The Big Bang (17 page)

W
hen they were newlyweds, Will couldn’t wait to climb into their apartment-issue plastic stall shower to make love. So much so, that when the Henderson Homes interior accent associate offered the granite-tile, double-showerhead upgrade, he had to readjust himself beneath the table in anticipation of a lifetime of water-based sports.

Meg turned on the spigots.

Needles of water stabbed Will under the crosscurrent of water.

Could he even get it up?

Meg wrapped her arms around his waist.

Will reached for a sliver of Dial perched precariously on the edge of the built-in soap dish.

She rubbed her nipples across his chest. “Since when do you turn away shower sex?”

Maybe since Thursday’s humiliating transformation from devoted-to-the-kids-and-his-wife’s-exploding-career-stay-at-home-parent into the infamous househusband-who-collapsed-probably-from-a-reaction-to-arousal-cream at a sex toy party?

In front of Hope.

Traitorous Hope Jordan.

How could she have signed his petition and then turned around and agreed to do landscape consultation on the playground? Was it possible that, in his allergic stupor, he’d imagined, or somehow misinterpreted what she’d said? “It’s just been a long day and I haven’t felt myself and I have to get up early and…”

“And I have brunch with the president of the Colorado Animal Rights Association.” Meg’s tongue entered his left ear. “No time like the present.”

Meg might never paw him like this again if she intercepted one of the concern calls and someone filled her in on the details of his fainting spell. How could he ever show up at another party, much less a homeowner’s board meeting, and not relive the look of concealed laughter on the faces of the women huddled around him? Hope was the only one who didn’t crack a smile. The only one to rush off for the glass of water he needed so badly.

Out of guilt, no doubt.

“Earth to Will?” Water droplets slid down his wife’s shoulders and breasts.

He didn’t have the energy to tell her what Hope had done, then argue the finer points about why it was or wasn’t irrelevant.

He sighed and ran his hands down her back toward her lightly dimpled rear. Not eager to add humiliation-induced impotence to his woes, he closed his eyes and tried desperately to place himself Grotto-side ready to service a bevy of horny Playboy Playmates.

He slid a hand between her legs.

She let out a low moan.

He remained Play-Doh soft.

The-sexy-traveling-saleswoman-flashing-a-peek-up-her-skirt-at-the-hotel-bar scenario only reminded him he didn’t have a
real
job. The-female-boss-with-a-penchant-for-sexual-harassment-and-a-little-light-bondage was out of the question.

Meg’s hand drifted downward.

He conjured up a flight attendant, blouse unbuttoned one button too low, beckoning him toward the galley, where two blond fellow flight attendants awaited him and his big hard…

Before he could fail in his bid to join the mile-high club, the fruit of a prior, much more successful, labor bellowed from down the hall.

“Daddddddyyyy!”

“Damn it.” Will dunked his head under the spray to drown out the bullshit in his voice.

Meg leaned her head out of the shower door. “Daddy’s busy.”

“We can’t sleep,” Madison said.

“Read for a little while.”

“We already did,” Nicole said.

“Then go watch TV for a few minutes until you get tired.”

There was a pause.

“Really?”

“Downstairs—on the big screen.”

Another pause.

“But Daddy doesn’t let us watch TV downstairs after bedtime.”

“Dad says it’s okay this time,” she added, not looking to see if Daddy concurred. “We’ve definitely got to get a big condo in Orlando if we want any privacy this vacation.”

“I’ll work on that tomorrow,” he said. Along with looking at the want ads.

In the silence that followed, Meg rubbed her breasts across his chest and down his belly. “Where were we?”

Deep in househusband Hell. “Maybe I’d better go and make sure they aren’t scared to go downstairs without me or…”

“They’ll be fine.” Meg knelt down and rubbed the soap down the length of his not-completely flaccid, but hardly impressive, cock.

There was only one fantasy that could possibly work.

He closed his eyes.

The spaghetti strap of Hope’s black negligee slipped from her smooth, soft shoulder and fell down her arm, exposing the top of her breast and a sliver of pale nipple.

