I’ll Be Your Wife Tonight

I keep my shoes on, take my hair down, shaking out the day. The strands against the skin of my back feel good. Warm. And now that I am home and Riley is sound asleep I go to kitchen and fix myself a shot of vodka. Let alcohol flow and alcohol’s heat race through my insides. The slow luxe beat of Jamie Foxx’s song ring through my ears and the lyrics replace my thoughts. The main area of the apartment was dark with the exception of the overhead lights in the kitchen and a couple of street lamps shining into the apartment.
Something is tugging at me. I had ripped on Marty on her matrimonial withdrawal but I was having mine. I think about the man sitting in my guest room. Ponder about his wife and wonder if I can be as bold as to replace her. Then wonder who would be bold enough to replace me. Then my thoughts drive past Michael. Could I play him for sport, as revenge? I take another sip of vodka.
I look down at my watch. Two am. I take a chug of the Grey Goose. Swallow. Weddings have a way of getting to you. I may be shifty about marriage, witnessing my parents’ marriage, remarriage and re-remarriage.
Witnessing Buckley’s Stepford marriage.
And privy to Cade’s failed—not failing—failed marriage. Then I remember Sable and Jeremiah. Remembering how they promised before a priest of to forsake all others and taking and sharing lovers. It’s a pointless marriage but so perfect.
I sigh and think about going to bed. Look out at the warm, twinkling city. The moon is big. I think about being back in the Jaguar on the Brooklyn Bridge. Think about being a Bond-Girl driving to a destination. Think about how stupid Amanda is for kicking Cade out. Think about Cade at the church observing, wondering.
He misses having a wife.
I don’t need to be married. I just need to be a wife.
I bend over, stand back up letting the hair tousle where it wants. Look in the glass of the fridge at the reflection. Get a bottle of ice water for him. All he needs was a wife. Let the luxe beat guide me. Make the Bond-Girl in the Jaguar lead me. Have the vodka cloud the judgment and maintain the decision I’m making.
I walk into the guest room. Cade sits on the edge of the bed. With one large window as a wall and soft gray tones on the other three walls. A large borderless mirror stands in the corner. In the middle of the room is a queen sized bed atop a platform and outfitted with gray bedding. The room is simple with good sized closet, television, and stereo; the absolute basics with sleeping attire in the dresser. Cade knows this setup well. He’s already hung his jacket on the suit rack and placed his shirt on the back of the chair.
I am in the doorway heels still on, dress still tight, panties off. Bottle in hand, and I am tipsy enough to not regret anything.
“How are you holding up?”
He looks up. Time slows. “I’m good.” He exhales. He takes the bottle and takes a long sip.
I sit beside him on the bed and rub the back of his neck. The usual spot. The way Amanda would have done it if she hadn’t kicked him out. But I don’t mind filling in. He leans into my touch. His eyes are closed but his body is alive. Perfect. He moans low, almost purrs.
“Thanks again for accompanying me. I am sorry to get you kicked out your home though.”
He shakes his head at it and touches my arm. “Don’t worry about it.” He kisses the inside of my wrist. I put my arm around him. Things get quiet. I am nervous. The guilt is setting in. There is still time to stop this, still time to not take this too far. I shift so that we sit beside each other.
He puts his hands together and grins. “So, what’s good with you and Michael? You two were dancing pretty close.”
I grin, my nerves at ease. I start to feel cold. “Nothing. Nothing at all. Just two people. Two people that cross paths.” The vodka is making its rounds around my body. Alcohol makes you bold. Gives you bold thoughts. The bold thought I have in mind? Need to show Cade that Michael is nothing. Need to show Cade that he needs a wife right now.
I turn, my back facing him. “Cade?”
“Yeah baby?”
“Can you unzip my dress?”
Without much thought he unzips me. His finger trails up my spine, just grazing it. I sigh at how the feather touch sends waves throughout my body. It had been a long time since I felt this adult; since I felt this free. His fingertip is like blowtorch to ice. Water and passion coasts over.
I close my eyes when his thumbs run over my shoulder blades. “Don’t tell anyone, above all, the girls this but,” I pause debating whether to say this. Then I feel lips on the nape of my neck. Hear him take a scent of my perfume. Sense of security. Secrets are safe. Boldness is accepted. Honesty is wanted. The luxe beat is back matching my heartbeat. Back matching the blood flow throughout my body.
“I want to be married someday. It’s cool to come and go as I please. Having no man around has its attributes but going to bed alone every night loses its luster.”
“Marriage is more than that,” he whispers. He clears his throat and snakes a muscled arm around me like a stole. I take a look at the tat of the names of his children in cursive font—the heart on his sleeve. The smell of his cologne is still here. A fire starts. I lull myself into him. “It’s a partnership. It’s a meeting of the minds. Two personalities coming together to add to the betterment of the society. Most women see it as never having to be alone and keeping secure. It’s way more than that. When you have children you are arming them with a model of morals. You teach them it’s healthy to argue. It’s natural to provide and nurture, it’s normal to show love and affection. And with the right mate, marriage doesn’t have to be that hard. In a good marriage you don’t even notice that there is someone else to look out for.”
