When Valentines Collide

by Adrianne Byrd

  “The last time we came, we learned the principles of the Kama Sutra. Now that was fun!”

  Matthew and Chanté shared an amused glance before another couple introduced themselves.

  “Hello, Dr. Valentine.” Jeff, according to his name tag, looking considerably younger than eighteen, pumped his hand. “My wife and I love your show.” His wife, though attractive, was three times the boy’s age. However, they were clearly crazy about each other.

  “I keep tellin’ her that age ain’t nothin’ but a number. Ain’t that right, Dr.V?” Jeff went on about his and his wife’s winter/spring relationship.

  “As long as everyone’s legal,” Matthew agreed good-naturedly.

  Chanté muffled a laugh behind her hand as she turned away and then introduced herself to another couple. In total, there were fifteen couples. Some were newbies and some were veterans. Chanté found that the other couples attended the workshops as a way to either spice up their love life or because they were just plain curious.

  “Good evening, everyone,” a bald Asian man said upon entering the room. “Please take your seats, so we can get started.”

  The seats were actually large, multicolored velvet pillows spread in a big circle. Matthew followed everyone’s lead by sitting more toward the back of the pillow and then spreading his legs so that Chanté could sit in the vee he formed.

  The only couple that alternated from this pose was Wilfred and Mable—mainly because Mable was a whole foot taller than her husband.

  Their instructor smiled as he took his place in the center of the circle. “Good evening,” he said again. “My name is Dr. Dae Kim. I’m happy to meet each of you as you prepare to embark on a wonderful journey. With our simple techniques you will be transformed. In the next four days, you will learn the ancient art of lovemaking. You will learn how to generate powerful surges of sexual energy.”

  Mable let out a loud “whoop” and the group crackled in amusement.

  Dr. Kim smiled at the elderly couple. “Ah, Mable and Wilfred. Welcome back.”

  A beaming Wilfred gave the instructor a high thumbs-up. “Wouldn’t have missed it for the world!”

  Chanté was enchanted by the loving couple. Despite the height difference, they appeared comfortable in their skins and with each other.

  “The most important thing I want you to go away with tonight,” Dr. Kim continued, “is how through some simple exercises and rituals, sex can be used to heal and free the mind, body and soul. Each one of you can achieve a state of bliss. But first, you must identify past hurts whether they are real or imagined.”

  Chanté and Matthew shifted in their seats.

  “The reason it’s important to identify these various hurts, rejections or abuses is because it’s the only way to release the emotions attached to them. Once you do that, you then replace those hurts with positive experiences and emotions.”

  Dr. Kim’s words floated inside Chanté’s head long after class and dinner. Could she and Matthew truly get past all the temper tantrums and arguments in the past year? Four days hardly seemed like enough time.

  The men were excused from the evening mixer so they could get started on their homework. Before Matthew left, Chanté did her best to wheedle clues as to what their mysterious homework entailed.

  “If I tell you, then it would ruin the surprise,” Matthew chuckled and then kissed the tip of her nose before he left the dining room.

  “Stop obsessing,” Edie said after reading her friend’s pensive expression.

  “I wasn’t,” Chanté lied with a forced shrug of indifference. However, she took one look at her friend’s dubious expression and broke out into a wide grin. “This is sort of exciting,” she confessed.

  “So you forgive me for tricking you?”

  Chanté tilted her head high and pretended to mull the question over.

  Edie popped her lightly on the shoulder. “C’mon. You two were being stubborn and you know it.”

  “All right. All right.” Chanté swung her arm around her friend’s shoulder. “Thank you for caring so much.”

  “Don’t mention it,” Edie said, waving off the praise. “I’m sure you would have done the same thing for me.”

  “If you say so.”

  The women continued to mill excitedly around the plush room. The Tree of Life staffers didn’t miss a trick with surrounding them with various exotic flowers, filling the trays with sinfully rich chocolates and playing soft classical music.

