by Nicky Wells
Anyway. There it was. They hadn’t made love as a married couple yet, not once. They nearly had, but not completely.
The last time they had tried, a few days ago, they had laid off the booze, rested most of the day, eaten in moderation, and pulled out all the stops in their mutual repertoire. They had snuggled in bed and gone through the motions, and for a few blissful moments, Casey had been convinced they would have a breakthrough.
‘Oh my God,’ Alex had whispered into her ear. ‘This is so good. I swear the earth is moving.’
Casey had felt the same way. Great waves of excitement had rocked her body, his body, their bed, until she thought she would expire with passion. Her vision had dimmed and flared, and fireworks went off behind her closed eyelids. It had been quite extraordinary, and they had come close, so close, so very close.
Until they both started feeling very poorly indeed. For what Casey had thought were waves of excitement were, quite literally, waves. Huge, enormous storm waves, in fact. The yacht had been caught in a sudden squall. Casey and Alex had spent the rest of the evening panting heavily for all the wrong reasons while trying their hardest to keep the nausea down.
At least that time they had an excuse, an external reason for the abrupt ending of their sexual endeavours, and the burden of failure lay not with them. Casey had breathed a big sigh of relief, and she suspected Alex had done the same. They hadn’t tried since.
But tonight, expectation was in the air again, and Casey wasn’t sure whether to be excited or terrified.
‘Wow! Casey, you look amazing.’
Alex interrupted her train of thought, and she snapped back as if from a trance. She touched a hand to her up-do and smiled.
‘Thank you. You don’t look too bad yourself.’
That was the understatement of the year. Alex looked simply edible in his dinner jacket, white shirt, and ruby-red tie. Even in full black-tie attire, he was every inch the rock star, and Casey could well imagine the day when he would collect the first of many Brit awards or Grammies for Blue Heart.
Alex grinned. ‘Let’s go and celebrate the end of our honeymoon in style.’ He gave a bow and held out a hand to Casey.
Casey smiled back and resolved to banish her uncertainty and worry. It wouldn’t matter. It didn’t matter. They had their whole lives ahead of them. There was plenty of time, and anyway, sex wasn’t everything.
~Alex~
Sex isn’t everything. Sex isn’t everything. Sex isn’t everything.
Alex crossed his legs and tried to ignore the arousal that was sending his heart rate into the stratosphere. He couldn’t be this horny—not here, not now. They were ensconced at a little table in a fancy and very expensive restaurant by the waterside in St Tropez, having just finished the most delicious main course. And Casey had never looked more alluring, more gorgeous, more inviting than this moment. Three weeks of holiday had done her the world of good, and she was positively glowing. He really wanted to ravish her there and then. It had been too long since they had made love—not for want of trying, though—and he felt he would go crazy if he had to wait for later.
With sudden determination, he rose to his feet and swiped the dinnerware off the tablecloth in one smooth motion. He took the candlesticks, all three of them complete with burning candles, and placed them on the table next to theirs, ignoring the stunned looks on the faces of the party of four tucking into their Bouillabaisse. Casey giggled, and the sound amplified his arousal.
‘Come here, wench,’ he taunted, and held out a hand to Casey. Casey rose and took his hand across the table.
‘What now?’ she asked, mischief glinting in her eyes.
‘Sit on the table. That’s it. Good. Now up with those legs.’ Alex used his bossy lord-of-the-manor voice, the one he reserved for role-playing in the bedroom, and Casey immediately assumed a role of her own, the genteel ingénue.
‘Why, I don’t know what you’re doing, kind sir, but you’ve certainly got me confused with someone else.’ She simpered and winked.
Alex pretended to ignore her. ‘Spread them.’
Casey did as instructed, and Alex suppressed a gasp when he saw she wasn’t wearing any knickers. Bless her. She was obviously as needy as he was. He positioned himself between her legs and unzipped his trousers. He was hot and hard and instantly sprang forth to escape from his fabric prison.
‘My, that’s a mighty big weapon you’ve got there.’ Casey switched to Bond-girl mode. ‘Will you show me how you use it?’
‘With pleasure.’
‘Merci, monsieur. Ça va.’
