A Basic Renovation

by Sandra Antonelli

  ‘Sheets? We’re not going to make it to sheets. Hell, we’re not going to make it to the bedroom!’

  ‘Oh yes we are!’ Dominic lifted her. Her legs twisted around his waist, boot-clad ankles locking together. A knot of heat and thin, wet fabric pressed into his bare skin. Fine cotton and the luscious core of Lesley rubbed against his belly. He groaned loudly.

  ‘What’s wrong with here? The table looks good.’

  ‘The table looks great, but the condoms are in the bedroom!’

  The breath hitched in her chest. ‘How far?’

  ‘Through the dining room, down the hall, second door on the right.’

  ‘Go. Go!’

  He glanced down at his feet. A swath of smoke-blue was draped across his naked toes. Since her hands had been so active, his shirt was up under his armpits, but his shorts had crept halfway down his backside, the waistband of his boxers had snagged on his fully aroused penis, which was bound by cloth and jammed against the inside of her thighs. ‘Little help?’

  Lesley grabbed the back of his shorts and hitched them up. ‘Go. Throw me over your shoulder if you have to, just go!’

  He did. In one move she was slung around his neck in a fireman’s rescue hold and he’d kicked the skirt from his feet. It took five seconds to cover the distance from kitchen to bedroom.

  Inches from the bed, Dominic bent forward and set her on her feet. Nearly panting, his body singing with need, he stepped back and licked the taste of her from his bottom lip. Shaking, he gathered his very last shred of control, squeezing both hands into fists so he wouldn’t touch her. Naked. She had to be naked. When they both came she had to be naked. ‘Take off the rest of your clothes.’

  ‘I don’t care about clo—’

  ‘Just take them off. Really slow.’

  ‘What are you going to do, watch?’

  ‘Oh, yeah.’

  Smirking up at him, her eyes never leaving his, Lesley sat on the edge of a neatly-made king-sized bed and began to pull off her red boots.

  ‘No, no,’ he shook his head, ‘leave those.’

  Amused, Lesley’s head cocked to one side. Then she crossed her arms to gather the hem of her skinny white t-shirt and pulled it up over her head. Buff-coloured like her panties, her bra had a design of lace flowers that didn’t quite cover the rosiness of her nipples. When she stood, reached behind her back, unhooked the catch, and slid out of the garment, she saw the pulse leap in Dominic’s throat. Both thumbs hooked into the elastic of her undies and she slipped them down over her hips, feeling his eyes travel the same route as her hands. All seductive grace faltered when she got to the tops of her boots. Awkward bending and knee lifting could have ruined the striptease, but his soft chuckle said it didn’t matter. As she stepped out of her panties and straightened, he drew a shaky breath.

  ‘Jay-zus you’re gorgeous.’

  She felt cute before, even pretty a couple of times, but for the first time in her life, Lesley did feel gorgeous. The way Dominic looked at her, studied her with such appreciation made her feel dazzlingly beautiful, sensual and powerfully erotic. Liquid spirals of desire twisted through her veins and sprang from her pores. ‘OK, Walks With Hard-on, strip.’

  Dominic was a man of fluid action. Off went the t-shirt. Tan shorts followed by green boxers got kicked into a pile. Next thing, he had Lesley on the bed, her ears in a pile of blue pin-striped pillows as he kissed her.

  She tasted amazing, like nothing he’d ever sampled before and he was an instant addict. He should have worked it out the second she’d kissed him the other day. Lesley was crack, ice, ecstasy, whatever the most potent drug there was out there, that’s what she was, and he was a junkie. Her mouth was opiate heat and softness, her body, so perfectly tucked to his oversized frame, was smooth and silky. Heart hammering, he shifted to his side, taking her along so he could run his hands down the length of her.

  This would take a few seconds, not minutes, which meant it was going to be over soon – too soon. Idiotically, Dominic actually tried to hold off, to picture things like sweaty socks and cleaning the bathroom like he did on Sunday mornings, but all he saw was Lesley.

  And she was a treasure.

  He kissed her throat and made a path to her breasts where a diminutive crown met his lips. His tongue circled around it like a precious jewel before he drew it into his mouth to suckle. Spider-walking fingers down her belly, he found the slippery cleft that was wholly female and felt her shudder as he circled around the tiny pearl inside.

