing a garter belt with no panties. The garter is stuffed with cash. I suspect the long black hair that hangs to her ass is a wig. Probably a French maid’s
I look heavenward and utter, “Thank you, God.”
Hours later, I can’t sleep.
Beside me, Charles is lightly snoring. He hasn’t touched me, of course, despite the red negligee I’m wearing. I know priests who couldn’t resist me in this outfit, yet Charles is painfully oblivious.
I stroke his arm. “Charles.”
He doesn’t move, so this time I shake his shoulder. I don’t care that it’s two in the morning. I want to make love, or at least talk to him.
“Charles.”
“Hmm?” he finally mutters.
“Sorry to wake you up,” I tell him. But I’m not. I need to talk to him about this, and it has to be now.
“What is it?” he asks in a sleep-filled voice.
“I was wondering…wondering if you might be able to take some time off work soon.”
“What?”
“There’s this place I found out about, and I’d like us to go. It’s in Arizona.”
Charles groans. “Can’t we talk about this in the morning?”
“I guess so…But I’m excited. Do you know when you will have some time?”
“I don’t know.”
“Can you check tomorrow?”
“What’s this about?”
Now I hesitate. “It’s about us reconnecting. Going away together so we get out of the routine we’re in.”
“Oh.” He pauses. “Can I go back to sleep now?”
My heart is beating hard as I edge my body closer to his. It shouldn’t be, damn it. This is my husband. I should feel one hundred percent comfortable holding him in the night, comfortable slipping my body onto his, comfortable taking his penis into my hands…But I don’t, because I’m afraid he’ll reject me.
Slowly, I slip an arm around him, settling my hand on his warm stomach. My fingers tease the hairs around his navel.
I don’t realize that I’m holding my breath until Charles does something that he hasn’t done in a long time.
He places a hand over mine.
A surge of warmth rushes through my body. I release the breath I was holding on a low moan. The ache inside me is so intense as I trail a finger down past his belly button, straight toward his groin. I feel the mass of hair and already I’m getting wet.
Finally, Charles and I are going to make love.
I cover him with my hand and as soon as I do, he covers my hand again. I press my lips against his shoulder. “Oh, Charles…”
He pries my fingers off of him.
“Ann, it’s two in the morning. I’m tired.”
I stifle my moan of disappointment as I roll over, but I can’t stop the tears filling my eyes.
I’m obviously desperate.
That explains what I’m doing here this afternoon, at my sister’s workplace, instead of at my studio developing the film I’m supposed to. I absolutely hate coming here, because I don’t agree with my sister’s lifestyle, but I have to face it—she gets laid and I don’t, so there’s clearly a thing or two I can learn from her.
Despite the eighty-five-degree weather, I’m wearing a scarf wrapped around my head, and the biggest, darkest sunglasses I own when I walk into the Pleasure Dome, the club where Samera works. When I called and didn’t get her at home or on her cell, I figured she had to be working, because even if she’s on a hot date, she always answers her cell.
The club is dark and smoky, just the way I’d expect a place like this to be. In the middle of the room, a large stage is illuminated with fluorescent blue lighting. For a Wednesday afternoon, I’m surprised that there’s more than a handful of men in the place, and I have to look around to find a table that’s unoccupied. It’s to the very far right of the stage. I keep my eyes focused on the table as I head toward it.
Only when I’m safely seated do I check out the stripper onstage. The woman performing has long black hair and is wearing a garter belt with no panties. The garter is stuffed with cash. I suspect the long black hair that hangs to her ass is a wig. Probably a French maid’s
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