by Kathleen Bradean
(04/12/06)

"I'm gonna fuck you seven ways to Sunday."

Carl choked on his coffee. "What?"

I pretended I didn't say anything. "Happy Birthday, hon." My light kiss left a smear of raspberry lipstick on his cheek. "Keys. Where did I put my keys? That's what I said." Inside, I giggled, but I kept up the act, shuffling through the bills on the kitchen counter.

Well into his forties, Carl was still cute. His soft graying curls swept against the edge of his white collar. When he wore turtlenecks, he looked like a successful jazz musician. He dabbed the coffee off his striped tie with a paper towel, but he eyed me like a conductor confronting a squeaky clarinet.

"That isn't what you said, Sara."

Plates in the sink would have to wait, but I ran a towel over the white tile counter. Our daughter Jenny plopped into a wooden chair at the kitchen table. "Wazferbreakfast?"

"Anything, as long as you make it for yourself, sweetie. You're catching a ride home with the Millers after your music lesson, right?"

She bobbed her head as she read the back of a cereal box.

"I have to get to work. We're in talks to bring the Berlin Philharmonic into town, and with the time difference, I have to get in very early to catch them before they leave their offices for the evening. Don't forget to say happy birthday to Dad," I reminded Jenny as I grabbed my purse.

"Happy birthday." Jenny squinted at Carl. "How old are you now? Like a hundred or something?"

The poor kid got the smartass gene from both sides. She couldn't help it. Lucky for her, she got musical talent from both sides too. That almost made up for the attitude.

Carl followed me out to the driveway of our cookie-cutter suburban home. I missed living in the city.

"Wait. You said something."

I made my big brown eyes go innocent. "I'm coming by your work for a little birthday lunch, so don't go into any long meetings before noon." I unlocked my red minivan and tried hard to suppress my smile as I buckled my seatbelt across my ample Mom hips.

He put his hand on the door so that I couldn't close it. "You never say fuck."

"Carl! Such language." I was having too much fun. Instead of a goodbye wave, I put my fingers in a V over my lips and waggled my tongue between them. In the rearview mirror, I could see him standing in the driveway, clutching his World's Best Dad mug, watching me, puzzled.

With my imagination so worked up over Carl's birthday surprise, I had to leave my desk to take care of myself early in the day -- in the last stall in the ladies room. It wasn't easy, gripping that cold handicap rail as I worked my clit, my gasps muted as co-workers washed their hands and gossiped at the sinks.

I loved how wanton that made me feel. Life was too short to waste an orgasm. Besides, the only difference between good girls and bad ones was that bad girls got caught. I smeared my scent across my wrists and neck like it was perfume.

People noticed the flush on my cheeks as I moved through the symphony's offices. My nipples rubbed my white bra. I could have sworn that the prickly Swedish bassoonist we just hired smelled me as I went past him. That was the first smile I'd ever seen on his long, dour face.

If I was caught, did that make me a bad girl?

I giggled. I'm a bad girl. I wriggled in my desk chair as I typed.

The first e-mail I sent to Carl was simply the word BLACK. Half an hour later he responded with a question mark.

Married for years, we had communication down to an art. No wasted words. LACE.

It took him over an hour to come back with DID YOU MEAN TO SEND TWO E-MAILS TO ME? I GOT ONE THAT SAID LACE, AND ANOTHER THAT SAID BLACK.

Carl was the sweetest man on earth, but sometimes I despaired for him.

"Work with me, hon," I muttered at my screen.

FRENCH. My clit throbbed in time with my pulse, sweeping out measures of desire like a metronome.

He didn't bother to comment on that message. As I left my office to pick him up for lunch, I sent the last e-mail.

KNICKERS.

"Dallas crashed their database again." Carl apologized as he walked off the high-rise elevator forty minutes late. He gave me a distracted peck on the cheek as we walked through the marble lobby. "I wouldn't mind if it was a computer problem. The problem in that office seems to lie between the keyboard and the chair."

He held the door for me. We stepped onto the chilly city street. Gusts pushed my skirt against my mons. A chill ran up my spine that had nothing to do with the weather.

