Chapter six: Aster has shared her desire to have a child with her husband--which seems to have caught him off guard. Will he embrace the plan? Will he embrace her? Will it get a little spicy in the hotel room?
photo by ldyck
Chapter seven
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.
Mrs. Kenneth James Stevens Wants A Baby
Chapter eight
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...?
