The Anniversary Gift (Re-Connections) (5 page)

T-Minus Six Days to Anniversary…

Saturdays are for sleeping in, and that is exactly what I do, waking just after nine in the morning, feeling refreshed and rested after a night of sleeping close to Ethan. I love that we continue to be drawn to each other during the night, and I nuzzle my face into his skin, breathing in his clean smell.

My need to pee turns me over
, and I move quietly from the bed. Feeling a little sore, I wince as I use the bathroom and decide that a quick shower is in order.

As I’m standing under the warm water, I reflect on last night and the husband I know and don’t know.
The gentle man I’m familiar with has a dark side, and I wonder how he has managed to hide it for so long. Was that part of him hidden because he was married to Mrs. Boring?

“
Yes,
” hisses the Bitch in My Head.

I couldn’t help but agree.
My tendency toward being a loner, my fear of being rejected, and my generally understated nature didn’t allow a great deal of opening for this side of him to show up. I remember him saying that he fell in love with my calmness, that it was what he needed, was what had saved him from himself. But had my calmness, my penchant toward boring, stagnated him, stagnated us? I think it had. And it was time to change. Starting now.

Skipping down the steps, planning the breakfast menu, I remember that today is Tantric Sex Saturday
, and I’m grinning by the time I turn on the stove. I select some music to cook by and dance around the kitchen. Bacon, eggs and pancakes sound perfect, and I get to work on creating a wonderful meal to begin our day.

“Let me set the table,”
Ethan says from the door.

I turn quickly, startled, and see him leaning against the door frame, grinning goofily at me.
He’s only wearing pajama bottoms and I pause for a moment to admire his well-muscled chest and arms. He really is quite handsome, very handsome, exceedingly handsome, and I berate myself for not noticing it more.

He steps toward me and takes me in his arms.

“Smells wonderful,” he says, and then buries his face in my hair, inhaling deeply.

“Hungry?”

“Completely,” he whispers into my ear, and I giggle and twirl out of his arms.

“Let’s eat.”

After breakfast, Ethan surprises me by asking if I want to go view the new museum gallery. Knowing he asks only to please me, I’m touched by the gesture and give him a quick peck on the lips in response.

The gallery is all I had heard it would be; even
Ethan seems to be impressed. Artwork of every media is on display, from artists who live here locally. One wooden bowl catches my eye, its uneven surface, its marred and pitted appearance gives it a character much more beautiful because of its flaws. I am drawn to it and need it as a reminder that not all beauty is beautiful.

With my package carefully wrapped, we wander down
Main Street and choose a deli with open seating under the trees. The simply meal of soup and sandwiches is heavenly, and we wash it down with chilled wine followed by a mocha latte for me. Fufu coffee, Ethan calls it, but I love the sweet and creamy texture and frown at his cup of unsweetened black.

After lunch
, we drive down to the river and hold hands as we walk on the pebbled sidewalks along its side. The weather is just perfect, sunny with a breeze and we stroll for a couple of hours, talking about our work and then about how much the past week has meant to us both.

“Can I ask you a question?”
I pause suddenly.

“Anything,” he replies
, stopping to look at me.

“When did you learn to do those things?” I feel myself blushing at my question.

He laughs. 

“I’m serious!” I insist.

Still smiling, but now also blushing he asks, “ever hear of
Shades of Gray
?”

My eyes widen in surprise.  “You read it?”

“All three of them,” he lifts one hand up to cover his eyes.

It’s my turn to laugh and I hug him, feeling relieved that he got his sex tips from a trashy novel instead of from a brothel
.

As I had read the series too, we started talking about the different scenes the two main characters had acted out, comparing notes on what we each found exciting and which things we would prefer to leave alone.

“We really should build a playroom,” Ethan says with a look of absolute seriousness.

“Well, we’d better think up some safe words then,” I give my best serious look back.

He hugs me again and whispers, “butt plug.”

I gasp and say
, “for
you
!”

We continue on our walk
, still laughing, when he asks, “are you serious about the threesome?” unable to look at me.

“Yes,”
I reply simply.

