by Gail Bridges
Slowly, Josh smiled. He reached his hands across the table and took mine in his. “Read the card.”
I read it. “Jeez. This is complicated. I draw the card, but you choose what I do.”
“Okay. What does it say?”
“You decide whether…let me see…I take off my shoes—which would be nice, my feet are killing me—or whether I get to eat half a dinner roll.”
“Only half?”
“Yes. Crap! I want both things! This is monstrous.” I dropped the card and held my hand wistfully over the nearest roll, feeling its warmth, knowing Josh would never let me have it. Why was I suddenly so hungry? Was it because this lavish spread in front of us was off-limits, just like my own husband was off-limits? Everything I wanted was off-limits. “Those rolls look really good, just so you know.” I picked up the basket and sniffed long and deep. “Those spoonfuls of soup only made me hungrier.”
“We could have kept doing sex memories, you know.”
I made a face at him. “Choose!”
“Put down the basket. Off with the shoes. I want my wife naked on her wedding night. Eventually.”
“What kind of husband starves his wife?” I muttered, still thinking about how far out of our comfort zone we were…and how exciting it was. Was what we were doing considered kinky? I had no idea. I wasn’t even sure what kinky was, to be honest. But I set the basket on the table and reached below my chair to slip off my shoes. I wiggled my toes and arched my soles, then ran the bottoms of my feet, still clad in pantyhose, over the area carpet under our table. It felt wonderful. Maybe I’d get a roll next time. Besides, I did want to make love with him at some point. “Your turn.”
Josh took a card. He gazed at it, horror-stricken. “A serving of broccoli or my suit jacket. Ugh, broccoli. Please! Angie! You know how I detest broccoli!”
“I do know. Your least favorite vegetable.”
He squirmed.
“But I am a much nicer person than you are. Take off the jacket.”
He shrugged off the jacket and hung it carefully on the back of his chair. “Thank you. I owe you. Your turn.”
I drew another card, then whistled. The mother lode! My dress…or a steak. I knew which he’d choose. Saying a silent goodbye to my lost steak and telling my stomach to shut up already, I closed my eyes and turned away from Josh so he could reach the long row of tiny pearl buttons running down my back. His hands grazed my shoulders, caressed the small of my back, lingered on my hips as he slid the bodice down and peeled the lacy sleeves from my arms. Cool air brushed my skin. I sucked in my breath, shivering even though I wasn’t cold. “Josh,” I whispered. “This is… This is…”
“I know,” he said. He kissed me at the base of my neck. “Now stand up.”
He tugged the many yards of white fabric over my hips and bottom, stopping for a quick feel. He turned me toward him, shifting me in tiny, watchful steps so I wouldn’t tread on the dress, which now lay in a white lacy puddle at my feet. “You’re so beautiful. You’re radiant. No wonder that pervert liked you.”
“He liked you too.”
“I know. But he liked you better. Now step out. Carefully. One foot at a time.”
He kneeled on the floor and put his cheek to my thigh. His hands ran up and down my legs, lifting, helping, moving the dress aside, making me melt over and over again. I thought I might fall right onto the table, I was trembling so hard. I rested my hands on his head and felt his hair. He kissed the just-revealed crease at the top of my leg, right on my tan line, ignoring my hose and the special panties I’d chosen especially for my wedding day. I bit my lip. What delicious agony, not being allowed to do more! But there was only the one illicit kiss, then Josh was back to undressing me. Once my feet were entirely clear, he lifted the wedding dress and draped it over the foot of the bed, where the poor thing—I’d been so damn proud of it, had tried on thirty-six dresses before I’d found the perfect one—looked deflated and lifeless, bulky, extravagant, its big day over and done with.
Josh moved behind me.
I felt him fumbling with the hooks of my bra. I twisted away. “No! Only the dress.”
He ran his finger down my shoulder, my arm. His lips touched the hollow under my shoulder blade. He drew in a long breath, inhaling my scent. “No harm in trying. Shall I draw a card now?”
