Everything comes to an end sometime.
And when you reach that end it's only natural to look back on what was and had been when everything was new and exciting. Looking back at those moments that changed the course of who you were into who you became. That it was love that did this only makes the remembering of it so much more special.
***
Heather sat on the end of the bed and eased herself back so that she was propped up on her elbows as she listened to me taking off my tux.
I stared down at her as she lay there waiting for me.
"So then, husband," she smiled seductively, "Are you going to make love to me in my wedding dress?"
Naked, I came to stand over her with a rock hard boner pointing due North as I reached down and lifted the first layer of her dress and folded it back. To reveal another layer. Followed by another. And another. Talk about hunting for the pot of gold.
"That's all I've been thinking about, wife," I grinned, "Since the moment I saw you walking up the aisle."
She raised her hand and pretended to stifle a yawn. "But it's been such a long day. I'm feeling ever so sleepy. Maybe you and that thing of yours can wait until tomorrow?"
I knelt down and tugged up the final layer of her slips to reveal her white self-supporting stockings and bare thighs. On the right was a pink garter and above that were a very French looking pair of snug fit panties.
Looks like I had found the something blue.
Reaching under her, I grabbed the elastic and pulled them slowly off as she lay there giggling behind her clenched fists. Her familiar sex was smooth and bare as I took each thigh in hand and pushed them back so that her wet slot rotated upwards to leave it vulnerable to my intentions.
"Janet was right," she whispered as she closed her eyes and let her head fall back onto the pink duvet," You are such a bad man. A very naughty man."
I took my cock in hand and rubbed the engorged purple head around her pussy lips. "I'll stop if you want me to." I teased. The thing was so hard it was aching with anticipation.
My new wife shook her head as I leaned over her and slipped a hand into her white bodice to pull free one of her ripe succulent breasts before doing the same with the other.
The woman lifted her arms and wrapped them around me as I covered her with my mouth seeking hers. Pressing my hips forward, I fed my length into her in one smooth motion that made her arch her back and gasp as she willingly accepted the first of what would be many fucks this night.
Wrapping her legs around me, Heather buried her head in my neck and whispered in my ear.
"Like I said," she breathed, "You're a very very naughty man."
***
It's not what you say but the way you say it.
Heather failed to keep a straight face as she sat listening as I read out the Dog and Ducks menu to her. We were in a quiet corner at the far side of the Olde English style restaurant which was a ten-minute walk from Company HQ where we had just left the Christmas party.
"How can you have a traditional English breakfast at eight o'clock in the evening?" she whispered leaning forward as she ran her fingers around the edges of the table like she was marking out her territory.
"This is New York. They'd make you a midnight snack for your lunch if you asked them," I replied, "Besides, I know the owner. We go way back. Have you never had a full English before?"
She shook her head. "No, I don't think so."
"You'll love it," I promised, "Wait until you try the black pudding."
"Black pudding?"
"Think big fat juicy sausage."
"You're kidding," she laughed as her nose turned pinker than usual.
"Nope," I teased.
She wriggled and shuddered in her seat. "Sounds disgusting," she said making a face, "But I'll try anything once."
She smiled as she sat back and rubbed her bare arms. She looked a picture. Her in that red dress with the daring vee that revealed the suggestive curves of her perfect breasts. Here we were together. Twenty minutes into whatever comes next. Virgin territory. The great unknown. A proper relationship. Hopefully. Maybe.
A middle aged waitress came over and asked for our order. Her strawberry blonde hair was tied back and she was dressed as a Victorian barmaid with ample cleavage on view. Her American ye olde English was on point.
"Uh, two number sixes with everything," I said as I looked at the menu, "Coke?" I asked the girl sat opposite me with an amused expression on her face as she listened to me rambling on.
"Coke," she nodded.
"A coke and a Hair of the Dog. And that's it." I smiled up at the woman as she scribbled down everything on her little notepad.
"Alright, Sir," she nodded, "Be back before last Tuesday," she said cheerily as she stuck her pencil behind her ear and off she went.
"Hair of the Dog?"
"Brown Ale."
