kiss on the forehead. “You look great, hon!”
“Now we have to get you into costume,” she said, taking his hand and leading him toward the staircase.
“Me in costume?” Jacob stopped midstride. He had no intention of wearing a silly costume. “What are you talking about?”
Naomi tugged at his hand. “Come on, Jacob. You’re going to be the Narrator. I already have the outfit laid out on the bed.”
When they reached the bedroom, there, in the center of the bed, was a gray flannel, three-piece suit, a white French-cuffed shirt, horn-rimmed spectacles, and three leather-bound, oversized storybooks. He breathed in a sigh of relief, glad that he didn’t have to dress as some grotesque ogre with a hunchback and an exaggerated limp.
“What happened to Tinky Winky and the gang?” he asked, referring to the original party theme.
“Noah has outgrown the Teletubbies,” Naomi said, picking up one of the volumes. “Now, Jacob, as the Narrator, all you have to do is read a fairy tale from each book.” She handed him thescarlet, leather-bound book. “This one is ‘Little Red Riding Hood.’ The other two are ‘Rapunzel’ and ‘Rumpelstiltskin.’ ”
Most people didn’t realize that the German-born Grimm brothers wrote not of dreamy idyllic fairy tales, but of the often cruel and poverty-stricken life of Europe in the early 1800s. Over the centuries, their crude tales were softened into children-friendly stories. “I think I can manage that,” Jacob said, and began to change into his costume.
“Don’t be long. The natives are getting restless. After Zorro performs a few sword tricks, they’ll be ready for a story.” Naomi turned to leave, but stopped. “So”—she ran her hand up and down her midsection—“you like the dress?” she asked suggestively.
“Yeah, it really looks great on you.”
“I bet it’ll even look better on the floor, once I take it off tonight.” Naomi had purposely chosen the sexy costume to make her husband drool with desire.
Jacob cast his eyes to the costume on the bed. He had forgotten about his earlier promise to make love to his wife, but obviously she hadn’t. “Yep, I bet so,” he said lamely.
“Once the parents pick up their kids, and I put Noah to bed,
we are
going to bed, and I don’t mean to sleep.” Naomi walked over to her husband, grabbed him around the neck, and gave him a juicy kiss. “Don’t disappoint me tonight, Jacob. We’re long overdue, and I’m horny as hell.”
“I promise, honey, tonight is our night.” He unwrapped her arms from around his neck and said, “Now go on downstairs, before Noah starts looking for you.”
As soon as she left, Jacob began taking off his clothes and dressing the part of the Narrator. He looked at the books and wished that he could read every single last page in order to prolong putting off the dreaded lovemaking.
He was buttoning the last button on the vest when his cellphone rang. He walked over to the dresser and picked it up. “Jacob Reed speaking.”
“Jacob, I’m so glad I caught you. I just called your office and Charlotte said you had left for the day.”
“Hello, Mira.” He looked at his watch. “Aren’t you supposed to be in the meeting with the board?”
“Exactly!” she shouted in a muffled hush, as if trying not to be overheard.
By the tone of her voice, he detected something was amiss. “Mira, what’s going on? Why aren’t you in the meeting?”
“Because I’m in the lobby waiting for your ‘more than qualified’ associate,” Mira spat out, quoting his description of Nina.
“Calm down, Mira. She’s only a few minutes late. I’m sure there’s a logical explanation. She’s probably lost, or in a traffic jam,” he suggested.
Mira exhaled loudly. “Jacob, you know I despise tardiness.” She then continued. “I should have insisted that you come, instead of some lame-brained associate who can’t even find her way around London.”
Mira Rhone was the epitome
“Now we have to get you into costume,” she said, taking his hand and leading him toward the staircase.
“Me in costume?” Jacob stopped midstride. He had no intention of wearing a silly costume. “What are you talking about?”
Naomi tugged at his hand. “Come on, Jacob. You’re going to be the Narrator. I already have the outfit laid out on the bed.”
When they reached the bedroom, there, in the center of the bed, was a gray flannel, three-piece suit, a white French-cuffed shirt, horn-rimmed spectacles, and three leather-bound, oversized storybooks. He breathed in a sigh of relief, glad that he didn’t have to dress as some grotesque ogre with a hunchback and an exaggerated limp.
“What happened to Tinky Winky and the gang?” he asked, referring to the original party theme.
“Noah has outgrown the Teletubbies,” Naomi said, picking up one of the volumes. “Now, Jacob, as the Narrator, all you have to do is read a fairy tale from each book.” She handed him thescarlet, leather-bound book. “This one is ‘Little Red Riding Hood.’ The other two are ‘Rapunzel’ and ‘Rumpelstiltskin.’ ”
Most people didn’t realize that the German-born Grimm brothers wrote not of dreamy idyllic fairy tales, but of the often cruel and poverty-stricken life of Europe in the early 1800s. Over the centuries, their crude tales were softened into children-friendly stories. “I think I can manage that,” Jacob said, and began to change into his costume.
“Don’t be long. The natives are getting restless. After Zorro performs a few sword tricks, they’ll be ready for a story.” Naomi turned to leave, but stopped. “So”—she ran her hand up and down her midsection—“you like the dress?” she asked suggestively.
“Yeah, it really looks great on you.”
“I bet it’ll even look better on the floor, once I take it off tonight.” Naomi had purposely chosen the sexy costume to make her husband drool with desire.
Jacob cast his eyes to the costume on the bed. He had forgotten about his earlier promise to make love to his wife, but obviously she hadn’t. “Yep, I bet so,” he said lamely.
“Once the parents pick up their kids, and I put Noah to bed,
we are
going to bed, and I don’t mean to sleep.” Naomi walked over to her husband, grabbed him around the neck, and gave him a juicy kiss. “Don’t disappoint me tonight, Jacob. We’re long overdue, and I’m horny as hell.”
“I promise, honey, tonight is our night.” He unwrapped her arms from around his neck and said, “Now go on downstairs, before Noah starts looking for you.”
As soon as she left, Jacob began taking off his clothes and dressing the part of the Narrator. He looked at the books and wished that he could read every single last page in order to prolong putting off the dreaded lovemaking.
He was buttoning the last button on the vest when his cellphone rang. He walked over to the dresser and picked it up. “Jacob Reed speaking.”
“Jacob, I’m so glad I caught you. I just called your office and Charlotte said you had left for the day.”
“Hello, Mira.” He looked at his watch. “Aren’t you supposed to be in the meeting with the board?”
“Exactly!” she shouted in a muffled hush, as if trying not to be overheard.
By the tone of her voice, he detected something was amiss. “Mira, what’s going on? Why aren’t you in the meeting?”
“Because I’m in the lobby waiting for your ‘more than qualified’ associate,” Mira spat out, quoting his description of Nina.
“Calm down, Mira. She’s only a few minutes late. I’m sure there’s a logical explanation. She’s probably lost, or in a traffic jam,” he suggested.
Mira exhaled loudly. “Jacob, you know I despise tardiness.” She then continued. “I should have insisted that you come, instead of some lame-brained associate who can’t even find her way around London.”
Mira Rhone was the epitome
Similar Books
