This is chapter 10 of 27 of my full length novel. To get the most from the story, read the preceding chapters first.
* * * Chapter 10 * * *
Lilith:
The garage door rumbles open, signaling Robert's return. I sigh, dabbing the last stroke of lipstick in the bathroom mirror, steeling myself for our "big night out." A date night, they call it, meant to rekindle the spark. But dread coils in my gut like a bad hangover. And I have no one to blame but myself.
Chasing Mark into the supply closet had seemed like a thrill at the time, but now? Regret aches like the pang between my thighs. He was pretty rough on me in there. He may have had some pent-up rage at being restrained in his home while his wife was away at work. On top of that, I probably surprised him by coming into the supply closet and taking off my clothes like I did. I wasn't as well lubricated as I should have been. Add to that the marathon of the last twenty-four hours: three encounters, each with men girthy enough to leave me stretched and raw. It's all crashing down now, a dull throb that makes every step a reminder. I'm sore—not crippled, but tender enough that the thought of Robert inside me tonight twists my stomach.
To make matters worse, Robert has been building up to tonight, largely for my benefit because he snubbed me Thursday morning. I can't very well put him off. Having a ‘headache’ tonight is not really an option. Then he will undoubtedly be raring to go again in the morning, since it will be Saturday and he'soff work. Well, I made my bed. Now there's nothing for it but to lie in it.
I pad into the kitchen just as he enters from the garage. His face lights up like a hundred-watt bulb, chasing away the shadows. He drops his work backpack on the counter and beelines for me, wrapping me in those strong arms. "Honey, I'm so glad to see you. Feels like I was gone for a whole week, not just a day." A quick kiss brushes my lips, then he just holds me, his warmth seeping through my dress. Damn, it feels good. Robert's always been affectionate like this—solid, unassuming. Any lingering suspicion about him taking a coworker back to his hotel room Thursday after cocktails? Poof. Gone. There's not a shred of guilt in his eyes. I wonder if he could say the same about me? Not that he suspects a thing.
“You look gorgeous, Lilith. Are you ready to go out to dinner? You hungry? I'm famished.” Robert seems so excited and bubbly tonight. “Is that a new dress? Wow! Did I say how good you look tonight?” He didn't fail to notice my new, sparkly black cocktail dress. It clings to my curves, dipping low to tease cleavage, making me feel sexy. The snug skirt and high heels may alter my movements enough to mask the fact that I'm sore when I walk.
In the car to Giovanni's, he chatters about stopping at Sarah's dorm, the trouble she's had with a young man in the dorm, and what her room is like. He relates again how glad she seemed to see him and how excited she is about starting college next week. He marvels at how grown up she seems. We arrive at Giovanni's at the top of the hour, in perfect time for the reservation Robert made. It’s just like him; dependable and on time.
Giovanni's doesn't disappoint. Walking in the door, we are hit with the mouthwatering aroma: garlic, fresh basil, sizzling steak. Friday night buzz fills the air: clinking glasses, murmured laughter. On his arm, weaving through the crowd, I swear heads turn. We're a striking pair, aren't we? Privileged, even. Not rich, but secure. Exceptional kids, solid jobs, decent health, bodies that still turn heads in our forties. It's easy to forget how good we've got it. We order, settle in with water, then wine. Conversation flows easily. The week's highlights, comfortable lulls for people-watching.
“Oh my word,” I exclaim in a whisper. “Don't look now, but at four o'clock, there's a table with two young couples, not married. Look at the girl in the short striped skirt. She's the one with her chair turned a little in our direction, leaning across the table talking to that guy. She has her legs apart, and from here you can see all the way to France! And, I swear, she's not wearing any panties! Just look at that. You can see her neatly trimmed bush.”
Surreptitiously, Robert turns his head and takes an extended look. Turning back to face me, he snickers and says, “Whoa! I think you are right. You should go over there and tell her.”
“Shoot, no. If she'sgoing to come to a place like this without wearing underwear and in a short skirt, then she should at least be self-aware enough to keep her fucking legs together. Where’s her mother?” I whisper back to him.
“Well, at least don't stare!” Robert says. “She will see you looking. You will embarrass her to death.”
