Just what I wanted to hear. ‘Good! Look, let me pack your stuff. You’re getting everything creased.’ I bounced off the bed and rounded to his side, pushing him gently aside. He stood back for a moment and then I felt his arms snake around me from behind. Trying to pick up garments and socks became exceedingly difficult with Jordan’s playful sexuality impairing my movement away from his body.
‘Hang on!’ I reprimanded with a smile. ‘Do you want me to get this done or not?’
‘Yes, of course. I want you to wield your packing magic over my clothes,’ he groaned with his mouth against my neck. The curtains were wide open, giving a bird’s eye view to any Tom, Dick, or Harry as to what was happening in our bedroom. I slapped Jordan’s hands, locked in front across my stomach.
‘Stop it!’ I laughed. ‘Do you want everyone in the street to see us?’
‘Why not?’ he mumbled playfully as he pulled the buttons of my blouse from their holes one by one, exposing my white lace bra, the one with the front clasp.
‘Jordan!’ I giggled. Our apartment was on the ground floor, which meant our private moment was on a pedestal for all to see, and the idea that our neighbours could see my exposed breasts horrified me.
‘Jordan, stop it! Or kill the lights! You don’t want the whole bloody neighbourhood to see your wife’s boobs, do you?’
He stopped momentarily as if in his lustful daze the notion did, in fact, make some impact. Without letting go of me, he pulled me backwards with him to the floor beside the bed.
‘Oh great,’ I remarked. ‘You want to make out on the hard floor?’
‘Yep. It doesn’t matter where we do it,’ he growled as he unzipped my trousers. They were of such a delicate fabric that they just slid off under Jordan’s flat hand as he ran them downward on my legs until I could kick them off.
‘Why don’t you just switch off the light?’ I asked. ‘Then we can get on the bed.’
‘Where is that sense of adventure you always surprise me with?’ he muttered as he buried his face in the soft flesh of my lower abdomen. ‘Nobody can see us now.’
I couldn’t deny that I loved the sensation of his hot breath on my stomach, and with my hands buried in his hair, I abandoned all concerns about being observed.
I felt my mind turn to mush as Jordan’s lips found my inner thighs. All responsible thought escaped my common sense, and I simply released all inhibition. This was what our marriage had been all this time. Romance and fun, not to mention the freedom to engage in random acts of explicit passion at the drop of a hat without any concern for the confines of time or commitment to anyone other than ourselves.
Jordan’s skin felt as if it was heated by fever, his body quivering in absolute rapture as he pulled me up on my knees and threw my upper body over the edge of the bed. As he spread my thighs, his chin rested on my shoulder, and he barely managed to whisper, ‘Did you take your pill today?’
‘Jesus!’ I thought with some annoyance. ‘Even in the middle of all this, he has to check if I’m prone to get pregnant. Unbelievable!’
‘Of course I did!’ I scowled as his hot, heavy body pressed hard against my back and buttocks.
‘Good girl,’ he grunted as he leaned into me.
Normally such a patronising choice of words would turn me on, make me feel as if I belonged to him. For the first time, his words aggravated me. Suddenly, I felt as if ‘good girl’ denoted a sense of misogynistic dominance – as if I didn’t deserve his attention if I didn’t keep to his rigid rules. It felt as if he insisted on my compliance; otherwise, I would be invisible to his affection.
Much as I revelled in feeling him inside of me, I felt that I should probe the extent of his control. Just for asking that question, I childishly wanted to punish him, to spoil his selfish fun.
‘What would you have done if I’d forgotten?’ I said, right in the middle of his thrusting pleasure. I couldn’t wait to hear his reply. I honestly had no idea what he was going to say. Such a thing was unheard of, un-thought of, in our little union, and it was bound to shake Jordan’s foundations just a little.
He stopped reluctantly. ‘What?’
I smiled.
‘What would happen if one day I forgot, or didn’t take the pill on time? Would you stop and run to get a condom?’ I asked quite light-heartedly.
‘Katie, why the fuck would you ask me that?’ he gasped, still on fire and erect, but moving much slower. I could honestly not determine if he was worried or pissed off.