He opened his eyes.

Meg tightened her hand around him.

He closed his eyes again.

Bitch needed to make it up to him for being a bad girl.

The spaghetti strap of her black negligee slipped from her smooth, soft shoulder and fell down her arm, exposing the top of her breast and a sliver of pale nipple. With no sign of the concern or pity he’d last seen on her face while she hovered over him with a fan and a glass of water, she smiled seductively.

He leered in disdain. “Do you still find the playground project
really exciting
?”

“I was only saying that.” She dropped to her knees. “We both know there’s something wrong with that playground land, but I couldn’t prove it without accepting his offer to consult so I could look it over.”

“You didn’t ask me first.”

“But I did it for you.”

“What else are you going to do for me?”

“Anything.” She lowered the remaining strap and her black silk nightie dropped to the floor. “I’ll do whatever you want.”

He bent her over.

“Yes,” she said, lifting that amazing ass into the air. “I want you so badly.”

“And you’re going to have me,” he said, his dick harder than he’d ever felt it.

“Yes!” she screamed as he entered her from behind. “Yes!”

***

As the evening news went to a post-sports commercial break, Tim glanced out the window at his garden handiwork.

“Every time I look outside, I feel so happy.” Theresa kissed him gently. “And excited.”

“Excited’s good,” he said.

She kissed him again, but a lot less gently. Then, without a complaint about how exhausted she was, suggesting they go upstairs and lock the door, or saying anything at all, she probed her tongue deep into his mouth and gave him the most appreciative kiss he’d had since she came home to the pink flower beds.

“I wish there were more planting I could do.” For the moment, all he could do was wait for his proverbial seeds to sprout. With a practiced flourish, he unzipped his fly with one hand. Ignoring the too-familiar powdery bouquet of her perfume, and the weight of her girth against his legs, he gently pressed her face toward his lap with the other. “But I have an idea.”

She reached behind the couch, produced a sealed brown bag, and handed it to him. “I have a better one.”

“A present?”

“From Laney’s party.”

He looked down at the bulge in his boxers. “Any chance I can open this in a few minutes?”

“You won’t want to.”

Mildly annoyed by the interruption of whatever golf gadget or tool for his workbench couldn’t wait until after his blow job, he opened the sealed bag and looked inside at what appeared to be a gelatinous pink sleeve that looked like a mini arm-floatie. “What the—?”

“It was a sex toy party.”

His cock began to swell thinking about Hope, surprised but amused, when she finally showed up and had a chance to survey the unexpected wares. “Seriously?”

Theresa removed the plastic wrap, squirted some sort of gel into the neon pink tube, and slid the thing onto what was already a healthy erection. “It’s called the Love Slave.”

Tim looked down at his cock, which looked a little too much like a pig in a blanket. “Sounds like my kind of toy, but…”

She began to roll the thing back and forth.

The gel warmed and began to tingle.

He relaxed into the cushions and pushed toward Theresa’s hand. The friction felt surprisingly realistic.

“Feel good?”

Almost as good as if he were being sucked off by a certain comely neighbor while they conferred over wall textures, light fixtures, and how good his cock felt in her mouth.

The sound of rolling latex and lubricant filled the room with a
thwoop
.

Almost.

***

“Tell me how much you want me.” Frank rubbed himself against Maryellen’s belly.

“I want you,” Maryellen whispered.

“Say it like you mean it,” he said, moving down toward her freshly shaved pussy.

“I want you,” she said. Her eyes remained tightly closed.

“Say it louder.”

“Eva might hear,” she whispered.

“She’s sleeping. Louder.”

“I want you.”

“Tell me you want my big hard manhood inside your tight, shaved cunt.”

“I do,” she mumbled.

It had taken him nearly a year to convince her to shave down there. “You want my hard manhood in your tight, shaved cunt.”

“I hate that word.”

“Turns me on.”

“I want your hard m … inside my tight, shaved cunt.”

“Yes, baby!” He spread her legs, took aim, and pressed her. “Am I making you wet?”

“Yes, Frank.”

“How wet?”