  Being that it was ladies’ night, waiters who looked like models roamed about the room in scantily-clad genie outfits that boldly and proudly displayed their bulging muscles. Once, Chanté caught sight of seventy-something Mable slipping a twenty-dollar bill in the lining of a young man’s waistband and then giggling like a young schoolgirl.

  “You think we’ll be like that when we get older?” Edie inquired.

  “God, I hope so.”

  At precisely nine o’clock, Dr. Gardner entered the room, tinkling a small, gold bell. “It’s time ladies,” she sang merrily. “Each of your husbands or partners has prepared a special evening for you. Tonight, you will be the center of attention. As you learned in class, the pathway to the perfect state of bliss is finding the perfect balance. To give and receive. Traditionally women are givers—the nurturers. And men—well, you know where I’m going with this.”

  The women laughed.

  “Tonight. Your only role is to be the receiver. Abandon your natural instincts. Let your partner pour everything they have into you. Take it all in. Give your body freedom to move in the way that it wants. Lose control. Do you think you can do that?”

  “Yes,” the women thundered.

  “Good.” Dr. Gardner glanced around at the smiling women. “Enjoy your evening.” She jingled the bell again.

  Before Chanté could set down her flute of champagne, she had to jump out of the way as the women took off like a pack of thoroughbreds at the Kentucky Derby—Edie included. Not that she wasn’t equally excited as the others, she was. It was just that she was more nervous than anything.

  Which was silly, wasn’t it?

  Shrugging the question off, she strolled back to her private lodge with an arrhythmic heartbeat and trembling legs. At the door, she fidgeted, drew several deep breaths and finally mustered up the courage to knock.

  Immediately, the door flew open and Matthew stood, looking devilishly handsome in a loose, black silk robe. “I was afraid you got lost,” he said.

  Chanté’s jaw slackened at the sight of her husband’s broad, chocolate chest and a tease of his rippling six-pack.

  He smiled at her reaction and stepped farther back. “Please, come in, my beloved.” He gestured with a wide sweeping hand. “I’ve been expecting you.”

  Beloved. Chanté tingled from the word as she crossed the threshold. Immediately, a wondrous blend of jasmine and vanilla wafted under her nose and brought a smile to her lips.

  Matthew closed the door and then quickly appeared at her side. “May I take your purse and shoes for you?”

  Fighting not to laugh, she handed him her purse and started to kick off her shoes when he stopped her.

  “No, no. Let me do that for you.”

  He knelt before her and Chanté’s brows shot up in surprise, and then relaxed in delight when he gently lifted one leg at a time to slide off her pumps.

  “You have very beautiful feet,” he said, looking up at her. “Would you like for me to massage them for you?”

  Chanté couldn’t stop grinning. “I’d love a massage.”

  Matthew stood and put away her things. When he returned, Chanté gasped as he swept her up into his arms.

  “You’re taking your job a little seriously this evening.”

  “I hope that doesn’t displease you. I am at your service, devoted to your pleasure, my beloved.”

  Chanté’s toe tickled at that word again. “Why would I mind you being my love slave?”

  “Ah, that’s the spirit,” Matthew chuck
led as he carried her to the bedroom.

  Chanté gasped again at the beautiful sight of low-lit candles, crushed roses on the bed, champagne on ice by a small alcove and a lamp that projected stars across the ceiling.

  “You’ve been busy.”

  “I hope that means you like it.”

  “I more than like it,” she said, catching his dark gaze. “I love it.”

  Neither spoke as Matthew carried her to the small alcove and lowered her onto a bed made of plush, black velvet pillows. Next, he brought over a large basin of warm water.

  “Would you like some champagne while I bathe your feet?” he asked.

  “I would love some.”

  As attentive as a maître d’at a posh restaurant, Matthew popped the cork to the champagne and then poured the overflowing bubbly into a thin flute. “For you, my beloved.”

  She tingled again and accepted the champagne.