‘Just asking,’ I swooned sensually. I didn’t want to rock the boat too much. ‘Just curious how serious that would be to you, that’s all.’
He stopped moving now. Jordan was obviously irritated by my timing. Touché!
‘Jesus Christ, Katie, did you forget to take the pill?’ he asked.
His tone was immensely impatient, and rightly so. Yet, somehow I felt good for reminding him that I wasn’t some trained concubine he could fuck for fun without the necessary respect due to Nature. I let the question hang in empty air for just long enough to relish his panic, but not long enough to lose his hardness. After all, I wasn’t exactly hating what was happening, and I wanted it. I wanted it to last as long as possible. Jordan was going to be absent from my arms and my bed for days, so I wanted to make the most of him while he was still here.
‘Jordan,’ I said with conviction, ‘I was only asking. Seriously, it’s no biggy. I took my pill. I take it every day. Relax!’
He sighed, reluctant to believe me out of hand, but I knew how to calm my husband. I knew how to put him at ease. There was a certain tone of voice I used that he trusted.
‘Carry on, baby,’ I coaxed in a whisper. ‘I took care of it. You’ve got nothing to worry about.’
Jordan finally relented and gave me everything I wanted, but I could feel his tension somewhere in his passion. This little episode had just proved to me what I already knew. I could never tell him that I wanted to have a baby. Ever.
Chapter 7
After I dropped Jordan off at the station the next day, I drove straight back home. I was looking forward to nothing but a weekend of relaxation. For once, I didn’t have any emergencies or unexpected calls for my assistance in cases that had just come in at work. In my daily life, I never got the chance to just do nothing. It was a rarity that I could boast a day, let alone two, of solitude and inactivity.
The weather forecast predicted that the weekend in Oxford would be wet and cold. The perfect weather for a spooky binge safely in bed.
First some KFC, of all things. I generally detested junk food, but somehow I had an urge to swallow up unnecessary amounts of oily fowl, deep fried in a mess of old poison killed by a myriad of so-called secret spices. Yeah, right. As if.
My next plan of action was to watch a string of YouTube shows about paranormal activity. Why? Just because I secretly loved those. As a child, I loved ghost stories, but as an adult, it was yet another absurdity of logic I dared not indulge too much for fear of ridicule from my colleagues to my husband.
So this weekend, my itinerary was going to consist of the following – sleep, wake, eat and have tea, watch a spooky show, fall asleep, wake, watch a spooky show, shower, eat, fall asleep ... REPEAT.
While navigating my way back home on the still dry roads under the mild skies, I could feel a smile crawl across my face. The radio yielded some memorable 80s hits as I drove through Abingdon and sang all the words I didn’t know without any concern for anyone who might hear. It was the weekend, after all.
Arriving home, I could hardly wait to get through my front door and lock myself in. I had made up my mind that it wouldn’t be unlocked until Monday morning. Unfortunately, it only took a few hours to realise my ‘me time’ wasn’t all it was cracked up to be, after all.
Trying not to think too much on it, it felt horribly alien to be alone. While our bedroom smelt of Jordan’s scent, it felt cold and empty, and in my imagination I was of the mind that empty spaces void of togetherness and silent of two
-sided conversation just begged to be filled ... by anything.
Oddly enough, I felt so alone.
It was a peculiar feeling that both frightened me and steered me to a conclusion that I had not even considered. Had I had a baby, a toddler, a child right now, the apartment would not have been so eerily quiet or silently threatening. If I had a child, my home would never feel so empty, my soul would not feel such utter desolation, and I would have continuous activity keeping me busy with constructive work. I would have company, no matter how inarticulate. Someone would always be with me, in awe of the most mundane things I did and voicing his or her curiosities in the cutest inquiry.
For a moment, I took the time to imagine it as vividly as I could, now that I didn’t have to explain away my sudden smiles. I stood in the kitchen where the only sound was the hum of the fridge and the faint bustle of traffic outside. Then I heard it. From the deep side of the throat of the long hallway, I heard the vague giggle of a small child, accompanied by the gradual sound of flat foot soles lapping on the wooden floor.
‘Mummy!’
