Hard Redemption: A Second Chance Romantic Comedy

by Emily J. Wright

  Her dress did. The train of her dress ripped apart like a tissue paper.

  My suspicion was right. These dresses were the delicate one, but I chose to look at the positive—Amber’s silky smooth bare legs.

  I began gently stroking her legs and was completely lost in its admiration when Amber’s word pulled me out of the trance.

  “Are you kidding me? I am almost face down in this filth, and you are getting frisky with me. You couldn’t wait till I am out of here?”

  “Sorry, it was an accident. . . . . Although, I should have ripped the dress apart sooner. You are looking hotter now.”

  “Thanks . . . but this hotness would turn into gruesomeness if you don’t pull me out soon.”

  “I will not let anything bad happen to you.”

  I was determined to save her by any unorthodox means necessary. I pulled her legs apart, stuck my head beneath her ass, and gradually pulled her until she was comfortably hoisted up on to my shoulder.

  “Nice work.” She patted on my head as I knelt down and she jumped down on the ground.

  I finally took a sigh of relief and said, “Now, come on, get on the bike, and let me do the pedaling.”

  I picked up the bike and pedaled away with Amber on it.

  Riding a bike with Amber made me experience a level of intimacy like never before. It was not like hot steamy sex, the battle of bodies—but more of a more mature, redefined experience that kept me on the edge of my seat.

  Amber’s hair was brushing on my face, her head leaning back on my shoulders, my hot breath was grazing her neck—it couldn’t get any better than this. I could feel my heart beating in sync with hers. If I knew that bike ride could be so romantic, I would have tried it a lot sooner.

  I kissed the side of Amber’s neck and placed my head on her shoulder. To my surprise, she didn’t react in the way I expected and leaned on more comfortably on me.

  I was liking the drunk Amber. She had a soft spot for me—unlike the sober Amber. I wished she remained drunk all the time and that bike ride would never come to an end.

  But I had to make a stop when I heard the growling sound coming from Amber’s stomach. She was hungry. I took a detour to the closest drive-thru to feed my hungry wife; after all, she needed something to absorb all the wine in her system.

  It was a little embarrassing and frightening when I found myself between two monstrous SUV in the ordering lane. I moved ahead and ordered two hamburgers, French fries, and a diet cola—and also requested some parking space for Amber and me to eat.

  Amber was really enjoying the fast food—more than the lavish tasting menu. While sipping the cola, she said, “You should have brought me here for our date. That restaurant you took me earlier was pathetic. They just didn’t know what they were doing. I mean who serves two-bite hors d’oeuvre but not soup.”

  I know, right,” I said with surprise—and that was a genuine surprise—because I didn’t know what she was talking about.

  Ew!

  I suddenly felt disgusted and grossed out; she let out a loud burp right on my face. But when I saw her snickering, I couldn’t say anything to her but to feel glad in her happiness.

  “That was so funny.” Her snicker had turned into loud laughter by then.

  She then went ahead and kissed my cheeks; she might be happy with my test-dummy service for her burp. Anyway, it was nice to be kissed by the woman you love even if that kiss had a lot of drool in it.

  That meal cost me $17.99—far cheaper than the $325 per head tasting menu—and certainly got the job done as was apparent from Amber’ loud belch.

  By the time we left the drive-thru, it had started to rain a little bit. It was my cue to get us home as soon as possible, and I began paddling the bike as fast as I could.

  Amber’s home was still 20 minutes away when the rain started to take an ugly turn. It was getting heavy for me to breathe; the strong winds were smashing raindrops on my face like a slap from nature itself. Amber, quite the opposite, was giggling and quite enjoying the rain. Then I knew where Casey got her cute giggles from.

  I was ready to call it a night but that night was just about to begin.

  Chapter 15

  We reached the house completely drenched by the rain. I left the bike in the front yard and took Amber inside—almost dragging. She was resisting a lot; she still wanted to enjoy the rain some more. Soaking wet was not enough for her, she wanted to catch a cold.

