A Bit of Fun

Jen slammed the closet door, checked the drier, set out the iron, kicked off her shoes, threw a load of laundry in the washer, retrieved her purse from the kitchen, grabbed a lint brush and rifled through her closet. "Did you get the wine?"

"Yes, dear," Carl answered from the family room. A football commentator analyzed some jock's or other's performance on the television in the background.

"It's not something cheap, is it? Dad hates cheap."

"Four hundred dollars."

"Four hundred! Can we afford it?"

"Yes, dear."

"Would you check the cake please?" The red velvet smelled divine.

"It's out. You frosted it half an hour ago."

"Oh. Would you wrap dad's gift?" She wasn't sure what he could do but she wanted help.

"Already did it." A heartbeat passed. "What's the matter, honey? I haven't seen you this uptight, since well, the wedding."

"It's dad. I haven't seen him in six months. Since our wedding. Now we're going to his birthday party and it's this all big formal affair. They'll all want to see honeymoon pictures. I wore that bikini. I'm his little princess and now I've been - now I've been . . ."

Carl entered the room and leaned against the closet door. "Fucked?"

Jen dropped the dress she'd taken off the rack. "Carl! Don't call it that."

"Had sex then. I am you husband but you can't tell me I'm the first man you've slept with."

Gary. Tom. Drew. A little heat surged in her core. Paul. Lyle. She bit her lip. A few heartbeats cycled. Finally, she said, "I can't pretend anymore. Mom's going to ask when we're going to have a baby."

Carl's eyebrow had climbed his forehead while Jen gnawed her lip. It was a sure sign he knew she had almost lied. When she didn't, his trademark lopsided grin returned. "A long time from now, I hope."

Jen started rifling through her clothes again. "Me too. But we can't tell her that. She'll have a conniption." Her voice crested on a crescendo. "What should I wear?"

Clark stepped into the closet with her. He put his hands on her shoulders. "Honey, relax. It's only dinner."

"The Haleys and Larsens will be there and that friend Dad knows from work and his snob daughter."

"Jen, relax."

A pair of slacks slipped off its hanger. Jen retrieved it. "Shit, now there's cat hair on it." She started beating them with the brush. "Why couldn't we have rented a clean apartment?"

"Jen—" Carl tugged on her shoulders. "—relax, sit down for a moment."

"I've got ironing, I still need a shower and—"

Carl tugged harder. "Come out or I'll carry you out."

"Fine."

Jen let her husband usher her from their room to the common room rocking chair. It had been a wedding gift from her Mom, for when she got pregnant. Her turned her about and gave a gentle push.

"Sit."

She sat. Carl pulled over a foot stool and sat facing her. "Now give me your foot."

"Carl, I don't have time for a message."

"You don't have time to run about helter skelter. It'll go quicker, not to mention smoother, if you slow down and relax. Now foot."

"My socks are dirty."

"Foot." He dragged out the vowels.

"Okay, but not too long." She kicked up a foot. She squirmed and bit back a kick as his fingers first pushed into her flesh. Then he pushed both thumbs into the apex of her arch and a jolt shot straight up her leg almost dislocating her hip.

And then she started to melt. Her muscles unfurled. Tension bled from her foot. She sank lower in the chair and her head tilted back. Her eyes closed.

"So how did you know I was stressing?"

"You mean besides your crazy frantic behavior? More crazy frantic than normal. Well—" He extended his ells. "—you never even asked me about my trip."

"How was your trip, dear?"

"Pretty ordinary. Just the normal phsyco-babble convention crap."

God, men. "Who was there? Meet with anyone interesting?"

"Most were stuffy, but yes. The majority of speakers droned on about this recycled theory or that. This one dude was studying hypnotism for clinical applications." Carl began gently pulling on her toes. One of them popped.

"Does that shit really work?"

"For most people, to varying degrees. About one in five won't hypnotize no matter what you, or they, do. Another one in five practically hypnotize at the snap of the fingers. The remaining three in five fall somewhere in-between."

"That's a little scary."

"What makes you say that?"

"Having someone mess with your mind at the snap of the fingers."

"Well, I'm sure there's more to it than that."

"So what's this guy do? Wave a watch around?"

"I'm sure I don't know." There was the vaguest hint of a lie in Carl's voice. "We don't have a lot of time. Just relax and enjoy the moment."

"What else did you—"

"Shush, no talking. Just relax. Feel my hands. Feel your feet. Breath deep. Let the tension bleed from you."

Jen sighed. It did feel wonderful just existing in the moment. Carl's hands felt so good on her, kneading her, pulling the tension out of her. She sank lower.

He was talking. She didn't pay attention to what he was saying. She didn't want to. The hot sand. The ocean. The sun. The string bikini she wore on their honeymoon. Carl was talking to her and she was far away.

"Jen. Jen!" There was a pause in his words. "Time to wake up now."

"Wha—"

"You were sleeping."

"What? No!" She jumped up and wobbled. Carl caught her.

"You okay?"

"Yeah." She hesitated. "My legs feel like jelly though."