Happiness wasn't a pursuit. It was a choice. I could see from Carl's eyes that he daydreamed of idiot-proof code. My birthday surprise wouldn't work unless I had his full attention. I nudged him. "Get my e-mails?"

His hand was on my elbow. He stopped walking and stared down at his shoes. "Yes."

"All four?"

He ducked down further in his jacket. I could barely hear his muffled answer. "Yes."

He was so damn cute.

I'm marking you on my heart, Carl. I've grown too accustomed. I want a fresh perspective. I want to fall in love with who you are now. How have you changed in the years we've been together? Have there been shifts so gradual that I didn't notice?

"I promised you lunch. Come on." I tugged at his arm. Another gust of wind tried to lift the hem of my skirt. "It's colder than I expected."

"Hmmm. Well, it's spring." He shrugged.

We're not this boring. Come on, honey. Remember that night on the picnic table? We're still those people.

The glass doors of a downtown hotel slammed shut behind us, cutting off the wind. I straightened my hair with my fingers, giving him a chance to ask, but he either trusted me or didn't notice where we were.

"Let's sit here." I found us a secluded wicker couch in the lobby bar. A tall planter and a thick column hid us from the reception desk. We went through the unwrapping ritual, coats and scarves piled over a brass railing until we were down to our comfortable office layers, him in white shirt and tie, me in skirt and sky blue blouse.

The wicker couch was for two, a love seat. The slick chintz cushions were jungle green. In front of us was a small cocktail table, wicker and glass.

"I have your present, but I want to explain it."

I dug through my big Mom purse and pulled out a small container with a frosted cupcake inside. I popped the top and stuck a small blue tapered candle into the stiff butter cream.

"I bet you remember when you stopped believing in Santa Claus, but do you remember when you stopped believing in birthday wishes?"

Carl blinked at the cupcake.

I rubbed my neck and wrists to raise a faint whiff of my personal perfume. From the movement of his eyebrows, Carl smelled me, but doubted his senses. His nostrils flared a little.

Glancing around the lobby as if I were about to tell him a big secret, I leaned across the uncomfortable couch. "What if I were to tell you that birthday wishes are real?"

He chuckled.

"They are."

"If you say so."

I saw the smirk at the corner of his mouth. My shoulders slumped.

"Come on, honey. Play along. Please?"

"Okay."

He made it clear he was humoring me. That's all I asked for. He could be skeptical, but he had to at least pretend.

"This is no ordinary birthday candle." I did a magician's hand flourish over the taper.

"Really?"

"Don't be a prick, Carl." I struck a pose like a conductor about to launch into an overture. My hands made circles around the candle before touching my closed eyelids. I had to get into the part again.

"This, as I said, is no ordinary candle. One day outside the symphony, I found a secluded alley I'd never seen before. Curious, I went down it."

Carl still had a smartass grin on his face, but despite that, I could see he was hooked. Nothing got under his skin like camp.

"At the end of the alley, there was a mysterious store, windows coated with dust. I could only see glimmers of metal and wood. The awning over the door said Antiquities and Curiosities. I needed a gift for your birthday, so naturally, I went in."

"Naturally." Laughter was on his lips, ready to cascade.

"I saw the gold glint of a saxophone on the wall. There were books and occult things stacked everywhere. At first I thought that I was alone, but an ancient Asian woman stood at the back of the store, smoking from a long, thin pipe. I could hear the shuffle of her bound feet across the wooden floor."

Carl's eyes glinted.

"Anyway, long story short, the old lady sold me this candle. She promised that it was good for one birthday wish."

"Did she mutter any ominous warnings?"

"You'd think so, but no." I lit the candle. "So, make your wish." I offered it up to him with both hands.

He started forward, lips puckered.

"Wait! Put some thought into it. This is a guaranteed wish."

As he leaned over a second time, I pulled it away so quickly that the flame died. The wick was an orange-hot ember before it leapt to life again.

"What?"

"I meant to remind you of something."

Carl was losing his patience.

"Black." A smile quirked up on the side of my mouth. "Lace."