The unfamiliar male voice cut through Alex’s fantasy like a knife. Alex required several seconds to reacquaint himself with reality. A waiter was beating a hasty backwards retreat from their table, bowing all the while, and Casey was shaking violently behind the napkin she was stuffing into her mouth.
Feeling dizzy, disoriented, and somewhat disappointed, Alex subtly readjusted his trousers and begged Casey for clarification.
‘What happened? What did he want?’
‘He was asking whether we’re still hungry, and whether we’d like to see the menu again.’ Imitating the waiter’s voice, Casey intoned, ‘“Avez-vous encore faim, M’sieur, Dame?”’
Alex shook his head, still confused. ‘And? What’s so funny about that?’
‘You said…’ Casey snorted. ‘You said…’
‘Go on, woman, spit it out. What did I say?’
‘You said you haven’t had woman yet, or something like that.’
‘I what?’
‘You said,’ Casey repeated carefully in between gulps of laughter, ‘“Je n’ai pas encore femme.”’
Alex shook his head. ‘Never.’
‘You did. Where were you? Mentally, I mean?’ Casey was hiccupping now. ‘You gave the poor man the fright of his life. He looked at you like you were going to take me on the table, right here.’
Alex grinned and confessed. ‘I was having a rather vivid vision of doing precisely that. But I swear I wasn’t trying to be rude. I was trying to say, “I’m not that hungry anymore”.’
‘I figured. Damn those nasals.’
‘What’s my nose got to do with it?’
‘Not nose. Nasals. Sounds. The sounds that make the difference between “faim” and “femme”. They’re a killer.’ Casey laughed some more.
‘That’ll teach me not to try.’ Alex felt stupid for a moment, but then he succumbed to the funny side.
‘I haven’t had woman yet,’ he gulped. ‘Gosh, what must he be thinking?’
As if on cue, the waiter reappeared. He set down a large plate of fresh oysters on the table and smiled widely.
‘On the ‘ouse. For the ‘oney-mooners.’ He turned and spoke directly to Alex. ‘So you can ‘ave woman tonight.’ He placed air quotation marks around “‘ave”. Alex gaped at him open-mouthed while Casey snorted into her napkin once more.
Alex felt heat rising from the tips of his toes right up his body and into his head. His ears burned with embarrassment. It took him several seconds before he could speak.
‘Did he… Did he think… He didn’t think I was asking for an aphrodisiac, did he?’
Casey lifted her shoulders. She reached across the table to squeeze his hand. ‘I wouldn’t worry about it.’ She dropped her voice to a whisper. ‘Maybe you’ve inadvertently hit on the secret phrase to get free oysters in this place.’
Alex was still in shock. ‘But this is so… it’s so… it’s rude!’
‘Shh,’ Casey admonished him. ‘Now you’re being rude.’ She gave his hand a final stroke before she released her grip and sat back. Tentatively, she poked at one of the oysters with an index finger. The slimy centre of the mollusc quivered at her touch, and Casey yelped softly. ‘Eurgh! How can people eat these?’
Alex cleared his throat. It was time to reclaim his suave gentleman-of-the-world act, and to heck with what the waiter thought. He had never eaten oysters before, but he had seen it done in the mov
ies, and they were supposed to stimulate sexual activity. Perhaps this was exactly what was needed. He eyed the slippery creatures in what he hoped was a knowledgeable manner and refused to think about whether they were alive or dead. He had a feeling they were raw, but that didn’t really bear too much contemplation.
‘What you do is this,’ he began confidently. ‘First, you make sure the oyster is fully detached from his shell.’ He picked up one of the oysters and bravely jiggled the meat with a tiny fork.
‘See, like so.’ He angled the shell such that Casey could see. The look of horrified admiration on her face spurred him on. ‘You could add lemon juice or some other condiment.’ Alex pointed to the various accoutrements in the centre of the plate before continuing. ‘But purists prefer them au naturel.’
There. The moment of truth. Now he actually had to eat one. He swallowed hard to suppress the nausea rising in his throat. Mind over matter, Alex.
‘Then,’ he continued quickly lest he lost his courage, ‘you use the wider end of the shell, and you slurp. Like so.’ Alex put the shell to his mouth and tipped back his head. The oyster slid into his mouth, and instinctively he chewed on it a couple of times. It was firm and gooey all at the same time. To his great surprise, it was a pleasant experience. An explosion of taste assaulted his senses; there was the sweetness of melon, the briny tang of the sea, and a hint of butter. He chewed once more and swallowed.