"Must've been the massage."

"Yeah."

"You go take your shower." He said something that didn't quite register "Shave. I'll make sure the ironing is done."

"Okay."

The hot water felt almost as good as the massage. Heat and lather washed over her. She lavished in it and although she'd had her legs waxed a few weeks before she ran a light razor over her legs. The party was to be formal after all. The event demanded a skirt.

Jen lathered again and ran a hand over her legs to insure there wasn't any stubble. Her fingers traced over her lotus petals and she started. She checked again. She rinsed the lather away.

Jen regularly trimmed. Oh my gawd. She hadn't been this bare since before puberty. A heat of a different kind toasted her cheeks and the tops of her small breasts flushed rose. I feel like a girl. The blush grew hotter.

She heaved a sigh. Well, Carl will like it. She rinsed and climbed from the shower. She wrapped her hair and slipped on a bra. She rummaged through her underwear drawer. She shoveled aside bikini briefs, thongs, a g-string she'd only worn once, lace, cotton, silk. Where's my panties? She dug deeper.

"Like the look," Clark said, coming up behind her. He wrapped his arms about her waist. His hands traveled down her belly.

"Carl!"

"What?"

"Not now. Later."

"Promise?"

"Yes."

"Okay." He stepped back. "What's wrong now?"

"I can't find my panties."

Clark reached beyond her and pulled out a random red bikini brief. "Aren't these panties?" There was a slight chuckle in his voice.

"No. I can't find my panties."

"Then you'll have to go commando."

"What? No! Not with Dad."

"Okay, but we're running out of time."

Jen glanced at the clock. "Shit! Check the drier while I do my hair."

Clark left the room. Her hair was nearly dry when she caught him staring at her in the mirror. She glanced down, blushed and toed the door closed.

"You find them?"

"Just jeans."

"Where are they?"

"I don't know, dear."

Jen finished with her hair. She dug in the drawer once more, then the laundry basket. Shit! Shit! Shit! Where the hells were they? She had to have like a hundred pairs. She'd have worn crochless if she could've found them.

"We're running out of time, Jen."

"Shit, okay." She ran to the closet.

Carl stepped to the door. "Wear this one." He held out a little black number she'd gotten for a New Year's party."

"I can't wear that. That's—"

"Sexy and modest. Say's I'm grown up. My own woman. No longer Dady's little girl."

"It's a little short."

"You have nice legs."

"I mean like short short. And I don't have any panties."

"If you did, would you be showing them off?"

"No."

"Then don't show off."

"Carl."

He shoved the dress at her. "Put it on. It'll look nice."

"But—"

"I'll be the only one who knows."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

"Okay." It was a nice dress and appropriate for the occasion. She couldn't find any pantyhose either so she settled on a pair of nylon stockings. The dress was just long enough to keep the tops hidden. She matched a pair of strap on heals to her dress.

"Ready?" Carl asked.

"Ready. You got the cake?"

"It's in the car."

"Dad's gift."

"In the car too."

"Okay, here goes nothing."

"Oh, you're quite something," Carl said, handing her into the car. She stuck out her tongue.

Carl came around his old Camaro and fired her up. Carl backed her up through a cloud of white smoke.

A left, right, another left and they were out of the neighborhood. A few minutes later and the old girl roared onto the interstate. Its rattle smoothed out into a gentle shimmy.

Jen smoothed her skirt down. Hyper aware she was bare, her seat's vibration licked at her senses. She did a slight shimmy of her own and ground her ass deeper in her seat.

Carl hand reached over to rest atop her thigh. Her breath hitched.

"You okay?"

"No. God Carl, I'm going to Dad's without anything on."

His finger traced the top of her stocking. Warmth coiled about his touch and then swirled in small eddies, higher. Jen crossed her legs. She smoothed down her skirt. She subtlety pushed at his hand. He did not remove it. A few heartbeats later, she uncrossed her legs again.

"He'll never know." Carl pulled the car off the interstate. They pulled up to a stoplight.

"You sure?"

"I'm—" The car backfired. The sudden jolt coupled with her flinch drove his hand right into her most delicate spot. The drop of warmth that had curled there burbled to greater life.

"Carl." She pushed at his hand. She squirmed, causing friction. His hand remained locked in place.

"Carl."

A wicked grin split his face. "Good job girl." He patted the dashboard with his spare hand. The light turned and they started moving again.

Jen rocked her ass in and out of her seat. "Carl!" She shoved at his hand. He glanced at her, caught the look on her face and took his fingers away.

Rather than dousing the burbling warmth, the breath of air that bushed across her as his hand retreated fanned the heat higher. She crossed her legs against the ache and wrenched down her skirt.

"That wasn't cool," Jen snapped.

"What?" Carl sounded genuinely confused.

"Behave."

"Oh, come on."

"Carl."

"Okay. Okay." He threw up one of his hands. "But you're in for it later."

"Maybe."

"Oh come on. You said—"

She scowled at him. He shut up and stared straight ahead. She re-crossed her legs the other way. She ground down on the ache that just wouldn't go away.

