Motivation 9

This story is copy right 2025 by NaughteeDragon. All characters are original, and any similarity to persons real or imagined is coincidental. Names of actual places or things are used under fair usage laws.

Motivation

John flipped down the visor on his Honda Pilot and looked in the mirror. He verified that there weren't any hairs sticking out of his nose and that his Van Dyke beard was neat and hadn't held on to any crumbs from the snack cake he had enjoyed on the way home from the store. Satisfied with his appearance, he opened the door and filled his hands with the gifts he had picked up on the way home. He was looking forward to her opening them almost as much as he was looking forward to dinner.

"Hey Birthday Girl!" he called out as he entered. He moved to the breakfast bar and dropped his backpack as he piled things up on the counter. His wife's voice floated down the stairs that she'd be down in a minute. 'Remember to compliment her,' he told himself as he took off his jacket and hung it over the back of a chair. It wasn't that he didn't think she was pretty, but with almost 25 years of marriage it was easy to take each other for granted or assume that the other one knew what you thought. She was 49 today, and she'd made a couple of comments recently that he had interpreted as her feeling old and unattractive.

He flipped through the mail on the counter as he listened for her. When he heard the click of her shoes on the hardwood he looked up and froze. Her brown hair had been going steadily gray since their oldest had become a teenager 10 years earlier. His hair had thinned and receded, so he was jealous. Now though, her hair was a short sweep of curly frosted blonde highlights. Her round face accented a certain girlish charm in the way her makeup was applied. The gold and sapphire pendant he had bought her for their 20th anniversary drew his eyes down to the long and deep cleavage that was framed by the v-cut of the shimmery blue dress she was wearing. He wondered if she was wearing a new bra, because that was way more cleavage than he was used to seeing on her. The empress waistline of the dress accented her chest and neatly drew the eye away from the fluff that two children and twenty-some-odd years of office work had given her. The look was completed by the tan hosiery she wore and the highly polished black patent leather 2-inch heels she wore.

"Wow, you are just stunning tonight." He stepped to her and put his arms around her. When he realized she was wearing his favorite perfume he growled into her neck and lightly nipped at her earlobe.

"Down boy," she said with a laugh as she lightly smacked at his chest. He held her at arm's length and admired her.

"I like what you did with your hair," he said as he reached up and twirled a loose lock of hair around his finger.

"I'm glad," she replied as she pulled at the same lock and looked at it critically. "I know it's not that funky green or the vibrant purple you like on all the younger girls." The look she gave him said she knew, even as he opened his mouth to protest his innocence. "But it wouldn't be appropriate in my job."

"It's your hair," he said as he bent down to kiss the top of her head, "you can do whatever you want with it." He swept a curl back over her ear. "I meant what I said though, this looks really good on you."

She smiled up at him and gave him a simple thank you with a genuine smile. Her smile got wider as she finally realized what tie he was wearing. She tugged on it, straightening the double-Windsor knot and smoothing it down. The tie had been a gift many years before. He had two ties he was particularly proud of, a 1993 Jerry Garcia that he'd gotten as a graduation gift from his father, and the Rush Limbaugh leaf-pattern tie his wife had bought him as a wedding gift. The look she gave him communicated not only that she liked the way it looked on him, but that she also loved that he still appreciated her gift.

When he asked her if she wanted to open gifts now or wait for later, he was not at all surprised when she said 'now' with enthusiasm. She breathed deep, inhaling the scent of the flowers and asked him to get her the wide mouth vase for them. After pulling down the vase he opened the bouquet and began snipping the stems at an angle so they would draw the most water, a trick she had taught him many years before. As he worked she opened her other gifts: the newest expansion for Terraforming Mars, her favorite game; a new Build-a-Bear from the Marvel collection; an autographed copy of the newest Lydia Shearer book, which he was also looking forward to reading; and a pair of sapphire and white gold earrings. What surprised him the most was that she just set the heart-shaped tin of Dove dark chocolate truffles to the side. They were her absolute favorite, and since it was a month past Valentine's Day, they were almost impossible to find- though he had thought ahead and stashed a couple in his desk at work to surprise her with.