"French knickers," Carl intoned as quietly as a penitent. He tugged at his pants.

A waiter in a tuxedo vest came to get bar orders from us. I sent him away. Carl squirmed. "What were those e-mails anyway?"

"Wax is dripping on your cake, dear. Make your wish." I offered it to him again.

He caught my wrist before blowing. The flame died for about seven seconds before the trick candle re-lit.

"Hey! What happened to my wish?"

I set the cupcake down on the small table in front of the couch. "You don't need any more things. We have a house full of crap."

He pretended to scowl. "I suppose a refund is out of the question."

"Bear with me. I made a real wish on my birthday candles last month. I don't know if you remember, but I was able to blow out all forty with one breath. That got me thinking about wishes, and us, and me."

"I see. You get a wish, and I don't," he grumbled.

"Up until now, I've been the kind of person my parents expected me to be. Frankly, I'm sick of it. I don't want to be a good girl; I don't want to be responsible all the time. So I've decided to take control of the second half of my life. From now on, I'm going to be as sexy as I want to be."

"You are sexy."

"And you're a god, Carl. The perfect husband. My best friend." I put my hand on his thigh. "And you're hot. I wanna fuck you. Here, now, in the middle of the day, with the lights on and the curtains open. I want to be your nasty girl."

He watched my hand crawl up his leg like it was a tarantula. The thin wool was smooth under my fingertips. Carl blushed, but his face wasn't the only place his blood raced. I could see the outline of his dick.

I scooted closer to him so that our thighs touched. "The thing about those French knickers? I'm not wearing them. In fact, I'm not wearing any panties. The only thing between my bare ass and this couch is my skirt."

Admitting that got me hot. I pressed my legs together and felt squishy. Talking dirty to him in a hotel lobby was just about the level of naughty I could handle. It worked though. Lord, but it worked. Everything between my legs tingled.

"I was thinking about our marriage vows, honey. I promised to forsake all others, but I don't. I put my job first, music, our daughter, a million other things. So this is my present to you. From now on, you come first, but not in that creepy Promise Keepers kind of way. I'm going to remember every wonderful thing about you and appreciate it the same way I'd savor a piece of dark chocolate slowly melting on my tongue."

He pinched his nose as if to hold back a tear.

I took his hand. "We're already checked into a room. Come upstairs with me, honey. Let me make love to you."

We shared the elevator with a couple of tall blue suits. I goosed Carl and kept my hand on his ass until we got out at our floor. Carl let the flow take him. It was another thing to love about him, how much he trusted me.

The room was pleasantly warm. Earlier, I had folded down the bedspread so that the blanket underneath would be against our skin. The local jazz station played something bluesy on the portable I'd brought from home.

I closed the door. A seductive walk would have been awkward, but I knew how to use my voice. While I loosened his tie, I growled, "I think it's so hot that you still treat me like a lady, even though you know better." I trailed my fingers down his chest. He stared at my hands as I tugged his belt. It was magic, the unexpected mixed with the familiar: He was already hard.

"Saturday mornings, you could be out golfing or watching football, but you coach Jenny's teams instead. I can't tell you how very, very sexy a man is when he's being Dad."

Carl's mouth opened as I pushed him gently to the bed. I hadn't seen that look on his face in years. It amazed me that no matter how many times we knocked it out, he still had a sense of wonder about sex.

You make it spiritual, Carl. You keep sex sacred. Every time you look at my bare breasts your eyes show such reverence for me. You make me sexy.

"From now on, every time I think warm thoughts about you and get turned on, I'm going to let you know. You won't mind?" I crooned. My fingers traced his warm skin.

He shook his head slowly. Maybe it was too radical. I never initiated anything. We had our codes though: if I came to bed naked, he knew I wouldn't turn him down. But I never pounced on him. After sixteen years, I figured that he wouldn't mind if I made the first move.

Hiking up my skirt, I straddled his legs. My lips pressed the pulse at his neck. "I was thinking about last night. I liked that, but I want more kissing." I let him feel the edge of my teeth.

"You think about sex the next day?" He was shocked.

