Mid Life Love: At Last (15 page)

“Thank you.” I poured a tall glass of wine and handed it to her. “Are you allowed to drink alcohol yet?”

She shook her head.

“My mistake.” I set the glass down and walked over to the refrigerator. “Cranberry, orange, or apple?”

“Cranberry.”

“I’ll have the same then.” I fixed two glasses and sat across from her at the breakfast bar.

For the past hour and a half we’d traded recipes and made a huge pot of chicken alfredo. There were only “Oh, I always put extra cheese on the noodles once they’re done boiling,” and “I never use pre-packaged garlic” sentences between us. Nothing personal.

Whenever those empty words weren’t being spoken, there was nothing but an awkward silence hanging in the air between us, a silence that revealed we still weren’t comfortable with each other.

I took a sip of my juice and decided to give it a try. “How are you liking your new job at the department store? You’re working at Saks Fifth Avenue now, right?”

“Oh, no. I quit that after my first day.” She laughed.

“What? Why?”

“It wasn’t my scene—too many fashion trends to keep up with every week. I work at a salon now. I do make-up and eyebrow waxing.”

“You enjoy that?”

“A lot.” She smiled. “I know I don’t need the money but I’m really
really
good at it and I love seeing the reaction after someone’s been made over...” Her bright smile dimmed. “Claire’s not coming to dinner because I’m here, right?”

I looked at my watch. “Actually, she should be home any minute. Her assistant said she was running late. I didn’t get a chance to tell her you were coming.”

“Oh...Well, great. Feel free to tell her that my pasta is ten times better than yours when she gets here.”

I rolled my eyes and laughed. “Because you use
oregano
?”

“Because it just tastes better and you know it.”

I did know it, and I’d written down everything she used so I could copy it for next time.

Since Claire
still
wasn’t home an hour later, I asked my mom to make another batch so I could have it flown to Arizona for Ashley and Caroline. As she and I continued to talk, I realized that for the first time in my life, I actually
enjoyed
being around her—even if we only discussed the simple things.

“Thanks for having me over, Jonathan. This really meant a lot to me.” She stood in front of her car in tears. “I hope this wasn’t the last time...”

I stepped forward and hugged her. “It wasn’t. I’ll see you in therapy next week.”

She nodded and slipped inside the car, and I waited for her to make it down the long driveway before I went inside.

I was putting away the leftover pasta when I happened to look up at the glass clock that hung on the wall.

That has to be a mistake...Did we never reset it?

I pulled my phone out to double check and realized that our clock was absolutely right.

Claire was testing me.
Again
.

C
laire

I pulled into our garage at nine thirty. I had no idea my last consultation would take three hours, and no idea that the second set of flowers that arrived at my office this afternoon had been sent by Ryan.

It wasn’t until I was closing that I’d noticed a small pink notecard hanging from the stems and realized that I’d placed his bouquets all over the store with Jonathan’s. Before I left, I’d made sure to toss every last one of his roses into the dumpster and flush his note down the toilet. Still, I couldn’t forget what it read:
“Do I have to send you flowers every day like your billionaire fiancée does just to get your attention? You WILL talk to me, Claire...—Ryan.”

I shuddered just thinking about him. He literally made my skin crawl.

I scrolled through my phone and saw that Jonathan had sent me several texts while I was driving home: ‘Where are you?’ ‘Claire, call me...’ ‘I called your office an hour ago but you weren’t there. Are you okay?’ ‘Why aren’t you answering your phone?’

Today was a Thursday—a family dinner night
and
our anniversary. He’d been talking about it all week, making love to me every night for
hours
, and telling me how happy he was that we’d been together so long.

I called him. No answer.

I texted him ‘Are you at home?’ No answer.

I slipped out of the car and looked down the path where he parked his collection, noticing that his Aston Martin was missing.

Good...

I figured that meant he was gone and I still had time to set up everything. I headed into the house and into the dining room, determined to light a few candles and prepare some champagne for us. But when I hit the light switch nothing happened.

