Chapter Five
A wise
man would surely stop and think after experiencing the best sex of his life.
But Andrew was a man in love and still too young to be very wise. He didn’t stand a chance in hell of
keeping his feet planted on terra firma. He whistled in the shower. He hummed while he dressed. He bent over his sleeping wife and kissed her forehead before sinking
down on the bed, his hips near her slender shoulders as he worked on the knot
in his tie.His soul was singing.
The night
before he’d claimed the woman he loved. Life was good.
“Wake up
Babycakes.” He nuzzled her ear.
“Huhnn...”
Babycakes mumbled.
“I think
you’d better get up. The boys
won’t make it to school on their own.”
“Uh Huh…”
No man in
his right mind would have taken that as an affirmative.
Andrew
nibbled on Denise’s ear, one eye searching for the face of the clock he kept on
his bedside table. He swore under
his breath. He didn’t want to leave his beautiful wife to go to work.
Reluctantly, he swung his long legs over the edge of the bed but he turned back
and stole one more moment of pleasure – her face was so lovely he didn’t
think he’d ever tire of looking at it – before shooting a hand out to
touch her shoulder for a second.
“Thank
you for last night, Denise. It
meant the world to me.” He looked down at her for a moment. Was she really asleep? Or simply
pretending because she was embarrassed? A grin split his face. He’d
be embarrassed too if he’d screamed that loudly when he came. He had been wise enough to shove his
entire face into the pillow next to her head at the same time as he’d thrust up
into her for the last time.
A few
moments later Andrew stood in the kitchen, one arm braced on the door to the
refrigerator while he searched – fruitlessly -- for something
edible.
He
ignored the Chinese takeout. It didn’t matter how excellent the moo shoo had
been originally, no way could he eat it again before noon the next day. He found several containers of soy
yogurt. A container of medication
labeled “Keep Refrigerated”. Ketchup. Mustard. Chocolate Sauce. Hot Sauce. Whipping Cream.
He had a
brief thought about Whipping Cream and immediately banished it. Whipping cream was not the same thing
as whipped cream, although it probably could turn into it eventually. Like after you whipped it.
Worcestershire
Sauce. Steak sauce. Pesto. Extra
Hot, Hot sauce. For the love of
god. Where was the food they put
all these fricking sauces on?
So yes,
he suffered a twinge of annoyance, but he was a man in love. Drive thrus clustered on every corner,
Starbucks infested almost every city block, and he graciously refused to be annoyed
by the complete lack of any breakfast food. He’d mention it sometime soon. After all, there were growing boys in the house who
certainly needed to eat healthy breakfasts. He could forage on his own, but
should he have too? Her parents
probably never taught her that breakfast was the most important meal of the
day.
He left
the kitchen through the door that led into the garage, managing to slam his car
door before any of the six thousand dogs succeeded in landing on him. He set out for his office a happy man.
Upstairs,
Denise lay in bed rigid until she heard the sound of his car head down the
drive, and then she relaxed. The room was dim; the sun hadn’t fully committed
to the day yet. She rolled over to go back to sleep because now he was gone she
could breathe easily. But a sudden wave of heat flashed and zinged its way
through her body. She could
– almost -- feel the warmth of his hands as he’d explored every inch of
her.
Denise
pulled the pillow over her head and concentrated fiercely on her falling asleep
ritual: The backwards alphabet. Z Y X W… She wasn’t very good at it, which
meant she always had to start over a number of
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