Eleventh Installment in the "Latina" Series of Erotic Tales
Latina sat at her desk in their master bedroom that morning, studying her books about computers. After her recent layoff from the job she'd held for over three years, Latina had decided to take some computer courses, to update her skills. Not that after ten years in the computer industry, she didn't already know a lot about computers. But she had never used Windows 98, and had yet to see, much less use, the latest release of MS-Word. And at age 48, Latina had long ago forgotten most of what she ever knew about creating spreadsheets in Excel. So after sending her son, Bobby, off to school--and her husband, Frank, off to work--Latina felt good about having this quiet time, to study and update her computer skills, before finding her next job.
As Latina read, and experimented on the computer, very brief flashes of last night's celebration of their second wedding anniversary repeatedly popped into her mind, but she always managed to fight them off, and to focus back on her studies.
Latina and Frank, and their 11-year-old son Bobby (whom she had adopted during her first marriage), had all gone out to dinner at Benihana's, the Japanese restaurant chain where chefs did fancy knife tricks as they prepared food right at your table. Latina was glad that they had taken their son along to celebrate. After all, Bobby was celebrating two years of being part of this new family with Frank, just as much as Latina and Frank were celebrating two years of married life. Two years since the successful completion of what neither knew until they met, was a 40-year journey toward finding each other's one soulmate on earth, finding the part of each other that neither knew was even missing, until they met, and they found that they completed the very essence of each other's being. Not to mention that Latina and Frank both had equally sky-high libidos, and enormous imaginations for finding creative new places and methods of coupling, imaginations matched only by their equally-voracious sexual appetites.
Their son, Bobby, had been thoroughly delighted to watch the show that Benihana's chefs always make, of preparing and cooking your food right at your table. Latina had worn the gold, heart-shaped earrings, studded with tiny red garnets, which Frank had given her the night before, as an early anniversary gift, just so she could wear them on their big night out. She recalled the two other, much-younger couples at their table; both women were extremely pretty, but were too busy constantly adjusting their hair and makeup, to pay the slightest attention to their dates. If anything, both of those younger women had seemed to be looking at, and trying to catch the eye of, each other's man from across the table.
Latina considered herself very lucky, that neither she nor Frank had a roving eye, for anyone else but each other. Latina and Frank were best friends, life companions, partners, lovers, confidants, playmates, and soulmates, and therefore had no need to even look at any other.
Latina remembered the Japanese chef, with his very sharp knife, so rapidly slicing up the shrimp, then using that knife to flip the very tips of the shrimp shells up into the top of his tall, cylindrical chef's hat. If ever there was an obvious phallic symbol, a chef's hat was it: tall, wide, round, and pointing straight up. Once more, Latina successfully pushed last night's images away, and she returned to her studies.
She remembered how, after they got home from Benihana's and put their son to bed, Frank had gently pushed her down flat on her back on their bed, so she could watch as he stood over her, beside the bed. He had then loosened and removed his tie, unfastened his cuff links, and then slowly unbuttoned the front of his formal white shirt, revealing his thick, dark, masculine hair, and subtle glimpses of the soft, smooth skin of his manly chest underneath. As she reminisced, Latina turned around from her desk, and she gazed at the now- unoccupied bed behind her, letting out a soft sigh. Once more, Latina pushed away the images from last night, and she diligently returned to her studies.
She remembered hearing the television blaring in their son's room last night, and she and Frank deciding to let their growing passion wait, until Bobby was asleep. Frank had switched on their own TV then, and they had both decided that their private celebration of their two-year wedding anniversary could wait a while, maybe another hour. After a few minutes stretched out beside each on their bed, watching an old movie, their excited breathing from Frank's earlier strip-tease (which he had performed as much for his own benefit as for hers), had calmed to a more normal pace now. Throughout the movie, they held hands in bed, and during commercials, they gently kissed each other, being careful not to get so carried away, that Bobby could hear them from his room, until he could fall asleep.
After about half an hour of watching this old movie, Frank, still shirtless, had crept into Bobby's room. Bobby was already fast asleep, his light still on and his TV still blaring. Frank had switched off the light and the TV, kissed their sleeping son good-night on his cheek (without waking him), and returned to their room, locking the master-bedroom door behind him.
Latina's recollections of the previous night, did not stop her swift fingers from gliding over the computer keyboard now. She felt proud of herself now, for she had just re-learned the formula for multiplying the contents of two spreadsheet cells, to automatically produce the product in a third cell. After practicing this procedure on the keyboard 3 or 4 times, she had it down cold, and Latina felt a new confidence, that her resume could once more list Excel among the many software programs at which she was an expert. A few more weeks of computer classes and at-home studies, and Latina would be ready for the endless rounds of job interviews that would finally land her a new job, as interesting and exciting as the one from which she had recently been laid-off.