I flicked it up and down two more times and there was no effect. Then they suddenly brightened and dimmed.

“Good evening,
dear
.” Jonathan was sitting at the end of the table, smiling. “It’s good to know that you came home at six today like you
promised
...I was beginning to think you’d forgotten our anniversary.”

“You sent me a
hundred
flowers today. How could I forget?” I looked around the room and noticed that he’d set out champagne and a large tray of strawberries that were drenched in chocolate.

There were tall red candles waiting to be lit, and right in front of me—on my side of the table, was a silver box with my name on it.

He stood up from his chair and walked over to me, holding me still with his gaze. “You know what I love most about you, Claire?”

“There’s only one thing?”

“There’s
several
.” He stepped behind me and kissed the back of my neck, setting my skin on fire. “But the one thing I love most about you, is that you are so sweetly stubborn. You can never stick to what we agree on. I don’t even think you try anymore.”

“Nine thirty
is
extremely late isn’t it? Can you believe some people actually come home
after
that? I wonder how they live with themselves...”

“You’re the one who suggested six o’ clock.” He pulled out my chair and moved in front of me. “Have a seat.” His voice was firm.

“Are you trying to intimidate me, Jonathan? On our
anniversary
?”

“
Have a seat, Claire
.”

I narrowed my eyes and crossed my arms, waiting for him to stop looking at me like he wanted to bend me over. “I’m not intimidated by you right now.”

He smiled and pressed his lips against mine. “
You should be
.”

My eyes widened and I sank down into my chair.

I watched him light the tall candles that were spread around the room, watched him grab the champagne bottle and glasses and bring them over to me.

He kept his eyes on mine as he popped the bottle open and poured each of us a glass.

“To the stubborn love of my life.” He leaned against the table and placed a glass in my hand. “Next year we’ll be celebrating our wedding anniversary, but for now, cheers to—”

“The first day we said I love you,” I whispered.

He kissed my cheek and motioned for me to finish my glass, smiling as he drank every drop.

“I made dinner.” He leaned forward and kissed my cheek again. “Would you like to eat now?”

“There’s another option?”

“There’s
always
another option.” He reached for my hand and pulled me out of the chair. “But for your sake, I think you should eat first.”

“Jonathan... ” I couldn’t read him tonight. There was something going on in his mind—something I desperately wanted to know. I’d told myself to keep it together on my way home, but he’d made me wet as soon as he hit the lights.

“Yes, Claire? Were you going to say something?”

“Right. I um—I need to change clothes before we eat. I’ll be right back.”

“You’re at
home
. Just take off your rain jacket. You won’t need your clothes for too much longer anyway.”

I stepped back. “I just want to get comfortable. It’ll only take me ten seconds.” I tried to walk past him, but he grabbed me by my waist and pulled the jacket off of me, dropping his jaw once it hit the floor.

I could literally feel his eyes taking in my scantily clothed body, feel him trying to hold back his shock.

He put his hands on my shoulders, looking me up and down. Then he sucked in a breath and narrowed his eyes at me. “Please tell me you took off your
real clothes
in the garage and no one else saw you wearing this today.”

I sighed. I was wearing an all-black lingerie set—a bra that was nearly see-through and lace string panties that had a silk bow on each side. The set also had garters and fishnet stockings that featured a thin, silk seam that traveled up the back of my legs and complemented my shiny red stilettos.

“
Claire
?” He was really trying to control himself. “I need you to answer me.
Right now
.”

“It’s not what you think.”

“It better not be.” He looked me up and down again. “Someone
did
see you in this today?”

“Yes, but—”

“
Who
?”

“My instructor. I’ve been...I’ve been taking lessons.”

“On how to cheat?”

“No...Dance classes—
erotic
dance classes...”

He blinked.

“It was Helen’s idea. She said it would help me be more aggressive in telling you what I want...”