“She deserves to die from embarrassment. In fact,” I say, reaching for my handbag, “I am going to get a picture of her with my phone. I can show Sarah as a cautionary tale.” Taking my cell phone from my bag, I set it up on the table, trying to be discreet.
“No, honey, don't do that! She doesn't realize that she's flashing everyone in the restaurant,” Robert complains.
Setting my optical zoom, I snap several pics. The young lady leans back in her chair, and oh—pink slit winking in the light. I snap a couple more quick pictures just before she closes her legs. I review my photos, and they are crystal clear, better than live, with the shadows removed. I grin wickedly. "Karma for being so reckless. Wonder what she's got planned tonight, dressed like dessert? Maybe she has had too much to drink.”
“Maybe they just came from a movie, and she wanted to dress that way for the dark movie theater?” Robert suggests.
“Or maybe they are going on a romantic drive after dinner, and she wanted to be ready for impromptu sex in the back seat.” I add.
“Maybe she is tired of her lovers taking her panties as trophies and decided to just go commando.” We both have a laugh, having fun speculating about why she might not be wearing panties. Then we get more serious, thinking about young love and worrying about our own kids.
“Hey,“ Robert breaks into my thoughts. “You wouldn't mind sending a copy of those pictures to my phone?” he asks, deadpan.
I swat his arm, playfully. “Pervert!”
Robert looks wounded. “Hey. You 're the one staring at her, with your eyes bugged out! I just took a polite glance and then went back to minding my business.” Our food arrives. Perfectly seared scallops for me, pasta topped with spicy grilled chicken for him. We devour it, conversation peppered with flirty asides. Then Robert leans in, breath hot on my ear: "Heads up, at eight o'clock near the bar. Navy dress, solo with that geek. What is it about this place?”
I look in that direction and see a nice woman, maybe thirty, sitting at the bar in a thin, stretchy navy blue evening dress. From our vantage point, you can plainly see her white panties and brassiere. White underwear under a thin, dark dress? What is she thinking? She might as well be wearing them on the outside, over her dress. “Oh no! That's awful! It's almost worse than the girl with no panties. What is with these people?” I get out my phone to memorialize the sighting. We can look at these pics years later and remember this night.
“Are you going to take more pictures?” Robert asks. “Why don't you go over there and just whisper in her ear and warn her.” In a way, he is right. Robert actually has more moral fiber than I do.
“I should blur the faces and post these pictures anonymously on Facebook. That's what I should do!” We both laugh.
“You will get yourself banned from Facebook for posting pornographic images!” he warns, and we share another round of laughs.
It has been a lighthearted, fun evening, so far. But deep down, I feel a nagging dread about going home and to our bedroom. What can I do? Maybe I should suggest we see a late movie? Then I could beg to stay and see the next one. Then it might be late enough that Robert will just be ready to get home to his bed and get some sleep. No, on second thought, I don't think that will work. The late movies, even the action movies, will have sexy women in scant clothes, and will probably have sex scenes in them. It will just get him revved up, and the sex will be more aggressive. We are done eating now, and are just waiting for the check and sipping wine.
“Can I ask you a serious question, Lilith?”
My mind snaps back to the present. For a moment, I 'm terrified that he suspects something with me and Brad or Mark. Panic floods my brain, and I feel my fight-or-flight response kicking in. Looking up into Robert's face, I take a deep breath and try to relax. He doesn't look like he has an axe to grind. “Of course, dear. What's on your mind?” It surprises me how calm I sound.
“Well, we have been married for close to 22 years, and I thought we should be able to share everything, you know? There is something that has been bothering me lately, and I just thought it might be better to get it out in the open and talk about it — not let it fester any longer.”
“What is it, honey?” My voice sounds tighter, and I dread hearing what he will ask next.
“I don't know if this is the best place to talk about this, but, what the heck.” He swallows hard, and I, reflexively, do the same. I feel the need to drink some more wine, but I 'm afraid that I won't be able to swallow it. He looks up and continues. “Why is it that you almost never do oral on me? You know, a blowjob?” he asks. “Is it repulsive to you? Is it related to something that happened when you were growing up? Are you afraid I will cum in your mouth?” I feel relief flooding my system, replacing the panic. “If you just don't like it, that's okay. It's just that we have never had a conversation about it, and I thought it was about time.”
