by K A Moll
“You bet I am,” Cyrus growled.
She went over his discharge paperwork; he signed, transferred from his bed to a wheelchair, was pushed toward the elevator, and then out the front door.
Coy assisted in his transfer from the chair to the front seat of her car. “Coby’s meeting should be over by now,” she announced, turning from the circle drive to the road. “I need to swing by to pick her up on our way home.”
Marigold leaned forward. “How often does she have to go?” she asked.
Coy glanced back. “Three times a week, for now,” she responded, adding, “she went to meetings every single day there for a while.”
“Sounds like me and my rehab program,” Cyrus commented.
“Yeah,” Coy agreed with a thin smile, “it kind of does.”
***
Coby looked up when Coy entered the room. “So, did you get your daddy all settled in?” she asked. She untied her shoes and set them on the floor of their huge closet.
“I sure did,” Coy said, shaking her head, “but it wasn’t easy. Boy, was he in a feisty mood this morning.”
“He was just all worked up. You know,” Coby continued, “because he finally got to come home and everything.”
“Yes, I’m sure you’re right,” Coy responded, “but do I ever hope he gets more cooperative as time goes on.” She shook her head. “I mean, he let me listen to his heart when he was first in the hospital, but wouldn’t have any part of it when I got him home.”
“He will,” Coby assured, leaning in to kiss her, “just give him a day or two. He probably feels like everything in his world is out of his control right now.”
“Yeah,” Coy agreed, “you’re probably right.” She released a breath. “I need to be more patient with him.”
“Maybe a little,” Coby responded. She smiled, biting her lip, as Coy unbuttoned her blouse and unhooked her bra.
“Oh my,” Coy reacted, catching her eye, “I don’t usually see that look at eleven o’clock in the morning.” She slipped on a long-sleeved t-shirt, trading nylons for socks.
“No, you don’t,” Coby responded as her gaze locked on. “Come here,” she beckoned. When Coy stepped within reach, she pulled her onto her lap, holding her close, and kissing her slowly.
“My goodness,” Coy cooed, “where did this come from?”
“It’s been building for a while,” Coby said, adding, “most of the morning for sure.” She shook her head slowly, holding Coy’s eye. “It’s silly, but your daddy’s discharge from the hospital was kind of like my line in the sand.”
Coy’s eyes narrowed, and she tilted her head.
Coby swallowed. “That’s how long I gave myself to get ready,” she added, “to choose love over fear.”
“I hope that means what I think it does,” Coy responded with a quiet breath.
“It does,” Coby answered. “You said you wanted me to tell you when I was ready.” She pressed her lips together with a nod, and kissed her again. “So I’m telling you.”
Coy took another soft breath, letting it go slowly. “We’ve waited this long, honey,” she said. “Surely you don’t mean you want us to squeeze in a quickie before lunch…Right?”
“No baby,” Coby laughed with a kiss on her forehead, “definitely not a quickie before lunch.”
“That’s good then,” Coy responded, palming her cheek, and peering into her eyes, “because when I make love to you, I want it to be relaxed and easy, not rushed.”
***
“You’re quite somethin’ with that knife,” Marigold said, popping in from the sunroom to join Coby.
“If you say so,” Coby responded.
“Well, I do,” Marigold said as she squeezed her shoulder a couple of times. “Tell me, darlin’,” what can I do to help you finish up?”
Coby paused her chopping to catch her eye with a big smile. “Not a thing,” she said, “I’ve pretty much got it all under control.”
“I’m sure you do,” Marigold responded, “but I need to learn to fix good lookin’, good tastin’ food that’s healthy if I want to keep my husband alive.” She put on her apron. “So, what can I do to help?”
Coby met her gaze. “You can chop that mango for the spinach salad,” she responded without further argument.
Marigold raised an eyebrow. “Not sure I’ve ever tasted one,” she commented, “let alone chopped it.”
