Prologue
Sometimes it can be difficult to keep the fire alive in your marriage, especially when you've been together as long as we have. My husband and I got together when we were in high school, but it wasn't at school that we met. My mother had suckered me into being a bible camp counselor one summer, and so had his. At the time, I was innocent and sheltered; not a single inappropriate idea in my head. At least, that's what everyone else thought. By the end of that summer, Joseph knew better.
It's been years since then. We went to college together, then got married. We have kids now; five of them. First were our twins, now in 8
th
grade, Jacob, and Emma. We found out about them almost immediately after our honeymoon. That means they were conceived somewhere along the Mediterranean or in the backyard of our first house right after we got back. Mmm, those were such great times... Oh! Uh, anyway, after a weekend in a small town in the mountains we found out about our next set of twins, 10-year-olds, Noah, and Liam. That was a wild time, too. We went there for an apple festival. I still think of how romantic that trip was every time I slice an apple for one of the kids. I can't be sure when our youngest was conceived. It was either during our 10
th
anniversary trip to Hawaii, or perhaps it was when we got back and those silk ropes I ordered finally showed up. Either way, we got our sweet little Evelyn out of it.
Unfortunately, Joseph and I don't get to spend a lot of quality alone time together like that anymore. Even though we're both usually home, he's busy with his work, I'm busy with mine, and we're both constantly doing things with the kids. Our lives don't leave a lot of room for romantic time, but we do our best to find it. This time, I had to beg for it. I pestered my mother for weeks until she finally agreed to take
all
of the kids for a weekend instead of just a few of them, like she usually did. She was reluctant, but "anything for her little Stephanie," she had said. So, Joe and I would get to have a long overdue weekend of fun, relaxation, and passion.
* * * * *
It was Friday afternoon. The kids had come home from school, I had made them a snack, then helped them pack their things for a weekend at grandma and grandpa's house. My mother's van was parked in the driveway as I stood outside watching my husband put the kids' bags in the car. Our youngest, Evelyn, was holding onto me saying that she was going to miss me, and I'd miss her, too, but I was so excited for the weekend ahead, I almost didn't care. Almost. I picked her up, put her in the car, fastened her safely into her car seat, then kissed her on the head. I kissed the rest of the kids goodbye as they piled into the vehicle one by one. Then my husband closed the back, and soon we were waving as they pulled away.
"Bye, kids! We'll miss you!" I shouted after them.
"See you Sunday," Joe added.
Once the car was out of sight, I turned to Joseph with a giant smile on my face.
"They're gone!" I exclaimed.
"Don't sound so excited. They're still our children."
"Yes, but... when was the last time we had enough time for just the two of us? Being all alone with no interruptions; that's why I'm excited. It gets to be just you and me this weekend."
He smiled and said, "I know, honey. I'm excited, too."
He gave me a kiss on the cheek and we went back inside. Sadly, our evening together couldn't start just yet. Joseph had some work he needed to finish. He worked from home designing games and doing freelance programming work. He promised it wouldn't take long, so I decided to spend that time making us dinner and went to the kitchen.
Earlier in the week, I had decided to make one of his favorites for dinner on our first night alone: carbonara with a fresh side salad. I had been grocery shopping in the afternoon, so everything I needed was ready and waiting in the fridge. I filled up a pot and got the water for the pasta going. Next, I got out a large saucepan and placed it on the stove to start heating up. As I pulled out the meat and began to chop it, I wondered when the last time I had gotten to make it more authentically like this had been. Joe's mother had taught me years ago, but I had tweaked the recipe a few times to cater to what the kids would eat.
Cooking for just the two of us also meant I wouldn't be making chicken nuggets because a toddler was refusing anything else, and I wouldn't be making a side of peas and carrots because Noah wouldn't eat anything with salad dressing on it. No one would be wandering into the kitchen complaining that they wanted something else, or hanging onto my legs while I tried to move around the room. Not only could I cook in peace, I could make the food exactly how Joe liked it. This weekend was going to turn out great.
As I slid the pancetta from the cutting board into the pan and it began to sizzle, I started to think about what Joseph and I would be doing later. We had the house all to ourselves for once. We could do anything; anywhere. I felt the first tingles of anticipation between my legs. Anywhere? It had been a long time since we had gotten to do that, too. Back when we first got married, and while our oldest two were still babies, Joe and I had a lot more fun around the house as opposed to just in our bedroom.
Back then, Joe would walk in while I stood in front of the stove like this and slide his arms around me, then look over my shoulder wondering what was for dinner. He'd hold me close and kiss my cheek until I turned around to kiss his lips. Then one thing would lead to another...Now there was always someone nearby: either directly underfoot, or at the table doing their homework. I missed those days, but I wouldn't trade my life now for anything.
I'm a very happy woman, and I love my kids a lot, but every mom needs a break now and then. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, right? Since Joe was always so close yet so far away, my heart and body were longing for him. I couldn't wait to feel his strong arms wrapped around me, or the softness of his lips. I wanted him to kiss me up and down and feel every inch of my bare skin. Mmm... Ah! The skillet popped at me and I refocused on cooking. I was getting ahead of myself. I needed to finish dinner first.
