I put away the receipts I’d been working on and go out to the front of the house to find out what’s so important that someone couldn’t just walk to the back to the building to get me.
That’s when I see Heath sitting at one of the tables. He’s wearing a suit that’s tailored perfectly to fit his body. He looks powerful and important, and sexier than I’ve ever seen him before.
There are two deserts on the table. A waiter stands beside him with a towel over his arm and a bottle of champagne on display. No expense has been spared.
“What is this?” I ask. I’m terribly under dressed for a date like this. I’m in slacks and a button up blouse, my usual work attire.
He motions for me to take the seat in front of him. Once I do, the waiter pours me a glass of champagne into a flute.
Heath says, “I feel like we haven’t really had the chance to spend any quality time together. You’ve been working so hard, I just want you to know I appreciate you.”
I reach across the table, taking his hand in mine. “I know you do. This is all so beautiful. You didn’t have to go to all this trouble.”
The desert in front of me is more like a sculptural art piece than food. I don’t know what it is. It’s nothing I’ve ever seen on the menu before. Some kind of small white cake on the bottom of the plate dusted in powdered sugar. On top is a mass of delicate pulled sugar in loops and spikes that looks both delicious and dangerous at the same time. Hanging from one of the spirals is a platinum and diamond solitaire. Where it sits, the sugar has been thickened and built up to hold the ring’s weight.
I stare at it a while, to make sure it’s actually a ring and not just a decoration for show.
“Is that …” I start to say when I notice Heath taking a knee.
My heart leaps into my throat and I start to shake uncontrollably. I can’t believe this is actually happening. I mean, I’ve pictured it in my head a million times since things started getting serious with us, but I never imagined it would happen so soon. I wasn’t sure if he was there yet.
“Callista Walker, I love you more than anything in this world. You make me want all the things in life I never imagined for myself before I met you.” The blood rushing in my ears is so loud I can barely make out the words he’s saying. Tears stream down my cheeks. “I want to share my life, my wealth, my heart with you, and only you. Will you be my wife?”
I cover my mouth with my hands to hide my wobbling chin and twitching mouth. No words will come and so all I can do is vigorously nod.
“Is that a yes?” he says, laughing at my reaction.
I finally find my voice and word bursts from my lips. “Yes. Oh my god, yes!”
People around us start to clap. I hadn’t even noticed others were watching. It was like everyone had disappeared and we were the only ones in the room.
I throw myself into his arms, nearly toppling us both to the floor. “You and me, my office. Now.”
His smile is so eager. It’s adorable. “Yes ma’am.”
Thank you for reading!
Bed Shaker
Copyright © 2017 Penny Wylder
All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means without prior written permission of the author.
This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either products of the author's imagination or used fictitiously and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or businesses, organizations, or locales, is completely coincidental.
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1
Ram
“So, Ram, who’s the lucky lady tonight?” Tim asks. He sits on a mound of dirt, planting flowers. He’s my boss at the landscaping outfit I work for part time. He’s an older man, married for twenty years and faithful as hell, but that doesn’t stop him from living vicariously through me. I have a reputation around town for my prowess in the bedroom. That’s a polite way of saying it. In other words, I’m the best fuck a woman will never pay for. I didn’t set out to cause a stir with the ladies, but word got around and now here we are.
“Your guess is as good as mine,” I say. “We’ll just have to wait and see what happens.”
I dig a hole in the center of the yard for a palm tree. With Tim’s weathered back, I’m the muscle around here and do all the heavy lifting and grunt work. It keeps me in shape, so I don’t mind it.
“Are you about done with that hole?” Tim says.
“Yeah.”
Tim wipes his forehead with a rag he keeps in his back pocket and squints his eyes against the flaring sun. “Why don’t you go ahead and take off then. I can finish up here.”
“Thanks man.”
“I want a full report on your activities tonight when I see you next.”
I laugh. “You got it.”
I load my tools into the back of the truck with my surfboard. It’s well worn, scuffed on the bottom from hitting rocks and coral. It’s seen better days but it’s perfect for me. I know this board like the back of my hand and can control it as if it had a steering wheel. It has a lot of miles on it. Back in the day, I used it to compete in big wave competitions. I have a garage full of trophies to prove it. If I hadn’t injured my leg during a competition in Australia, who knows, I might’ve gone pro. Nowadays, people pay me good money to teach them to surf. It’s something I love to do on the side when I’m not working for Tim.
Once everything is loaded up, I head for the beach.
My client, a twelve-year-old kid named Ben, is waiting for me in our usual spot. The beach is packed with sunbathers, but Ben stands out among them with his bright-colored board—not a scratch on it—and his new wetsuit. I told his parents it wasn’t necessary for the expensive gear, but apparently they thought otherwise.
I slide on my wetsuit—though it’s not really cold enough to need it. I leave the top half of the suit loose around my waist and grab my board from the bed of my truck. The sand is warm and feels amazing sifting through my toes after a long day of work in steel-toe boots. The water looks choppy despite the pleasant day. The sun is high, beating down on my forehead like a molten hammer. A few clouds linger in the distance, but nothing threatening. It’s a good day to catch a few waves.
“Hey kid, you ready to get wet?” I drop my board on the sand and finish pulling on my suit.
“Hell yeah,” he says, a bundle of enthusiasm. I laugh when his voice squeaks on the high note. His face turns red and sheepish, but he smiles and shrugs as if he’s accepted this new changing voice of his.
So far, our practices have been on land. It’s important to teach a novice how to balance, and move their bodies, and where to place their feet before ever getting in the water. Normally I’ll spend an hour teaching these techniques, but with younger kids, I like to give them a few days to make sure it really sinks in.
“All right, let’s go,” I say.
We step into the foam where the beach meets the sea and allow our bodies to adjust to the cool water. The wind rustles my hair, the salty spray wetting my face. The ocean is where I truly feel at home.
“Come here,” I tell the kid. He walks toward me and I hold my waterproof cellphone up. “Noob surfer selfie.”
Ben laughs and crowds in for the obligatory picture. All of my students get pictures at the beginning of our lessons to go on my website and Instagram to promote my business. We smile and I click the photo and post it. Stuffing the phone into my suit, I lay stomach-down to my board. Ben does the same and we paddle out.
Once we’re out of the surf, we sit up on our boards and wait for the waves to roll in. I hope the kid wore sunscreen. The glare coming off the water is brutal. I put my hand up to my eyes to shield them and wait to see what Ben is going to do.
He waits patiently for the right one, bobbing on the backs of discarded waves. As he misses several more, it’s apparent he’s nervous. Maybe he’s not as ready as I thought he w
as. As the thought occurs to me, he starts to paddle into the next one. It’s much bigger than the others and I realize he wasn’t afraid at all, he was showing off. He didn’t want to ride a small wave; he wanted to impress. Except, I’m not impressed. My stomach drops at the sight of the monster wave heading his way.
I cup my hands around my mouth and call out to him. “Wait for the next,” I shout, but he can’t hear me. The ocean throws sound like a game of catch and makes it impossible to communicate without looking at each other.
The wave grows into a giant’s gaping mouth, ready to swallow him up. His board isn’t in the right position and neither are his hands where he’s clutching the edges. It’s as if he’s forgotten every single thing I’ve taught him. The wave is going to toss him like a dog’s plaything. He must realize that by now, but he tries getting onto his board anyway. He almost gets to his feet but the heel of his foot slips and he goes down, hitting his head on the side of his board as he falls. The wave crashes on top of him with crushing force.