I would like to thank Snowbear for editing this for me. Editors are an important part of writing for me. Sometimes as a writer, you don't see your own mistakes. Thanks again.
*****
I am standing in our kitchen preparing your favorite soup as I watch the snowflakes fall outside the window. It blankets the ground in a thick layer, as if it is trying to protect it from the ice storm to come. Protection, that brings about memories of him. I wasn't always a breeder, I used to be a CPA in one of the top 5 firms in the country. However, this is the story of how I came to leave that life behind and become so much more than his wife.
Chapter 2:
Since Marcus did not put on any clothes before leaving the room, I was able to watch his ass as he walked away. At the end of the hallway he said, "You have 5 minutes. Lotion your body only. Do not dress. Meet me in the dining room when you are done."
I knew better than to contradict what he asked of me. I sat down on the end of the bed and began to lubricate my body. On the other side of our bed, near the closet door, we had a full length mirror. It caught my attention and I went to stand in front of it. As I stared at myself I begin to think:
"How can he love me when I look like this? I have rolls upon rolls on my sides, my stomach pokes out, my arms are huge and flabby, my thighs are huge and have cellulite everywhere, and of course, my breasts are too large and sag."
Try as I might over the years, I have still not been able to love the way I look. But he does, so I try to dress so that my flaws don't show.
"One minute left," I heard Marcus holler down the hall.
"Alright, I'm coming," I called. I rushed to finish applying the lotion to my body then started down the hall. As I turned left into our dining room, Marcus motioned for me to sit in his lap.
"I think this is going to be a long conversation. If I sit in your lap you won't be able to feel your legs in 2 minutes," I chuckled. I moved to take the seat next to him but he cleared his throat loudly.
"Marissa, I want you to sit right here," he said, patting his leg.
I walked over and sat on his right knee and wrapped my arms around his neck for support.
"Straddle me," he growled.
I shifted to straddle his waist and he moved us and the chair so that my back was supported by the edge of the table. We looked at each other for several minutes, staring at each other. I touched his chest and face and shoulders. I kissed his cheek and neck and lips. I savored the taste of him as if he was the last drink of water I would ever have.
The intimateness of the situation made me forget all of my earlier insecurities. "I love you," I whispered into his lips.
I could feel him hardening beneath me. It felt wonderful. I began to wiggle my hips, trying to move so that he could enter me. He restrained my hips with his hands. This was the first time since I had sat down that he touched me. All of a sudden I felt self-conscious that I had done something wrong. I crossed my arms over my chest and stopped moving, the desire began to drain out of me as if someone had pulled the drain on a bath tub.
"Marissa, I love you too. But, we need to eat. You are going to need proper nutrition and strength."
Marcus lifted me so that I was sitting on the table and then he rose and went into the kitchen. When he returned, he was carrying a heaping plate of Baked Ziti from the Italian place up the street.
"You don't really expect me to eat all of that, do you, Marcus? I may be fat but I don't eat that much!" I laughed.
Marcus handed me the plate and a fork, repositioned himself in the chair, and pulled me back into his lap; while I held the plate between us. He grabbed the plate and fork from me and laid them on the table.
"When did you become so self-conscious, Angel? You are not fat. You are beautiful. You may have a bit more weight than most women, but do you hear me complaining? I love the way you look, the way your thighs grip me when I thrust into you. The way your breasts swing when I take you from behind. I love that when I cuddle you at night, you are soft and fit into me. I love every part of you." As he said this I began to cry. Why would he love me like this? I'll never understand.
"Don't cry, Angel. Look at me, talk to me."
"I don't like the way I look," I said. "My entire family is thin and short and dainty. I have never been like that. I have always been taller than everyone, fatter than everyone, I never feel like a lady. Ladies are supposed to be small and fragile. When people look at me that isn't what they see, they see a big woman who should be able to take care of everything. But, sometimes I don't want to," I said as I began to cry harder.
"I wanna feel cherished and treated like a woman, not just another one of the guys," I said, now crying hysterically.
As Marcus sat and listened to me, he softly stroked my back, holding me close to him as I became more hysterical.
