Well, it wasn’t like I hadn’t seen it before. In fact this wasn’t the first time Mommy had pulled a fast one on me. There were elevators, tennis courts, public parking lots, even the White House. There was no venue completely safe from Mommy. It was just the fucking shock of it all! I felt like a boxer who never saw the punch coming and ended up getting knocked out cold—permanently!
Making matters worse, Chandler had stalled in mid-crawl and decided to take some time to inspect the glorious pink carpet. She was pulling on the fibers as if she’d discovered something truly wonderful, completely oblivious to what was transpiring around her.
I tried to apologize once more, but Mommy’s response to that was to stick her right index finger inside her mouth and start to suck. It was then that I lost the power of speech. She seemed to know she’d just delivered the knockout punch, so she slowly pulled her finger out of her mouth and then poured on the baby voice even more: “Ohhh, poor, poor Dada. He loves to say how wrong he is when he’s ready to come in his own pants, isn’t that right, Dada?”
I stared in disbelief and wondered if any other married couples did things like this.
“Well, Daddy, it’s too late for apologies now.” She pursed her luscious lips and nodded slowly, the way a person does when they feel like they’ve just let you in on some great truth. “And it’s such a shamethat Daddy likes to fly around town in his helicopter at all hours of the night after doing God only knows what, because Mommy loves Daddy so, so much and there’s nothing she wants to do more right now than to make love to Daddy all day long! And what Mommy’s really in the mood for is for Daddy to kiss her in his favorite spot, right where he’s looking right now.”
Now Mommy pursed her lips again and pretended to pout. “But, ohhh…poor, poor Daddy! There’s no chance of that happening now, even if Daddy was the very last man on planet Earth. In fact, Mommy has decided to be like the United Nations and institute one of her famous sex embargoes. Daddy doesn’t get to make love to Mommy until New Year’s Eve”—Whuh? Why, the impudence of it!—“and that’s only if he’s a very good boy between now and then. If Daddy makes even one mistake it’s going to be Groundhog’s Day!” What the fuck? Mommy’s lost it!
I was just about to sink to unprecedented levels of groveling when all at once something hit me. Oh, Christ!Should I tell her? Fuck it, the show’s too good!
Mommy in baby voice: “And now that I think of it, Daddy, I think it’s time for Mommy to break out her silk thigh-highs and start wearing them around the house, and we all know how much Daddy loves Mommy’s silk thigh-highs, don’t we, Daddy!”
I nodded eagerly.
Mommy plowed on: “Oh, yes, we do! And Mommy’s so sick and tired of wearing underwear… uhhh!In fact, she’s decided to throw them all away! So take a good look, Dada”—time to stop her? Uhhhn, not yet!—“because you’re going to be seeing an awful lot of it around the house for a while! But, of course, under the rules of the embargo, touching will be strictly prohibited. And there’ll be no jerking off either, Daddy. Until Mommy gives her permission it will be hands at your sides. Is that understood, Daddy?”
With renewed confidence: “But what about you, Mommy? What are you going to do?”
“Oh, Mommy knows how to please herself just fine. Uhhhn…uhhhn…uhhhn,” groaned the fashion model. “In fact, just the thought of it is getting Mommy all excited! Don’t you just hate helicopters, Daddy?”
I went for the jugular: “I don’t know, Mommy, I think you’re all talk and no action. Please yourself? I don’t believe you.”
Mommy compressed those luscious lips of hers and slowly shook her head, then she said, “Well, I guess it’s time for Daddy to be taught his first lesson”—ahhh, this was getting good! And Chandler, still inspecting the carpet, no comprehension—“so Mommy wants Daddy to keep his eye on Mommy’s hand and watch very closely or else Groundhog’s Day will become Easter Sunday faster than Daddy can say ‘blue balls!’ Do you understand who’s in charge here, Daddy?”
I played along, getting ready to drop the bomb. “Yes, Mommy, but what are you going to do with your hand?”
“Shhh!” said Mommy, and just like that she stuck her finger in her mouth and sucked and sucked until it glistened with saliva in the morning sunlight, and then, slowly, gracefully, lubriciously headed south…down her plunging neckline…past her cleavage…past her belly button…and all the way down to her—
“Stop right there!” I said, holding up my right hand. “I wouldn’t do it if I were you!”
This shocked Mommy. And infuriated her too! Apparently she had been looking forward to this magic moment as much as I had. But it had gone far enough. It was time to drop the bomb on her. But before I had the chance, Mommy began scolding me: “That’s it! Now you’ve done it! They’ll be no kissing or lovemaking until July Fourth!”
“But, Mommy, what about Rocco and Rocco?”
Mommy froze in horror. “Huh?”
I leaned over and picked Chandler up off the glorious pink carpet, held her close to my chest, and gave her a big kiss on the cheek. Then, with her safely out of harm’s way, I said, “Daddy wants to tell Mommy a story, and if after he’s done Mommy is glad Daddy stopped her before she did what she was about to do, then she has to forgive him for everything he’s done, okay?”
No reaction. “Okay,” I said, “this is the story about a little pink bedroom in Old Brookville, Long Island. Does Mommy want to hear about it?”
Mommy nodded, a look of complete confusion on her perfect little model face.
“Does Mommy promise to keep her legs spread wide, wide open while Daddy tells the story?”
She nodded slowly, dreamily.
“Good, because it’s Daddy’s favorite view in the whole world, and it inspires him to tell the story justright! Okay—now, there was a little pink bedroom on the second floor of a great stone mansion on a perfect piece of property in the very best part of Long Island, and the people who lived there had lots and lots of money. But—and this is very important to the story, Mommy—of all the possessions they had, and of everything they owned, there was one thing that was much more valuable than all the rest combined, and that was their little baby daughter.
“Now, the daddy in the story had lots and lots of people working for him, and most of them were very, very young and barely housebroken, so Mommy and Daddy decided to put up big iron gates around the entire property so all these young people wouldn’t be able to stop by uninvited anymore. But, believe it or not, Mommy, they still tried stopping by!” I paused and studied Mommy’s face, which was slowly losing its color. Then I said, “Anyway, after a while, Mommy and Daddy got so sick and tired of being bothered that they went out and hired two full-time bodyguards. Now, as funny as it may seem, Mommy, they both happened to be named Rocco!” I paused again and studied Mommy’s pretty face. Now she was as pale as a ghost.
I continued: “Anyway, Rocco and Rocco spent their time in a wonderful little guardhouse that was in that very backyard in the story. And since the mommy in the story always liked to do things just right, she went out and researched the very best in surveillance equipment, and she ended up buying the latest and greatest TV cameras that give the clearest and brightest and most detailed picture that money can buy. And the best part, Mommy, is that it’s all in living color! Yeah!”