Hearts of Gold

He knew she'd be home working, her design project already past due, and would be at her desk, no more than a foot away from the fax machine when it buzzed to life.

"Downstairs, in the pantry, on the top shelf you can never reach," the handwritten note read. "You'll need the small ladder. Be careful. Bring the ribboned box upstairs and await further instructions."

* * *

He had missed too many special occasions, too many romantic dinners had been spoiled by meetings, airplanes, ringing telephones. This Valentine's Day would be different, he had vowed to himself, turning from the mall into the lingerie shop.

She looked her most lovely in blood-red, in a silky camisole or a delicate, deeply scooped bra and elegant matching panties that made her white skin creamier still.

"She's about, uh... your size," he said a little awkwardly to the friendly salesgirl, who sensed a hopeless, if helpless romantic standing before her.

"34C?" she asked a little brazenly, smiling as she lifted the hanger from the rack and held the push-up bra against her bosom. "In that case, you won't go wrong with this."

He studied the gorgeous silk the salesgirl pressed lightly to her subtle cleavage, aware that his face was on fire. He was certain his cheeks were the color of the bra she cupped lightly in her hands, its straps hooked on her thumbs.

Still, he could imagine his wife in this and the matching lace panties, almost a g-string, and he adored the vision.

"Thank you... Jenni," he replied, reading the nameplate on her blouse. "It should be perfect."

"Wrap it for Valentine's Day, right?" she said, not awaiting his reply as she moved behind the counter to process the sale and drape the set in tissue, tucking it into a ribboned box. "Our best season!"

He smiled at the effortless way Jenni put him at his ease. She knew full well that he didn't spend a lot of time in the aisles of a fine lingerie shop, and he imagined he wasn't the first man she had nursed through this exercise... and perhaps sold more than was first sought.

"If it doesn't fit, she can exchange it for anything else in the shop."

"It will fit, Jenni," he said, smiling. "34C, remember?"

Now it was her turn to blush as he nodded her his thanks and headed for the door, two items still on his list: champagne, and the dark Belgian chocolate.

* * *

"Next... in my office desk, second drawer, in the back... the gold box. And it is NOT to be opened either. One more to come."

"Chocolate," she said through a smile, recognizing the gold Godiva box, the fax still in her hand. "I'm going to KILL him..."

Now this little mystery was starting to make sense. She had long cut him all the slack he needed for his career, which took him on the road too often for their liking. The good times were exquisite, though too few and far between for them both. Now this -- the faxes, gifts -- and, the doorbell?

The florist's timing was impeccable, and she had never seen more magnificent long-stemmed roses. They were barely in the vase when the fax buzzed again:

"Back verandah... in the snow... it couldn't be wrapped, but it's chilled. And when I walk in the door at 6:30, be in the bath, in a mountain of bubbles. And save me a place!"

* * *

The light scent of candles hung in the air when he closed the foyer door behind him. The house was dark, silent; he heard only the very faint sound of water sculled by a hand in the bath upstairs.

He loosened his tie and dropped his jacket on the living-room wingback, and had kicked off his shoes and socks and unbuttoned his shirt when he saw the first gold-wrapped heart, on the bottom stair, beside a small wicker basket. Then another heart, and another... a trail leading to the bathroom. He brought one to his nose. It seems his lovely wife also had chocolate, and more, on her mind, her wonderful streak of mischief alive and well.

He harvested them all as he took the stairs up, picking the last one up at the bathroom door, just slightly ajar. What he saw as he pushed it open took his breath away.

She was sitting up in the deep roman tub, a million bubbles shimmering on her skin, dancing in the glow of the candles. Even in this dim light he could see the vase of roses on the vanity.

"From a secret admirer? he asked coyly.

He could make out the sparkle in her eyes and her hair that curled nicely in the humid room. So too could he see her appealing curves, and his smile broadened as she slowly sluiced away the foam from her left breast, revealing a dusty brown nipple that was sharply erect in the cool February evening's air.