I pressed against him, feeling vest and cummerbund and bowtie and buttons and all the rest of his wedding paraphernalia on the bare skin of my back. “It’s not fair,” I said, whining, “You’ve got…what? Ten pieces of clothing? Fifteen? Look at me—I’m almost undressed already!”
“We can stop playing.”
I shook my head.
“Okay then.” Not even bothering to sit, he reached for the next card. “Steak or…” He looked up, grinning. “My pants!”
I bounced up and down on the balls of my feet. “Over your shoes? Really?”
He nodded, arching his stomach toward me. “Look! My cock is about to burst the zipper. Quick, take them off before something bad happens!”
I took his hand and led him to stand with his back to the bed, where I refused to be rushed. I dawdled. I explored. I took my own good time with his belt, his button closure, his zipper, complicated gadgets all of them. I am afraid that toward the end of this endeavor, my hands came into contact with his penis. But what else could I do? He’s a man! Everything is so close together down there! How could I unzip his fly and not caress his erection at the same time? I was doing my best for him, I swear.
He groaned. “Angie…let’s forget all this and just do it.”
I laughed. “Why? You did the same thing to me only a few minutes ago! Your fingers were all over me. You groped and felt and touched, remember?” I pulled down his pants, then pushed on his stomach with the flat of my hand until he plopped, bouncing, onto the bed.
He groaned.
“Oh dear,” I said, shaking my head, “your dick. It’s escaping your underwear. I’ll have to put it back.” I bent over him, my lacy bra almost but not quite brushing his chest. Slowly, I worked my fingers under the band of his boxers. He drew in a sharp breath, almost a hiss. His hips pushed upward but I shoved him down again. Letting the tips of my fingers graze the head of his penis, I pulled up his underwear until everything was nicely tucked away again. “There. Now we can take your pants all the way off.”
“Damn, Angie! You are a despicable person, you know that?”
“You have no idea.” One at a time, I worked his pant legs over his shoes. Then I held out the pants at arm’s length and let them drop to the floor.
He made a pained noise. “Angie, it’s your turn. Draw a card.” He fell back onto the bed, his arms spread. “Put me out of my misery.”
“Fine.” I left him there, flat on the bed, and took the next blue card. “My bra, or steak.”
“You know which I want. Come here.”
I flopped down on the bed next to him and let him fold me in his arms. I was still hungry but now a different sort of hunger was taking over. I closed my eyes and breathed in his familiar scent. I felt the tickle of his hair on my forehead, felt the stubble of beard, felt the beating of his heart. Josh. My Josh. We allowed ourselves a quick kiss, knowing it was against the rules. My heart threw itself wildly against my ribs. A kiss, a simple little kiss, and I was about to have an orgasm. How was it possible that this quick, forbidden kiss could be so shattering, so much better than an ordinary kiss? Better than quite a few of our sexual encounters, even? We gazed into each other’s eyes, smiles flickering on our lips.
“Turn onto your stomach,” he said after a long minute, touching my shoulder.
I turned over.
He undid my bra. His hands moved over my back, pushing aside the straps, exploring me as if he’d never done that before. He snuggled next to me, so close and yet so far. His erection pressed against me, a warm promise of things to come. I closed my eyes and held my breath as he rolled on top of me, his weight so delicious, so very delicious. His hands
continued their journey around my body, following my bra straps. A finger grazed the side of my breast. Abruptly, his hands froze. “My, my…what is this?” he breathed into my ear as his hand explored my breast. Apparently he approved of what he’d found, because he worked both hands under me, cradling, squeezing, kneading. “Treasure! Let me see what I’ve found. Turn over.”
I turned over again, feeling faint. Laying on my back, holding my breath, I looked up at him.
“Lovely. Now lift your arms.”
Helpful as always, I raised my arms and he slipped my scrap of a bra over my hands. He tossed it in a corner. “Nice…” he said, running a finger around one of my nipples, then the other. “Would you look at these? What dainty little morsels.” Taking his time, making me squirm, he leaned over and took the closer one in his mouth. His hand moved to rest gently on my mound.
Now it was myturn to moan, to arch my back, to beg for more.
