“Sorry for the trouble,” Christy said.
“No trouble at all. I enjoy experimenting with you.”
“I thought that was my job,” I quipped. “Oh, wait… I’m supposed to experiment on her. Never mind.”
Christy rolled her eyes but then lowered them and smiled.
“That isn’t all you’re supposed to do,” Wren said with a pointed look.
Christy cleared her throat and pretended to straighten her silverware.
“You promised,” she said, deceptively mild.
Wren didn’t get chastised very often, and her reaction was so quick that I had to bite my tongue to keep from laughing. Trip watched with his own well-hidden amusement. Then he shot me a grin and changed the subject by lifting his wineglass.
“What should we toast to?”
“To our future happiness,” I said, “with the most intelligent, talented, ambitious women we know.”
“You forgot beautiful and sexy.”
“Hear, hear!”
Wren thanked me with a little nod, and Christy beamed. We clinked our glasses and drank.
The food was delicious and the conversation steered clear of Christy’s and my sex life, much to her relief. Wren was on her best behavior until after we finished dessert and a bottle of rosé champagne. Then she and Trip said an early goodnight.
She kissed my cheek and whispered, “Just do it already. This weekend.”
She gave me another quick peck and pulled back with a guileless smile for Christy’s benefit.
They headed upstairs, and I put my arm around Christy. She waited until they were out of earshot.
“Did she—?”
“Oh, yeah.”
“Ugh!” She stomped her foot. “I’m going to wring her neck.”
“Eh, she is the way she is, and we can’t change her. In many ways, she’s super-considerate, like your dinner tonight. In other ways…”
“She’s a nosy, meddling, sex-crazed pain in the you-know-what. That’s what she is.”
“She’s also your girlfriend,” I chuckled.
“Sometimes I wonder why.”
“Because you love her.”
“Don’t use logic against me.”
“Note to self…,” I teased. “Now, tell me about this surprise you have for me.”
She smiled and stretched upward for a kiss. “Come upstairs in about ten minutes?” She thought about it and shook her head. “Better make it twenty.”
“How about thirty?”
“You know me so well.”
“I do.”
“Not till the wedding,” she said with a grin. Then, “Fix yourself a glass of whiskey and then bring one up for me. Better make it neat, though. Um…
just because.”
“Got it. Two neat whiskeys in thirty minutes.”
“Yes, please.” She gave me another kiss and then shot me a sultry look over her shoulder when I swatted her behind.
I cooled my heels and flipped through a couple of magazines as the muted sounds of Trip’s special Valentine’s mix tape filtered through the ceiling. The master bedroom was right above the living room and octagon room, and I smiled to myself at the thought of what was going on there. Then the water hammer announced that Christy was finished in the bathroom. I gave her another ten minutes before I poured the drinks and headed up.
“I was beginning to wonder,” she said when I knocked softly and opened the door.
Candles filled the room with a warm glow, and Christy had arranged herself on the bed. She wore a little red bra and panty set that was mostly straps, with satin bows to cover her nipples and bush (if she’d had one).
She’d even painted her toenails to match.
“Wow, you look beautiful,” I said as I set the glasses on the nightstand.
“Thank you.”
“Are you my surprise?”
“Sort of, but not entirely.”
I followed her glance to the corner of the bed and felt my eyebrows shoot up. She had set out Wren’s Polaroid camera, a fresh pack of film, and a tube of lipstick.
“I’m feeling very naughty, Mr. Photographer,” she said playfully.
I began pulling off my clothes. “What did you have in mind?”
“Really?” She gave me a flat stare. “It’s obvious. But you’re still going to make me ask?”
“Okay,” I chuckled, “you win.”
“Ugh, this was so much sexier in my head.”
“Fantasies usually are.”
“In that case…” She bounced to her feet and towered over me as she stood on the bed.
I tossed my boxers toward the hamper and put my hands on her waist.
“I hope you don’t mind the Polaroid,” she said as she gazed down at me.
“I know you have a nicer camera, but I’m a little scared that someone at the photo place might make copies.”
“I know a discreet lab,” I said. “I’ve done this before.”
Her eyes flashed. “Really? With who? Can I see?”
“No. Just like I won’t show your pictures to anyone else.”
“Oh. I hadn’t thought of that.”
“Mmm hmm. Privacy is a two-way street. Sorry.”
“That’s okay.” She grinned down at me and changed the subject. “I like being taller than you.”
“I like it too.” I closed my teeth on one of the bows covering her nipple.
Unfortunately, it was sewn instead of tied.
“Hold on,” Christy laughed. She reached behind her back and released the bra. Then she tossed it aside and rested her arms on my shoulders. “Better?”
“Much.” I sucked one nipple and then the other. Her sighs turned into insistent whimpers when I ran a hand up her thigh and discovered that her panties were crotchless. I teased her freshly shaved pussy as she continued to squirm.
“Oh my gosh, you have to stop,” she panted at last. “You’re going to make me come.”
“Isn’t that the point?”
“No. You’re supposed to come first. After you take pictures.”
“Ah, okay. Then you’d better get on your knees.”
“Lipstick first! Don’t forget that.”
I lifted her off the bed and set her on the floor. She brushed my erection on the way down.
“Ooh, someone’s ready,” she said. “Now, you be patient, Mr. Big. I have to put my lipstick on first. Then I’ll put yours on. Are you excited? I am!”
She uncapped the tube and made a show of turning the base until the red lipstick extended completely.
“I wonder if I can sculpt it to look like a penis,” she said idly. “Then you
can ‘call me madam.’”
I chuckled. “I don’t think so.”
“Why not?”
“You know what that means, right? ‘Madam’?”
“It’s like ‘missus,’ isn’t it?”
“Usually. But in this case it’s the woman who runs a brothel.”
Her eyes flew comically wide.
“Mmm hmm. Xaviera Hollander was a famous madam. That’s why she called her book The Happy Hooker.”
“Oh my gosh! I read her column but never realized…,” Christy said.
Then she paused for a moment, gave me a mysterious little grin, and deliberately applied a thick coat of lipstick. “I just thought of a new fantasy,”
she said as she capped the tube, sank to her knees, and lined herself up with my erection.
“Oh?”
“I’ll be your happy hooker. I’ll wear a skimpy top, a really short skirt, and fishnet stockings. No underwear, of course. But later. Right now I need to suck. Mmm, penis and Polaroids. I can’t wait to see what we look like!” She glanced up and gestured impatiently. “Come on, Mr. Photographer, get with the program. We’re ready. Why aren’t you?”
“Yes, ma’am,” I chuckled as I grabbed the camera. “Excuse me. Yes, madam.”
“Much better. Now, where were we? Oh, yes… penis!”
On Friday we packed our things for a weekend in Snowshoe. I wasn’t entirely looking forward to it, but that was mostly because I was going to spend a pile of money on new skis and boots when the ones I had worked fine. I could afford it, easily, but that wasn’t the point. I was still brooding when we took off, but Christy was in her own little world. She finally said something around the time we crossed the West Virginia border, but it wasn’t even close to what I expected.