I let out a long-held breath. I wonder how I should answer him. Honesty—I think that's best in this situation. “I'm glad you asked. I actually used to like giving head. Even occasionally taking your semen in my mouth doesn't bother me. I might hold it and spit it out later. Maybe I could even learn to swallow, with practice. But the reason I don't do it is because you don't go down on me.”
Robert's jaw drops, like he can't believe it. “You 've got to be kidding? You can't be serious?” Feeling defensive, I open my mouth to argue with him, to ask him when was the last time he ate me out. But he cuts me off before I can get the words out. “You want to know the reason why I don't give you oral sex? Because I don't mind doing it, either. I don't give you oral because you don't give me blowjobs!”
Nothing Robert could have said to me could have surprised me more. Could it really have been that simple? How could we both have been that stubborn? And this standoff has gone on for over twenty years? We both sit, looking into each other's eyes, unable to say a word. Then our server arrives to present the check. Without saying another word, the check is paid, and we rise to leave. I think we 're both embarrassed by our stupidity.
As we get into our car to go home, a plan begins to form in my mind to deal with my dilemma. It takes advantage of our little oral sex scandal. Tonight, I will give Robert the blowjob of his life. Maybe I will give him two. Maybe we can avoid penetrative sex altogether for tonight. A smile spreads over my face in the dark of the car. I move over as close to Robert as I can, placing my hand on his arm. I let out a long, satisfying breath and smile to myself in the dark of the car. Maybe we have been given a new shot at life. Maybe now we can really live.
Robert:
It has been a lovely evening out. But there has also been some weirdness. Lilith seemed quieter than usual, not as bubbly. She usually says three words for every one that I say. Tonight, it seemed that I had to ask a lot of questions to keep the conversation going. And when I talked about our daughter, Sarah, and my visit to her dorm, she seemed to be in another world. I’m not sure she heard anything that I said. I speculate that she was pensive because of what happened between her and Brad. Probably feeling some guilt.
The fact that it really happened still blows my mind. Now that I am home and look at my wife, I try to imagine her in bed with Brad… I can't do it. The imagery just isn't there. I wonder again if it's best to sweep this tryst with Brad under the rug or to get it out and talk about it. Perhaps the reason she was so quiet was that she was scheming how to get back together and have sex with him again? Does Lilith even love me anymore? That's the most disturbing thought of all. I had hoped that I could just ignore what happened with Brad, that he would go back to university, and we could get on with our lives. But the thought of Lilith's feelings for me is something that I've gotta figure out, sooner rather than later. It was especially acute when she was so quiet and I didn't feel as if she were really present with me.
The other weird thing is how Lilith was moving tonight. She is one of the most graceful women that I have ever seen. Her every movement is a dance. She is tall for a woman, but she moves with such grace that she is a delight to watch. But tonight, she moved like she had a wooden plug up her ass. She was even fidgety in her seat, like she couldn't sit still. In her line of work, she has been known to pull a muscle and act like this. But in the past, she has always said something about it, taken Ibuprofen, and in a couple of days, she would be over it. This time, it just feels like she is hiding something.
Lilith embarrassed me in the restaurant with the way that she acted about the two women that we saw and their underwear, or lack thereof. It was so embarrassing. A few nearby patrons saw the commotion, and it drew attention to what she was looking at; then they started whispering and staring. I would have preferred to be discreet and give the young lady some privacy. Then she had to pull her phone out and take pictures! I was so embarrassed.
Then there was the bombshell revelation about oral sex. I can't believe that she has been holding out on me because I 've been holding out on her because she has been holding out on me… I feel mostly angry about it. Anger that I was so petty and that I waited twenty years to communicate about it! The realization that we have both harbored resentment for all these years is terrible. I don't really care if I get a blowjob tonight, but you can bet that I will incorporate oral into our foreplay, tonight and in the future.
Speaking of which, I think that it is an expectation that Lilith and I will have sex tonight. I had blue balls from my activities with Sarah this afternoon with no personal relief. Of course, the edge has worn off with the passage of time. But being around Lilith dressed in her new little black dress, the other beautiful women in the restaurant, and seeing some bare pussy upskirt have all conspired against me. Now, on the ride home, Lilith slides over as close as the center armrest in our car will allow, and she strokes my arm. I think it is safe to say we will have a good time in the sack tonight. I aim to take my time and make it good for her. Her response to me will tell a lot about how she feels about me. I know that I am still in love with her; I just hope that she feels the same about me.