  It was completely dark in the house. Everybody was already asleep.

  “Amber—go to your bedroom and change into something comfortable,” I whispered so as not to wake anybody up.

  “All right,” she slurred.

  She was carefully taking one step at a time—like a catwalk—as she walked towards the staircase in her heels. Actually, in her intoxicated state, her walk was more like a three-legged cat and mimicked the movement of a pendulum.

  It was still somewhat all right until she got to the staircase. But the real hurdle was just about to begin.

  She took the first step on the stairs and returned back. She tried to climb the stairs again but returned back again. This might have happened a couple of times more before she realized that something was wrong.

  “The stairs are wobbly,” she said with a hiccup.

  I should have known better that she wouldn’t be able to make it to her bedroom without my support. I didn’t know why I let her go on her own, but now when I think of it, subconsciously, it might be because I was afraid to pass by Frank’s room at that time of night.

  I knew that I had to help Amber. Those six-inch pencil heels were a hazard for her in climbing the stairs—or more so in falling down from it. So, I decided to unstrap the heels from her gorgeous feet. Otherwise, she would have rolled down the stairs like a red carpet, but it would be her blood that would make the rug red.

  I sat down on the stairs and tapped my thigh. “All right. Put your foot up here.” Anyone—not specifically me—would have expected a gentle press of toes but Amber literally trampled me with her heels. “Son of a b—” I cursed and bit my fist to muffle my scream. “Are you trying to dig a hole in my thigh?” I asked groaning in excruciating pain, sure to have been branded with her heel.

  “Sorry . . . ,” she said with a big yawn and adjusted her feet so that only the ball of her stiletto was pressing my thigh—not the heel.

  Amber was no doubt under the influence of alcohol. But what I didn’t know was how it affected her. Did she unintentionally stomped on my thigh, or her being under the influence fueled her courage into hurting me which who knew might already be on her mind for so long? In any case, I couldn’t have taken it to heart.

  I put my hands on her foot with the intention of un-strapping her heels. But my foot fetish got the best of me, and I ended up caressing them. At that moment, I was no better than Casey and her fixation on Kermit the Frog—or probably worse as I was a grownup and that wasn’t a toy but my wife’s sweaty foot of which I couldn’t keep my eyes off.

  Amber had placed her foot on my thigh for a while, and it didn’t take her long to figure that something was wrong. She was drunk—not stupid. She knew I wasn’t unstrapping her feet and asked, “What are you doing?”

  “I can’t find the straps.” I gave the lamest excuse, which was still acceptable in the intoxicated condition Amber was. I caressed her feet one last time before I said, “Found it.”

  I unstrapped her heels, slowly and gradually, one at a time, while she stood over me like a goddess looking down on her worshipper from the sky.

  “All done. Let’s go.” I stood back up with her heels dangling in my left hand’s fingers.

  I wished to carry her in my arms to her bedroom. But I couldn’t do that. I didn’t know how she would react to it. So, I did the next best thing.

  I hanged her left arm around my neck, captivated her waist from my right hand, and started securely leading her upstairs. She gradually began shifting her entire body weight on me, and I feared that I might
drop her. Almost there, just a few more steps. I repeatedly motivated myself up until we reached upstairs.

  And then, she was going the wrong way towards Frank’s bedroom when I stopped her. “Not this way.” Perhaps she didn’t know how dangerous it was in there.

  But, I was wrong; she knew about the methane in Frank’s bedroom. “Thank you,” she replied with a stutter.

  I led her to her bedroom, dropped her heels on the floor and tucked her in the bed.

  “Good night . . . ,” I said and kissed her cheek. I was hopeful that she wouldn’t mind as she kissed me earlier at the drive-thru which I didn’t mind. I was just returning the favor.

  As I was going away, she grabbed my hand and said, “I had a nice time today.”

  “Me too!” I said with a smile and kissed her hand. “I don’t want this night to end, but unfortunately all the good things come to an end a lot sooner than expected.”

  “Just like us?” she asked.

