Authors: Anita Claire
Oh, you like to play dress up…which one of us gets to wear the high heels?
After work, I’m thrilled when Isabelle shows up for fencing. After, introducing her to the other women, she gets all giggly as she attempts to parry and lunge.
“You really have no rhythm.” I tell her.
“But I’m fierce,” she says, “I really should have been Mulan, since I have a true warrior’s spirit. Jennifer should have been Belle.”
Really? This conversation again
. I tell her, “You realize it was just a Halloween costume from a party our freshman year.”
“Yes, but it’s also a character lesson. I might be little, but I’m the true warrior.”
Later, at my parents, the homey smells of my dad’s cooking greets me. As I set the table, dad asks about my latest project.
My mom comes home just in time to join us. Telling my parents about what Mark said, my mom explains, “Form is very important. What he’s really talking about is commitment; management and your co-workers want to see that you’re committed to the job and the company.”
“The only way to get ahead is to work late and work weekends?” I ask.
“It’s not only showing commitment, the people I know who got to the top of the organization were capable people. What separates them from all the thousands of other capable people is their ability to understand politics and to have compatible personalities with their executives. I never saw that kissing up got people very far; it just makes you a sycophant. Understanding what your management is looking for, and dependably providing it, that’s what gets you promoted. Also a lot of luck.”
“How do people in this valley have families? You can’t work nights and weekends if you have kids.”
“The celebrity executives talk about how they eat dinner with their families. Unless you’re a celebrity, you’re never going to become a C level executive in this valley by going home at five thirty and having dinner with your kids. And don’t think you can do what Marissa Meyer can do either. She has three full-time nannies and a nursery next to her office. At fifty thousand a year, only the very rich can afford more than one full time nanny.”
“It costs fifty thousand a year to hire a fulltime Nanny? How does the average woman even afford that?” I sputter in shock.
“That’s why a lot of women leave work during the pre-school years. Most women find that the cost of daycare negates their take-home pay.” My mom explains.
“You’re a Vice President and you were always there for us, how did you do it?”
“I worked crazy hours before you kids were born. After proving myself, I had a number of coworkers and managers who knew they could depend on me. When I had you girls, I mommy tracked. When you were babies I worked part-time. When you girls were little, I made it clear to my management that I was going home at a reasonable time, and I wasn’t going to travel. My goal was just to stay in the game. I got passed up for a lot of promotions and visible projects, but it was worth it. When you girls got older, I wanted to take on more responsibility. Your father and I agreed he would rework his schedule so he would be the one who was home at a reasonable hour and deal with homework.”
Nodding I say, “I remember dad making dinner and helping us with our homework.”
“Your aunt and uncle both had big jobs with lots of travel. I remember calling over there when they both were traveling. Your cousin was so sad; he told me he felt like an orphan when he spent the week with the nanny. Your father and I never wanted that for our children.”
My father interrupts, “You don’t even have a boyfriend, why are you worrying about this?”
My mom answers, “These are the questions you need to ask now. When you meet a guy, how do you know if he’s right, unless you know what you’re looking for? If you’re with a guy who expects you to carry the load at home, you’ll just burn yourself out. Communication is key. If you have kids, one of you needs to be making concessions. Over time, which of you that is may change.”
As we clear the dishes, I ask my mom “What about those cocktail dresses?” I might dress youthful, sexy and flirty when I go out with my friends, but for these work events I need my mom’s sophisticated closet.
Dad just smiles as he says, “I’ll leave that to the two of you, I’ll clean up.”
Mom and I head back to their bedroom as she asks, “Why do you need two dresses?”
Keeping my answer simple, “A friend of mine is escorting me to my party, while I’m going to his.”
Mom smiles, “The guy you had dinner with two weeks ago?” Not wanting to get into the whole Zach and Nate thing I just smile and shrug.
Explaining to my mom the venues for each party, she looks through the dresses in her closet. “You can go a little sexier to the friend’s party,” she says, as she pulls out a designer, black, sheath dress with a sweetheart neckline and a dotted Swiss illusion top. The dress fits like a glove. It’s simple, the hem is just above my knee, but the cut highlights my curves—showing off my chest without being trashy—something I know Nate will like.
“Mom, this is a rather racy dress for you.” I say as I admire myself in the mirror.
