The Anniversary Gift (Re-Connections) (10 page)

Over dinner, Ethan and I laugh and talk about our day. He listens attentively once again as I share with him the issues of my current project and gives me some good strategic advice on how to overcome my obstacles.

It occurs to me how compatible we are,
how tuned in we are with one another, and I firmly vow that this type of connection continues. I think back to the elderly couple I watched at the restaurant not very long ago. Were they talking through their day too? Or perhaps walking down memory lane? Does it really matter as long as they are talking?

I find my eyes begin to brim with tears again, as my throat chokes up with the power of my deep internal reaction.

“What’s wrong?” Ethan asks, concern furrowing his brow.

“Absolutely nothing is wrong,” I assure him and explain how deeply moved and touched I am by this newfound relationship we share.

“I’m never losing you again,” he promises.

I can only
nod my head yes in agreement. My throat won’t speak, the emotions are so overwhelming. He smiles his compassionate smile, understanding and allowing me time to process them.

“Rebecca called me today,” I tell him when my voice is freed up enough to speak.

He doesn’t seem surprised, only lifts one eyebrow in a gesture of “tell me more.”

“She wanted to check in with me, to see if I was OK with her being with us tomorrow night.”

“What did you tell her?”

“That I was.”

He grins at me, and says “Are you really?”

“Yes,” I whisper
, and we gaze at each other for a few moments.

“She told me something that touched me
; she said that she actually hopes we don’t call her, that having an open relationship isn’t as wonderful as one might think.”

“I can see that and have wondered about it,” he answers
with a small nod of his head. “I wonder how I would feel watching her touch you, being a participant but also a spectator while you are being pleasured by someone else. I’m not sure I will like it. You are mine, and I want to be the only one to touch you.”

I smile, loving that he wants only me, but also recognizing that he is still warring with his decision.
I don’t press him. I’ll do as he wants, anything he wants.

“I also learned that I don’t have to touch her!” I nearly shout out in my amazement.
“I thought that I would have to, you know, have…uh…oral…sex…with…her,” I stammer, “but she doesn’t seem to expect it.”

“How does that make you feel?” he asks me.

After a long pause, I answer, “Relieved in some ways, disappointed in others.”

“How so?”

“It’s nice to know there are no expectations placed on me; that releases the pressure of doing something I might not be able or want to do. But it also gives me an escape hatch, letting me off the hook and not pushing me outside of my comfort zone.”

“Do you want me to force you
?” He grins.

“Maybe,” I answer.

His eyes dilate, and I see this topic is arousing him.

“What are you worried about
?” he asks.

I pause again, swallow a few times and then reply, “
Not doing it right.”

He laughs.
“Sweetheart, I really don’t think there is a wrong way to give oral sex to a woman. Think about it… do you get turned on, or get turned off, when my tongue rubs you up and down?”

His face changes and his voice
deepens. “Do you get turned on, or turned off, when I flick my tongue around your clitoris?”

It deepens further.
“Do you get turned on, or turned off, when I enter you and massage my tongue deep inside you, back and forth like…this.”

He leans forward and rubs his tongue over my lips and then pushes it into my mouth, caressing the soft inside.

I groan and kiss him back, pushing my own tongue against his.

He leans back.
“See, there is nothing you can do wrong, nothing that won’t bring her pleasure. You are being too hard on yourself.”

“
Can I practice some more?” I ask and stand up from my chair and straddle across his lap. Placing both hands on the side of his face, I run my tongue over his lips.

“So you are saying that I can do this to her
.” I flick my tongue quickly into this parted lips. “Or this.” I run my tongue up and down his jaw line. “Or this.” I cover his mouth with mine, and allow my tongue to caress his tongue, allow it to push into and out of his mouth.

Leaning back, I smile an evil smile at him.
“I think I need to practice some more, just to be safe.”

I stand, holding my hand out for his
, and lead him up to the stairs to our bedroom. The dishes can wait.

T-Minus Zero Days to Anniversary…

It’s Friday!

As the alarm on my clock beeps me into wakefulness, those two words echo through my head.

Our Anniversary.

D-Day.

Three-Day?

Wow!

It’s finally here and the terrible and wonderful, awful and beautiful, waiting is nearly over.