  ‘Dominic,’ she half-gasped, her boot-clad foot curled over his thigh as she moved against his hand, ‘no more waiting.’ She rolled onto her back and her legs parted, opening to him. He saw his hand dancing through the slick, satin of her vivid pink flesh, and nearly lost himself.

  A split second later, a foil packet flew to the braided rag rug beside the bed and he nudged the sensitive tip of his erection against her sultry wetness. He forced himself to take a breath then buried himself inside her. Building a rhythm, he began to slide up and back, sinking into her higher and further. He shoved both hands under her bottom and angled her hips to plunge himself even deeper.

  Lesley whimpered with delight and something else. ‘This is all wrong!’ her voice was a husky pleasure-filled groan. ‘It’s wrong!’

  ‘What? What’s wrong?’

  Lesley mewled. The heels of her boots dug into his ass, her fingertips pressed into his shoulders. ‘You said you wanted me on top!’

  Dominic didn’t quite get that. He was half-deaf with her tight and tugging around him, blood rushing in his ears. ‘I said what?’

  ‘The other day, you said you wanted to be on your back, naked, with me straddling you! Isn’t that why I’m wearing boots?’

  ‘You want to be on top?’

  ‘Yes,’ sucked on his bottom lip, ‘God, yes, yes!’

  ‘Ride ‘em cowgirl.’ Laughing, he sat up with her biting into his shoulder. As his head slammed into feather pillows, Lesley arched back and snapped forward. Legs astride, open to him completely, she began to move, to roll and sway. Lithe, her body whipped and rubbed against him, tiny noises, broken gasps, sighs, his name escaped from her lips. Her head fell back; her hands abraded his nipples and stroked his chest. She rocked forward and kissed him, tongue as hot and wet as the rippling flesh that encased him.

  Dominic had known it would be good, but he hadn’t been prepared for spectacular. When she moved on him, her hips undulating as if she were a belly dancer, his mind emptied of thought. He became acutely aware of his own skin, of the sensual heat at the base of his spine, of the taste of her in his mouth. ‘What are you doing to me?’

  Lesley slowed, rocking against him, not quite coming to a standstill, blinking. ‘Is it awful?’

  ‘Awful?’ he inhaled sharply, ‘You’re…blowing my mind.’

  Her moan was half-pleasure, half-surprise, all throaty passion, ‘I am?’

  When she curved forward and bowed back, white hot swirls of pleasure radiated out in every direction. ‘Yesss.’ Dominic hissed through his teeth.

  She started laughing, which only added to the sensations tightening around him. ‘Somebody once told me I was a lousy lay.’

  ‘That guy…oh, Jesus…was a flaccid little noodle.’

  ‘Noodle?’

  ‘Limp…as over…cooked spaghetti. Inna-gadda-da-vida!’ She had him balanced on a pinhead when she gazed down at him and licked the corner of her mouth, inching back and forth on his hips with careful deliberation. It was pure, delectable torture.

  And she knew it.

  ‘You…are…killing…me,’ Dominic panted.

  ‘You made me wait. Now it’s your turn, so promise me something.’

  He was slick with her sweat and close, so close. She was too. He could feel tiny almost-quivers deep inside her pulsate against the head of his penis. ‘What? Anything,’ he breathed heavily. ‘Glory days, Lesley, name it!’

  Lesley smiled and resumed speed, sliding, grinding against him.
‘Don’t ever,’ she gasped, ‘make me spaghetti.’

  He nodded and gripped her waist. ‘No…spaghetti,’ he groaned. His spine arched and he pushed up into her, the force lifting her off her knees. He drove her onto her back and thrust deeply, twice, three times. Her muscles began to flutter around him, pulsing, pulling him further inside. He was buried in her wholly and she held him in a brand new galaxy. She cried out his name. A single instant of an atom splitting apart sent shock waves through every nerve of his body. The power overwhelmed him and broke him. The world expanded and receded all at once until the only universe Dominic knew was Lesley.

  Chapter 17

  Rolled up and wrapped in plastic, The Los Alamos Monitor was sitting at the top of the driveway when Martino ran over it and squashed it flat. He’d been humming to himself ever since he left Eilish at her door with a kiss. Tomorrow he’d send her a single white rose, just so she’d know their love was pure.

  The end to this perfect day called for Nat King Cole and a Romeo y Julieta cigar out on the back deck. He’d smoke, watch the sun sink further behind the Jemez, and listen to Nat’s smooth-as-silk vocals – if he could remember where Number Five had put the old LPs.

