Goodbye Uncertainty

by Jacquelyn Ayres

  “No. I may just shower quickly.” I turn to him. “Want to join me?”

  He nods and slowly undresses me.

  “McNeil, can you grab my bag for me?” I ask as he steps out of the shower.

  “Sure, babe.”

  Within a few minutes, he brings it in. I can hardly contain the giggle that’s bubbling up over the little joke I’m about to play on him. After drying off, I open my bag and get out my medium-length pink and black silk nightie. Given my rounded belly, I forego panties. The rising giggle finally bursts and I have to cover my mouth to stifle it as I pull out the most God-awful flannel nightgown I could find. It’s blue and covered in moose with ornaments hanging from their antlers. The sleeves ruffle at my wrists, and the bottom near my ankles. There is a strip of white, lacy fabric across the front top part of the chest. Three faux buttons go from the neckline to the lace in the center.

  I turn to the mirror and put on my high-top slippers. I can barely contain myself as I pull my hair tie out and brush my hair. Finally, I pull it together. Opening the door, I head to our room, which is only lit by the fireplace and some candles. Ray turns around and blows a match out.

  “Cold tonight, isn’t it?” I ask as I place my bag down and rub my arms. “This is nice, sweetie.” I look up at him. He stands there speechless, staring at me.

  “Babe,” he sighs, sounding confused. “I don’t know whether to laugh or cry. Did the SRP store have a massive sale? You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” He walks over. “What the hell is this? What are these?” He pulls at the material.

  “Moose,” I say, as though my feelings are hurt. “With ornaments on their antlers. I thought they were cute,” I add.

  “Moose? With ornaments?” he asks. I nod. “Wow, babe.” He stares at me in disbelief. I bite my lip to stifle a laugh and finally give in when he starts to look pissed. I roll my eyes and start to pull the nightgown off, but Ray gets to it first. He rips it aggressively down the center, and I step out of it. “Slippers too, please,” he says. I comply.

  “Is that better?” I try to steady my breath as I slide my hands up his bare chest.

  “That was really mean!” He tries to pout. “Some poor grandmother in her eighties is sleeping without a warm moose nightgown out there!” He chuckles.

  “Oh, there were plenty on the rack,” I say.

  “I can’t imagine why.” He acts stupefied. “I have to say,” he starts, sliding his knuckles down the silk nightie’s strap and onto my left breast. “This looks wonderful on your rack.” I close my eyes and relish in his touch as he circles my nipple.

  “Oh, McNeil ... Shakespeare has nothing on you,” I say, as if it could even be questioned.

  “Thanks, baby!” He grins widely for a moment, then stops. Yeah, dude ... wasn’t a compliment! “Come here, Becs. I have a little picnic for us.” He brings me over to the middle of the floor, between all the furniture. There are strawberries, grapes, and cheese on a red and white checked blanket. Flavored sparkling water peeks out from the ice bucket. Two champagne glasses wait to be filled.

  “Wow.” I sit down on my left side, letting my legs rest to the right.

  “We won’t stay down here long, but I know how you hate food in bed.”

  He’s right. It grosses me out for some reason. I watch as he opens the sparkling water and pours some for both of us.

  “Mmm ... I’m hungry. This looks good.” I put strawberries on his plate.

  “Stop, don’t touch!” He taps my hand, then hands me my glass. “To the magic of a redo.” He clinks my glass and takes a sip. I look at him quizzically before I bring my glass up to my lips. “Now, what would you like?” he asks as he takes my glass and places it aside. “This?” He raises an eyebrow as he holds up a large, ripe strawberry. I nod, biting my lip as he leans closer to me. He takes the first bite of it. “Mmm ... so good,” he says softly as he chews. He lifts the strawberry to my mouth. I move to take a bite. “Uh-uh.” He pulls it away, then brings it back and rubs my lips with it. Pulling it away again, he slowly kisses me, sucking on my lower lip with purpose before breaking away. “Mmm ... that’s even better.” He licks his lips before he feeds me the strawberry. “Becs.” His voice is just above a whisper.

  “Yes?” I say, then swallow.

  “No cliff notes tonight, baby.” He pushes a few strands of my hair behind my ear before leaning in. “I want to taste every inch of you,” he murmurs against it.