‘Wow! That was good.’ He took a deep breath and swallowed some more. Casey regarded him with her mouth wide open.
‘Here, try one.’ Alex prepared another oyster and proffered the shell.
‘Really?’
‘Really. Trust me. They’re delicious.’ Alex grinned. Casey was still doubtful.
‘I didn’t know you were the expert on oysters. In fact, I didn’t think you’d ever eaten any.’
Alex shrugged. ‘I hadn’t. But hey, who knows… If it helps…’ he winked at Casey, ‘… then it’s worth a shot, don’t you think? Besides, they really are delicious.’ He forced the proffered oyster into Casey’s hand, then took another one from the plate and slurped greedily. ‘Yum!’
‘Okay,’ Casey said uncertainly. ‘If you say so. Here goes…’
She put the shell to her mouth, tipped back her head, and slurped. She chewed a couple of times, and her face registered a range of emotions. A quiver of her lips suggested revulsion to begin with, but quickly her features softened, her eyes closed, and a tentative smile blossomed as she finally swallowed.
‘And?’ Alex prompted when Casey still hadn’t opened her eyes or commented on the experience after a small eternity. ‘How was it for you?’
At length, Casey responded. ‘It was all right.’
‘Only all right?’
‘Only all right. It’s a bit too salty for me. It’s like I imagine a piece of rock covered in seaweed would taste.’
‘Interesting comparison.’ Alex grinned. ‘Are you quite sure you don’t want to try another?’
Casey nodded. ‘Quite sure. But you go on, you have some more.’
Alex didn’t need an invitation. At the same time, he didn’t want to leave Casey eating nothing while he indulged, so he beckoned the waiter and ordered a basket of bread and some hot spicy prawns for Casey, alongside another bottle of champagne.
‘What luxury.’ Casey sighed contentedly as they quaffed the bubbles and polished off the food. ‘I’ll have to diet when we get back.’
‘Yeah, well, that’s tomorrow,’ Alex replied drily. ‘We’ll deal with that tomorrow. Tonight, we’re celebrating our marriage, in every sense of the word. And that’s a promise.’ He nudged his foot against Casey’s thigh under the table, and she chuckled.
‘I’ll hold you to that.’
‘Please do.’ Alex rolled his shoulders. He felt great. He felt confident. He was horny beyond belief. Those oysters were working miracles. This was going to be a successful night.
‘It’ll be the most spectacular ending to our honeymoon,’ he vowed.
Casey inclined her head, a familiar gleam in her eye. ‘I look forward to it. What are we waiting for?’
~Casey~
The engine of their little motor launch purred softly, but not loud enough to drown out the gentler sound of the waves. Casey snuggled into Alex’s arms and dangled her right hand over the side of the boat so that her fingertips caressed the surface of the water. She wished she could hold on to this moment forever.
Stars glinted in the clear sky above them, and she could see the fairy lights aboard their yacht twinkling a merry welcome. She was sad that their honeymoon was coming to an end.
‘Well,’ she mused quietly, ‘if I already feel nostalgic for a moment I’m still living, we must be having a really good time.’ She sighed contentedly and leaned her head against Alex’s shoulder. Gently but deliberately, she took her hand out of the water and placed it on Alex’s crotch. She expected to find a certain hardness there, but it seemed to be hiding momentarily. A low moan greeted her action.
‘Oh, Casey.’
‘Alex. Shh.’ Casey took his utterance for encouragement and stroked the general area where he liked to be aroused. More moaning rewarded her efforts, and she smiled to herself. This would really be a good night. They would make it, finally.
‘Casey.’ Alex’s voice was a low, hoarse rasp. He really was horny. Casey worked harder, feeling herself grow moist in anticipation. The yacht loomed large; only a couple more minutes, and they would reach their cabin.
‘Casey, stop. Please.’
It was the urgency in his words that halted her in her tracks rather the meaning itself. Shocked to the core, she removed her hand and sat back.
‘Alex? What’s the matter now?’ She didn’t manage to keep the hint of frustration out of her voice. What could possess him to ask her to stop when the going was so good?
