Eric's face was an open book of blissful surprise. She had never swallowed him before. He ran his fingers through her hair as she waited for him to go flaccid in her mouth. Finally, she released her mouth's grip on his cock by spreading her lips in a broad smile.
“ You approve?” She knew the answer but wanted to hear it.
“ Oh God yes, that was incredible! What has gotten into you this week?”
It came back to her. She had been trying to prevent herself from having a sexual reaction when Eric did housework, and here it had happened again.
Watching the expression on Eric's face, however, it didn't bother her as much this time. She gave his cock a kiss and just returned his smile.
Sunday
The alarm went off at five in the morning. Oh fuck, Megan thought to herself, he has ice fishing today. She tried to go back to sleep while he puttered around the bedroom getting dressed, but then gave up.
“ When will you be back?”
Eric wore sweatpants to bed in the wintertime. She noticed with annoyance that he had thrown them on the floor.
“ Probably late.” He pulled on a fleece sweater. “Today is the twelfth.”
“ Yeah?”
“ Happy Lincoln's Birthday. More importantly, Tuesday is Valentine's Day.”
“ What did you have in mind?”
“ I know you hate fighting restaurant crowds, so I figured we would stay in. I will cook you dinner.”
“ That sounds delightful.”
“ If you are feeling up to it.”
“ Why wouldn't I?”
“ You have been acting a little moody lately.”
Is that what it looked like to him? She would swing from being annoyed at him to behaving like a cock-sucking slut in just minutes, and he thought she was “moody”?
“ We can talk about it later,” she demurred. “Oh honey, can you put your sweats away before you go?”
He kicked them into the air with his foot, caught them, folded them, and put them on the shelf in his closet.
Good, Megan thought to herself, everything in its proper place. She felt another pleasurable twinge hit her behind the belly button. She felt a slickness between her legs, and realized she was getting wet.
Dammit, she thought, and decided to try to resist her feelings of arousal. She had liked the way Eric had reacted yesterday, and she had decided that she liked how more sexual excitement had returned to their relationship, but she wasn't sure she wanted a slavish response to Eric doing housework. She looked at the clock. His buddies were picking him up in five minutes. She just needed to hold out for a little while.
Eric walked out of the closet and did a scan of the bedroom. He evidently noticed a few other messes, and picked up a pair of his socks, and yesterday's underwear, throwing them in the laundry basket. He tucked a pair of his shoes under the bed. “Everything in it's proper place,” he said, repeating one of her favorite mantras.
Megan found herself watching his crotch. I know the proper place for that, she thought. She clenched her thighs together, feeling more wetness. A flashback came to her mind of the greatest night of sex they had ever had. “Survival sex”, Eric had called it. She shoved the memory back down. Not now.
Her nipples were stiff against the flannel of her pajamas. She wondered why a sexy woman like herself was wearing pajamas. Pajamas were for sleeping. She wasn't sleeping any more. She wanted sex, so she should be dressed for sex. She clenched her thighs together, wanting her husband's cock.
“ Megan, are you OK?”
She pinched herself on the arm — the pain helping her regain control. “I am fine.” She remembered her psych classes on behavioral conditioning. She liked being sexy, but she didn't want to be one of Pavlov's dogs, salivating when they heard the dinner bell.
“ I must have imagined it.”
“ What?”
“ You used to have this look when we were dating. I had a name for it, but I haven't seen it for awhile.”
“ What look?”
Eric looked abashed. “I called it your fuck-me-now look.” He shrugged. “Like I said, I must have imagined it.”
Megan knew that if she spoke, the only words she would be able to speak would be “fuck me now”. She bit her lip instead. The memory jumped back to the surface. That's my girl, he had said — words that won her heart.
Headlights cast shadows through the venetian blinds. Eric headed out the bedroom door. “The guys are here. See you tonight!”
After she heard the car drive off, Megan lay on her back, and let the memory come.
Rice was boiling on the stove. Chicken, onions, garlic, peppers, and broccoli were chopped up on the cutting board. Eric had just left to pick up some wine to go with their stir-fry, when the knock came at the door.
Megan heard Carmen open the door, and spoke one word that sent a chill down Carmen's spine.
“ Chris!”
Fuck, the stupid bitch opened the door without looking through the peephole.
“ Carmen, we need to talk. You can't send me to prison.”
Megan rounded the corner, and saw Chris with his arms on Carmen's shoulders. She was backed up against the wall, wide-eyed with terror.
“ Get the fuck out of my house, now!” Megan spoke with finality, but Chris ignored her.
“ Carmen, my lawyer says I am looking at five years in prison, at least. I am not going to be someone's bitch for five years.”
“ Knowing you, you will be the bitcher, not the bitched.” Megan's tongue sometimes moved faster than her wisdom.
Chris wheeled on her. “Stay the fuck out of this, you cunt. That cock-sucking cop isn't here to protect you.”
Shit, he had been waiting outside for Eric to leave. How long before Eric got back from the liquor store? Fifteen minutes?
Chris returned his attention to Carmen. “I mean it. I'm not going to prison. You need to tell them that it was someone else, that you lied in order to get back at me for dumping a little whore like you.”
Megan's hands were on her cell phone.
The button beeps were loud enough to cause Chris to wheel on her again. She had been standing too close. He slapped the phone out of her hand. It shattered against the wall.
Megan's wrist was screaming in pain from the blow. Fuck, that's a break, she knew.
Carmen ran for the bathroom when his attention was on Megan. She locked the door before he could stop her.
Oh Carmen, you should have run outside and screamed. Megan's wrist was on fire.
Chris pounded on the bathroom door. “Carmen, open up!”
Megan knew the door lock wouldn't hold, but it might last long enough for her to call 9-1-1 from the land line, if Chris worked the door. She shuffled into the kitchen, toward the cordless phone.
“ Where did you go!” She heard Chris yell, and heard loud footsteps coming toward her. Chris had recognized the threat of leaving her unattended.
Terror welled up. She was in real danger. He couldn't get at Carmen with Megan running free, and he didn't have much time. He was going to have to knock her out… or worse.
Options…
Eric had given her pepper spray, but it was still in the plastic, useless. She mentally kicked herself.
The chef's knife on the counter — she had been using it to cut vegetables for stir fry. She had it in her hand just as Chris rounded the corner into the kitchen. He stopped when he saw what she was holding.
“ Kitty found a claw.”
She held the knife in front of her, and reached for the cordless phone. The kitchen counter was between them.
Chris reached for it as well, leaning across the counter. She slashed out with the knife, but he was expecting it. He had two good hands to her one. He brought his right hand down on her wrist, trapping her good hand against the counter.