My mind perceived it so strongly, yet it wasn’t scary or creepy in the least. The whole atmosphere of my and Jordan’s home changed for a moment with the presence of a would-be child ... and it was sweet, innocent and frisky.
My phone rang, jolting me violently from my unusual daydream. It shattered the silence and the comforting hum of the fridge.
‘Jesus Christ!’ I uttered out loud at the fright my ringtone gave me and raced to answer. The Caller ID only said ‘Private Number’, but sometimes Jordan tried to call me from a colleague’s phone, so I answered.
‘Hello?’
‘Katie, it’s Martha,’ I heard, instantly feeling a thousand pints of black ink engulf my blood in my veins, turning my soul into a withering rose on impact.
‘Hi Martha,’ I replied, trying to keep my tone neutral.
‘Let me speak to Jordy, quickly,’ she said. It wasn’t a request or a polite suggestion because Martha was under the impression that she owned everyone involved with her son as much as she owned him.
‘Isn’t he answering his phone?’ I asked.
‘Of course not. Why would I call you if I want to talk to my son? Put him on. I don’t have time to chat. I’m on my way out,’ she told me sternly.
‘He’s not here, Martha. He’s gone away for the weekend with work. He’ll be back on Monday,’ I informed her cordially.
‘Since when?’ she said in a surprised tone that told me Jordan hadn’t informed her. That in itself was a rarity.
‘Um, well, I dropped him off at the station a few hours ago ...’ I maintained my innocent tone, even though inside my chest my heart was thundering with disdainful antagonism.
‘And why’s his mobile phone off then? He knows full well that he should keep it on at all times for me!’ she ranted.
He probably didn’t feel like listening to your miserable voice. It was yet another phrase in a growing mental book of sentences I wished I could tell her out loud. ‘I don’t know, Martha. Perhaps he’s charging it, or maybe he’s in an area without reception. Who knows?’ I replied a bit more assertively.
She was quiet so I decided to change the course of the conversation to remind her that she was so pressed for time.
‘So, where are you off too? Somewhere nice I hope?’ I asked with a considerable amount of cheer.
‘Where I’m going is no concern of yours,’ she said sourly, ‘but I take it you’re happy to have a free weekend. No doubt it’ll get back to me that you’ve been gallivanting about town, without my Jordy?’
‘Oh, no, Martha,’ I replied calmly, contrary to the fuming rage in my core. ‘I don’t go out alone. Call me old-fashioned, but I don’t want to look like a desperate single woman trying to pick up her next conquest in cheap bars and clubs. Nope, I’ll be staying home and keeping myself busy with a good book.’
She was furious, obviously still being sharp enough to take that insult as personally as it was meant. I could hear her draw breath to speak, so I cut her right off with a quick follow up, ‘Well, Martha, I don’t want to keep you. I have to go. My venison stew is going to burn. Keep well. Bye-bye, now.’
Her repulsion for meat was just another weapon I used in our silent war. I had always found it ironic how she refused to eat meat, saying how bad it was for the human body while she sucked on tar and destroyed her liver with alcohol. Hypocrisy was certainly one of her most prevalent qualities.
After I hung up the phone I too, switched my phone off.
‘Good God, some people just compel normally good girls to act like right bitches,’ I said, shaking my head. For a moment, I almost felt guilty for doing it, and maybe even for finding it so amusing, but as I repeated the conversation in my head, every word she spoke redeemed me of my snide remarks and actions.
I had no venison, but I still had some KFC that was just luring me to the fridge with irresistible charm, and I obliged happily. After my not brief enough exchange with the Winston Snake, my appetite had considerably grown.
Throughout the evening, I slowly recovered from the miserable mood Martha’s call had hurled me into, and by Sunday I was having a rare relaxing time, so much so that it bordered on pleasant boredom.
‘Hey, babykins!’ Jordan’s voice fought through the sound of harsh wind in the phone speaker. ‘I wish you were here. I’m having a brilliant time.’
‘I’m glad to hear it!’ I exclaimed with a chuckle. It was so good to hear my sexy husband’s voice again, and he sounded positively chirpy. ‘What’re you doing? You sound like you’re walking somewhere.’