  I swallowed a lump in my throat and said, “Yeah . . . just like us.”

  “But who said we are over?” She grabbed the buckle of my leather belt and pulled me closer.

  “You, specifically. You refused to give me a second chance, remember?” I said as I stroked her hair. “Maybe you never loved me like I do.”

  “Nonsense!” Amber shouted and abruptly sat up in her bed. “I’ll show you how much I love you.”

  Amber began untying my belt. I didn’t understand what was happening—a test, her will, or just a dream? But I dared to ask, “What are you doing?”

  “What I should have done the day you came here,” she said and pulled my pants down to my ankle.

  “What about you and Walter? Your wedding? You love him, don’t you?”

  “Oh, for fuck’s sake. I am offering myself to you, and you are bringing Walter in between. He doesn’t even know the first thing about female anatomy. What more can I expect from him?” In her intoxicated condition, she then revealed Walter’s measurements by showing me her pinky finger and whispered, “Shh, don’t tell anyone. I had to fake my orgasm with him.”

  “I can’t tell you how much I appreciate this inside information.” An evil smile floated on my face. And why not? I was happy to know about Walter’s shortcoming and to see how sexually frustrated Amber was. She was ripe for the picking.

  She pulled me on to the bed and said, “Besides, I love the man before me.”

  Like a wild woman possessed with lust, she got on top of me. A drop of water dropped from her wet hair and went straight into my mouth. I felt that the rainwater had turned into elixir after being so long in her hair, which might have made me immortal, like my love.

  “You like my hair, don’t you?” she said while stroking her hair. She somehow suspected this—probably the way I was looking at them.

  I took a long whiff of her hair and replied, “Yes, they are my prison. I want to serve a life sentence under them.”

  “So, my hair is your prison, my eyes are your world, my lap is your heaven, and what’s my feet are . . . ?”

  “My salvation.”

  “Seriously?” Amber asked with a genuine heartfelt smile glowing on her face. “Is there anything you don’t like about me?”

  “God created the world in seven days, and there is so much wrong with it. But you must be his life’s work because you are flawless.”

  It was what I honestly felt and believed for Amber. My deep buried feelings were finally reaching to whom it was for without getting dismissed mid-way.

  I caressed her cheeks and further said, “You are a living perfection. I can’t tell you what I don’t like about you because there is nothing that I don’t love about you.” I then kissed her all the way from the back of her hand to the elbow. “Even the goosebumps which appear on your forearm after the rain takes my breath away.”

  “Right answer,” Amber said with a big smile and started smooching me. Even after three bottles of wine, her breath was not as bad as one would think of.

  I wrapped my arms around her back and pinned her below me. It just took her a fraction of second to rip the bow tie off my neck. If it were up to her, my tux would also be in shreds in no time. So, I quickly got rid of the rental tux and leaned down to worship Amber.

  She placed her cold hands on my chest which sent a shiver through my body. She then began moving her hand around my chest and gave a kiss on my pecs. “I missed this. I miss us.”

  “Not more than me,” I said and kissed her with my tongue shoved deep in her mouth.

  I didn’t know how long that kiss went; I lost track of time. After all, I had to quench my five-year long thirst with her luscious lips. I stopped when I found Amber leaning back; her jaw might be hurting, but mine didn’t.

  I moved on to worship her long neck next. I caressed it, kissed it, and nibbled on it until her breathing become shallow. She wrapped her legs around my back and was ready for me.

  But I was in no mood to stop the foreplay. It was just the beginning. I had read somewhere that navel is one of the erogenous points of the body. I had never tried it before but then was the time to experience it.

  I pulled her dress up to her torso and focused my attention on her navel. I caressed her navel to see if it really was a trigger to enhance the pleasure, but she just laughed and complained me to stop with the tickling. I was not ready to believe so soon that what I read was wrong. And I sucked on her navel which made her moan in ecstasy.

  “Oh, my God . . .”

  I had to put my hand on her face to suppress her shout. “Quiet,” I whispered, “You would wake everybody in the house.”