“I still can’t believe I mustered up the nerve to ask you that question.”
He pauses, turning me to look at him. “But I want you to know that a threesome isn’t as attractive to me as it was just last week. I want what you and I have been creating together. I want us to stay just like this even though a threesome could be very exciting.”

“It has been amazing, I didn’t realize I could feel this way
, and I’m not sure what has kept me from being like this with you in the past. I’m so sorry for being boring, for allowing my comfort zone to become so very comfortable.”

“And I want you to know,” I continued.
“I’ve given a great deal of thought as to who we could ask to be in our bed, and I’m ready for that too, if you so choose.”

That was true.  It seemed this topic has been in the front of my mind since the moment “threesome” came out of his
mouth.  First, I was appalled.  Then scared.  Then worried.  Now, although I still feel scared and worried, I’m not appalled.  In fact, I’m so glad he uttered those words, shook me out of my comfort zone snooze.  I’m glad to know I’m not a prude, that I can give more than what seems normal for me.

“Who?” he asks.

“Guess,” I challenge and watch his inner wheels begin to turn.

“Tell me.”

“Not yet. I’m still in the fantasy period of my selection; I’ll let you know when I’m sure.”

“Fantasy?”

Flashbacks of the fantasies I’ve been having wash over me, making me squirm and grin an evil grin. It seems I fantasize about every woman I see, or at least wonder for a moment if it could be her.

“
Fantasies,” I stress out the “s.”

I turn and begin walking again, but I can’t stop the delicious giggle from finding its way from my lips.

“I can’t wait to hear about your fantasies.”

“
Hear about them?  My love, you may actually get to experience them.”

Back home and in the kitchen again, I’m attempting to channel my inner Rachel Ray,
when I hear Ethan walking down the hall. A few minutes later, he calls out, “Kate, what is this?"

"What's what?”

Awareness hits and I gasp, immediately remembering the DVD I had turned off in such a hurry just yesterday afternoon. The same DVD still queued to play as soon as the TV is turned back on.

Damn
! I curse as my forgetfulness is ruining my surprise. But once I enter the living room, it is clear that Ethan is getting into the video.

"Where did you hear about tantric sex?"

"Are you interested?"

The nod of his head is my answer.

Slowly, I work my way over to his favorite chair and wiggle in between Ethan's legs. He wraps his arm around me, and we watch the video together. A few minutes into it, a funky smell started emanating from the kitchen.

"Oh, no!"

I run into the kitchen; dinner is destroyed.

"I don't suppose you're in the mood for charred with a side of burned?"

Ethan laughs and gives me a big hug, this isn’t his first ride on the Kate Can’t Cook wagon, offering to call our favorite Chinese restaurant for take-out. I readily agree and hug him around his waist as he dials the number he knows by heart.

When the take-out
arrives, Ethan pays the delivery boy and gives him a hefty tip. We eat and talk about the video, mostly about how tantric sex could help draw us closer together and make our sex lives more spiritual. It sounds good to me. Ethan
said
it sounded good to him. So I guess we’re in agreement.  A zing of pleasure passes through me as anticipation washes through my body.

He
doesn’t know it, but before I had started dinner, I'd already prepared the bedroom. There's a lot you can do in a few minutes if you have a willing spirit and a gleam in your eye. I very much wanted to set a sexy, intimate mood, and I think I was successful.

After
we eat, I excuse myself and go to the bedroom for a quick shower to calm and cleanse myself. I slip into the beautiful satin negligee I’ve recently purchased and mist myself with Ethan's favorite perfume. Then, turning out the lights, I strike a match to the candles. I had placed roses in vases on each of the nightstands and some jasmine incense, which I lit when I set the candles afire. I fluff the pillows and pull the covers down on the bed so that it would be ready when Ethan joined me. After checking how I look in the mirror one more time, I turn some music on. I had pre-loaded my iPod with romantic and sexy music and plugging it into the speaker system, I am very nearly ready.

When I return
to the living room, Ethan is watching the video again. I lean against the wall and manage to somehow steal his attention. "Want to try that with me?"

One glance in my dir
ection and his jaw drops, which makes me feel beautiful, sexy and desired. He stands and moves slowly toward me, never taking his eyes off me. When he gets close enough, I take him by the hand and lead him up the stairs and to the bedroom, one small step at a time.