"Yes." How could I have hid that from him? "Sometimes, it makes me wet all over again."

Carl always liked kissing, much more than I did. I pressed closer. We were going to kiss as long as he wanted.

He got out from under me and kneeled on the bed to come down at my mouth. His hands cupped my face. My hands slid under his shirt, feeling his labored breath, his hard-on, the way he abandoned himself to my game.

Carl tasted sweet and dark like coffee.

I couldn't remember the last time we kissed like that. We treated our kisses with such casual disregard that they'd become sexless, as sparse as our words. We knew each other so well that it seemed everything was distilled into staccato communication. I wanted to slow things down. No pizzicato plucking this time. Nope. He deserved the long draw of the bow. After my touch was gone he would still vibrate.

My thighs were wet. The scent of sex rose in the heat between our bodies. I wanted to peel away my good girl clothes and play the vixen, but everything was too perfect. Afraid that I'd break the spell binding us, I let him lead.

Carl lingered on my mouth. He pressed hard against my lips, as if he'd been starved for too long. The outline of his dick showed against his pants. I rubbed my thumbnail over the head. Unzipping his fly, I groped his balls.

You're so turned on. Did you ever dream I'd do this? Did you want it, but were too afraid to share your fantasies? You can't disgust me. Don't be afraid to be a little rough, a little cruel. Any game you want.

"Baby," he breathed against my mouth.

I stroked his hard-on as my clit ached for attention. Shoving up my skirt, I fingered myself. I was swollen for him, ready to burst in a gush of hot, sweet juices.

I put his hand between my legs.

"This is what you do to me." I moaned as his long fingers slid inside me. He knew exactly where to touch me. His fingers fucked me while his thumb worked over my clit. It always worked.

I stroked him through his underwear. The white cotton strained. Finding that special spot below the head, I pressed my thumb against his cock while I slowly squeezed his balls. They were hot in my hand, heavy.

"No," Carl pleaded. He pulled his hips back from me, but I grabbed his cock and pumped. "I can't--." A shudder ran through his body. Holding the note long and low, he moaned. The music of sex.

I felt the warmth spurt from him.

"I'm sorry. I came," Carl apologized as he drew back.

"Sorry? Sweetheart, that was the idea. It's so hot that I turn you on that much."

"Oh yeah, it turned me on." He was angry with himself, as if he'd failed.

"Ladies first, always, even if she doesn't think she's a lady."

I laughed as I gently kissed him. "Honey, it used to be that a stiff wind could get you off. Now it takes a lot more. It's a huge compliment that you got that turned on just by kissing me. Besides, today, it's all about you." I nibbled at his ear until he shivered.

"But it's no fun if you don't get anything out of it."

I reclined on the mattress and twirled a piece of hair around my finger. I felt like a wicked seductress. My toes pressed into his groin. "Another reason why you're the best." I spread my legs. "If you feel that bad about it, come on over and finish me off."

"My god! You really don't have on any underwear."

My hand slid down between my legs. I pinched my clit. "You're so good at rekindling fires, honey. How about stoking this?"

Before I said goodbye in the lobby of his building, I maneuvered him behind a marble column and roughly grabbed his collar. "You might want to take a nap in your office this afternoon, Carl, because I expect you to put out tonight too," I growled.

He laughed, but I could see it turned him on.

"Oh damn! We left my special candle and the cupcake in the lobby of the hotel." He pretended to be disappointed. "And I'll bet that if we look for that mysterious shop, it won't be there anymore."

"Those mystical places come and go so unexpectedly," I agreed ruefully before a grin spread over my face. I couldn't stop my giggle. We were coconspirators.

His eyes twinkled. "Thanks babe. I--." He couldn't seem to think of a way to end that, but I already knew what he meant. He was my oxygen -- all I needed to keep the spark glowing.

Relationships take work, but the magic between us felt more like play. Before he could step into the elevator, I touched his arm. "What was your wish?"

Carl gave me his sappiest grin. "I already have everything I could wish for." He gave the lobby a quick glance before whispering, "Dirty girl."

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