To hell with the game!
But it only lasted a moment. Josh sat up, the brute, leaving a cold, hollow space next to me. He grinned down at me, his face flushed. “My turn now.”
He was still playing the game. Damn it all.
I lay on the bed, quivering, unable to move. I was twenty-seven years old and I’d just discovered a new world of sensual delight. Sex—foreplay—had never been like this before. Every single nerve in my body buzzed and vibrated and sang. If I were the E string on Josh’s guitar, I’d be stretched so tightly I would be this close to snapping.
“Josh,” I begged, “make love to me.”
He smiled, long and slow. “What? I’m not sure I heard that last bit.”
“Fuck me!”
He came back from the table, blue card in hand. He stood over me. “And quit the game?”
“Yes!”
“What game? I don’t know nothing about no game.”
I laughed.
With a theatrical flick of his fingers, he sent the card spinning into the air. We watched it flutter down toward the bed, where it landed facedown on my stomach. “I don’t need a game to tell me what to do next.” He lowered himself onto me, kissing me, pressing his hips onto mine. “God, Angie. I’m going to spontaneously combust!”
I wriggled out from beneath him, my breaths coming in sharp little puffs. “Don’t combust yet. Wait until afterward, okay?” I stripped off my hose, tore off my panties. Then I helped Josh with his shoes and socks. His boxers were already off. We didn’t bother with the rest. A shirt and cummerbund were no impediment—no impediment at all to what I had in mind.
I helped him with the condom. In one swift move, he was on top of me.
Then he was in me, filling me, making me gasp with pleasure. I took him into my depths, welcoming him, wanting him, needing him. I spread my knees, held him between my thighs, threw my arms around his chest, cradled him to my breast. He moved within me, caressing my innermost parts. Oh the wonder of it! Oh how I loved him! I would never love another like I loved him. He was it for me. I would never-never-never make love with another man for the rest of my life. Never!
“Angie…” he said. “Angie. Oh Angie…”
I answered in the best way I knew. The only way I knew. I raised my hips, fitting myself against him as closely as humanly possible, pushing, straining, wanting him farther inside me. Asking, begging, pleading for more cock…for more cock…and more, and more. I wanted it—I wanted that beautiful-beautiful-beautiful cock pounding into me, making me feel as if I were about to shatter. I wanted it—I wanted it now—and he gave it to me. Oh yes, he gave it to me!
My back arched. I gasped. Oh—
Oh—
And then it got even better.
He found my nipple and began to roll it between his fingers.
His hips, his thighs, his chest! Oh, the sweetness of it!
His penis, moving in me… Indescribable!
I was in heaven. After this long, long day—together. We clung to each other, holding tight for dear life. We loved one another with startling fierceness, staring into each other’s eyes, shouting and hollering and laughing, because who could hear us anyway, way up here by ourselves in the North Tower? In this weird inn out in the middle of nowhere? We rocked the bed with our wild lovemaking, bumping and scraping it against the wall—and then we did it even harder, on purpose, louder, longer, wilder, causing the bedside table to jerk and dance and its vase of flowers to topple to the floor, and finding ourselves funny, funny, oh so funny! Together, we traveled beyond this world and into another.
Joyous. Beautiful. Feral.
And fun.
How had we never experienced this?
How?
Faster and faster our bodies moved. First I, then Josh, shouted out loud.
He collapsed on top of me, his chest heaving.
We lay panting and sweating on top of the bed, my husband and I, our clothes scattered around the room, even his shirt and cummerbund, feeling as if we’d just been run over by a freight train.
Five minutes passed. Neither of us moved a muscle. Or maybe it was ten minutes.
“Holy shit,” Josh said at last.
Another few minutes passed.
I smiled. “You can say that again. Wow.”
He shifted his weight, letting himself slip out of me. Then he draped a heavy leg over mine. He rested his index finger on my nipple. Didn’t move it, just rested it there. He stared at me. “Angie,” he whispered slowly, “You. Me. This.” He gazed into my eyes. “I love you so much.”