They held each other for a long moment when she hugged him in appreciation. The kiss was short, but heartfelt. It was his one great disappointment, the amount of kissing they did had been dropping for years. Not for the first time he wondered if it was because of those shitty little high-school bitches at the mall a few years ago.

"So, where are you taking me that I had to dress up for?"

"If I told you now, it wouldn't be a surprise, would it?"

"I'd be surprised now." Her coy tone and dimpled smile almost broke him.

"I think I'll let the anticipation build a bit more," he replied as he pulled his suit jacket on and extended his arm. She smiled up at him as she slipped her arm through his. He could almost hear her teasing him for the formality of it all, which was not his normal mode but he could play the part when he needed to. She raised an eyebrow as he led her to the passenger side of her own vehicle and opened her door. The Lexus SUV was only a few months old, and much nicer than his 6-year old Pilot. As he slipped into the driver's seat, he was reminded why he didn't drive this more often; there was barely enough room between his stomach and the steering wheel. He promised her he'd reset it when they got home as he adjusted the telescoping on the steering wheel to give himself a bit more room.

They chatted about work and their day as the lights of the city went by. It was the tail end of rush hour, so the traffic wasn't bad, or at least not as bad as it could have been. They held hands on the console until he took his away to take the exit for his office. She gave him a curious look, but he just smiled back at her. She started guessing restaurants in the area, but he gave her a knowing, enigmatic wink.

He smirked at the questioning look she gave him as he pulled up to the valet stand. Last year it had been a steak house, but went out of business after a change in ownership. "I think you'll like it." Her door was opened by a young man that extended his hand and helped her out of the vehicle.

The building was done in the classic Spanish Mission style, and inside the doors it was natural sandstone, rich woods, and polished antique bronze. "Three," he said quietly as he smacked her ass while they were in the vestibule. She jumped and gave him a dirty look, to which he just smiled as he opened the door into the restaurant area. A small crowd gathered in the intimately lit bar area off to the left. A petite, middle-aged Hispanic woman with a gray streak highlight that framed her face awaited them at the hostess station. Surprisingly, her large horn-rimmed glasses did not make her eyes look owlish. "Welcome to La Puesta del Sol, do you have a reservation this evening?"

"Krieg, party of two."

"I thought that might be you, John, welcome back. Right this way." John turned and smirked at the questioning look his wife gave him. They were seated in a quiet corner at a table for two. The hostess correctly surmised that while the booths might be more intimate, they would not be as comfortable for the larger couple. "Happy birthday, Monica. Juanita will be with you in just a moment."

"No wonder you like coming here," his wife teased him. "And on a first name basis?" She picked up the wine list and began to peruse.

John felt himself flush and hoped it didn't show in the dim romantic lighting. "We've brought a few clients here for lunches. Besides Alma is very married and the executive chef is very protective of his little sister."

"You seem to know an awful lot about them." John could hear the concern in his wife's voice as she set down the drink list and looked at him. He was about to reply when a curvy young lady with long dark curls approached their table.

"Good evening. Welcome to La Puesta del Sol. Have you," she paused, "welcome back, John, it's good to see you again." She extended a hand. "It's very nice to see you again, Monica. Happy birthday." John almost chuckled as his wife tentatively took the girl's hand, then seemed to cock her head to the side as though trying to place the girl and where she might know her from. "I'll let dad know you're here," the young lady said to both of them.

"What about drinks?" Monica asked, trying to catch up.

"Of course," Juanita said. "I would recommend holding off on anything other than water just yet. I think dad has something special in mind." After getting an acknowledgement, the young lady strode away.

"Just how often do you come here?" Monica turned to him. She took her glasses off and pulled a cleaning cloth from her purse as she stared at him.

"As often as I can convince the company to pay for it, and about once every couple of weeks when I can't. They have a really excellent

relleno

dish on the lunch menu." While

rellenos

and

humitas

were not exactly the same dish, if he told her he was coming here for

humitas

she might start putting things together. He wondered if he should pull out the last gift. The weight of it in his inside pocket felt inordinately heavy under his wife's appraising glare.