“Here, let me show you how,” Coby said, setting her own project aside to help her. “First, you position the point away from you,” she instructed, “and then you slice off the cheek with a serrated knife.” She demonstrated with the first cut. “Then you lay it skin side down, and score the flesh in a crisscross pattern all over.” She positioned the mango, making a cut, and watching her student give the technique a try. “Good,” she said. “Now, you just cut the flesh away from the skin and do the same with the other side.” She smiled. “Simple, huh?”
“If you say so,” Marigold responded, looking over at the preparation of the main entrée. “What are you working on over there?” she asked.
“Crunchy tuna wraps,” Coby responded as she julienned a pile of celery. She’d chopped the spinach and roasted red peppers before Coy’s mama had joined her. “I use Greek yogurt instead of mayo to make the tuna salad creamy without adding extra fat, and of course, I serve it on whole wheat wraps.”
“Of course you do,” Marigold responded, suppressing a smile. “Which all translates into lower cholesterol.”
“Exactly,” Coby responded, continuing to chop.
“I remember Coy mentioning your tuna salad,” Marigold said. “She liked it a lot.”
“Yes, she did. She does,” Coby responded with a smile.
“Coy said you learned to cook when you were courtin’ her,” Marigold went on, catching her eye. “She said you never cooked before you got to Antarctica.”
“That’s all true,” Coby responded, smiling even wider, and blushing. She looked down, julienning her last stalk of celery. “It worked out pretty well for both of us.” When she glanced toward the doorway, she caught Coy’s eye. “Hi,” she greeted softly.
“Hi,” Coy responded as she stepped in, wrapping her arms around her from behind, and peeking around her shoulder, hoping for a bite.
“Just one,” Coby responded as she spooned tuna salad into her mouth, “and then I need you to go get your daddy. Hopefully he’s gonna like what we’re having for lunch.”
“Mmmm,” Coy purred, “you added walnuts this time.”
“Of course,” Coby responded, delivering a second bite, “you said you liked ‘em better than peanuts.”
“I do,” Coy responded, “they’re healthier.” She squeezed Coby’s middle and told her that she loved her before heading up.
Coby paused, watching her go. “I love you too,” she called out.
***
Coy opened the door to the sound of water running in the shower. She took a breath, nibbling her lower lip, and wondering if the plan was still on. Coby hadn’t said any more about it, not one word. But why would she? What more was there to say other than as of tonight she was ready to move forward. She slipped on her nightgown and propped up in bed with her book. She swallowed hard, her stomach quivering into her center when the squeak of a handle preceded silence. Her lips parted, her tongue darting out to moisten them when the bathroom door opened, and Coby stepped out. She was toweling her hair, wearing plaid boxers, and a white tank undershirt. Coy laid her book on the nightstand, removed her glasses, and looked up. “Hey there,” she murmured as Coby came toward her.
Coby climbed over and in, kissing her. “You smell good,” she said, nuzzling, gently brushing her hand across her face.
Coy rubbed Coby’s shoulders and caressed her back in gentle circles.
“Mmmm…that feels good,” Coby murmured. She suckled Coy’s neck and peered deeply into her eyes. “God, you’re beautiful,” she said. “I love how you f
eel in my arms.”
Coy arched into her, cooing, “And I love having you hold me.”
Coby kissed her, tenderly. Then she lifted to peel out of her shirt and met her eye.
Coy touched her throat, breathless for a long moment. “You’re so handsome,” she murmured. “Come here, baby, I want you so much.”
Coby moved closer, allowing her to finger down her sculpted arms, across her chest, and over her abdominal muscles. A soft gasp escaped her lips when Coy palmed the slight rise of her breasts and kissed the tip of her nipples. As her breathing quickened, Coby stretched on top of her lover, straddling her thigh, and rocking against her tight muscle. She gulped a soft breath when Coy reached inside her boxers to touch her.
“Mmm,” Coy murmured, “you’re so hard.” She tugged, gently snapping the elastic of Coby’s shorts. “Come on, baby,” she begged at a whisper, “take ‘em off.”
Coby pushed them down, their gazes locking.
Coy followed by peeling out of her nightgown, laying back, and opening.
Coby stretched on top of her, pumping.