  Country Sybecca showers her naked body with a bottle of honey. Horny, Ghetto, Porn, and Submissive follow her lead—there may even be some chocolate syrup involved. Cautionary Sybecca holds her ticker board up. In bright red letters, it reads: BITCHES BE CRAZY!

  A little laugh escapes my throat. Ray jerks his head back.

  “Tickled my ear.” I smile as his face softens. Ha! I’m not a terrible liar! Wait, should I really be proud of that? Ah, harmless ones are okay!

  “Eat up, babe. As soon as you’ve had enough, I want to get my fill.” His eyes scan me, letting me know he’s ready to pounce at any time. Operatic Sybecca starts stuffing her face ... that fat lady really wants to sing! I pop a piece of cheese in my mouth and chase it with a bite of strawberry. I close my eyes, chewing slowly and savoring the taste. Oh ... so good. I open my eyes to reach for my glass, only to find Ray holding it up to me. I watch him watching me. As with Grayson, I think I may be Ray’s favorite subject to study. I eat faster. “Take your time, baby, we’ve got all night.” He smiles before taking another sip.

  “Don’t you want any more?” I ask before having another bite.

  “No. I’m hungry for something else.” He licks his lips and finishes his glass.

  “I’m all set,” I say, wiping my mouth.

  “You sure?” He grabs my plate.

  “Yes. I’m sticky though, I need to wash my hands.” I go to get up. Ray helps me and leads me to the bed. “Ray. Still need to wash my hands,” I say again.

  “I’ll take care of that.” He kisses my nose and pulls the bedcovers back. His hands slide up the side of my thighs, bringing my gown up with them. He jerks his head back when he realizes I have no panties on. “Jesus! You don’t have a ‘Fuck Me’ sign in there again, do you?”

  “No. Hard to find sexy preggo panties.” I laugh.

  “Arms up,” he instructs. “You look sexy in just about anything, except for that moose nightmare over there.” He smirks, shaking his head. “You look especially sexy with my babies in here.” He palms my belly. I lean up and taste his lips. His right hand comes up to hold the back of my neck, steadying me as he deepens the kiss. My fingers reach the top of his PJ bottoms. I trace the skin above the waistband. “No.” He pulls away quickly and grabs my hand. “Lie down.” He stares into my eyes. “Now, baby.” My heart is racing. I sit and scoot back, swinging my legs in. He climbs in next to me. “Close your eyes.” His right thumb and forefinger slide down my eyelids softly. “Don’t open them.” He pecks at my lips. “Hands first, due to stickiness,” he teases.

  He takes my right hand first and gently licks the palm, then slides my pinky into his mouth and sucks purposefully. He follows suit with his other fingers. I feel him lift my left hand as he lays the first one down. He begins the same process, but this time starts with my thumb. After my pinky, he brings my ring finger into his mouth, then out. He brings it in again, but I feel it slipping through the center of a ring. I inhale a deep, shaky breath. Ray releases my finger from his mouth, then attacks my lips. My hands thrust into his thick hair. His question ... my answer ... apparent in our passion.

  Ray pulls his mouth away and starts its expedition across my body. As much as I want to goggle at my ring, I show self-control and concentrate my efforts on encouraging Ray’s motions. As his mouth departs my breast and travels down my torso, I begin to ponder.

  How odd is it that it doesn’t bother me not to hear the words “Will you marry me?” Is that weird? Most girls dream about their proposals—what he’ll say, how she’ll react (usually in
an annoyingly weepy yes). Are they weeping because they’re really emotional, or because it’s what’s expected? I suspect the latter. What’s more annoying than watching a future bride pretend to weep with joy is the groom-to-be proposing in a public place, like a restaurant, or in front of family. Awkward! I mean, I’m a sensitive, sentimental girl, but please, put your fucking neon sign that says Looks at us! Looks at us! away and have your special moment in private!

  Nope! I’ve decided—I’m not weird! Well, when it comes to this. I’ve possibly become a little cynical in this area ... just a little. A smidge, if you will.

  Suddenly, I feel impressed with Ray. He knew exactly what to do, and how to do it! Wow—he rocks! Of course, Grayson doing a trial run for him some months back may have helped.