He was silent for a while, and then his lips curved into a slight smile. “How long have you been taking them?”

“Four months...I was going to show you later.”

“Show me
what
?”

I blushed. Even though he and I had been intimate—
beyond
intimate, he still had the power to make me nervous whenever we discussed sex outside of
having
sex.

“You want to dance for me?” He twirled his fingers around my ponytail.

“After dinner...I need to change.”

“I don’t think so.” He clasped my hand and tugged me into the parlor room.

There was a small fire crackling in the fireplace and the lights were dimmed even lower.

“Where should I sit?” He looked down at me, grinning.

“Are you laughing at me?”

“Of course not.” He kissed me. “I’m in awe. Tell me where to sit.”

“Over there...” I pointed to the burgundy chair that was in the corner.

He walked over to it, still holding my hand. “Am I allowed to touch you while you dance?”

I shook my head.

“
I’m going to anyway
.”

I let go of his hand and stepped back. “Give me your phone.”

He handed it to me and I entered the pass-code, smiling when I saw that he’d changed the wallpaper to another photo of us.

I logged into my email and found my performance song, the one the instructor said would work best.

I took my time unfastening his tie and placed it around my neck. I slowly undid the buttons of his shirt, moving my head away each time he tried to kiss me.

Once I got him out of his shirt, I slid my arms into it, re-buttoning every button, trying to ignore the heated looks he was giving me—the looks that made me want to stop and let him fuck me right now.

He sighed and I ran my hands all over his hardened abs—teasing him, pressing my mouth against each pec.

“
Claire
...” He pulled me into his lap, where I could feel his dick hardening in his pants. He cupped my face in his hands and brought my face close to his for a kiss, but I moved back.

“You’re not allowed to touch me...” I pressed my finger against his lips and looked into his eyes. “You’re not allowed to talk to me either. All you can do is sit there and
watch
.” I ran my hand against the huge bulge in his pants. “And when I get done, I
might
let you fuck me.”

He smiled and sat back in his chair with his eyebrow raised, already fucking me with his eyes.

J
onathan

I watched as Claire stepped away from me, as she pulled the band from around her ponytail and tossed her hair back.

Within seconds, the song she’d selected began to play and soft, vibrating bass sounds filled the room.

She slowly lifted my tie over her head and seductively moved her hips. Then she brought the tie in front of her chest, twisting it between her hands, keeping her eyes locked on mine.

She struck the floor with it, biting her lip. “Is it hard for you to let me be in control for a change?” 

“You’re
not
in control.” I smiled.

She put a hand on her hip and strutted over to me, leaning forward and whispering in my ear. “That question was
rhetorical
, Jonathan...Do I need to get you a dictionary so you can learn what that word means?”

I reached out to bend her over my lap, but she moved behind me and started massaging my shoulders—blowing kisses against my neck as her hands found their way down to my chest.

Just as I was starting to get used to her soft rhythm, she moved her hands away and sashayed around me, slowly unbuttoning the white dress shirt.

When she reached the last button, she playfully opened the shirt to show off the black ‘fuck-me’ lingerie, then she closed it again. She repeated this at least six times, until she finally slid the shirt off her body and tossed it across the room.

As the song reached the second verse, she dropped down to the floor, and stretched her legs up to the ceiling, spreading them into a wide “V.” Then she brought her legs together again and bent them, bringing them close to her chest before she flipped her whole body over.

Seductively smiling, she sat up on her knees and ran her hands across her breasts—squeezing them and shutting her eyes.

I was trying my hardest not to get up and grab her, desperately trying to keep my hands at my sides as she continued to smirk at me and move across the floor.

“Something wrong, Jonathan?” She stood up and dragged one of the bar’s chairs a few feet across from me. “You’re not usually this
quiet
...” She sat on the chair with her back facing me and rolled her head around, tossing her hair all over. Then she bent all the way backwards, using her hands to brace the floor, and before I knew it she’d flipped over and was crawling up into my lap.