  Matthew returned his attention to bathing her delicate feet. The feel of his strong hands cupping and massaging the soles had Chanté squirming against the pillows. “If you like, I’ve also prepared a bath for you.”

  “This night keeps getting better and better.”

  “That’s the whole idea.”

  Her smile widened. “In that case, I would love a bath.”

  Once again, Chanté found herself swept up into Matthew’s arms and this time carried into the adjoining bathroom. There, another army of scented candles awaited her and on top of the foam of white bubbles were more crushed rose petals.

  Suddenly overwhelmed, Chanté felt tears burn the back of her eyes. It wasn’t that her husband had never staged a romantic evening, it had just been so long since he had done so. Between their hectic schedules—his working during the day at the studio, her working at night at the radio station and their writing—such grand romantic gestures were lost in the shuffle.

  “None of those,” Matthew said, catching her errant tear with the tips of his fingers. “I only want you to feel beautiful…and loved.”

  “Mission accomplished.”

  “But we’ve hardly gotten started. I have a whole evening plan dedicated to pleasuring you.” He gave her a conspiratorial wink. “May I unzip your dress?”

  Unable to help herself, she leaned up on her toes and pressed a kiss against his lips. “Yes, you may.”

  Chapter 13

  Chanté was in heaven.

  Sinking deeper into the tub, she was certain every muscle in her body had turned into mush at the feel of Matthew’s hands roaming her body as he took his time bathing her.

  “More champagne?” he asked.

  His rich baritone seemed deeper than usual and when she opened her eyes, she noticed his onyx gaze was polished with passion. Was he getting as hot as she was?

  “I would love another glass.”

  Like a skilled magician, Matthew produced the champagne bottle, without having left her side, and poured her another glass.

  “There is one last place I have yet to clean, my beloved,” he whispered. “May I have permission to enter your secret garden?”

  Chanté choked on her champagne. “My what?”

  Her husband looked as though he was having a hard time keeping a straight face as well. “According to the worksheet we are to use a different vocabulary for body parts.”

  “And you came up with ‘secret garden’?”

  “It’s not without a certain charm,” he said, stroking the small vee of curls between her legs. “Of course, if you don’t want me to…” He slowly drifted his hand away.

  “No.” She grabbed his arm with her free hand. “I didn’t say that.”

  “So that’s a yes?”

  Suddenly shy, she bit her lower lip and nodded.

  Their gazes locked as his hands glided languidly up her inner thigh. Though she was expecting the probe of his fingers, she nevertheless sucked in a small gasp as he slid one inside of her.

  Matthew set a slow, lazy rhythm that made it difficult for Chanté to hold on to her champagne glass. Without her having to ask, he removed it from her hand.

  “How do you feel?” he asked.

  “Wooonderful,” she moaned, licking her lips and sliding her legs farther apart.

  “You look so beautiful right now,” he said. “What in the world did I ever do to deserve you?”

  “You just got lucky,” she joked, but then closed her eyes when he glided in another finger, instantly doubling her pleasure.

  “I think you’re just about clean,” Matthew said.

  “No, no. Don’t stop,” she panted.

  “As you wish,” he whispered.

  Chanté shivered at the feel of his warm breath drifting across the shell of her ear. In the next second, an explosion of lights flashed behind her closed eyes and her body shook with incredible tremors.

  “That’s it, baby. Let it go.”

  Quaking in the aftershocks of her orgasm, Chanté stilled Matthew’s hand in order for her to catch her breath.

  “Do you require any more cleaning, my beloved?”

  Still panting, she shook her head. “I think I better climb out of this tub before I drown.”

  “As you wish.” Matthew stood and offered a hand to help her stand.

  Chanté accepted his offer and loved how a few of the tub’s soapy bubbles slid down her body and how the bathroom’s cool air drifted across her skin and hardened her nipples.

  This time, her husband magically produced a thick, terry cloth towel and wrapped it around her body as she exited the tub.

  “After you,” Matthew said, sweeping a hand toward the door.