I moved the meat around with a spatula, put the pasta in the pot to boil, then went to the fridge to start the next step. I pulled out some eggs, cheese, and a few other things, then set everything on the counter. I grabbed a bowl from the cabinet, then cracked all the eggs into it. As I stood there whisking, I thought back to the first time I cooked for Joe. We were still in college then. He had just gotten the news that he'd be able to pursue his major in the fall, and I had invited him over to my place to celebrate while my roommate was out.
I hadn't done a lot of cooking at that point, but I wanted to make something special for him anyway. I had whisked some eggs like I was doing right now trying to make a meringue, not realizing I needed just the whites. It turned out horrible, so I made Joe some cookies instead. He was just happy that I made him something; he didn't care what it was. He was so sweet about it, even though I ended up crying. He pulled me into his lap to hold me and told me that dinner and the cookies had turned out great. He had no way of knowing that dinner wasn't quite right either, and I cried even harder. He wiped my tears, kissed me, and thanked me for thinking of him. That was one of the moments that made me sure he was the one.
What happened after that was really nice, too. We kissed until he picked me up and carried me to my bedroom. Ahh... he was so fierce that day... the way he pounded me into the bed... I felt so much better afterwards. Mmm... Wait! Cooking. Right. I looked down at the bowl in front of me, remembered what I was doing and what I had to do next. I added some pepper and oregano to the eggs, then put some minced garlic in the pan with the meat according to Mrs. Taylor's recipe. I mixed some cheese into the eggs and spices, then went to check on the pasta. It wasn't quite ready, so I was left standing in the middle of the kitchen trying to concentrate on cooking, and not how horny I was getting.
I decided to set the table. I had put a table cloth on the kitchen table earlier this afternoon, but now I was setting down the placemats and utensils. As I thought about what kind of glasses to put out, I remembered a bottle of red wine we'd been saving. I dug around in our lower cabinets for the ice bucket, filled it with ice from the freezer, then set it on the table. I checked on the stove, then went to get the wine from the cabinet above the fridge. I had to get the stool, but if Joe were in here, he probably could have just reached for it.
I put the wine on the ice, placed a wine screw and some wine glasses on the table next to the water glasses, then checked on the pasta which was finally ready. I drained it, and mixed it into the pan with the meat. Then I lowered the heat, took the egg mixture, and poured it over the top. As I started to stir, Joe walked into the kitchen.
"Mmm," he said as he sniffed the air. "It smells really good in here. Is that what I think it is?" he asked as he leaned against the counter.
"It sure is," I said as I turned my head and smiled at him.
"Alright! My favorite. And my favorite woman is cooking it for me," he said as he moved behind me and wrapped his arms around my waist.
A sigh slipped out of my mouth as I felt his arms tighten around me. Then I fought the urge to moan as I felt the soft warmth of his lips brush against my cheek. I continued to stir with him looking over my shoulder. He hugged me close, kissing softly on my cheek and neck for a few moments before he spoke again.
"You know, being alone like this is almost like being newlyweds again."
"It kind of is," I giggled as he began to nibble at my ear.
It really was like back then. I found it sweet that he was thinking exactly what I had been thinking about earlier. He was so much smoother now, though. The way he could just take my breath away with just a few soft kisses. Ahh, but I was supposed to be stirring right now. If I wasn't careful, the whole thing would be ruined. I focused on the pan in front of me, mixing while holding it off the heat.
I was doing fine until Joe's hands started to wonder around my body. He felt at my waist and hips, running his hands over my jeans and then under my shirt. He wrapped his arms tightly around my bare mid-section and pulled me closer to his body. His grip was so firm. I loved feeling his strength, especially when we made love; it was a huge turn on. Oh... I needed to be careful, and he was
not
helping. As I set the pan back on the stove, I could feel myself convulsing, and it was a
huge
distraction. The pasta was almost to the right consistency; just a little bit longer and we could eat.
I felt his warm breath on my ear and let out a soft sigh. His hands slid up my body, still under my shirt, to cup my breasts. He hadn't done anything besides place his hands there, but a moan slipped out of my mouth. As he began to knead them, an even louder sound came out.
"Joey... I'm trying to cook," I moaned.
"I know," he said.
"Come on, I'm almost done... Just let me... ahh!"
His fingers had managed to find my nipples through my bra. As he played with them, I moaned involuntarily, and my knees faltered for a second. He held me steady, and I heard him chuckle. I didn't have to turn around to know he had a smug smile on his face. It was the same arrogant, mischievous, side smile that I had fallen for in the first place.
He smiled at me like that when we met, and I was immediately interested. Back then, the grin was sexy and full of lustful promise; and sure, it meant that now, too, but sometimes, it also got on my nerves. He loved to torment me when I couldn't move like this, and that smile was always plastered on his face as he did it. When I finally turned enough to see his face, I saw that I was right.
"Did that feel nice," he asked me as his smile widened.
I rolled my eyes and blushed.
"Yes, but... Let me finish cooking and you can do whatever you want to me, okay?"
"Hmm... a very tempting offer, but I'm pretty sure you'd let me do whatever I want to you whether I wait for you to finish dinner or not."