‘I am. We’re on our way to the local pub. We spent most of the afternoon hiking and had a picnic on the green lawns here. God, it’s amazing here, babe! We so have to come here next month! Hey? What say you, woman?’ He rambled on and on. I could not help smiling for his silliness. I knew Jordan when he was tipsy, and I just knew by all the voices calling for him in the din and distance that he had already started his drinking for the evening.
‘Sounds like a plan.’ I laughed. ‘But you need to stay alive long enough to get home safely tomorrow.’
‘I will! Wild horses couldn’t keep me away from you,’ he cried in elation. ‘Ohhh-kay, I have to go, babykins! I’m being summoned. See you tomorrow!’
He killed the call before I could respond. I could only laugh in the solitude of our home while I cooked myself a small meal. I was convinced Martha had never reached him all weekend. He sounded too happy. As was I. Oh, how blissful things would be if we didn’t have Martha in our lives.
Chapter 8
When I picked Jordan up at Oxford station on Monday evening, he couldn’t stop talking about the weekend. I loved it, though. It was good to see him so excited about something work related. For a good many weeks, he had seemed a little doused in his enthusiasm for work, but now he seemed thoroughly rejuvenated for a change.
‘Did your mum get hold of you?’ I asked when he finally ran out of things to say.
‘Yes, she did. She said you sounded catty on the phone. Katie, you know how I feel about you two fighting, and I especially don’t like it when you’re abrasive to her,’ he reprimanded me. I was astounded, but not completely surprised.
‘Excuse me?’ I asked.
‘See?’ he said. ‘Instantly, you get defensive. You’re my wife. She isn’t a threat to you, yet you keep being disrespectful to her. And if I’m honest, it’s really starting to piss me off.’
I couldn’t believe that he would still side with her. He knew what she was like, and he knew how she spoke down to me whenever she had the chance, yet he still sided with her over me? My heart went wild with anger, but I elected to keep quiet. After all, it would be of no use to me to try and argue with someone who was so completely controlled by her. I would just be wasting my bloody breath and my precious time.
‘Are you going to say anything?’ he said after a few minutes of silence.
‘I don’t feel like talkin
g, Jordan. I’ve got a lot on my mind with work,’ I lied. I wasn’t going to get pulled into a fight with a brick wall again. Jordan didn’t push me any further on our way home. Wisely, he kept to small talk about the weather and the car smelling like Kentucky Fried Chicken that made him hungry. You know – safe subjects.
When we got inside, he made us some hot chocolate as the rainy weather became downright hostile.
‘A cold front is on the way,’ Jordan remarked as the blue glare of the television flashed on his handsome face. He knew he had screwed up with me in the car, but I pretended not to notice his contrition. All through the evening it was kind of sweet, though, how his fretful eyes kept darting briskly in my direction every time he said something, just to see if his statement carried my approval.
Later, around midnight, Jordan grew more courageous in his mannerisms as I closed the door on the dishwasher and stood to my full height.
‘I’m glad I have a beautiful wife whose stunning body is gonna keep me warm tonight,’ he said as he buried his face in my neck again. He was playing, but his firm grip pulling me hard against him was evidence that he was genuinely in the mood for some affection. I couldn’t help but surrender and placed my hands on his chest, running my fingers up under his shirt to find his nipples.
Jordan groaned ecstatically and picked me up. I wrapped my thighs around his waist, and he carried me through to the living room, where he laid me down on the sofa. He hesitated just before he pulled off my underwear. For a moment, I thought he was going to ask about my contraception again, but he seemed to change his mind. He knew another transgression today would not win him any more favours with me.
I wriggled out of my underwear and cradled his face in my hands as he hovered above me, horny as hell.
‘Sweetheart,’ I said with a warm smile, ‘I know you’re worried about me taking the pill. Just stop. I took it today, I promise.’
At first, I thought he would be pissed at me for reading his mind, but to my delight, Jordan’s face turned into a smirk of satisfaction and youthful desire as he eagerly removed the rest of my clothes as if it was the first time we ever made love. I was pleasantly taken by his renewed zest. Jordan treated me as if we were mere acquaintances – as if we were doing something forbidden, and I loved every moment, every pant and every dirty command he laid on me.
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