by Kelly Utt
The horizon is clear this evening and it doesn’t look like rain will threaten the festivities. As usual, the lake is sparkling and beautiful as blue peaks and valleys dance together in their ancient, mesmerizing rhythm.
I’m proud of the lake and our view of it. It’s almost as if the lake is a loved one. Every time a member of the catering crew or one of the musicians stops to admire the lake from our house, I feel like a proud papa. This is going to be a night to remember.
Marjorie and Roddy are the first guests to show up. Once inside, they take their bags to their room upstairs, then freshen up and change their clothes for the party. They return to the main level looking surprisingly put together for having just been on the road from Manhattan for more than four hours.
The first thing they do in party mode is to sample the food and compliment the caterer. I suppose it’s their obligation as huge foodies and amateur chefs. They’re both excited, dancing with Ethan and Leo along to the music even though the musicians are only beginning to warm up. Marjorie checks out the string bass and plays a few notes when offered the chance.
I love to see my in-laws having fun. Mom isn’t the fun type, exactly, so I’m especially glad to have unabashed fun flowing from the other side of our family. I think it’s important for the boys to see. It’s one of many reasons I’m grateful for Marjorie and Roddy. Those two soak up every last bit of enjoyment from all they do. I want my boys to remember that being a kid was fun. And I want them to grow up feeling free enough to have fun as adults. Having their Mama Marjorie and Papa Roddy around will ensure that it happens.
I’m wearing a suit and a crisp white dress shirt, per my wife’s emphatic instructions. I’d have been happy in shorts and sandals with maybe a polo shirt for the special occasion, but she wanted us to take it up a few notches. I get it. She loves to dress up and to dress me and the boys up to match. We’re like her real-life dolls. We don’t mind playing the parts.
With the killer body Ali has, she probably ought to be wearing slinky, low-cut summer dresses every chance she gets. I know I certainly wouldn’t mind. She’s looking amazing this evening. It’s all I can do to keep my hands to myself.
Now that Marjorie and Roddy are here to entertain and watch over the boys, I can’t help but sneak into the bathroom where Ali’s putting the finishing touches on her makeup in the hopes of seeing a little pre-party action. If she’s in the mood, of course.
I close and lock the door behind me, then lean back against it as I feast my eyes on my ravishing wife.
Alessandra Davies is a beautiful creature like none other. The party dress she’s chosen is a deep blue, sleeveless bohemian number with a plunging neckline which lands well below her perky breasts. Thin cotton straps meet at the back of her neck, secured with a single bow knot. A built-in elastic band frames her small, firm waist and allows the loose fabric to fall seductively around her taut backside. The bottom half of the dress features a white and turquoise floral print with a flirtatious ruffle around the edge culminating in a v-line which climbs nearly all the way to the top of her long, exquisite legs.
She’s standing in front of the mirror and she looks like an irresistible gift ready to be unwrapped. Her golden hair is pinned back above one of her temples, forcing the rest of the long, wavy strands to settle around the other side of her delicate jawline.
My wife has the diamond necklace I gave her before little Will was born set out on the counter in front of her, so I move forward to pick it up and fasten it around her graceful neck. She arches her back as I lean over her shoulder to reach for the necklace, so I turn my face towards hers and let my lips brush lightly across her earlobe while I move past. I remember the mind-bending lovemaking we enjoyed the night I gave her this necklace. She closes her eyes and lets out a sexy moan in response to my touch and I know she remembers, too. I clasp the cool diamonds in my palm and draw my hand back, allowing my fingertips to graze the front of her bosom. Her nipples are stiff, protruding visibly through the fabric of her dress.
I take the nape of her neck into my mouth as my hands work to fasten the clasp on the diamond necklace. I kiss her skin softly, breathing in her sweet, beckoning scent. When the clasp is secure, I place my hands firmly on her hips as I move my mouth along her collarbone and under one of the cotton straps holding her titillating breasts in place. She lifts her chin high and leans back on my chest while simultaneously raising one arm and placing it seductively behind my head and running her fingers through my hair.