"And are all the waitresses as pretty as Juanita? She seems to know you awfully well."

"That would be beyond inappropriate," John reached out and took his wife's hand in his now that she had put her glasses back on. "Even if I wasn't married to the most wonderful, cutest, loveliest, most caring woman in the world." He kissed her fingers with each adjective. She smiled at him, indulging his little play at romanticism and trying to get out of trouble.

"And why would that be so inappropriate, other than the fact that you're married and she's younger than your daughter."

"You'll find out in a bit." He was very tempted to reach into his pocket to kill time when he saw the door to the kitchen open and a man in an apron walk out. He deliberately looked into his wife's eyes to keep her from catching on to the surprise just yet.

"Good evening, John." The man's voice was rich, and his accent was thick with its South American roots. "Monica, you look lovely this evening."

John smiled as his wife's head snapped around before she leapt up out of her chair. "Miguel?" The man smiled and wished her a happy birthday as he gave her a hug. "I didn't know you had your own restaurant; how long have you been opened? Is everything going well?"

The couple spent several minutes visiting with their daughter's future father-in-law. Monica had met Miguel and his wife on a few occasions, and their other 3 children on a couple of those occasions. Monica and Miguel had bonded over their love of the American Southwest, and in particular the wild horses that were so much a part of its mythology.

"Well, Monica, if you don't mind, I have chosen the menu for your dinner tonight." When she smiled and nodded he continued. "The first course will be a cup of traditional

Locro

, made with llama. Second course will be the

ensalada

served with

poco empanadas de carne

. The main dish will be

el bife de chorizo

, topped off with a dessert of

alfajores

three ways. If you don't mind, I will choose an Argentine wine to go with each course."

For the next 2 hours they indulged in fine food and good wine, they visited with Alma and Juanita when they were available, and shared light touches and small kisses. They were about half finished with the main course when Monica set her fork down and sighed as she smoothed the napkin in her lap. John asked if everything was okay, and she started to respond, then stopped herself and picked her fork back up. When he pressed her on it she very deliberately put a bite of steak in her mouth and closed her eyes.

He thought about their conversations from earlier. He tried to determine if there was anything he had forgotten to do today. He'd had flowers delivered to her office yesterday so that she could enjoy them there, which also made her the envy of the office since she seemed to be the only one that got flowers on a semi-regular basis. As he contemplated he looked down and realized he only had a couple of bites left. For just a second he considered listening to his body when it told him it was comfortable and he had eaten enough. Then his brain reminded him of just how much he loved the food here, so he popped the last bite of

Pastel de Papa

into his mouth and savored it, deciding his last bite would be the last of the steak and chimichurri sauce.

A glance over at his wife's plate revealed enough leftovers to make delicious steak and tomato omelets for breakfast tomorrow. He smiled at her, but her response was only half-hearted. He wondered if now should be the time for the last gift, something to brighten her spirits and chase away whatever had her down.

"Would you like any more," she offered, indicating her half plate of food. He shook his head, again thinking about the omelet and the dessert to come. "Okay, can you have them box it up? I'm thinking that might make a really tasty breakfast fajita." She smiled at him as she stood up, as though his disappointment was writ large across his features. "I'll be back in a minute." She leaned over and whispered in his ear. "If you're really good to me tonight, maybe I'll let you make me an omelet instead."

He patted her behind as she started to walk away and she winked at him over her shoulder. He watched the clockwork rocking of her hips and admired the way it made the hem of her knee length dress swish back and forth. By the time she returned the plates were cleared and a bag that held the container of leftovers sat on the floor next to her chair.

"For me?" she over-exaggerated as she sat down and picked up the long narrow box wrapped in heavy, shiny gray paper and wrapped with a maroon ribbon. She smiled knowingly. The paper and ribbon meant it could only have come from one place, her favorite place. She pulled the exposed end of the ribbon and slipped it off, then split the tape with a short but well-manicured nail. Her eyes got wide as she took in the contents of the box: an 8-inch gold chain with alternating sapphire and diamond links that were cut to match the stones in the pendant, anklet, and earrings she wore.