Mom chuckles, “I might be in my fifties, but I work hard to keep my figure, and I’m sure not dead. Anyway you fill it out better than me.” as she eyes my chest. She then walks around me looking at how the dress fits. “I wear the most industrial strength full body Spanx, and I don’t look half as nice in that dress as you.” She then pulls out a pair of strappy black sandals and a sparkly black clutch. “If your friend is on the fence about dating you, he certainly will be interested after he sees you in this.”
Smiling, “Yeah, I think this will work.” I say, putting on the shoes and admiring how the dress shows off my small waist.
Pulling out another dress, she says, “I just picked this up from the cleaners. I wore it this past weekend at a holiday party. It’s dressy and conservative, but stands out in a crowd. You don’t want to be showing off too much skin around co-workers.”
It’s another sheath dress cut to highlight curves. This one has a jewel neckline and long sleeves. What makes it stand out is the material looks like cut lace and the color is a wonderful deep holiday pink.
My mom pulls out silver strappy sandals and a silver purse. Heading into her bathroom, she comes out with lipstick and nail polish the exact same color deep pink as the dress, and some sparkly jewelry. “These are Swarovski. I wore this cuff with the black dress.” She holds out a two inch wide sparkly bracelet. “You don’t want to wear a necklace with either of these dresses, but if you pull your hair back, the chandelier earrings will look great.”
Wearing the black shoes, the cuff, and the sparkly chandelier earrings, I pull my hair back in a quick braid. “Wow, I look so sophisticated.” I say at my image.
Mom just smiles, “Come on; let me see you in the pink dress.”
The pink dress with the silver shoes looks great--very classy, very sophisticated, and very form fitting. It’s a definite departure from my jeans and girly T.
Smiling, mom says, “I’ll never be able to wear those dresses again without seeing you in them.” She kisses my cheek.
“One more thing,” mom says as she pulls out a long camel color cashmere coat. “I bought this coat before you were born. I only wear it when I travel in the winter. It’s worthwhile, buying good quality classics.” As she wraps everything up, I realize how lucky I am to have my parents living so close.
Do I get a booty call tonight?
Staring at my phone, I wonder if I should be playing hard to get, or if it is too late for that. Wanting to be with Nate, I wonder if too much booty call access will negatively affect our relationship. Hearing Kelly’s voice in my head, I text back,
Only if I get to choose tonight’s position.
Cassie isn’t home. As I use her iPad to access her Sonos bar, I see that some of the artists I like have been added to her playlist. I bring up,
You’re the Expert
—a funny radio show where an expert in an obscure field of science is asked questions about their discipline from three comedians. I listen as I take care of the personal hygiene and housekeeping tasks I’ve been too busy to do since I’ve been with Nate. Loosing track of time, I’m surprised when the doorbell rings. Answering the door only wearing my plush robe, I usher Nate in.
He gives me one of his steamy smiles as he pulls me into him. Using both hands, he rubs me from my butt up my back. When we release, he says, “Mmm, you are so warm and cuddly.”
Dragging my hands down his chest, I say, “I know you just got here, but can I convince you to hold off on the small talk and just come to bed?”
“I don’t know about that, just jumping in bed with you with no small talk beforehand sucks.” He says with a wink.
As I head over to the kitchen wall to turn off the lights and the podcast, Nate asks, “What are you listening to?”
“It’s just a podcast.” I say, thinking about Cassie’s warning not to let guys know I like geeky shows. I wonder what Nate is thinking.
“This is good, clever. I wonder if my patients would understand their health care better if I rapped them their prognosis.”
Smiling at Nate, I give myself a little internal dance and a big YES. Nate thinks the shows I like are cool, not geeky. “I’ll send you the link to the podcast.” I say as I watch Nate head into the bedroom. Quickly putting away my housekeeping supplies, I head into the bedroom to find both lights on and Nate sitting up in bed looking at his phone.
“That was quick.” I say.
Nate places his phone on the bedside dresser. “I was wondering when you were going to be done. You’re the one who doesn’t want to waste any time with small talk. So what’s your plan?”
Standing in the middle of my bedroom, I just look at him in confusion, “My plan?”
“You said I could only come over if you get to choose. I’ve been looking forward to tonight all day. What have you chosen?”
Keeping the smile on my face, my entire chest constricts. Barely containing a gasp, I was just sending a sassy text. Shit, he is so much more knowledgeable about positions. What can I come up with? Starting with what’s easy, I give him eye contact as I slowly let my robe drop to my feet and strut naked over to him. His eyes get deep with the prospect of what will happen next.