She’s ready. She wants me to devour her.
I don’t waste any time.
My manhood is swollen and throbbing hard as I touch my wife’s smooth skin and watch us move together in the mirror. I can feel the throbbing throughout my entire body, from head to toe. Ali is feeling it too, moaning and writhing against me with anticipation. We’re on fire for each other. The rest of the world fades while, from behind, I move one hand up to squeeze my wife’s exposed breast and circle her erect nipple. I slide the other hand over the front of her hip and right into the v-line of her party dress.
She isn’t wearing panties yet. She must have known I’d want to be inside her once I saw that dress. Realizing this fact makes me even more wild with desire.
The smooth, silky skin between her legs is dripping wet with passion when I touch it. It feels so good between my fingers. Familiar, like home. I desperately, urgently, want to get deeper into it. In one quick motion, I pick my wife up and spin her around before propping her on the makeup counter, legs spread wide open. I move down her body hungrily until I reach her sweet spot. I then chew ravenously with my lips and tongue as she stimulates her own breast with one hand and pulls my head tightly in towards her with the other. She yells loudly with ecstasy as my mouth slips and slides over every nook and cranny of the space between her legs. I love looking up from this vantage point and seeing her enjoy this. I take my time and relish the view.
When I feel like we’ll both positively burst without a release, I stand and unbutton my trousers to enter her. She grabs at my groin greedily as her mouth meets mine and she kisses me deeply, my lips still wet from her juices. The ruffles around the edge of her dress hug her exposed hips as she wraps her gorgeous long legs around me and I slide aggressively inside. Both of my wife’s breasts are billowing out now, and they bounce seductively against the diamond necklace as I push and heave within her. We grip and grind against each other until we reach that one transcendent juncture of pure bliss. I plant my seed deep inside of her very being while, at the same time, her body contracts with pleasure as she welcomes it in. In this moment, we are one.
The physical connection Ali and I have is mind-blowing, but our relationship isn’t only about the physical. When we make love, we ascend to another realm, spiritually.
Everyone should experience what we do when we’re in the heat of the moment like this. It defies all logic and reasonable explanation.
Once we’ve both caught our breath, Ali giggles and leans her head on my shoulder.
“Look at me,” she says, gesturing down to her rumpled dress. “I’m a mess, Georgie.”
“You’re a beautiful mess, my love,” I reply as I kiss her lightly on the lips. “This is the way I like you best: glistening with perspiration, face flush, and positively glowing with pleasure. Nothing makes me happier than to make you feel this good.”
“Yeah, but how did you come through with nothing out of place but your zipper and belt buckle?” she says with a chuckle. “I’m all disheveled.”
“I think my hair is a little messed up,” I tease while turning my head to one side. “In the back. See it?”
She laughs as she shakes her head from side to side. I like to make her laugh.
“We’ll get you put back together,” I say as I lean down and place my mouth gently around one of her nipples.
“Come on, now,” she replies, teasing. “I yelled so loudly that the others probably heard me. We’ve got entertaining to do. No time for a round two just yet
.”
“Oh, I’m just giving you a taste of what you have to look forward to tonight when the party’s over and our overnight guests have gone to bed. You know your parents will probably keep the boys upstairs with them.”
“Oh, you are, huh?” she asks me, as she reaches one hand down to stroke my groin. My blood rushes again, instantly, at her touch.
“Did you really think you’d be able to wear that dress and get away with making love to your husband just once tonight?” I ask playfully. “It will take every ounce of self-control I have to keep my hands off of you while our guests are here.”
“Well, I didn’t say you had to keep your hands off of me entirely,” she replies coyly. “By all means, help yourself if we get a moment alone.”
“That’s a promise,” I say. “I’ll be counting the minutes until I can feel you against me again.”
“I love the way you adore me,” Ali says as she continues to move her hand around inside of my pants, stroking me just the way I like.
“It’s not an act,” I reply. “I really do adore you, babe. So very much. You make me the single luckiest man in the world, Alessandra Davies.”