Coy reached down to capture and release Coby’s throbbing organ with each pelvic thrust.
“Oh, God,” Coby groaned, “have you ever got the touch.”
“I have a pretty good idea how it all works down there,” Coy murmured.
“I’ll bet you do,” Coby responded, pressing into her grasp, over and over.
Coy lifted her legs, gripping her knees to hold them high.
Coby pushed in, entering with the tip of her swelling.
“Oh God,” Coy gasped, lifting even higher. “Oh God, you’re inside me.”
“Oh God is right,” Coby groaned, pressing into her. “I think you’re gonna make me come,” she added. In the next instant, a violent surge of pleasure tore through her body. She stiffened, moaning, “Oh God...Oh God...Oh God...” When she began to tremble, Coy joined her. With soft kisses, they collapsed in one another’s arms.
***
“I never expected to get there,” Coby said softly.
“To an orgasm?” Coy asked, her eyes narrowing with the tilt of her head.
“Yeah,” Coby answered, “never been able to before.”
Coy snuggled, nestling into the curve of her neck. “I think that’s because you fought against the natural swelling that occurs with arousal,” she said, “and now you don’t.”
“Maybe,” Coby said, kissing her and holding her close.
“And,” Coy continued with a bite to her lower lip and a sweet smile, “you’ve probably figured out that that little bulge you have going on down there turns me on.”
“You think?” Coby said with a wink, rolling to top her.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Coby carried their bags down, rolled them out to the Lexus, and lifted them into the trunk. “You packed a jacket, right?” she asked. “Because it’ll be chilly.”
“And windy,” Cyrus added from the porch.
“And windy,” Coby echoed with a smile.
“I packed two,” Coy responded, “one heavy, one not.”
“Good plan,” Coby commented. “March weather can be unpredictable in Chicago.”
Coy kissed her mama and daddy goodbye, pausing on the second step down. “Okay,” she said, “ya’ll call me if you have a problem. If you do, we’ll turn around and come right back. In the meantime, Daisy’s available to help out day or night. Oh, and Doc Stevens is gonna pop by.”
“Stop fretting, Coy Annabelle,” Cyrus said, “you’re only gonna be gone a few days.”
“I know, Daddy,” Coy responded, “but it never hurts to be prepared.” She squinted, holding his eye. “And no cheating on your diet while I’m gone, you hear me?”
“Wouldn’t think of it,” Cyrus responded with an ornery smile.
“I won’t let him,” Marigold piped in as she stepped to the porch swing to stand beside him. “Now, ya’ll go on,” she added, “get out of here and have a good time.”
“We will,” Coy called out with a smile. She slid into the driver’s seat as Coby dropped in on the passenger side. Within a couple of hours, she was taking the ramp onto I65 north—Montgomery to Birmingham—Birmingham to Huntsville—Huntsville to Nashville.
“You think we should keep our eye out for a motel?” Coby asked. “You’ve been driving for a pretty long stretch.”
Coy nodded, reaching over to thread her fingers through Coby’s. “Good idea,” she said. “My eyes are getting a little bit tired.”
“I’ll start watching for signs,” Coby responded, pointing up the road. “There’s one with a LaQuinta and a Red Lobster. How’s that sound?”
“Good enough,” Coy said, having a slightly different opinion by the time they checked out that next morning—Nashville to Indianapolis—Indianapolis to Chicago. They arrived at the Millennium Knickerbocker Hotel on Michigan Avenue about lunchtime.
“Wow,” Coby said, her mouth hanging open. “I’ve never been in one of these fancy ones before.” She shook her head, repeating, “Wow.” Her eyes remained wide as they made their way through the lobby. “You didn’t have to get one this expensive,” she continued. “God, this has to be costing you a fortune. I wish you’d let me help out.”
“Please stop worrying about the cost,” Coy responded, gently meeting her eye. “We have plenty of money, and I want us to enjoy ourselves.”
“I still feel bad,” Coby went on, “you spending this much so I can get Midnight and my stuff.”