My heart’s pounding, not with anticipation but with performance anxiety. Looking down at him, I say to myself,
What should I do?
Maybe he’s good in bed because he just does what he likes. What do I want? Moving the sheets back slowly, I gaze along his naked body as he watches me. He lifts his hand up and reaches for my thigh.
With a small smile, I say, “No, this is my turn. You only get to touch me when I tell you to touch me.”
His irises disappear as his pupils grow abnormally large with expectancy. Relaxing his arm from my leg, I can see his breathing increase. Strolling my fingertips down his chest in a gentle S shaped slalom pattern, I realize how much I enjoy the feeling of his chest hair; this actually relaxes me some. When I reach his stomach, I lazily trail my fingers along the planes of his strong abs. Focusing only on the part of the anatomy I’m touching, I don’t even look farther down until I get close, which is good since he’s already erect and that would have just unnerved me if I had looked earlier. Dragging my fingertips down his core, I glide my fingers over his stomach, dancing them through his pubic hair. Then I stroke my finger up the line on the back of his penis.
Nate gasps from my touch, giving me a shot of courage. I’ve never performed oral sex. Stephan begged me to give it to him, but I always refused, it never felt right. Twirling my fingers around the top, I drag my fingertips back down to the base as I watch it twitch and grow even stiffer. Continuing with my exploration, I reach for his balls, holding them in my fingers, as I lean down and let my tongue follow the line my fingers just took. Nate moans, so I assume I am doing this right. Not sure what to do next, I just wrap my tongue around his tip again as I lower my mouth so my lips are now on the top of the shaft. To my relief, it is soft and smooth with not much taste. Having a high gag reflex, I don’t want to suck it too far into my mouth. Closing my eyes I take a few relaxing breaths through my nose, and then I continue slowly swirling my tongue along the tip. Using my free hand I gently grasp his shaft, rolling my hand up and down as I slowly use my mouth to apply pressure. Then I hear Nate growl, I hope that’s a good sign, since I have no idea if what I’m doing is effective or even close to what he wants.
In a deep gravelly voice he says, “You need to stop now, or I’ll come in your mouth.”
Breaking my concentration, I look up, our eyes connect as I say to myself, “what’s next?”
His breathing is deep, his entire focus is on me, and what I’ll do next. His hands are clenched and his arms, neck, and shoulders are flexed as he strains but holds back by grasping the sheets. Reaching over to the table, I pick up a silver packet, tear it open with my teeth, and roll the condom over him as he gasps in response. Lifting my leg, I straddle his hips, firmly supporting myself on the bed with my knees. We maintain eye contact as I rake him along the top of my folds, back and forth giving me the friction I desire. The cords of his neck and arms are in high relief making him look powerful. I watch his chest rise and fall with each deep breath. Gently squatting, I steer his tip to me. Slowly, I lower myself down. We simultaneously gasp as he enters me.
Closing my eyes, I use my thighs to raise and lower myself, using Kegel exercises to squeeze him at the bottom of each down stroke. Nate starts bucking his hips as he synchronizes with my rhythm. As the speed increases, I can feel my breasts bounce with each stroke while my orgasm builds. My hands are clutching my thighs as the early contractions rack my body. Nate finally says, “I can’t hold it any longer.”
Opening my eyes, I see his eyes close as he grimaces, moans and comes into me. Finally, I collapse onto his chest, a hand on each peck. Immediately, he crosses his arms over my back, holding me tight. My body flinches and buzzes from my orgasm. He kisses my head. I moan in ecstasy. Never have I experienced anything like this. It’s the first time I’ve ever taken control. No wonder guys like being in control, it’s an exciting and heady experience. Emotions are running crazily through me, I feel like crying but for no good reason.
At some point, Nate whispers, “You OK?”
Unable to talk, I just nod my head as I press up with my feet until I reach his mouth. Licking his lower lip, I gently kiss where I licked, reaching his upper lip, I gently lick, then kiss it too. Finally, after running my tongue against his tongue, he joins me, giving me soft languid kisses. After a while, he rolls me off him and heads to the bathroom. On his return, he turns off the lights and pulls me in tight, so my head is in the perfect spot between his shoulder and chest.
Neither of us says anything as we fall asleep.