We hold each other like that for a few moments, then straighten ourselves up and exit the bathroom just in time to see Taye Jackson and his son Malcolm pull up out front.
They’re already dressed in their party clothes even though they’ve been on the road from Western Massachusetts. Stockbridge is a closer drive than my in-laws had from Manhattan, but not by much. Perhaps Taye stopped somewhere in town so they could change before driving the last leg to our house.
Malcolm looks like Taye’s mini-me as the father and son duo steps out of their black SUV and begins to strut towards the house. They look good and they know it. Taye is wearing a black blazer with a vibrant pink button-down shirt underneath which shows off his muscular physique. Seeing him always reminds me to keep up my workout routine. Malcolm is wearing a similar blazer in navy blue with a mint green button-down shirt.
Their strides are deliberate and powerful as they walk up our long driveway and into the front courtyard area. Their body language screams cool confidence. No hint of shyness or hesitation on either of their faces.
Malcolm looks especially proud to be here. I have a hunch these two will have some impressive dance moves on display this evening. I look forward to getting out on the dance floor with them. Maybe they can teach me a thing or two.
Taye and Malcolm are just inside the front door when Isabel Madera pulls up in her orange Jeep and parks along the curb in front of Liam’s truck.
She has all the doors and windows off. I assume that’s so the warm summer breeze can move unencumbered throughout her vehicle. I leave Ali inside to catch up with Taye and Malcolm while I step out to greet Isabel.
Dr. Madera an interesting mix of contradictions, that’s for sure. I wouldn’t have necessarily pegged her as a Jeep person. Maybe it makes sense though. She does have a rough and tumble quality about her that’s different from Ali.
Isabel’s long, dark hair isn’t pinned carefully. Instead, it swirls freely around her head and shoulders. She’s wearing a curve-hugging summer dress of her own, but it’s a low-key khaki color halter top without ruffles, v-lines, or floral patterns. She isn’t quite as elegant and refined as my wife, but there’s something attractive about that. Differently attractive. I prefer Ali by a long shot, of course, but Isabel is certainly a beautiful woman in her own right.
There’s an attraction Ali and I both feel for her. I don’t know if Isabel feels the same way about us. I’ll probably never find out. And that’s for the best, I’m sure.
The midwives told Ali and me that our romp in the unisex bathroom at the hospital the night Will was born helped to get labor going full-steam ahead. We didn’t mention how our sexy time that evening was inspired by one Isabel Madera. That would have been entirely too embarrassing. Some things are better kept private.
“Hello, George,” Isabel says as she reaches up to hug my neck. “Thanks for inviting me to your party.”
A warm rush moves over me and a flash of a naked Isabel Madera in bed with me and Ali crosses my mind. I quickly tell myself to stop it, then I politely hug Isabel at the shoulders in the most platonic way possible as I welcome her to the party.
Liam is here tonight without a significant other. Maybe he and Isabel can hang around together some. I don’t know what’s happening with Liam and Estella, but as far as women go, Isabel and Estella are the same general type. Both are olive-skinned with keen intelligence, quick wits, and flawless bodies. They’re even the same age. If Liam and Estella are, in fact, separating, he and Isabel might just be interested in getting to know each other. I’d approve. I think Isabel would be a good match for my uncle.
“You’re welcome,” I reply. “It’s great to have you. I know Ali will be glad to see you.”
Another flash of the bed scene moves through my mind. Damn it. The scene is so vivid. It feels so natural. It’s awfully hard to stop myself and push it out of my head.
“That’s sweet,” Isabel says. “I love Ali. I’ll be glad to see her, too.”
“And Liam,” I add awkwardly. “He’s here without a date. I mean… I don’t mean that you two should…”
I feel like a dumb teenager who can’t find the right words to say to a pretty girl. I’m puzzled as to why I’m floundering like this. I’m a grown man. And a happily married one.
“It’s okay, George,” Isabel assures, her rich, brown eyes peering intently at me. “No problem.”