“Well, you don’t need to,” Coy answered softly. She lifted a brochure from the rack, intending to change the subject. “Well, I’ll be darned,” she blurted out, “Al Capone’s brother had a casino on the Penthouse floor of our hotel. I wonder if they’ve got some kind of tour or something.”
Coby leaned over for a look. “Maybe,” she responded, “Al Capone tours are pretty big around here.” She held the door as Coy stepped onto the elevator. “We can see if you want.” She watched for their number, slid their key card, and set their luggage by the window.
“You decide,” Coy said, pressing into her arms, “I want us to do whatever and go wherever you want.”
A slow smile built as Coby backed her toward the plush mattress and soft headboard. “I think maybe we should start by checking out the bed,” she murmured, “and then take a stroll on the Magnificent Mile.” She kissed her slowly, brushing a lock of hair from her eyes. “How’s that sound?”
“Heavenly,” Coy cooed. “Sex and shopping, you can’t do much better than that.”
***
The Water Tower Place was not only a Magnificent Mile landmark; it was also full of great choices for dining and shopping. Coby had never been there, but Coy knew her way around quite well. They enjoyed a leisurely lunch at Harry Carey’s before hitting the stores—Ann Taylor—Bath and Body Works—Coach—Soma. When they stopped in the Chicago Cubs Clubhouse Shop, Coy bought a t-shirt for Coby. After that, they were off and running—Chico’s and Claire’s. At Victoria’s Secret, Coby bought a sexy t-back v-string pair of panties for Coy. They stopped at Starbuck’s for a cup of coffee, sipping as they walked to Cusp and Eileen Fisher. Coby shifted her load to the other arm on level six near Forever 21.
“Here,” Coy offered, reaching out, “let me carry something.”
Coby shook her head, smiling. “No way,” she responded. “That’s not how it works with us, and you know it.”
“Yes, I do,” Coy answered with a return smile, “and I love the way you pamper me.” She slipped her arm around Coby’s waist, squeezing gently, and laying her head over on her shoulder.
“Besides,” Coby continued, “you need your hands free, in case you want to buy more to put on my load.”
“Good point,” Coy responded as she made a quick turn into Macy’s Department Store.
Coby slowed as they made their way past the jewelry counter, thinking that a diamond trinity engagement ring would look nice on Coy�
��s finger.
Coy had a printed wrap dress in hand, ready to try on, by the time Coby caught up with her. “You like this better in blue or black?” she asked, holding both against her body.
“Blue,” Coby answered. “It matches your eyes.” She followed Coy over to the dressing room and gave her approval of the form-fitting dress when she came out.
Coy paid for it and added the bag to her load.
Coby was juggling her cargo as she stepped to the curb. The third taxi swung over and she tossed in enough shopping bags to fill the backseat of the car.
“You sure it wouldn’t have been easier for me to drive?” Coy asked as she set two bags on the floor by her feet and one on her lap. “Because the way it is, we’ll have to cart everything up to our room, and then back down to load it.”
“I know, but this will still be better,” Coby said. “I mean between rush hour, driving around on the south side, and parking while we go to my meeting, I guarantee the Lexus would either get dinged, stripped, or both.”
“You know best,” Coy responded. “I’m glad you insisted that we leave it parked in the hotel garage.” She reached over to palm Coby’s thigh. “I’m really looking forward to tonight,” she added with a smile, “going to your AA meeting, getting to meet Dane, and having you show me where you grew up.”
“Yeah,” Coby responded, nodding, “it’ll be good to see the home group again. And Dane. She was like a mom to me there for a while.” She swallowed hard, looking off to a distant pileup.
“You never mention your people,” Coy said. “You want to stop to see anyone while we’re in Chicago? Because we could if you want.”
Coby shook her head slowly. “No,” she said, “there’s no one. My mom would slam the door in my face, and if I never saw my pervert stepdad again it would be too soon.”
Coy stroked her leg, laying her head over onto her shoulder. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.
“It’s okay,” Coby answered. “I’m used to it by now. Been that way for a pretty long time.”