“Me too,” I answered in a voice so low it was barely audible. “Oh god, yes.” A tear slipped down my cheek. He brushed it away, nodding, understanding. Then he found my hand, brought it to his mouth. He closed his eyes and held my knuckles to his lips, brushing them softly, kissing them contentedly, nuzzling them as if they were small animals. Then licking, sucking, nibbling. Slowly, sweetly. Like he always did after sex. It was his thing. If he were a cat, he’d have been purring. I loved him for it.
“This is the happiest day of my life,” I whispered, watching him.
“Me too,” he murmured. “Wife.”
“Husband.”
It grew cooler, sweat dried on our skin, and still we didn’t move. A horn sounded from somewhere far away, somewhere out in the ocean. A boat. On its way to China, maybe. Or Alaska. Or Hawaii. I ran the finger of my free hand up and down the hair on his leg. “It doesn’t get any better than this,” I said.
“Who knows? Maybe it does.”
After a while, my stomach rumbled, reminding me there was more than one type of hunger. “I’m starving,” I whispered. I kissed him on that sweet spot above his collarbone, the exact place I’d nuzzled a lifetime ago on our long drive to the inn. He set my hand on the pillow and patted it, finished for now.
“Mmm…” he said.
Maybe we wouldn’t leave tomorrow after all.
Chapter Five
After a while, Josh and I managed to pull our lighter-than-air bodies out of bed.
We changed into the fluffy white robes and slippers we’d found in the bathroom, and, stomachs rumbling, we dropped into our seats at the table. Finally we’d get to eat the lavish spread instead of using it to further our wedding-night fantasies. We eyed each other over the mostly uneaten meal, remembering how the evening had begun, remembering the conflicting feelings. We’d started by thinking this place is so weird, something is so wrong, the owner is a pervert, we can’t wait to get out of here, and ended with this is the single most wonderful experience we’ve ever had and our love life will never be the same again. We’re staying.
Oh yes, we were staying.
“I’m keeping these,” Josh said, gathering scattered blue-and-white cards. He tapped their edges on the table, making a neatly stacked deck. Then he swiped an embroidered napkin from the table, shook it until the swan was only a memory and wrapped them. “Souvenir.”
I gave him an elastic hair band to hold it all together. “You know what? I don’t think the game will work as well if
we play it at home.”
“I don’t care.”
We piled our plates with all the food we’d been denied. Steak. Rolls. Sautéed mushrooms. Puree of parsnip. Dainty little stacks of fried potatoes. The largess of it! The generous platters! The succulent sauces! How bountiful our feast! We cleared our plates, then refilled them. And still we ate.
“Everything tastes better here, don’t you think?” Josh said, sopping up the last of the mushroom sauce with a roll. He leaned back in his chair, patting his stomach. “I’m going to explode.”
“Don’t do it here. Too hard to clean up,” I said, thinking I might explode right alongside him. “Hey, why are you staring at me like that?”
He took his time answering. He fiddled with the cord on his bathrobe. Pushed dishes around. Scratched his cheek. “Well,” he said at last, “don’t you think it was…weird?”
“This whole thing has been weird. Every bit of it. Except for the sex.”
“I mean…Zenith. How you looked at her. Like you wanted to eat her up.”
Oh that.
My face grew hot. “Yeah. It was peculiar, all right.”
“You weren’t the only one.”
“I know. It’s okay. Don’t worry about it.”
“That’s not what I meant.” He grew still. Closed his eyes. His hand tapped a rhythm on the table. Then he looked at me. “I meant the old man. Me.”
“Oh.” I stared at him. I couldn’t help myself. “Oh!”
“When he took my hand and licked the blood from my finger, I…” He shuddered. “I…”
“It’s okay. You weren’t yourself.”
“It’s gross! He’s gross.”
We searched each other’s eyes. Things were going on here that we didn’t understand. Things that we didn’t want to understand. “He is gross,” I said after a minute. “And just so you know, I felt it too, when he was arranging my hair for the pictures. Ick.”
Josh laughed. “Good! At least I’m not the only one.”
“It must be something in the air.”
“Or the food.”