She was so mad at him! He had been coming home late every single day for the past two months. He said it was work, that there was just so much and he had to do overtime. She begged him to come home on time at least once every so often and talk with her, just hang out. She couldn't tell him directly that she was hungry for him, for their lovemaking. She really missed him but couldn't say this outright, in case he laughed at her and told her to get tough.
Now it was Christmas Eve, and he was working late again. Who knew, maybe he'd even have to work over the holidays, too. She had showered in the evening, to make sure she was appealing to him, desirable, when he got home, and that she didn't smell like the elaborate dinner she had cooked. She turned off the lights in the living room so that the only illumination came from the small neatly decorated tree. The white pin point lights blinked lazily, making the gifts and tinsel sparkle softly. Tonight, with Bing Crosy crooning about a white Christmas on the CD player, she slid into a red silk dress that hugged her body. The neckline was almost obscene, cut so low it showcased her generous cleavage. She was young yet, so her breasts sat high and proud, the brown nipples often taut with sexual energy. She had shaved her legs and underarms with great care, and then, feeling daring, going for broke, she had lathered up her pussy pubes and slowly shaved them off. All the extra attention to her genitals made her slit wet and juicy. She felt a tangible yearning for her husband's attentions. He could be such a good lover when he had time and energy for her. Over her freshly shaved body, she put on a new set of green silk underwear. The bikini panties felt delicious on her bare skin, and the front-clasp bra was soft, supporting her medium-sized breasts without constricting them. Her nipples jutted out against the soft cloth. The red silk whispered against the green underwear as she moved about the house, and the friction further heightened her sexual excitement. She put on a pair of black patent leather strappy sandals with four-inch heels and stood in front of the mirror, surveying the effect. Hmmm, not bad, not bad, she thought, smiling secretively at her reflection. Her long black hair hung down her back and her dark brown eyes gazed right back at her, a little self-proud. This has to work, she thought. She had to have him soon.
Finally when he got home past 9 pm, the table was still set, but the candles had long burned out. She had kept their dinner warm-the turkey, the ham, soup, the sides and fixings . Even if she was mad at him, she still loved him and wanted to do for him. There was some bread, too, garlicky and buttery, fresh from the oven. She had timed everything just right. When he got in, though, he told her he wasn't hungry, hadn't expected her to keep dinner for him, that he had passed by McDonald's for a Big Mac instead. He brushed by her at the door. He didn't even look at her, just sat down heavily in his Lazy Boy and sighed deeply. He seemed to have forgotten it was Christmas. He looked past her in her new red dress and seemed focused on inner thoughts.
That was the LAST STRAW! It made her suspect that he was seeing somebody on the side, passing by her apartment on his way home. Who was the hussy who was feeding her husband now? Had he been eating two dinners previously to please two women? Had he just given that other woman the Christmas loving that was rightfully hers? A quick image of a blonde haired woman in a Santa hat and a red velvet bikini giving her husband a blow job flashed through her mind. It served to increase her anger and her sexual frustration. Damn, why hadn't she gotten some mistletoe at the florist this morning? Then at least she could tease him, hold it over her head, or better yet, over her chest. She knew that if she could just get his attention, he would see how she had wrapped herself up just for him.
Yet, her better judgment told her that surely he wasn't having any kind of affair. He sure wasn't gaining weight. If anything, he was looking a little gaunt and haggard. Still, she was so angry with him, she felt like she would explode. So she stormed from the living room and took her pillows to the guest room. She decided she would sleep there tonight. Otherwise, she would let all her steam out and say mean things and who knows what would happen after that? She dropped her tired and angry self into the bed, still clad in her Christmas outfit. Might as well get some use out of it during the season.
She heard him moving around in the kitchen, wrapping up the dinner and putting it all away. She had washed the dishes so he was done pretty quickly. She heard his tread on the stairs, and then the click of the bedroom light. Then silence. He was probably standing at the door, looking at the empty bed, half of the pillows gone.
She heard him move into the bathroom and start the shower. She knew him like the back of her hand. He would be done in about 10 minutes, and then he would pass out on their bed, falling immediately into a deep sleep. Christmas together and yet apart. Tears welled up in her eyes, but she blinked them back quickly. She wasn't going to be a cry baby.
She turned over in the guest bed and felt an immense sadness. Why couldn't he balance his work time and come home at a decent hour? These days, he was so tired. They hadn't made love in two whole months. She needed sex and affection, to feel his warm, strong hands caressing her body. He had a way of touching her skin, warming it. His large hands on her cool skin would soon bring the blood to the surface and open her up in so many ways. Just as she was falling asleep, she heard soft footsteps come down the hall and stop at the door of the guest room.
"Hon?" he called out.