The kiss they shared was sweet, but restrained because they were in public. He knew she felt self-conscious about public displays of affection after a group of snot-nosed little bitches had been overly loud in their comments about how disgusting it was to see fat people kissing. He'd had half a mind to give the little tramps a piece of his mind, but Monica had been too embarrassed and just wanted to get away from their mocking laughter. That had been almost ten years ago, and he hated those little shits as much now as he had then. He hoped they'd all had to drop out of school to pump out a bunch of bastard kids and gotten so fat that they couldn't find husbands.

He shook away the memory as Monica held out her wrist and he clasped the tennis bracelet on her. She commented on it being the perfect length, and he admitted to having used her sewing tape-measure while she was sleeping to make sure it was right. "Is that the whole set?" she asked as she admired it. He said that it was, not letting her know that a matching anniversary band was on lay-away and he'd pick it up just before their 25th anniversary in seven months. She squeezed his hand and smiled at him as a small group approached their table.

Juanita set down a plate of very light looking small cookies filled with dulce de leche and rolled in coconut or cocoa powder. Miguel again wished her a happy birthday, then introduced his sister Alma; confirmed that Juanita was his eldest daughter; re-introduced his youngest daughter who worked as a sous chef in the kitchen; his younger son, who was a bar tender; and a niece that was training to be a new waitress. The only family missing were his oldest son, who was away at school and probably at home with John and Monica's daughter since the affianced couple was living together on campus, and his wife who was attending a restaurant management conference in Phoenix. The children all wished her a happy birthday before returning to their tasks. The adults visited for a few more minutes and promised to get together to hang out before returning to their work.

Since dinner had been a gift, John tipped their waitress the full $250 he had budgeted for dinner that night. Monica cut short his plan to get the $45 a glass 18-year tequila though, because she wanted him to drive home so they could talk without having the Uber driver listen in.

"Is everything okay, honey?" John asked as they pulled on to the interstate. She had been quiet but zealously held his hand as they had waited for the car to be brought around. She told him in no uncertain terms that he was not spanking her in public, to which he gave his most exaggerated innocent expression.

"I had my physical today." John's heart rate accelerated a bit. "Nothing earth shattering, but I have to get my weight under control. My A1C was a 6.4, which is up.3 from 6 months ago. Dr. Truman said she wants me to test again in 3 months, and if it hasn't come down she'll probably have to start me on diabetic medications." He could hear the fear and worry in her voice. Her older sister and father were both insulin dependent, and her uncle had to have a foot amputated the prior year due to complications of neuropathy. "I need your help, John."

"Anything," he replied. He loved his wife dearly and would do almost anything for her. They had been talking on and off about losing weight since he turned 40. Neither of them had gotten serious though, because they both loved to eat and both enjoyed sedentary hobbies. Exercise meant less time working on his fantasy teams, and fewer hours reading or painting for her.

"I've got a book coming in the mail tomorrow. It's a program that was developed by the doctors that ran the weight loss clinic at CU. Dr. Truman says it works, her husband lost 50 pounds with it. She said it's sustainable. It's not something extreme like Keto or Atkins or Paleo." She turned and looked at him, her features were set and serious, but her eyes were almost pleading. "I need your support, John. I need you to do this with me. I can't do it by myself."

He thought for a minute. Glancing over at her before returning his eyes to the road. "I'll... do my best." He would support her, but changing his own habits, giving up his own favorites, that would be hard. He'd never really been successful over the long term when they'd done this in the past. As soon as he figured out how to "work" the Weight Watchers system, all of his progress had been lost. Paleo had sounded like a cool idea he could get behind, but giving up processed carbs had been too much, and he had cheated more than he didn't.

"I know it won't be easy, honey. But we have to do this. I saw the report from your last physical. Your A1C was pushing 6, and your cholesterol numbers were atrocious. I know you're also supposed to go back next month to have your testosterone levels checked again because you're below normal." She raised his hand to her lips and kissed his fingers. "Weight and age are inversely proportionate to testosterone production." She kissed him again. "I'd like us to enjoy each other like we did before the kids, now that it's just the two of us again." She put his hand back on her thigh, then covered it with her dress.