As we enter
the bedroom, Sarah McLachlan's voice is crooning, "Possession" one of the most beautiful songs on Earth. I climb onto the bed and wait for Ethan to take his clothes off and join me, enjoying the strip show as each section of his body is revealed.

We sit facing each other. I’m
nervous. I can tell he is too. We both want this, but we have never tried anything like this before.

"
Remind me, how do we start?" Ethan asks with a sheepish grin.  I almost feel annoyed, after all he watched the video twice, and then rein that feeling in, not wanting my old tendencies to nitpick to ruin the moment.

"Well
." I take a deep breath. "The video said we should sit with our legs intertwined—like this."

I
cross my legs over Ethan's, straddling his lap, making sure our most intimate areas don’t touch but keeping them close enough that they can sense each other's presence. The flickering of the candles keep Ethan's face just light enough that I can see it’s him, dark enough that I can’t see much but shadows. I suspect my face must look much the same to him. All is quiet but the music.

“…and I would be the one
to hold you down
kiss you so hard
I'll take your breath away”

These words in Sarah’s breathtaking voice bring tears to my eyes as I gaze at the man sitting so patiently, looking at me with a look of love.

In this position, our breathing
is very noticeable. We are both silent long enough that our breath is the only communication.

"Relax," I say
. "We need to harmonize our breaths."

“I’m ready” and h
e waits, watching for me to exhale. When I do, he inhales, syncing the rhythm of his breathing to mine. When I inhale, he exhales. When I exhale, he inhales. We focus on this for a minute, keeping our breaths in sync, taking our time.

The feeling is so intimate, the in and out rhythm most usually associated with sex, but this isn’t sexual at all.
We are partners in a dance of life, giving and receiving the basic necessity of our very existence.

I close my eyes. Then
remember, both the book and the video said we should keep them open. When I open them again, I find Ethan wide-eyed, staring at me in the flickering light of the candles. I can't help myself. I laugh.

Ethan
tries not to laugh too but he can’t help himself.

We stumbled but it was ok.

"You distracted me," he says jokingly.

"I know, I'm sorry."
I really tried. It was just, I'd never been that close to him before when he was just staring at me. It was awkward. "Okay, let's start over."

I re-center
myself. Then I decided to take off the negligee. Ethan was completely naked. I should be as well. I pull off the negligee and toss it to the floor. Ethan's hand moves up and touches my breast. I slap it.

"Stop that. Now, focus."

"Yes, ma'am."

It bec
omes more difficult to focus on the breathing. I had already put myself into a silly mood and have to fight it from the inside out. But we manage to push through and sync our breathing again. Ethan inhales, I exhale. Ethan exhales, I inhale. We spend two more songs this way. I keep my eyes open.

As if on cue, or choreographed, we both lift
a hand at the same time, to reach out and caress the other’s face. We smile at how in sync we are, how perfectly matched and aligned.

Ethan
's penis is fully alive. I can feel it pressing between my legs but I resist the urge to put my fingers there. I know it is waiting on me, will continue to wait on me; we have plenty of time.

Even with all the time in the world, I’m
beginning to feel a flutter deep inside, and the hairs on my arms stand up as my entire body is on full alert.  His erection is so close, excruciatingly close.  I resist the urge to move in that direction and silently promise myself that I will start some type of meditation practice so that I can better focus on being still and being fully present.

As we continue to sy
nc our breathing, I reach out both hands, this time allowing them to hover over his chest. Not touching him, I still feel the warmth coming from his body and I continue to touching this non-touching way. Slowly, I move my hands down to either side of his erection, let them hover just a finger's width away. At the same time, Ethan moves his hands up to my breasts following my lead of not touching. Somehow I can feel his touch, warmth and coolness as they pass over and around me.

Accidently, he touches my skin.
Lightly. I didn't know he could touch so gentle. I could barely feel him brushing my breasts, stroking them gently, like a cool breeze. I allow my hands to touch him, swirling my fingers around his penis, letting them slide across the head and away, like a butterfly.

M
y nipples get harder. I secretly hope Ethan will move his lips to them, suck them, get them wet. He doesn’t, and that’s ok too.