I feel a sleeping
Ethan at my back. He didn’t move when the alarm rang, or when I shifted to turn it off. I smile, knowing why he is so exhausted. I “practiced” for a very long time last night. I even woke in the wee hours of the morning to “practice” some more.

I can do this, I assure myself, remembering how I turned him on with my tongue.
I used his testicles as my pretend vagina and “practiced” licking him there, tongue whirling and swirling and moving into and out of the soft skin folds.

I smile
, remembering how turned on he had been, his hands gripping the sheets of the bedding or digging into my hair.

“Do you think she would like it this way, or this way
?” I would ask, pretending complete innocence as I shifted my mouth this way and that.

At times he couldn’t answer me, could only moan and my confidence grew monumentally with each thrust of my tongue.

Take the risks, learn to trust, learn to take, and learn to give. There is a place for hard and fast, a place for soft and slow, a rhythm and pattern that makes no sense and perfect sense.

I snuggle back into his warmth, not willing to leave him just yet and feel his arms tighten around me and his nose nuzzle into my hair.

“Happy anniversary, baby,” he whispers, his arms surrounding me even tighter.

“Happy anniversary
, my love,” I whisper back, luxuriating in his strength, his protective and loving arms.

“I can’t wait to see you tonight,” he continues.
“Meet me at seven, room 309 of the Four Seasons. All you need is you.”

My stomach clenches
, and my back arches.

H
e laughs. “I love how I make you move like that.”

I groan my agreement and push back into his body, feeling his erection coming alive at my back.

“No.” He grins into my hair. “You have to wait until tonight.”

I groan again, this time in disappointment
. A little whiney “please” hisses outward on my breath.

He shifts, turning
me onto my back and then straddles over my middle, holding my hands down beside my head.

“Oh, how I’d like to fuck your mouth right now,” he growls out, inching his thighs up my body and onto
my breasts. His hard erection is just millimeters from reaching my lips, and I poke my tongue out to touch it.

“No
, you don’t,” he teases, pulling back just outside of my reach.

I stick my lower lip out, pouting, and he grins
. “Just one lick.”

He moves back up my body and when he is positioned over me, I allow my tongue to, very slowly, lick up from the base to the head
and then open my mouth to take him inside.

“Oh no
, you don’t,” he repeats and pulls himself once more from my greedy mouth.

He rolls off of me and gracefully
gets to his feet, grabbing my ankles and turning me toward him. “My turn, one lick,” he says as he opens my legs and settles down between them. He blows on my sex, then lowers his head and his tongue washes up me, slowly, so slowly, stopping at my clitoris. There, he increases the pressure of his tongue, pushing into me while continuing to whirl and swirl around it.

I groan.

He groans in return and then stands up, staring down at me. His hand moves to his erection, and he strokes himself for just a moment. I see the war of wills struggling behind his eyes.

My own eyes beckon him, and my hips arch up, inviting him back for more.

With another groan, he grins and then laughs and shakes his head as if to clear away the cobwebs that have gathered there.

“Tonight,” he promises and with another look at me, turns reluctantly toward the bathroom.

The waiting is torture
; pure and inescapable torture. Torture to my body, my soul, my emotions. Torture of the most exquisite kind.

At
nine, I get a text message. “
Ten hours
” is all that it says.

My back arches
, and my insides tighten in that oh so delicious way. All I can respond is “
yes
.”

“
Seven hours
” my next message says. I realize it is noon and that, for a few hours at least, the clock has conspired to be on my side as the morning has passed rather quickly.

“
Yes
” is all my thumbs know how to respond.

I find myself unable to eat, so I slowly sip a
Fufu coffee, adding my favorite mocha protein shake to give myself needed nourishment. The warmth of the steaming liquid, the hardness of the mug in my hands, feels erotic as I lift it up to my lips. I tongue the rim and slowly allow the liquid to pour into my mouth, sipping it greedily, wanting more.

I shake my head and grin at myself.
I’m a living, breathing orgasm in waiting. Pre-orgasmic. Pre-O, I think. Yes, I’m absolutely Pre-O. Maddeningly Pre-O. Thrillingly Pre-O.

“
Six hours
” my phone flashes up at me, and I close my eyes and take another greedy sip.

