I sighed as I pulled the car in the driveway. Another day another dollar but work had been especially stressful tonight. I shut off the ignition and just sat for a moment, looking at the dark house, realizing that Brad had already gone to bed. Happy Valentine's Day.
Brad is a man's man, a quiet man, and a good one. He works on cars, farms, and watches TV. That's all, really. I knew that when we got married and I feel a little ashamed now to nearly hate the way we've become. Boring. Stale. Hell, even to say we were just above platonic might be giving us more credit than we deserve. We have sex once a month, maybe. When we do its rub here, lick there, insert A into B, and...we're done. I can barely stand the excitement.
We've been married for 8 years, I thought. Eight years of last-minute gas station chocolates, hastily picked roadside flowers, and almost no romance. I don't know why I thought this year would be any different. After all, he doesn't see the way I ache for him to look at me the same way he did when we were dating, or the way I cherish even the simplest of touches, or the way I cry sometimes when I just can't take the indifference anymore.
It had been different when we first got together though, at least a little. I could actually see his temperature rise when he looked at me, his hand would caress the small of my back as he passed behind me in a casual caress, and he had showed the smallest bit of passion, which I mistakenly had though was a promise of bigger and better things.
I gathered up my stuff and stepped out of the car, into the chilly night, and shivered. It was all I could do to keep walking toward the house. One of the broodmares nickered at me from the pasture. I glared at her. Sure, she only got laid once a year but I had seen them breed. It was all lust and excitement and passion. Not, "Hey, babe. You wanna do it?"
I stopped and breathed, watching my breath steam out in clouds and looked up at the star filled sky. I was suddenly filled with the urge to run. Brad might never know. I could tell him that I had to work late. The bar in town was full of perverts who just might be what I needed to make it a few more years with barely any sex and little displayed affection.
My shoulders slumped. My hair looked awful, thrown into a hasty pony tail, its normal wavy sable locks grown stringy with sweat and fatigue. I probably smelled, had on next to no makeup, and I couldn't go anywhere in my scrubs. Yeah, I just might as well go in the house.
I stepped into the laundry room and plopped my bags down on the dryer. Stripping down to bra and panties, like I do every night since the kids are already in bed, I dropped my worn uniforms into the basket. When I opened the door and stepped into the kitchen I stopped in my tracks, completely confused.
Candles were lit everywhere. The countertops, the stove, the coffee and end tables, all were littered with candles. A trail of red rose petals started at the laundry room door and led into the living room, the scent of them rising to confuse me further, the texture of them caressing my feet.
My first thought was, Oh My God! Someone has broken into our house!
Then I saw the note, in Brad's handwriting, propped up on the bar. "Follow the path"
I bit my lower lip. Had he had a head injury today? My mind was still convinced this was a trick of some sort but my body had already begun to respond. I felt my nipples tighten and my areolas shrink, my breasts felt softer and heavier with unaccustomed arousal. Moisture and heat bloomed between my legs.
I tentatively took a few steps into the kitchen and realized, with open mouthed shock, that the house was completely clean. No dishes waiting for me in the sink, no dirty socks by his recliner, no toys and shoes clogging up every inch of floor space, waiting for me to pick it all up. It must be snowing in hell.
I continued my trek, staying on the rose petals simply because they felt so good on my bare soles. The path led out of the living room, down the hall, and into the bathroom. There I found candles lit on the surface of the vanity and at all four corners of the tub. Steam rose from the water in the tub while generous bubbles threatened to overflow its top. More rose petals were sprinkled on top of the bubbles. Soft music played from the portable CD player sitting on the floor.
Another note was taped to the mirror. "Bathe. You have thirty minutes."
He didn't have to tell me twice. I nearly ripped my undies in my haste to get them off, followed by the bra and pony tail holder. I eased myself into the tub, hissing a bit at the temperature of the water, but feeling my muscles relax as I sank into the heat. I actually moaned a little as I settled in, startling myself.
The scent of the rose petals and the bubble bath was like ambrosia to my nose. I closed my eyes and descended under the water completely. When I surfaced I realized that the bathroom door had been shut.
I relaxed, closing my eyes and just feeling the heat of the water work on my body. I slid my hands over my water slicked skin and cupped my own breasts, squeezing them softly, causing my nipples to draw up and beg for attention. I touched them lightly, tracing wet circles around both of them, teasing myself before rolling them between my fingers, pinching and pulling in gentle caresses. I felt the answering pull between my legs and felt my pussy throb with desire and need.
How much time had passed? I didn't know but I wanted to wash my hair and shave before my time was up. I sat upright in the tub and reached for the shaving cream and razor. When I was done with them, I pulled the plug and started the shower head, washing my hair with more speed than I think I have ever exhibited on that particular task.
I stepped out of the tub after a final rinse and dried myself, wrapping my hair in a towel. My favorite lotion had been placed just beside the sink and I slathered it on, taking care to get every inch of skin that I could reach. Unwrapping my head, I toweled it as dry as possible and combed it out, a chore that usually takes awhile as it reaches my waist, but tonight I literally ripped through it in anticipation of what was coming next.
I had just put my comb away when I heard my husband's voice through the door. "Elizabeth? Close your eyes."
I did, immediately. I was suddenly shy as I heard the door open. It was absurd, this man had seen me naked for eight years, but I had to bite my lip to keep from covering myself with my hands. His callused hands touched mine and he drew me forward into his arms. I shivered violently as he ran his hands up and down my sensitive skin, starting at my shoulders and ending at my ass, caressing my whole back. I had always loved this, loved to be petted and stroked, especially by his work-roughened hands.
I arched into him, pressing my breasts into his chest, and feeling his bare erection on my belly. A gasp escaped me. He chuckled lowly and the sound sent tingles anew all over my body. "Keep your eyes closed."
He took both of my hands in his and led me out of the bathroom and into the hall. We walked slowly back into the living room. "Keep your eyes closed. Tonight is for you. Relax and enjoy yourself. The kid's are at my moms. We have all night. Only one rule. Do what I tell you to."
I nodded mutely. I was so starved for attention and so horny at this point that I probably would have shot roman candles out of my ass if he wanted me to.
A few steps forward and he stopped me. I heard him move and then he put one arm behind my knees and the other behind my back, literally sweeping my off my feet. He's a big man, around 6'3" and 240 lbs. I felt petite cuddled next to his chest even though I am 5'8" and around 180lbs. Give or take 5.
He leaned over and placed me on something soft and ...inflated? Oh, it was the air mattress from when we went camping, although now it had something plasticky covering it.