  He hoped Eilish liked Nat. He’d forgotten to ask her. He already knew she liked Johnny Mercer, but who didn’t?

  Smiling, singing The Atchison Topeka and the Santa Fe under his breath, he pulled into his space beneath the carport. By the time he got out of his Taurus, grabbed the thin newspaper, and sauntered to the front steps with a decided spring in step, his daughter was outside, glaring.

  Martino smiled. ‘Well, hello, Number Five.’

  ‘Don’t you “hello, Number Five” me, Big Wheel!’

  ‘What’s up your ass?’

  ‘What’s up my…I ought to take that paper and knock some sense into you.’

  ‘Make sure you put your shoulder into it when you swing it, just like I taught you.’

  Gina set her teeth together with a snap. ‘Don’t tempt me. I’m not in the mood. You picked a fight with someone in a public place? The police come for your granddaughter and you leave? On top of that, you’ve been hoarding Dr Pepper and drinking coffee! Don’t even try to deny it. I can smell it all over your breath. What the hell is the matter with you?’

  ‘As Mitzi Gaynor once said, I’m in love, I’m in love, I’m in love with a wonderful girrrl! You know you look a lot like your mother when you’re pissy? Give us a kiss, honey.’

  His daughter thrust a finger in front of his face. ‘You…just…don’t you even…yahhh!’ Gina spun around and stomped down the steps. She would have slammed the door, but the Mick was in the way.

  Patrick stepped outside, gave snort of disgust, and cocked his head. ‘Well done, GP.’

  ‘Ooh. Look everyone, the Big Six is mad too!’

  ‘You think I’m mad? Wait ‘til you see Lesley.’

  ‘My knees are a-knockin’.’

  ‘You know, you surprised me. I can take it when you blow smoke in my face, when you make fun of me or call me names. You’re an ornery old bull. That’s just you and I never take it personally, but what you did to Lesley crosses the line.’

  ‘I didn’t do anything to Lesley. And don’t you take that tone of voice with me.’

  ‘Tone of voice? You walked out of a fight you started and she’s the one who wound up in jail!’

  ‘What are you talking about? We got citations. Yeah, the cop took her away, but she’s not in jail. Eilish’s nephew wouldn’t let that happen.’

  ‘If by Eilish’s nephew you mean John Tilbrook, then you’re wrong. It was his day off. Lesley got booked for aggravated battery. I had to bail her out. Where the hell have you been all day? It’s not enough Gina’s worrying about Lesley, she’s got to worry about you, too?’

  Martino stomped his Doc’s and swore, ‘Cazzo! Porca miseria! Disgraziato!’ he bit into the edge of his index finger and made a few more gestures that were wholly Italian before finishing up with, ‘Ho fatto una vera cagata! Where is she now?’

  ‘She went home. And she’s furious with you.’

  Hands on his hips, he looked up at his daughter’s moustachioed husband. ‘Let me tell you something, Patrick.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘As aged, hunched over and decrepit as a man can get, he’s never too old for his pecker to get him into trouble.’

  ‘I’ll keep that in mind. Meanwhile, I think you better apologise to Lesley and face the music with your daughter.’

  ‘Oh, I will, but you and I need to have a little talk first.’

  ‘I thought we just had a little talk.’

  ‘We did, but I’m going to call in a favour.’

  ‘Call in a favour?’ Patrick took the newspaper from under Martino’s arm. ‘I don’t recall owing you any favours.’

  ‘You’re about to. I want to put my car in the garage from now on.’

  His moustache twitched as he frowned and shook his head, tapping the paper against his leg. ‘I don’t think so, Dad.’

  Martino smiled. ‘Then I’m buying a studio apartment at Aspen Ridge.’

  ‘That’s not going to happen.’

  Still smiling, Martino slid an arm around Patrick’s waist. ‘You know that golf tournament you’re going to in Vegas?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I want to come.’

  Patrick’s green eyes gleamed. ‘No to that as well.’

  ‘Tell me something, son,’ Martino sighed, ‘do you know the difference between extortion and blackmail?’

  Sometime close to sunrise, Dominic stirred and Lesley rolled onto her back. She stretched and released a happy-sounding sigh. He lifted his head and smiled. Her limbs felt weak from slumber when he settled an arm across her waist.