"Yes, some guy who seems to have stolen my heart. So... how'd you like to share one?" she replied, and as she did she unwrapped a dark chocolate heart and took it between her teeth, leaning up to him. Their lips met, and they bit the chocolate in half, each drawing a portion over their tongues, savoring its bittersweet taste.

"Happy Valentine's Day, darling," he said to her softly, his hand dipping into the bubbles and slipping up her stomach, tracing a light line along her exposed breast. "Thank you for saving my place."

"And to you, baby," she replied, watching him crack open the champagne he had somehow gotten onto the back verandah this morning without her knowledge. She took the flute glass and smiled softly as he toasted her with his love, absolute and undying. Then he stepped from his wool trousers and his silk boxers and swung a leg over the tub's edge, gingerly moving into the steaming suds.

She leaned toward him quickly, placing a soft kiss on the swelling head of his cock which hung semi-erect between his legs, then pulled him gently down into the tub with her, their kiss lingering.

"Come here, honey," he said, turning her away from him as he slid down fully into the tub. He cupped her breasts with strong, warm hands and eased her between his legs, her back pressing his erection onto his flat stomach; his cock and balls now seemed weightless in the water as he rolled her nipples gently between his thumbs and forefingers.

He hugged her for what seemed forever, inhaling the scent that rose from her, kissing her neck. They seemed to be floating; she too felt weightless.

His head was swimming from the sudden rush of the champagne and the years-long love he felt for his wife as his hands slipped beneath the firm cheeks of her behind and lifted her a few inches. She helpfully moved her hand to his groin, her long fingers encircling his thickening shaft.

"Mmmm, my baby wants to make love?" she asked in a whisper.

Their lovemaking sometimes was frantic, sometimes was slow and languid, like it would be now. Yet they had never assumed this position, not in the bath, and both felt energized and deeply aroused by its possibilities.

He continued to kiss her skin wordlessly, nibbling at her shoulder blades as she positioned herself, nuzzling the spongy head of his cock at the lips of her pussy. And then she slowly, tantalizingly let gravity do its work, lowering herself onto him. The feeling of this union was forever fresh, and they both gasped softly at the sensation of his cock being swallowed by her pussy, the water creating a splendid vacuum, until her smooth behind was pressed to his hips.

He wasn't certain if the groan had escaped his lips, or hers. His throat was parched despite the gentle sting of the champagne, and he swallowed hard, relishing the feeling of her atop him, motionless, before he lifted her gently until their bodies nearly slipped apart, then eased her back down... slowly. Again, and again, and again.

"Baby, I love you so very much," he groaned, words that she might even have heard, very much lost in her own pleasure, reaching between their legs to knead his balls that floated loose in the hot bath.

Their eyes blinked almost shut in the flickering candlelight, their warm bodies moving in perfect rhythm, the bubbly water lapping at the sides of the tub, their heads light from this physical and emotional bliss.

With each long stroke the firm ridge of his cock grazed her clitoris, and she shuddered each time. It wasn't long before she was on the precipice, her orgasm swelling throughout her like a huge wave. His hands were squeezing her breasts when the moment arrived, and she cried out into the night as the technicolor rainbow exploded in her mind.

Her grip on his balls tightened, her fingers beyond her control, and the fury of his sudden climax stunned him, full, deep throbs sending his liquid heat deep into her body. He thrust until he could thrust no more, long moments later feeling his spent organ slip from between her soft lips and into the lessening foam.

She slumped back into him, finally, exhausted; his body, once strong and weightless, now seemed to weigh a thousand pounds.

* * *

"Honey, I love you," she whispered, her breath slowly returning as she sipped from her glass. "What a delightful way to spend Valentine's Day. I'm glad your office fax is finally getting some good use."

"Does my baby like red?" he replied softly, drawing her tightly to his chest. She glanced back over her shoulder, then her gaze followed his, to the ribboned box on the vanity, the first she had discovered on this remarkable day.

"Your baby LOVES red," she said lightly. "Has my husband been playing helpless in the lingerie shop again?"

The shortest candle on the edge of the tub just then flickered out.

"Yes, baby, he has." And when she felt his tongue on her neck, time seemed to stand still for them both.

The ribboned box could wait.