Kenneth
James talked on and on about the wonders of Mayne Island as he
maneuvered the car over bendy, twisty, narrow roads—made even narrower due
to corrosion.
Aster
said, “Really?” and “Wonderful!” but was only pretending to
listen. She was too worried. She squeezed her eyes shut, praying that
the other drivers were as careful as her husband because if they
weren’t—. She shoved that thought out of her mind.
She
kept her eyes closed without fearing that she was missing anything.
She’d seen enough trees.
The
car went around a bend that was so wide that Aster had to fight
against her impulse to open her eyes.
The car’s tires crunched gravel. The car rocked from
side to side like it
was a
sailboat in stormy seas. She’d had enough. “Kenneth James, what
are you doing?”
“Parking
the car.”
“On
boulders.”
“In
the parking lot. Open your eyes, we’re here.”
The
bed and breakfast...? Aster feared the worse but... But. It looked...
It looked welcoming. There were a few too many unpainted wooden
planks for
her liking but the building and yard did look well-maintained. And as
she was being forced to spend the night she preferred to think it
was.
She
let Kenneth James tend to the luggage because she knew it made him
feel useful. She allowed him to open the door because she knew it
made him feel manly.
They
were met at the door by a staircase.
“Kenneth
James, I’m feeling tired. I’d like to take the elevator.”
“There
isn’t one. Wait here. I’ll be back in a sec.” He left their
luggage with her and disappeared down a corridor. Friendly, happy,
welcoming voices bombed out from... Where ever Kenneth James had gone. It sounded like he was being welcomed home after a long voyage. He
returned before Aster could find somewhere to sit. He returned with a
key, not a card. She thought that was quaint.
Without
complaint, because how would that have helped, she followed him up
the too-steep stairs. He led her to a door, explaining, “This is my
usual room.” He pushed the door open. “After you.”
Aster
took her time inspecting the room. There
were hangers in the closet. Complimentary shampoo, conditioner, soap, and toothpaste were in the bathroom. Who would use them? Surely people carried their own. There was a shower as well as a tub. When she was
imagining the weekend, she speculated that the bathroom would be
located down the hall and would be shared by the rest of the guests.
The thought had made her squirm and so was she relieved. The
dust-free surfaces, the lint-free carpet, care had been taken. So she
declared the room acquit.
She
stepped out of the bathroom just in time to see her husband deposit
the luggage on the—. “No, not on the bed, Kenneth James. On the
floor.”
He wheeled the luggage into a corner of the room. “Ready
to eat?” He led her back downstairs. The restaurant was very
busy—most of the tables were occupied. Aster was surprised. She
didn’t think that there were that many rooms.
They
ate their supper
on
the deck, overlooking the ocean. Between the main course and dessert,
Kenneth James told Aster, “I fell in love with a piece of property.
I can’t wait to show it to you.”
“You're
not thinking of—.”
“Yeah, I bought it.” She
opened her mouth but he stopped her with, “I needed a place to
conduct my research.”
After
supper, on too full stomachs, they went back upstairs to what was
usually his but had just become their room.
She
knew it would only be a matter of time before he scrambled onto the bed, prompt pillows behind his back, and buried his nose in his
book. She was counting on it. She slipped into the bathroom, the
negligee that she’d purchased especially for the trip in a tight
ball in her fist. She primed and preened, fussed and bothered—had a
shower, brushed her teeth, brushed her hair, shaved her legs. She
shaved her legs again—this time with her electric
razor. She believed doing it twice
was worth the effort. It would allow her to find the spots she’d
missed. She tried to find some other way to prepare herself but
failing realized that she couldn’t delay the inevitable
any longer. She slipped the negligee over her head. When she looked
in the mirror all she could see was gray hair, wrinkles, and
cellulite. The negligee only made her look like she was trying too hard.
But
a baby...? Thoughts about her plan, thoughts about how much time she
had left to execute her plan, drove her out of the bathroom. She felt
awkward and was sure Kenneth James would view her that way but knew
she could only play with the cards she’d been dealt. So she crossed
the carpet using the only sexy walk she had. “Kenneth James,” she
said in what she hoped was a sultry voice.
He
lowered his book. A look of surprise was replaced by an awkward grin. He grinned. What did that mean? Was he about to laugh at her?
She
decided she looked ridiculous and went back into the
bathro—.
He caught her hand and pulled her to the bed. “Come
here, sexy." They tumbled onto the bed—which hurt a lot more now
that they were older. But he’d always been a good kisser—not too
much saliva.
She
didn’t think old married couple sex could be so passionate. Yet it
may have been precisely because they knew each other so well that
the sex was so good. They
knew they had enjoyed this position
so possibly this one and how about this one and this one and this one
and this one and... By the sound he made and by the expression on his
face, she knew it was time. He began to pull out. She locked her legs
around him, holding him there. She needed his sperm and was
determined to get it.
“What
are you doing?” He growled and she felt him go limp.
photo by ldyck
Aster's plan to become pregnant has hit a snag. Is it a small obstacle or a roadblock? Can she use her womanly wiles to get what she wants? Or...?