In this timeless space, everything is ok, everything is perfect
. There are no rules and no expectations. Only us. Only togetherness. Only exploration. Only love.

After a while, I
reach for the massage oil. He holds out his hand, and I pour some of the wonderful smelling oil into his palm. Rubbing them together for warmth, Ethan moves his hands to my shoulders, kneading the muscles there. Strong and gentle, they slide down my back to my lower spine. I feel myself begin to melt and come alive at the same time. Every fiber of my being feels his touch, and I find myself longing to move forward just a bit and slide myself onto his awaiting erection.

I
am burning for him, on fire for him, but am willing to wait, want to wait, to prolong the frustrating need of wanting but not having. I focus back on my breathing, allowing that inhalation to slow me down, to gentle me and cast me back into the beautiful place of giving.

Ethan
's voice breaks through the candle light and tickles my ears. "I want you so bad."

Like a puppet
to its puppet master, I feel myself responding to his every wish, his every desire. He pushes me backwards until I’m on my back with him kneeling between my legs.

Remembering our game, I assure him
, “You will in good time, my love."

“Which position do you want to try
?” I ask, thinking that we should have discussed this earlier.

“I want to see you, be able to look into your face,” he replie
s.

Knowing t
he decision is up to me, I begin to rise, lifting my shoulders until I sit once again.  I straddle him, my knees planted on the outside of his, my thighs spread open, willing and waiting. I can feel his length jostling below my entrance, teasing me, taunting my opening like a long lost friend. I open the massage oil and squeeze a little of the sensual oil into the palm of my hand.

Reaching down
, I take Ethan's hardness into my hand, rubbing it with the oil, feeling the ooze of the liquid glide between our flesh. He slides back, sitting on his heels, allowing me to slide my other hand down further, kneading and stroking his testicles.  He moans.

Willing hi
m to sync back with me, I look into his eyes and deeply exhale. To my tremendous satisfaction, he inhales to my rhythm. I begin to move my hand up and down him to the slow in and out of our breath.

He stops my hand and I let go just in time, sensing
his build up and his need for release. As he controls himself, I watch his slow retreat back into waiting glory.

My head lowers to his lap, wanting the
taste of flavored oil, and him, in my mouth. My senses are heightened. I can sense Ethan also wanting something more, something wet, something tight and warm. I gave him my mouth, my lips.

Sliding my tongue gently aroun
d the bulb at the top, I wrap my lips around his glorious length and relish in the taste of the oil on his hard body. It melts in my mouth. Wanting more, I slide my lips farther along the shaft, taking more of him in. His moans cut through the dark like the climax of a good movie.

Before I kno
w it, his hardness is pressing against the back of my throat. I engulf it, lapping up all the oil and gorging myself with his flesh. The taste grows sweeter as he grows wetter, as the lubricant of my mouth turns his skin to a pooling rod of throbbing, pulsing wantonness.

I thought he would come. I'm glad he didn't.
I think he was close, but orgasm isn’t the goal here, prolonging climax is what we want to achieve.

When I pull
him out of my mouth, he is sweating. The beads of his exertion run from his chest down to his abs and waist.

“You’re driving me insane,” he moans through his
tightened jaw and teeth.

Brazen, I shift
quickly to his lips, and move my mouth over his, a slow sensuous kiss that was closeness personified. His hands move up my body, still slick from the oil, and find my breasts with open palms. It’s heavenly, the full breast massage, focusing on all the skin, not just the nipple. My insides clench with each movement of his hands, and I run my tongue over his lips.

What we are doing is so beautiful, so sensual, so overwhelming and yet
… not. I love this man and glory in my ability to shift our relationship back into one that is satisfying to us both.

“I need you,” I said
, gazing into his eyes. I allow myself to slip down on his length.

Finger
s, lips, tongue, me—it all runs together. I can't tell where I end and Ethan begins. Sitting, impaled by him, I feel powerful and beautiful and needed. I slowly, very slowly, begin to move, rocking back and forth and the sensation is amazing. We are so interconnected, we are one and I kiss him again as I continue to rock.

“What are you doing to me
?” he asks.