Excerpt
It was late. And his wife of seven months had not made it home yet. However, this was nothing new to him; she often times came home late at night, but always with good news –a potential ad, a story idea, that she was in the mood.
He got up from his desk in his den and sauntered through the white living room and white dining room to the wood and metal kitchen, again, for a snack. He found Haagen-Dazs, butter pecan, his favorite. He made it up the steps and sat on their Barbie Dream House-like bed. He was not thinking of this though. Outside of being immersed in the ice cream, his mind was on being with Nièce tonight. He took off his socks, his shirt and pants, laying them neatly on the chair near her vanity, yet her vanity could he seen all over the room.
He got ready to take a shower, to be fresh and clean when the opportunity of making love to his wife presented itself. The ice cream was but an aftertaste now, as he plunged into the slower like an obtuse deflector of the shooting water. He lathered his loofa, then his body. He reached for his genitals, washed them with extra care for that good loving he craved from his wife. From there, he went up. His hands –but for only just a moment –got caught under the roll of his stomach. He cleansed the excess weight, as well as the rest of his large and lumbering body. At forty-two, he thought, I should still have some sort of shape. But he did not; he was as unshapely as Grimace; and he grimaced when he looked into the full-length mirror.
He decided he would try to lose weight for his wife’s sake, to make her happy and keep her satisfied –he would start right now, no after Thanksgiving, he’s got to eat his mama’s cooking; no, After Christmas, their first Christmas, together. It will be his New Years’ resolution.
“I got to go. I have a husband to get home to.” She looked to Marcus as to signal him to get up. He got the message. Marcus kissed Sissy on the forehead as he got up from the table, leaving her, for the first time in a while, with the bill. “Have a good night, darling,” Nièce continued, “and congratulations –with everything.” Her eyes grew big, then the left one winked. “If this Darnell thing is still holding up in couple weeks, you two should do Thanksgiving dinner with us.”
“That sounds tempting,” said Sissy. “We’ll be talking.”
When Nièce got home, the darkness was highlighted with white and silence. She took off her cream-colored coat and hung it up in the closet nearest to the door. She slid her feet out of her heels, picked them up, and then shook her head to the world as she walked up the steps.
She saw him, her husband, the color of well-aged cognac, lying across her bed looking uncomfortable in red silk boxers and nothing more. Some Luther was playing. She used all her strength to form a smile. “Darling, what is this? Are you trying to seduce me?”
“Come here and let me show you,” said Lucas trying to sound as smooth as the singer. To Nièce, his skin, now, seemed to fester around his body.
She maintained her smile, walking catlike toward him, put her arms on either side of his wide frame and gave him a soft kiss on the lips. Nièce then turned her back on him and sat there. “Will you undo me?” She said, referring to her complicated yet delicately knotted strips of fabric, full and flailing and cream-colored, on the hip catching dress.
“Will you do me?” He laughed under his huskiness; and the sound irritated her. His fat hand with its fat fingers, jostling clumsily upon her back, irritated her as well. She gave a contrived and daffy giggle that was loose and long, but also light and lofting. She stood up; he began to make sounds of his approval; he touched her anxiously while the dress came down. She put it on the chaise and then turned to her husband in sleek cream- colored panties. He was filled with desire; she was filled with alcohol. And they embraced. She sat on his lap, and it was uncomfortable for him. He moved her to a place on the bed like she was weightless. He touched her breasts. She whimpered; and it was indistinguishable between a cry of pleasure or of pain. She began to lose herself while he licked at her naval and rubbed her salivating vagina. Like instinct, he moved up to her tits as they were set free from her clutching arms. Nièce grabbed his head, as her sensitive nipples were being tortured by his tongue. “Yes Lou. Oh, yes Lou,” caught the air. He began, because her murmurs turned him on, because of instinct, to yank at her panties until a triangular mound of hair was exposed. His fingers raced across it, beneath it toward her wet aperture. She grabbed hold of his weight and fell under it by one epic pull that he managed with one hand. Their lips and tongues met in a sloppy exchange. He tasted her intemperance; she tasted his virility. Both could have lived without the other’s dispensation; but what they had, worked. She was his beautiful young princess; and he was her endower. And Nièce had to admit; Lucas was, despite his age, despite his weight, despite his sex, good in bed.
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