"Oh," she said, "That makes perfect sense."
***
"Black pudding, huh," she said as she sat there skeptically chewing away.
Funny. And cute as I watched her eat her meal. She reminded me of when Stan ate that wax apple. The whole "this should taste terrible but actually, it's kind of really good!" thing as she put the food into her mouth expecting the worst.
"Enjoy that?" I asked her as she finished her meal.
"Tasty!" she agreed as she felt for a tissue at the side of her plate and dabbed her mouth. Finally, she sat back and took a long slurp of her coke through a straw as I sat there drinking the bottled dog.
There was a nervous silence that settled over us and I think we both knew that the time for forced small talk was over. That post "Okay, I told you I love you and you told me you loved me so what happens next?" talk where you say and admit things that usually only stay bouncing around inside your head.
Where the heck do I start?
Only this time it was her turn first.
"I meant it," she said.
Her head was down as she fiddled around with her napkin and I could tell she was nervous and tense. But her admission fired the blood and meant everything to me right now. Okay. Good. That was more than good. Now it's your turn. Don't say anything stupid.
"I know."
She burst out laughing and glanced up at me with a look that was a mixture of "Listen to this wise guy!" and "Oh, that is so sweet!" Why is it so hard to say what you feel?
"And?" she asked as she licked her lips.
Go on. Say it. Use words. Like adults do when they need to.
"So did I."
Nice job, Mike. You really dragged that one out from somewhere deep dark inside that thick fucking skull of yours. Old habits really do die hard for some assholes stuck in their ways.
Heather nodded as she chewed on her lower lip. Probably to stop herself laughing at the stubborn fool sitting opposite her.
"Why?" she asked as she turned her head towards me.
Uh. Oh. Now there was a question. Probably the most important question I was ever going to be asked or had to answer. Why? I shuffled in my seat feeling slightly uncomfortable in my new skin. I think she understood how difficult it was for me to talk about my feelings like this and was gently guiding me through my reluctance one step at a time.
"Because." I said simply. Because I do. And because I want to be.
The blind girl didn't say anything for what felt like a long long time. Then I saw her draw a deep breath and clasp her hands together on the table in front of her.
"I remember," she began, "When we first met. That morning when I fell. And when you asked if I was alright. I remember the sound of your voice and the way you made sure I was safe until Janet came for me. It's strange," she smiled, "I always thought we'd meet again one day. And we did."
"Janet came for you?" I frowned, "When?" This was news to me.
Heather shrugged. "Since it was my first day, the people who had arranged my placement made sure there would be someone there to meet me. That someone was Janet. She saw everything that happened between us and asked me if I was alright when she introduced herself just after you left me on the sidewalk. She never told you?"
"No," I replied, "She never told me a thing." Which was strange because Janet always told me everything about anything. Well, almost everything apparently. Probably just slipped her mind.
I reached across the table and took Heather's hand in mine.
"Sometimes there doesn't have to be a reason," I said, "Sometimes it's just the way things are meant to be. That I love you and you love me was always going to happen. All we had to do was meet. Maybe we're just fated to be together."
She nodded and smiled at me. "That's nice," she said softly, "Even though I can't see you, I know you inside my head. I can feel when you're near and the colors I see and the shapes they make when I hear you speak mean everything to me," She gave a bashful shrug, "I've always been sort of afraid there would never be someone for me."
I sat forward and brought her hand to my lips. There were tears in her eyes and her voice quivered with the emotions she was feeling.
"Then you don't have to be afraid anymore," I promised her, "Because that someone is sat right here in front of you. This is us just starting out. First day at school stuff. Me, at thirty and you at eighteen."
Heather looked up surprised.
"You're how old?"
"Just gone thirty," I smiled, "Didn't you know?"
She shook her head. "No, well, I mean, I imagined you were a little older than Jimmy. He's what? About twenty or so?"
"Does the age difference bother you?"
"No, not really, but," she frowned slightly, "Twelve years."
Yeah. Twelve years.
"Just don't call me the old man."
She blushed and smiled shyly, "For an old man, you sure knew how to handle me."