  Excited to see what awaited her, Chanté strolled back into the bedroom and glanced around. The romantic setup still caused her heart to beat in double time.

  “If it pleases you, I would love to give you a full body massage.”

  For the first time, Chanté noticed a massage table at the opposite end of the bedroom. Next to it was a long line of body oils.

  “If you keep this up, we may never leave this place,” she threatened.

  “You’ll get no complaints from me,” he said, leading her to and helping her up on the table.

  At the first drop of warm oil against her back, Chanté teetered on the edge of her second orgasm. But then Matthew’s large hands rubbed, caressed and teased her body and she quickly found herself back straddling that edge.

  “Has anyone ever told you that you have wonderful hands?” she moaned.

  “As a matter of fact, yes,” Matthew chuckled. “I ran out and married her as fast as I could.”

  “Then she is a lucky woman,” she joked back, but then her husband’s hands stopped their massaging.

  “No. I’m the lucky one.”

  Chanté carefully turned onto her side so she could look up at Matthew. It had been a long time since she could read his emotions so clearly and what she read took her breath away.

  He still loved her.

  “Kiss me,” she whispered, feeling that she would wither away if he didn’t.

  A small smile tugged his thick lips. “As you wish.”

  As his head descended slowly, Chanté stretched forward to meet him more than halfway. The moment their lips touched her body continued to melt lazily on the table.

  Matthew wavered on his feet and it had nothing to do with the heady taste of champagne on his wife’s lips. In fact, he felt certain it had everything to do with the raw energy transmitting between them. He knew by the way her body trembled beneath him, that she felt it, too.

  Determined and eager to give her the best night of her life, Matthew gently repositioned her to lie on her back and then broke the kiss. For long seconds afterward, he maintained eye contact. Her emotions were clearly reflected in her gaze.

  She still loved him.

  “Would you like for me to continue your massage, my beloved?”

  “You’re welcome to do whatever you want.”

  He pressed another kiss against her lips and with a great sigh, reached
for another warm bottle of oil. He watched in delight when aromatic oil kissed her skin.

  “That smells divine. What is it?”

  “Chocolate massage oil.”

  Chanté slid her finger between her breasts and then tasted the oil. “Mmm. That’s good.”

  “Does that mean it meets with your approval?” he asked with a wicked grin while he rubbed the oil over her breasts.

  “I’m not sure. I’d like for you to taste it and give me your opinion.”

  “As you wish.” He met and held her gaze again while he lowered his head.

  She sucked in a small gasp as his warm tongue settled over her marbleized nipple, and with slow deliberative strokes, Matthew polished it clean of the oil.

  “Mmm. I’m not sure. Let me taste the other one.” Matthew stretched over and popped the second nipple into his mouth.

  Chanté instinctively arched her back and lolled her head from side to side. While he continued to lick and suck her nipple dry, his hands massaged the oil down her flat belly and even between her legs.

  Briefly, she wondered if anyone has ever died from such pleasure. If not, then surely she would be the first.

  Matthew’s tongue, at long last, trailed away from her glistening nipples, only to explore the valley between her breasts.

  But he didn’t stop there.

  Lower and lower he went, setting off tiny tremors. He even smiled to himself when her breathing quickened to someone running a marathon. He squeezed more oil from the tube and ran his hands down her legs and in between her thighs.

  When he finally reached the end of the table, he slid his hands beneath her buttocks and then grabbed hold of her waist so he could slide her down to the edge.

  “You know, I think I can get a better taste of it this way,” he said huskily and then lowered onto a small chair while settling her legs over his shoulders.

  Chanté’s eyes widened at the feel of her husband’s tongue sliding into her. Then they drifted close as it began moving inside of her. Every thought emptied out of her head and all that was left were these wonderful sensations heating up her body.

  Matthew paid particular attention to the hard pearl in the heart of her “secret garden.” The strokes were languid at first then accelerated to a pace with which she could hardly keep up.