‘I—eurrrgh!’ Alex didn’t manage to explain himself, but he didn’t have to. Leaning violently to the left, he stuck his head over the side and heaved. And heaved. And heaved again.
Momentarily dumbstruck, Casey didn’t know what to do. She breathed deeply and willed herself to hold on to her own food. She caught the driver of the launch turning his head to figure out what was going on. He nodded his head in Alex’s direction and threw out a question. ‘Everything all right with you?’
‘I’m not sure,’ Casey replied.
‘Shall I keep going, or do you want me to turn back to the mainland?’
‘Keep going, please,’ Alex coughed before Casey could reply. He sat up unsteadily and wiped his mouth. Casey couldn’t be sure in the dim light, but she thought he looked somewhat green. Sweat beaded his brow, and flecks of sick had soiled his formerly white shirt.
‘Shit, honey, I’m sorry,’ he muttered. ‘I don’t know what came over me. I… euuuurgh!’
And off he went again.
Casey stroked his back and held his hand whilst he was in the grip of another bout of nausea. A spectacular ending, she thought philosophically. But not what we expected.
‘Oysters?’ the boatman’s voice piped up again from the front of the launch.
‘Yes,’ Casey replied wearily. ‘He had some oysters.’
The driver winced sympathetically. ‘First time, eh? With too much alco’ol, per’aps?’
‘Yes on both counts,’ Casey confirmed.
‘Ah oui. Better in the morning,’ the driver offered. ‘Et voilà. And ‘ere we are.’ He moored the launch against the yacht and deftly jumped aboard.
He offered his hand to help Casey climb onto the yacht, but she propped up Alex instead, making sure he got up the little ladder safely before clambering after him. When she arrived on deck, she found Alex swaying and holding on to the driver of the launch. The brighter light on the yacht confirmed that Alex’s face had indeed gone an interesting shade of green, and Casey knew that any hope of romance would be misplaced. She smiled ruefully, partly relieved and partly frustrated.
‘Come on, darling, let’s get
you to bed,’ she offered gently. ‘Can you walk?’
‘I think so,’ Alex mumbled, looking distinctly unsteady. The slight rolling of the yacht didn’t help, and he lurched from side to side like a drunken sailor.
‘I bring you a bucket to the cabin?’ the driver suggested.
‘Yes, I think that would be a good idea,’ Casey replied gratefully, her mind turning over practicalities. Perhaps she would surrender the bed in its entirety to Alex and retreat to the sofa instead. There was love, and there was foolish love. And sleeping next to a husband who was liable to be sick at any moment definitely came under the heading of foolish love.
‘I’m so sorry,’ Alex whispered when he was safely tucked up in bed, a large bucket placed by his head. ‘I really thought we’d do it tonight.’
Casey smoothed the hair away from his forehead. ‘It’s not your fault,’ she smiled in the most supportive fashion she could muster. ‘Oysters, right? Not so much aphrodisiac as up-chuck-o-disiac.’
Alex burst out laughing. He held his stomach and groaned. ‘Please don’t crack any more terrible jokes, you’ll start me off again,’ he pleaded.
‘Sorry.’ Casey tried to look contrite. ‘I’m only glad I didn’t eat more of the slimy fellows.’
‘Rub it in, will you,’ Alex pouted. ‘I liked them. It appears they didn’t like me.’
‘Here, have a sip of water.’ Casey tried to steer the conversation into a safer direction. ‘You don’t want to get dehydrated on top of everything else. We’ve got to get home tomorrow.’
Alex obediently sipped at his drink. ‘I really am sorry. This wasn’t the ending to our honeymoon I’d envisaged.’
‘Hey, don’t sweat it,’ Casey grinned. ‘It was a great meal, and we had a lovely time. Tonight, and for the past three weeks. It was a fantastic honeymoon. Never mind the—’ She coughed and swallowed the rest of her sentence. But then she changed her mind and carried on blithely.
‘The little kinks and hiccups, the total lack of action—we’ll laugh about that when I’m in labour with our first child. In fact,’ she touched a forefinger to Alex’s nose in lieu of planting a kiss there, ‘at that point, we’ll probably wish we’d stuck with the inaction. You’ll see. Now get some rest, sweetheart.’