  “Uh ... babe? Please tell me you’re at least devising a plan for world peace in that head of yours.” He’s trying not to sound frustrated, but I see right through it.

  “Sorry. I was deciding that I’m not weird. I’m all done now. Head’s back in the game. Sorry,” I say again.

  “I may have to debate you on that later,” he says, climbing back up.

  “You want cliff notes now?” I ask before he kisses me.

  “No. I’m starting over. Try to stay focused, or I will—start—all—over—again,” he says between kisses. And so his journey begins anew. This time, his tongue travels at a quicker pace until he gets to the place he finds most delicious. Country Sybecca curls her toes in approval at the solid tongue-lashing we’re receiving.

  “Jesus!” I gasp as I feel myself start climbing. My hands clutch the sheets. My breathing becomes more rapid, my hips fight the intensity. Rising. Rising. My head is spinning. Rising. Rising. Huh? I lift my head and watch Ray slip down the inside of my right thigh. “Um ... Ray,” I say, my voice a gasping whisper.

  “Shh ... head back, baby.” He continues down my thigh.

  “But—”

  “Shh.”

  “Not nice,” I say under my breath as I lay my head back. He bites and licks behind my knee, sending me into a fit of giggles. He does it again. “Stop!” I beg, laughing.

  “Wow ... that’s awesome.” He grins. “I found your Kryptonite.” He kneels on the bed and hooks his hands under my knees.

  “Ray ... don’t.”

  “Sorry ... what did you say?” Thus begins the torture. “I can’t hear you over the loud, girlish giggles in this room.”

  “Ray!” I scream and try to sit so I can stop him. He lifts my knees up, forcing me to flop down onto my back.

  “Now, now, Mrs. Cleaver, do keep it down, or there may be some complaints about us.”

  He hovers over me.

  “Well, Mr. Cleaver, you should stop instigating things and remember to be more careful with the pregnant Mrs. Cleaver.” I tap his nose and bring my knees up to his sides.

  “I like instigating you. I like the things it leads to.” He rubs his nose against mine.

  “What sorts of things?”

  “Things like you laughing.” He tickles my side, prompting a giggle. “You gasping.” His tone is softer, more serious.

  “Gasping?” I ask. Ray enters me quickly. “Ah!” I gasp. “Oh ... gasping,” I say, understanding now.

  “Mmm ... gasping,” he repeats before his mouth devours mine. His hips pull back and slowly dive in deeper. He clasps my hands, lacing our fingers together, and holds them down on either side of my head. We lose ourselves in each other, in our taste, our touch, our lovemaking.

  “Missionary is starting to prove difficult, babe,” he says, rubbing my belly as I try to collect myself.

  “I concur.” I smile at him. “We’re not strangers to creativity, so I don’t see that posing a problem for us.” I turn onto my side and glide my hands over the hair on his chest. Just the right amount.

  “No, we should be fine. Do you want to look at your ring?” He sits up and grabs the pillar candle from the bedside table. I push myself up and lean into his chest. He grabs my hand and holds it under the light. It takes my breath away. It’s round and halo-styled. Seventeen small diamonds glisten at the edges of the frame. I giggle a little bit.

  “What?” He gives me a strange look.

  “It almost resembles a flower.”

  “Hmm ... well, this one doesn’t wilt. It lasts forever.” He holds my finger to examine it. “Just don’t expect me to send one of these to you at work every day.”

  “Well, you know, it wouldn’t be about the diamonds.” I play off his comment.

  “Yeah, but it will turn out to be about bankruptcy.”

  “Okay, no daily diamonds.” I kiss him. “I love it, Ray. It’s beautiful. I love the Victorian setting. Thank you.” I look at it again, then at him for another kiss, then back to the ring. Ray chuckles, so I give him a strange look.

  “Our love has finally,” he starts, looks up to the ceiling like he’s thanking God, then says, “gone platinum, baby.” He shakes my finger.

  “You should put that in your vows, McNeil.”

  “I just may! Now go on into the bathroom. I’m sure you have to pee, preggo,” he teases. “We need to get some sleep. We have a busy day tomorrow.” He kisses my temple.

  “Okay,” I sigh, then get up and grab my nightgown.

