“So I’m going to be one of those men married to famous artists,” David teases me one day, looking over my shoulder at my work.
“Maybe I’ll be so successful, you’ll have to quit your job and let me support you.”
He laughs as he looks through my finished drawings. “A life of ease,” He says musingly. “I ought to take you up on that.”
Towards the end of the first week, we have a visitor, a charming Italian called Carlo Marconi, he lives near Florence, and was at Harvard with David. He arrives for lunch with his wife and two small children, and we eat on the terrace overlooking the lawns and the trees that stretch as far as the nearby town. After lunch, while the children run around playing, David and Carl
o exchange stories of their college days, and a summer spent in Italy with Carlo’s family. Carlo’s wife Gina and I laugh cheerfully at their stories, but I can’t take my eyes off my husband, I have never seen this side of him. He looks so relaxed.
“You two look happy.” Gina tells me, in lightly accented English. “David especially, I have not seen him like this before.” She pauses. “You are good for him.”
And he is good for me, I think in silence. “I’m glad you think so.” I reply.
She shrugs. “Love can change anyone.” She states, smiling at me. The children are demanding to be let into the pool. I smile back at her as we go to prepare them for a swim.
~§~§~§~§~
Back in Seattle, David has work to catch up on, I don’t mind. My life feels charmed. Even though he still hasn’t said anything about love, I feel more secure and happy in our relationship. I feel loved, and that means a lot to me.
I seem to have made a lot of friends in my absence, probably due to the fact that there has finally been an announcement in the newspapers about our wedding. While David leaves immediately for work, Mrs. Daniel’s cheerfully hands me my mail, mostly invitations, requesting my presence at a variety of events.
I go through them, wondering which ones to accept and which ones to put under consideration. At times like these, a girl needs her mother or her mother in law. I’m thinking of calling David’s mother when my phone rings.
“Hey.” It’s David. Even after two weeks when I’ve had him all to myself, the sound of his voice can still turn my insides to liquid.
“Hey.” I reply.
“Would you like to go to this charity thing tonight?” He asks, “A dinner to raise money for the alliance for education.”
“Oh!” I look through my invites again. “I have an invitation for that.” It says black tie, evening dress. Hmm.
“Yes, that makes sense.” He pauses. “So, do I get to show you off tonight?”
My heart flutters in my chest. “Of course.”
“Good,” he chuckles, “see you around seven.”
After we talk, I go through my new clothes, trying to choose something to wear. I finally decide on a pale blue strapless gown with a sweetheart neckline, which hugs my figure all the way to my thighs, and then flares softly to my feet. The label has the name of a very famous designer. It’s probably insanely expensive, I think, as I lay it out on the bed, but it’s also incredibly beautiful.
I shower and blow-dry my hair, brushing it until it is a soft, wavy mass around my shoulders. I use a thick strand to secure it into a loose ponytail at the nape of my neck, and then sweep the mass of hair over my shoulder.
My makeup is simple, mainly because I don’t want to make a mistake and end up looking scary. By the time David arrives from work, I’m almost ready, all that’s left is to take off my silk dressing robe and put on my underwear and dress.
I revel in the look of appreciation he gives me when he walks into the apartment. He pulls me to him, careful not to mess up my make-up. “How much damage will I do if I kiss you?” He asks, his fingers finding my nipples through the silk dressing gown.
I’m not sure I care, I’d let him damage my make up whenever he wants. “A lot.” I murmur, trying to be sensible. We don’t have time for this.
He unties the knot holding my dressing gown together. ‘Too bad,” He murmurs, “because I’ve been thinking of this all day.”
“While you should have been working?” My laugh sounds a little breathless, maybe because his fingers have found my nipples again. “What will the shareholders think of that?”
“Who cares?” his voice is husky as he lifts me, wrapping my legs around his waist. I wrap my arms around his neck, reveling in the hardness of his erection pressing against me as he carries me to our room.
He sits on the bed, narrowly avoiding wrinkling my dress. I’m straddling him, my knees on the bed. While he removes his jacket and loosens his tie, I eagerly undo his trousers. When he springs free of the restraint of his clothes, I sigh softly, and wrap my fingers around him, stroking him up and down. He groans and grabs my hips, lifting me until I’m poised over him, wet and ready, then I lower myself unto him, letting out a low moan as he fills me.
He braces his hands on the mattress while I hold on to his shoulders, and starts to thrust into me with an intensity that is both surprising and extremely arousing. It feels so good. I tighten my arms around him, pressing my heaving breasts to his face. He sucks on my nipples, his pace never slowing. My climax is raw and forceful. I scream his name, weak and trembling, as I lose control of my body. Vaguely, I feel him stiffen inside me, and hear his groan as he comes.
I hold on to him, sweaty and satisfied. We’re both breathing deeply. Sighing, he lifts me off him and sets me on my shaking legs.