“
I’m dying
” I reply.

“
You’ve never been so alive
,” he writes back. It’s true, every tissue, every cell, every aspect of my being is glorying in how alive I feel.

“
Yes
,” is the only word I can think of to agree.

I’ve got a meeting at
three, a meeting that requires the use of my brain and my ability to speak. I decide a brisk walk around the building is required to clear my head.

As I sit down at the conference table, my phone flashes “
four hours
” and all the oxygen in my body is directed to my groin. I stand up quickly and excuse myself, pretending to have forgotten something in my office. I run to the bathroom and splash cold water on my face, and am back to the meeting within a minute.

“Let’s get started, since Kate has decided to grace us with her presence,” Laura snips to the group.

I swallow a giggle as I remember
Ethan and me joking about a strap-on. For a brief moment I see it. Ethan on his hands and knees with Laura behind him, whip in one hand, chains in another and a great big dildo strapped around her waist.

The giggle spills forth
, and I quickly cover it with a cough, reaching for my water to cover my discomfort. I feel a kick against my shoe. Brian is silently telling me to “get it together.” I take a long, healing sip of the refreshing water, then stand to begin my presentation.

Somehow, as if it is a miracle from the heavens, my phone beeps “
two hours
,” and I realize it is finally five.

“
I’m preparing for you
,” I text.

“
I’m ready
,” he replies, and my knees nearly buckle as I attempt to stand up from my desk.

I grab my bag, wave a “see
ya Monday” to my assistant and wobble out the door on shaky legs. I’m so turned on, really, really, really turned on and wonder if I will explode before I’m able to knock on the hotel door.

In my bedroom, I pack an overnight case, with a newly acquired satin nightgown, my toiletries and a change of clothing for tomorrow.
My shattered brain remembers his present, and I transfer it from drawer to case.

“
One hour
” my phone beeps as I step into the shower to scrub my body and shave everything that I want to be smooth. I turn the water as hot as I can stand it, allowing it to flow over my head, feeling the heavy conditioner wash from my hair and down my body. Stepping out, I dry off my hyper-sensitive skin and then smooth my favorite lotion over every part of me.

I blow dry my hair, apply my make-up carefully and slip
on the strapless sundress I’ve chosen for this occasion. I twist my hair up, anticipating him removing the pins later, and spray myself with his favorite perfume.

Back in my car, I travel to the hotel, driving carefully to offset my distracted mind.
I pull up to the front and hand over my keys to the valet, who smiles appreciatively at me as he hands me my ticket.

That one smile lifts my confidence
. I exhale a long breath, realizing my breathing was very shallow and was contributing greatly to my feeling of light-headedness. As passing out on the door step isn’t the entrance I am hoping to make, I take a few more life-giving breaths to fortify my body.

Walking past the registration desk, through the hotel lobby
, I notice in a vague way how beautiful everything is. I glance at the clock on my phone and realize it is 6:56, four minutes until time for my arrival.

I stand there, taking in the luxury around me, noticing how intricate the wood moldings are, the deep color and texture of the curtain fabrics.
It’s as if all of my senses are heightened, and I can even smell the orange polish that has caused the wood to gleam so highly.

I walk toward the elevator and push the “
up
” button and time again stands still as I wait for the ‘bing’ of its arrival. It does, and I step on, pressing three, a calmness beginning to settle over me.

Within seconds I arrive,
and follow the pointing arrows to 319. As I find myself standing in front of that door, my phone beeps and “
I love you
” flashes onto the screen. It’s 7:00.

My composure collapses, and I feel my face contort as tears threaten behind my eyes.
I lift my hand to knock, while I take another deep breath, and my knuckles connect with the wood with three very short raps.

I feel my lower lip quiver and sink my lips into it to stop its involuntary shudder.
The door opens and there he is, my beautiful, sexy husband standing in front of me.

He steps toward me, into the doorway and the door tries to close against his back
. He gazes down at me, opening his arms to me. I quickly step forward into his embrace.

He lifts his head
, and I feel more than see something in his hand. He lifts it over my head…a blindfold…and settles it over my eyes.

“Come with me,” he directs.

“Yes,” I reply as I follow him blindly into the room and into whatever it is that awaits me.