“So wet.”

As Frank pumped away, focused on pulling out just in time to enjoy the sight of his seed all over Maryellen’s flat belly, a disquieting thought popped into his head.

Trautman doing the same thing to Hope Jordan.

***

If anything, Hope was flattered by Will Pierce-Cohn’s admiration-from-a-distance. She truly appreciated Frank’s almost fatherly concern. Flirtatious men like Tim Trautman, however, sent her running.

Usually.

Tim was a shameless flirt. Normally the kind of guy she’d steer clear of, but for the fact he was so unabashed in his love for the mother of his children that he’d taken the morning off work to surprise her by planting flowers. She couldn’t deny the appeal of feeling desired but also safe knowing the desirer was more attracted to his wife and the life they’d built together to do anything about it beyond ask her to collaborate with him on a nursery for his twins.

As if there was much of anything she’d rather do.

She stared at the pink and blue shards of light reflecting off her Murano glass chandelier. “I can’t believe how much great work I suddenly have.”

“Busy is good.” Jim kissed her quickly.

He entered her even more quickly.

Thanks to the serendipitously named Mother’s Helpers lubricant she’d bought at Laney’s, any lack of preparedness was no problem. She opened her legs and envisioned sperm slip-sliding their way toward her fallopian tubes, destined for a crash landing with her eager egg.

A new life is ready to come through very soon.

She never expected to put so much faith in the predictions of a walk-in-welcome psychic, but the images Renata saw in the tea leaves were materializing, and repetitively. There was no doubt the
awkward moment
and
party
related to Frank’s call about the playground landscaping and Laney’s home shopping event. Then, Will Pierce-Cohn had that awkward reaction at the party while she was mid–white lie about why she’d been late. With everyone crowded around to see if he was okay, she could no more tell him she was really talking to Tim about a secret nursery plan than she could explain she was consulting on the landscaping because of Renata’s predictions.

How working on the projects made her feel so fertile.

She’d tell him what she could as soon as she had the chance.

Hope relaxed into the pillow.

A new life is ready to come through very soon.

“Not going to be around much this next month,” Jim mumbled.

She lifted her head. “What?”

He looked up, over her breast, made eye contact with her chin. “Have to go to London.”

“London as in England?”

The motion from his nod rocked her more than the movement in his hips.

“No,” she managed.

“No choice.” He reached around and cupped her bottom. “International retail chain facing significant restructuring.”

Despite a jolt of impending doom, she pressed against him. “When do they want you there?”

“Looks like the thirteenth.
^”

“But that’s Mother’s Day.”

“Hope,” Jim stopped for a moment, “it’s not like I can help the timing, I—”

“I don’t even want to hear it.” She pulled Jim close, pressed her hips against his. Hadn’t Renata seen the image of a wheel, signifying business advancement and some marital discord as an inevitable part of the process? Once he made VP, he’d control his travel schedule. He could pass the small jobs on to the lower-level associates. As soon as they had kids, he’d pick and choose where he was going. They’d have more time together. As soon as they had kids…
A new life is ready to come through very soon.
“How long will you be gone?”

He lifted her legs into the air. “Probably a couple weeks.”

She rested her ankles on his shoulders. “But you’ll be back by Memorial weekend?”

He didn’t answer.

“So that’s a no?”

“It’s an
I don’t know
.”

“I’ll try and figure out how to move up the nursery project and the landscape installation so I can come, too.”

“I need to figure out the lay of the land first, and you know the client won’t pay for that.”

“But if I’m not there and you’re not here—” Tears filled her eyes and began to zigzag toward her neck. “You’ll miss ovulation.”

“Won’t matter if we succeed this month.” He pumped harder.

“If we don’t?”

“God damn it, Hope, do you want me to lose my erection?”

T
he scenario made sense—Trautman wanted to surprise his wife by planting flowers. Having no idea what to plant, he’d asked for help from his backyard neighbor, whose garden was already awash in spring bulbs. That said neighbor happened to be uncommonly helpful, and even more attractive, simply made the plan’s implementation all the more palatable.