We walk in the house, and I ask Lilith, “Can I get you something to drink?”
“No thanks, honey. I already had a couple of glasses of wine. You go ahead, and I'm going to slip into something a little more comfortable.”
I watch Lilith climb the stairs to our room. Her ass looks mighty fine in that black dress. I turn and pour myself a finger of scotch. I don't drink very much, but I will have a glass or two on the weekend. I loosen my collar, and the burn of the alcohol loosens my thoughts and makes me feel expansive. Reflecting on the change that came over Lilith on the drive home from Giovanni’s, I am puzzled. Since arriving home from Concord, she has been extra quiet and has avoided contact with me. When we did touch, it felt cold. Suddenly, on the way home from Giovanni’s, she moves over close to me and puts her hands on me. Her contact feels warm and sincere, now. Her earlier coolness makes sense in the context of guilt following her impropriety with Brad. But why the sudden warmup? Could it have something to do with our discussion about oral sex? Or could it be anticipation of the sex we will have tonight? Hope surges; my cock half-hard already.
Eagerly, I wait for Lilith to reappear. Looking up, I see her descending the steps, dressed in my favorite nightgown. She hates it, says it always rides up in bed—which is part of why I like it. That and the slippery silky feel of the fabric and the cut does so much to accentuate her features. In the morning, I can reach for her bare thighs and hips, warm and inviting. Seeing her in it now, I notice that it clings to her body just as it did ten years ago. No bra tonight, as evidenced by a bounce as she comes down the stairs, her nipples tenting the silky fabric. She is not moving very fast, and I don't know if it is because she doesn't have a bra or what? And I would be willing to bet, dollars to donuts, that she does not have panties on, either.
She curls beside me, nestling into my shoulder, hands claiming mine. "Wanna see those pics?" Her grin is wicked, eyes alight with mischief.
Embarrassment flares at first, but curiosity and lust win in the end. "Hell yeah."
We scroll, viewing the navy dress with a ghost of lace. Then the zoomed glimpses of forbidden flesh. These are the ones that I wanted to see! Looking eagerly, I clearly see the trimmed mound, slick slit. My pulse quickens; Lilith's breath hitches, her thigh pressing mine. "Naughty night," she murmurs, tossing her phone aside.
“Hey! I hardly got to see!” I whine.
“Later, big boy.” Her hand drifts over my chest, then down lower, cupping the growing bulge in my pants. “This is what I want."
"Lilith—" My words die as she slides to her knees between my legs, eyes locking on mine, hungry. Unzipping me slow, she frees my cock, hard, aching, pre-cum beading at the tip. Is she…? A blowjob? Her tongue flicks the tip, teasing the slit, then her lips part, slipping me deep inside. Wet heat envelops me, the velvet suction pulling a groan from my throat. Damn, her mouth—eager, tongue swirling the ridge, cheeks hollowing. I thread my fingers in her blonde hair, not guiding, just holding, hips bucking slightly in time with her bobbing head.
She hums in appreciation, the vibration shooting fire up my spine. Bobbing faster and faster, saliva glistening, her hand stroking the base with a twisting motion. Her free hand kneads my balls, applying pressure to my taint as coiling pleasure builds toward the inevitable. "Fuck, baby, yes." I watch, mesmerized. Her lips stretch pink around me, eyes watering but fierce. All else is forgotten in her singleminded focus. This is a gift, atonement, and restoration. Questions about Lilith’s love for me have vaporized.
The climax builds relentlessly. My thighs tense, breath ragged. "Lilith! I’m gonna blow!" She doesn't pull away. Deeper, throat fluttering, and I shatter, pulsing hot ropes down her throat. She swallows every drop, milking me dry with soft sucks, then a final, tender lick. Rising, she crawls into my lap, kissing me deep: the taste of semen on her lips, with no shame.
Holding her to my chest, we embrace, our hearts racing together. "My turn soon," I whisper, hand slipping under her nightie, finding slick heat. But tonight? My thirst is slaked. She's here. She's mine. And damn if it doesn't feel like home.
*****
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