“I just mean, well, I think he and his wife Estella may be separating.” I blurt out. I immediately wonder if I should have said anything. “He might like a little friendly company tonight. That’s all.”
Isabel smiles. Here I am trying to push Liam on her when Ali and I may want her for ourselves. The thoughts are tumbling out of my mind faster than I can stuff them back in. Ali and I have never discussed a threesome. We’ve never even thought about anything like that. Well, other than the night in the hospital bathroom, that is. But it doesn’t sound like us. Something about Isabel’s magnetism is impossible to deny though. I swear I feel like we’ve known her for a long time. Our attraction to her the night Will was born was undeniable. Ali and I didn’t talk about it afterward, but we know we were both incredibly turned on.
Before I have a chance to get too lost in my own racy and confusing thoughts, Jen and Duke arrive. I’m grateful for an excuse to move on and away from Isabel for the time being. Isabel is probably glad for a chance to end our awkward conversation.
“Make yourself at home inside,” I say to Dr. Madera, gesturing to the front of the house. “Ali and the boys are inside, along with Ali’s parents, Marjorie and Roddy. I think you met them at the hospital when we were all there for John Wendell.”
“I did,” she confirms.
“Ali’s friend from college, Taye, is inside also with his twelve-year-old son, Malcolm. And Mom should be here before too long,” I add.
“Great, thank you,” Isabel says as she turns and proceeds to walk up our long driveway.
I find my gaze drawn to her hourglass figure and muscular legs, but I again tell myself to hold it together. I don’t want Duke and Jen to see me staring at Isabel like this. They’d surely wonder what the hell was wrong with me. I wonder what the hell is wrong with me, for fuck’s sake. I turn to face Jen’s Subaru and try my best to focus.
Duke steps out of the driver’s seat looking every bit as good as Taye and Malcolm.
“George!” he shouts excitedly. “What’s good, brother?”
Duke is wearing what now looks like the standard party dress code for us guys: a blazer and a crisp button-down shirt. Duke’s jacket is a dark charcoal color and his shirt underneath is a muted yellow.
“It’s all good,” I say with a smile as I walk up to Duke and lean in for a bro hug. “Glad you’re here, man.”
“Me, too,” Duke replies. “I’ve been looking forward to parties
like this ever since the day you moved into this place and Jen and I came over to check it out.”
“Yeah, I remember you pointing out the entertainment options,” I say with a laugh. “I hope we don’t disappoint.”
“No way,” Duke replies. Then he leans closer and lowers his voice. “I don’t want to bring up anything uncomfortable, but I’d like to say how glad I am to see you and the family making happy memories here. After, you know.”
“I do know,” I confirm. “It hasn’t been easy, but we’re determined to focus on the positive. I’m pretty sure we have the security situation under control at this point. That’s the important thing. As long as we’re safe, we can heal.”
“I admire you for your attitude, man,” Duke affirms. “Unfortunately, my work on the force shows me people who don’t recover so well. It can get ugly. Like you wouldn’t believe.”
“I get that,” I say. “I’ll bet you see a lot.”
“Some people are really thrown by a traumatic event like you experienced,” he continues. “And they don’t always recover. Ever.”
“Well, we’re doing our best,” I affirm. “We have each other. And top-notch friends and extended family like you and Jen. I’m sure that tips the odds in our favor.”
“Exactly,” Duke says.
Jen steps out of the passenger seat looking lovely in a baby blue chiffon dress with layered sections cascading all the way down to her knees. The color is nice against her pale skin and dark hair, which is tied neatly into a bun. Small diamond studs peek out from the lobe of each ear. She doesn’t seem like she feels well though. Maybe she’s coming down with something.
“Hey, Jen,” I say as I walk around the car to give her a hug.
I’ve known Jen Wright for the entire time I’ve known Ali and I don’t think I’ve ever seen her look ill like this. Maybe she has a stomach bug. I take care to lean my head the other way when I hug her in order to minimize my exposure to airborne germs if that’s what’s happening here. I make a mental note to keep the boys at a bit of a distance as well.