  ‘Your cowboy boots,’ he mumbled, his face half-buried beside her breast, fingers making a lazy pattern over her dewy skin.

  ‘What about them?’ Lesley stroked his hair. It was thick and shot through with more silver than she’d noticed before.

  ‘I tried to figure it out before. I came home the night Kyle broke his arm and couldn’t get you off my mind. Every time I closed my eyes all I saw were red cowboy boots.’

  ‘My boots?’

  ‘Most people renovating would wear big bulky work shoes, Doc Martens, or Nikes or something with a thick sole, but there you were with Cuban-heeled red cowboy boots.’ Lightly, his index finger traced around her areola. ‘You’re different. Not uninspiring or featureless, just different. How did I miss it before? How did Terry not see? How did you not see this? Did you know you have a little hair growing right under your nipple?’

  Lesley felt a flash of embarrassment and heat flood into her face. She’d been so careful, plucking a few strays, exfoliating the muckiness of jail off her skin, shaving legs and under arms, and just when she’d been thrilled by the power of her own sexuality, an errant hair spoiled it all. ‘Well, you have a few on your ears, but I didn’t mention them.’

  Dominic chuckled. ‘The joys of aging, huh? You hear about middle-aged spread, but no one ever tells you about the hair in screwy places. Remind me to let Kyle know.’

  ‘Maybe it’s best to get this over with now so it doesn’t come as such a shock later when you suck on them.’

  ‘I’m going to suck on something else?’ He lifted his head and glanced up at her, one perfect eyebrow raised in a smirk.

  ‘Oh, I hope so, but I only think it’s fair to tell you there’s fur on my big toes.’

  ‘That’s nothing. I have to use a nose trimmer twice a week. Glory days, it gets like a Christmas spruce in there. I’m surprised squirrels haven’t tried to take up residence.’

  Lesley’s sigh was impatient. Her fingers slipped from his hair. ‘You know what annoys me? I’ve got insight I lacked when I was twenty-five and it’s not fair. It’s not fair that brains and body don’t reach some kind of common meeting point. Suddenly it’s toe hair and sagging skin and nothing else matters. The expression seen better days doesn’t apply to me
n, but if you’re a woman it sure as hell does. Men can be virile at any age, while we’ve got some kind of use by or best before date called menopause.’

  ‘You don’t actually believe that, do you?’

  ‘No. Sometimes. Occasionally. My mother harps on and on about it. There are a lot of stories out there about a man trading in his wife or girlfriend for a new model. When you’re my age and unmarried you sort of wonder if there’s something wrong with you, or if yo…’ Lesley caught herself. She was about to ruin something that felt special. It might have been stupid, but being in Dominic’s bed seemed right. Even if it was temporary, even if this wasn’t about love, it was unique and deserved appreciation. ‘Sorry. It’s been a while since I’ve…been in this position. I’ve had some cruddy boyfriends and nothing has ever been quite as…stellar as this. I think I’m a little overwhelmed.’

  ‘Your pseudo husband traded you for a new model when you were in your twenties. A crisis like that, at any age, comes down to the man and his insecurities, not the woman. The reality is a normal man, one with his shit together, wants a woman he can relate to, talk to and share something with, other than sex.’ He puffed up a pillow and settled his cheek on it, but left a hand on her stomach, his thumb sweeping back and forth in a gentle arc over her pale skin. ‘Trust me on this, Lesley. Women half your age have nothing on you. You know what you’re doing and how to do it. I’ll take experience and quality over un-ripened, youth-obsessed preening any day.’

  Lesley turned to look at him. She ran a finger over his mouth and chin. ‘Have you had a lot of girlfriends?’

  ‘A fair few, yeah, but none of them as spectacular as you.’

  ‘You’re just saying that so you can get in my pants again.’

  ‘Doll-baby, you’re not wearing any pants. And I’m serious.’

  ‘So you’re telling me you never had a thing for centrefold playmates with Carmen Electra boobs?’

  ‘I’m a changed man. These days I prefer little strawberry blonde playthings with wispy nipple hairs and breasts that fit completely into my hand.’ Dominic gathered her close, his front to her back, and curled around her, cupping a handful of soft, weighted flesh. The beat of her heart was steady in his palm. After two sizzling times he thought he was sated, figured they’d settle into the warm embers of each other and go back to sleep, but his penis was wide awake and had already begun to press into her bottom.