  “Sorry,” she whispered back, “just continue with what you were doing. Nice work.” She gave me the thumbs up and pressed my face against her navel.

  I licked her perfect navel and twirled the tip of my tongue inside that sweet spot.

  “Oh, Duke!” She clutched the bed sheet tightly in her fist as she wiggled her body.

  I figured I had to stop catering to her navel; I feared that she would climax if I tease it more before we reach to the good stuff. As I said, I wasn’t ready to let go of the foreplay anytime soon. I still had the urge left to kiss her entire body.

  After enriching her navel with my love, I moved on to her thighs, then to her perfect knees, followed by her sexy long legs. I had slobbered well enough on her, but my craving for her body hadn’t reached the pinnacle.

  Until . . .

  I got on my knees and began staring right at the sole of her gorgeous feet with wonder. They were so clean even after spending hours in heels that I couldn’t help but ask. “Do they ever get dirty?”

  “What do you think?” she answered with another question and put her feet on my face.

  I took a good whiff of her feet, wondering if it was just me or her feet really did smell that nice. And I sensually responded, “I think not.”

  She had enough foreplay by then and desperately wanted me inside her. She patted my cheek with her feet and said, “Come on, let’s move on to the main course.”

  And she pulled me back up on the bed and placed my hand right on her crotch. Her panty was completely drenched. She was horny—probably too horny.

  I almost patted myself on the back for making her that wet but she didn’t give me a moment to gloat and said: “What are you thinking?”

  I cleared my throat and replied, “I don’t think I am ready yet.”

  “How much more ready you want to be? Or do you plan to launch this thing on Russia, then?” She played with my raging boner with her feet and then softly said, “Trust me—you are working at maximum power. It will not get any harder than this.”

  “But honey, I still have so much work to do. You are not even naked yet,” I replied innocently.

  “Get the job done—you bastard,” Amber shouted and slapped me across the face.

  Drunk Amber was more fun to be around but undoubtedly much stronger than sober Amber. I had never been hit that hard in my life—not even when I got into a fi
st fight in the Gen Pop with a member of Armenian gang.

  But the aftereffects of that slap were no less than magical. It sent a shockwave to my nether region, and my hard penis started jumping up and down like a dancing ninja. Amber was wrong though, I was not working at maximum power before—but I was then.

  I knew from my experience that Amber slap in a pair, and in a sort of a weird and deranged way, I was craving for the next slap. I even voluntarily presented my other cheek forward just to feel that rush one more time.

  But all in vain.

  Instead, she whisper-yelled, “You can’t just tease me forever. I’ll not let that happen—not again.” I didn’t know what she was talking about. But when she still couldn’t get what she wanted from me, she began mocking me. “I think you have forgotten how to take care of a woman after your stint in prison.”

  Her taunt woke the animal inside me, and I grabbed her by the neck and pulled her closer. “I was gentle with you, enjoying the moment, but I think you want the Bad Duke to take care of you.”

  “Yes . . . I want the bad Duke,” she said breathing raggedly.

  I then moved closer and while licking and biting her earlobe, seductively whispered, “Beware of what you wished for.”

  And I let go of her neck and ripped her dress like it was nothing but a sheet of paper. I even set a new record of my own by unhooking her bra with one hand in one second. And in excitement, I inadvertently threw it out of her bedroom window.

  It was expensive—Victoria’s Secret. But the view before my eyes was more than precious to even think of anything else. Her big beautiful, perfect breasts were hanging on my face ready to be ravished by yours truly.

  I could have been gentle; I preferred it that way. But she chose not to have my way. And I had to cater to her wish.

  I shoved her on her back and roughly kissed all over her breasts. It involved less lips and more teeth, which to my surprise, she was enjoying quite a lot. And so was I.

  Amber begged me to pay some attention to her pointy nipples as well. “Do my nipples, do my nipples.”

  “Nah! Maybe some other time.” I denied her request just like she denied me with the extra slap when I was almost begging for it. Tit for tat!