  In the bathroom light, I check out my ring in all its glory. Stunning and so ... me. Amazing. It’s a decent size. I’d say the center diamond has to be at least a whole carat, but then again, I’m not one of those girls who knows her diamonds. Whenever somebody talks to me about what letter diamond they have in which color, I go completely into Charlie Brown mode. I think this happens for two reasons. One, I have no idea what any of it means. Two, quite frankly, I don’t give a shit. I know what kind of setting I have only because Stacey told me. A ring like this caught my eye several months ago when we were out shopping for a gift for her mother-in-law. Fucking Stacey! She’s always been Ray’s secret sidekick! Thankfully.

  How did he pay for this, though? I’m pretty sure he had it before he came out here, before the money was deposited in his firm’s account. Well, as Ray would recommend, I’m going to “use my fucking head” and not even question him about it!

  Bathroom ritual complete, I head out and climb back into bed with Ray. He snuggles up to me on our side and wraps his arms around me.

  “I love you, Mrs. Cleaver ... soon-to-be Mrs. McNeil. Good night,” he whispers in my ear and kisses my hair.

  “Love you too. Good night, baby.”

  My eyes shoot open as Ray’s cell phone alarm springs into action.

  “Very rude gadget ... must be thrown at a wall and broken into a gazillion pieces,” I grumble. Ray reaches over across my head to grab it off the bedside table and turn it off.

  “I have another gadget here you may find a little ruder first thing in the morning.” He nibbles at my ear. I feel my pink nightie slowly creep up my leg.

  “There’s a difference between that rude gadget and this rude gadget.” I reach my left hand back and gently caress him.

  “Mmm ... what’s that?” he murmurs against my ear.

  “That little rude gadget makes me get out of bed, which is not very pleasurable. This rude gadget here,” another stroke, “makes me stay in bed longer, which is very pleasurable.”

  “I could put this one on vibrate,” he offers.

  “Not the same.” I smile and turn my head to kiss his lips. He lifts my left leg and slowly enters me. We get lost in each other. No thoughts of time, place, or past arguments. Just Ray and me, and our love. I reach back and hook my arm around his neck, grabbing a fistful of hair. I moan against his lips, grasping at them urgently to relieve my orgasm’s intensity. As I come down from my peak, Ray begins the final climb to his. He takes in a sharp breath through his teeth. Just as he finds his release, there is a knock on the door.

  “Jesus ... what the?” he gasps. He finishes and collapses behind me.

  Another knock.

  “Room service!”

  “Hold o
n a second, please!” he yells and leans over me to grab his cell. “Christ, they’re fucking ten minutes early.” He grabs one of the plush Maison Fleurie robes as he climbs out of bed and takes some money from his wallet on the way to the door.

  “Sorry we’re a bit early, Mr. McNeil.”

  Ray has the door open so it blocks me from view.

  “That’s okay,” Ray says.

  “Would you like me to bring this in for you?”

  “No, man, that’s all right. My wife is not up and about yet, so I’ll just take it from you. Here you go. Thanks, dude.” Ray turns with a huge tray and closes the door with his foot.

  “Jesus, McNeil! Did you order everything they offered?” I move my feet so he can place it on the bed.

  “Well, everything I knew we’d like, baby. C’mon, get up.” He pats my leg.

  “Yes, husband, dear,” I tease. This warrants a very unusual shy smile from Ray. He’s not one to ever be shy about anything. I stay in bed another minute and study him as he uncovers dishes and puts them on the little table.

  “What?” he asks in a very un-Ray-like, self-conscious way.

  “McNeil, what is going on with you, baby?” I ask, my tone half playful, half serious as I climb out of bed and go to him. I stand behind him and slide my arms around his waist, hugging him to me. “You okay?” I crook my head sideways and wait for him to look back at me. He doesn’t. He takes in a deep breath and covers my hands with his.

  “I’ve called you my wife several times over the years, as you know.” Another breath. “But that was the first time you’ve ever called me husband. I know you were teasing me, but it was nice to hear. I’ve waited a long time for you to refer to me that way.” He turns to me and stares into my eyes.

  “Last week at the butcher shop, I referred to you as my husband to Will.” I smile.

  “You did? Wait! What?” His mood switches when he realizes whose name I said. “Why the hell were you talking to him?” Oh crap!

  “Ray, please calm down.” I palm his face.