Alcohol also disables your tact. “So as long as she keeps your dick hard, your belly full and a smile on your face, it’s all good?”
He chuckles. “Exactly.” I adjust myself, letting the top of my dress loose exposing my nude colored lace bra. He kisses my neck. His fingers trail roads of nerves and fire down my arm. “As long as I can keep my wife smiling, her children clothed and full, her money liquid and her pussy throbbing, there isn’t more I need.”
As crass as it sounds it was the sexiest statement I ever heard him say. I look up at him and he looks down at me with the same heavy eyelids and slow breaths. He leans forward and kisses my lips. I kiss back.
The moment is hazy and slow, ripe with desire. I don’t want to care about anything at that moment. And I don’t.
The dress becomes a belt as his fingers find my core. He smears a little around spreading the desire out. The heat matches my desire to be his wife. He probes me a little as he kisses me. I shudder and kiss him harder. My legs open a little wider as his other hand brushes over my thigh. My hand reaches into his pants pocket and massages him. He stops kissing me. He then sticks the nosy digit in his mouth and tastes me. I am high at that point. Already spent after doing so little. I revel in this moment. We both revel petting each other.
He moans. “You taste like you’re ready to do something.”
I am. But that small voice, that tinge of doubt is the loudest. I shake my head and struggle to so but I stand. The alcohol is to damn manipulative.
“You’re married. This is all but too much.”
I make my way to leave and he catches me by the arm and pulls me back to him. He pulls back so hard my weight shifts and we both collapse onto the bed like it is part of an elaborate dance. He holds me by the waist as I fight back weakly, lazily.
I straddle him clutching the neck of his v-neck and tear it apart, exposing his collection of abs. My fingers touch each exposed muscle. I watch them pulse and glisten. I touch his cool smooth skin. He touches my arms, taking my fingers in his mouth. I feel him. I feel a struggle against me. He is primed.
As am I.
“I’ll be your wife tonight,” I say slowly, eyes fixed on his. My offer is real. He’s been chasing me for this long. This isn’t fueled by alcohol. It’s fueled by actual attraction and lust. I touch his face, tracing his jaw. I use my index and middle fingers to close his eyelids. I lean my face towards his and place an open mouth kiss. I keep the kiss on his lips pulling away slowly but kissing his upper and lower lip separately. I lick both and repeat kissing each. I begin to tease now pulling away as he comes closer. I give one last feather kiss and pull away.
His eyes open. But lust is not in his eyes. Dreams are there. Love is there as if I had awakened him after a long sleep.
He sits up and undoes the bra. He takes a breast in his mouth. I sigh and sing. My hands explore his body moving from his back down, his spine out, his neck down and ending up at his belt buckle.
Undoing it, his pants I reach and find the warm girth. His eyes meet mine. His eyelids were still heavy. The skin feels like velvet. His eyes close and his head rests on my shoulder as if my touch was Demerol after a pain. He holds me tight grabbing a fistful of hair at the nape of my neck.
Please say yes. You’ve been chasing me for so long. Take what I am offering.
He kisses my neck. His voice is low, strained. “Tonight. Tomorrow. Tomorrow night. Until you say you’re not.” He flips us around so that I am on my back. He tugs off my dress. My toes hook onto his trousers and my legs pull them down. He wiggles out of them, a pool at the foot of the bed. I think they look better there. He is naked. As am I.
He takes a moment to take me all in. His hands become his eyes as they traveled from my feet, my legs, my thighs my waist, under my back. I’m drowning. Its one thing to have all that animalism but the humanity of my and Cade’s friendship made this moment different. All these years of our playing, our chemistry, our energy. He isn’t treating me like a one-night stand. Kisses all over my face. All over my chest. All over my stomach. All down my legs. On each toe and heel.
All over my… I hadn’t felt a man devour me like since… I feel sacred at that moment. I feel worshipped. I feel like Aphrodite after she appears to Paris. He looks up for a second. “You don’t know just how sexy you are right now.” I glides myself deeper into his face.
We work out that platform bed. One leg is wrapped around his waist. Cade doesn’t thrust in and out. He flows back and forth like a well-handled toy. He grinds into you working his pelvis into your clit. You’re not having sex when it comes to Cade, you’re dosed into ecstasy. He makes it easy to flow with him, participate. I am dosed to the point I question if his dick is laced with morphine. My legs spread wide and arms soon follow. I am flying high and my brain draws blank. I have no sense of space, time, mass. I’m on thin air. I see the beauty of Heaven, feel the heat of Hell and feeling the sin of a long life in Purgatory. Sublimation is only word in my mind. Going from solid to gas. Rationality to nonsense.
I can’t stop moaning and crying. He slows and pauses inside. I am held open. Something about that suspension when a man is inside you, you’re one. You do fall in love. I touch his face and stare. I want his soul. I understand why is it is the Little Death. My moans are loud. My pants are nearly cries to die.
I understand art. I understand lust. I cry my new and uncharted sense of pleasure.
I send him a telepath message using my eyes and the hug my core gave his manhood. Forget about Amanda. I’m your wife right now. I open my legs a little wider. Like wings, inviting him to my sublimation.
“Silver,” he exhales in a chuckle. “Baby, our daughter’s in the next room. I don’t want to wake her up.”
“Stop feeling so fucking good,” I coo. “Matter of fact,” I flip him onto his back and start to ride. My hips moving slow, dancing. I barely feel the pain that I would feel when in this position. I ride, bopping, rolling leaning forward finding the rhythm the dose I need. So many nights I craved to perch as I am, a body beneath mine stoking me.
We sixty-nine for long while being straight nasty and feeding as if the other was holding ambrosia laughing ever so often at the sounds of squishing and slurping.
He gets at it from the back while I am bent over the chair in the corner. I never liked doggy style because of the submission connotations but I am a wife right now. He feels thick but a good thick. I don’t fight it like I always do. But he uses his shirt as a support for my hips. He pauses for a moment and goes in my ear. “I am so tempted.”
“Tempted to what,” I pant gripping the sides the chair.
He kisses my cheek and lets out a low laugh. “Don’t worry about it. It’s only our first time.”
I moan excited at the prospect of future encounters like this.
It is beautiful to feel that tongue of his trail down my spine.
The sun comes up over Manhattan with him on his knees devouring me. Sade comes quietly on the radio at the end of the Quiet Storm radio block. The most beautiful sunrise I have seen in a long time. Mix of alcohol, one of the most beautiful men in the city eating me out makes me feel like a phoenix rising from ashes. I rub his head urging him on. I sing along with Sade matching her sighs.
The session finishes with his back against a window stud head tilting back, pillows under my body, lying on my stomach, wrapped around messy sheets humming his favorite song with him in my mouth. My tongue has a field day working every patch of skin and relishing in every crevice. I smile as his body bucks and his deep guttural moans escape. He moans but laughs at how good it feels. His climax is really close. He is fighting it, wanting me to navigate this tour through absolute sublimation. With a suck of his entire hard and swollen length he explodes in my mouth. My best work.
He shudders and exhales quick short breaths. He sighs; eyes wide open a smile on his face. He tilts his head back and coughs. His legs move back and forth. Finally he shakes his head. I spit his milk out onto a tissue. I smile and run my nails over his skin lightly. He jumps and grabs me in the dawn’s early light.
We kiss again, on the floor, naked, wrapped in sheets. When we finally come up for air we lie there, quiet, taking it in. Sweaty. Wet. Spent. Satisfied. I was heavy. He grins and kisses my cheek.
He kisses me once more and stumbles to stand up. A really good orgasm will do that to you. He sighs hard and rubs his eyes and face.
I was afraid of this moment. After sharing your insecurities and confidences with a man he does one of three things; sleep, answers his phone and worse, dresses. Oh shit! He’s doing the hit and run thing! Fuck! Why? WHY?
He picks me up and drapes his shirt around me and puts on his boxers. We walk to my bedroom leaving the evidence behind. I stop at Riley’s door. She was still asleep. It is Sunday. She is allowed to sleep in.
Cade stands behind with his arms around me. We stink of sex. We tilt our heads together.
“Hmmm,” he sighs. “I’ve missed that.” He pulls my hair back. It’s a tangle looking like a lion’s mane after a battle.
“So wifey did well?”
“Mmm hmm,” he groans into my neck.
He takes my hand and leads me to my bathroom. As we wait with the bathtub to fill, we kiss again, slow, lazy kisses. I have never been so spent in all my life. I sit in his lap and rest my head on his shoulder.
“Does this tub have jets,” he asks.
“Get in,” I sing. He obliges and steps in. He gets his boxers off and tosses them to the side. I lift a panel near the edge and push a button. The jets start up at full blast. He heaves a sigh and pulls me in, shirt and all.
He washes me, I wash him. He towels me off, I towel him off. He massages lotion onto my skin, I do the same for him. We do it all in silence smiling along the way like two children. His eyes are clear. He’s at peace. He’s happy.
By the time we walk into the bedroom there is nothing else to do but slip under the covers, naked. He lays his head on my chest, my legs wrap around him and his arms wrap around me.
I play in his hair, trace lines across his skin. Take him in. He is half asleep but still turns his head to look at me.
“What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours?”
I am not thinking at all. For the first time in my life, my mind is clear of thought. The voices are quiet. My soul is sleeping. My mind is digesting pleasure. No guilt. No scheduling. No doubt.