Carl guided Camaro onto Hunter's Glen. Mansions of ever increasing size rolled past. They turned onto her parent's private drive at the end of the dead end loop. Other guest's vehicles already filled the drive.

"We're late."

"Not my fault you couldn't find your underpants."

She stuck out her tongue. Carl's depressed expression cleared. He parked, ran around and handed her out. She retrieved the cake from the back. When she bent over, he ran her hand up under her skirt and over her ass.

"Carl!"

"If you weren't so hot—" He rolled his shoulders. "I can't help it." His hand retreated.

Jen's meager breast heaved with a heavy breath.

The mansion door opened. "Oh good, Jen, dear, is that you?" Her mother tottered down off the porch in heels. Her dark hair was down. She wore a deep blue, nearly black, matronly high society party dress. The chime of ice on glass accompanied her. Her husband, Jen's father, followed more slowly.

"Good to see you, Jenny."

Carl slipped an arm about Jen. His hand slipped down her waist.

"Behave," Jen whispered. Carl's hand stopped just above her hip.

"Come here. Hug your Mother." Jen shed Carl's arm. Balancing the cake, Jen navigated a brief embrace. Bourbon breath kissed her cheek. Jen extracted herself and moved to her Father.

"Jenny, darling," he said and squeezed her tight. He held on a moment long even after Carl presented his hand.

"Carl."

"Mr. Sandlewood."

"Baby girl," Mother said. She grabbed Jen's arm and led her inside. "You're as flat as a pancake. When am I going to see that baby bump?"

"Mom."

"Don't tell me you're not trying. I'd be trying every night with that stud."

"Mom!"

"Ah, Janet—" Her mother waved over a fifty something woman. "—you remember my daughter, Jenny."

"It's good to see you, dear."

"You too, Mrs. Larsen. Mother, where should I put the cake."

"In the kitchen. Since you're not pregnant get a drink. You know where it is."

"No thanks."

She made her way to the kitchen and plunked the cake on the counter. She placed the heel of a hand on her forehead. Maybe a drink would be good.

Carl came up behind and slipped his arms around her. "Surviving?"

"Barely."

He chuckled. "Well, good thing we're late. Dinner'll be served soon. Then we can make an early exit."

"Okay." She rested a moment in the cage of his arm and then slipped free. "Want a drink?"

"That's what I'm here for."

She grabbed him a port and mixed herself a cosmopolitan.

The vodka loosened Jen's nerves. Dinner was served. Her hubby sat protectively between herself and her father. Her mother started into some outrageous story about Dad's first business deal. Jen started to have fun.

Carl's hand slipped to her thigh between courses. A finger teased the edge of Jen's skirt. The pool of naked heat between her legs hiccupped. She kicked Carl under the table. She hitched an eyebrow at him. He demurred, but only for a moment. His fingers pushed higher. The ache at her base boiled.

The cake came and went. Stories, alcohol and laughter chased themselves about the table. Jen excused herself to redo her makeup.

She popped her lips in the mirror. The bathroom door rattled.

"Just a moment."

There was a loud click and the door jumped open. Jen's momentary stress fled. She rolled her eyes at her husband and turned back to the mirror.

"Can't you wait?"

"No." He grabbed her by the waist and spun her around. He smashed his lips to hers.

Jen broke free, a little breathless. "Carl, I just did my lipstick."

Carl crowded close, pinning her to the bathroom counter. "I always liked your lipstick." He ran his hands down her torso. One slipped between her legs. The other lifted her skirt. The evening's gnawing ache wept with sudden hunger.

Jen's breath hitched. "Carl." She wasn't certain what she was trying to say. He pushed her up on the counter. He maneuvered between her thighs. He forced her lips to his again.

The kiss broke. Jen tried to follow it. Carl's hands left her shoulders. She rocked back slightly. His belt buckle jingled against the counter.

An icy breath of fear washed over Jen. "The lock's broken."

"How you think I got in here?" An iron bar of heat tapped the flesh inside her thigh. A shiver rocked Jen's thighs.

"But—" She sucked in a breath. "—the others."

"Are upstairs." He pressed against her. He missing his mark, but his heat added to her heat. She began to burn. He pulled her into another kiss.

God. Shit. I— She reached down. His member jumped in her grasp. She placed the tip of his brand at the entrance to her quench. Her breath raged in her lungs. "Oh, God, Carl, what if someone comes down?"

Carl welded his lips to Jen's. She pushed into the kiss. He pushed into her.

She trembled. Heat added to heat. She broke their kiss and clung to him. He rocked her. She tried to hold him in. He tapped within her. With each touch, the ache spiraled higher. Her heels rattled against the counter.

"Carl." She bit her lip against the high pitched whine forcing its way out.

Carl grunted. A wave splashed in her core. Jen's heart stopped. She convulsed on his steel. After an eternity, her heart stuttered and restarted.

Carl withered and withdrew. He stepped back, buckling his pants. He helped her down off the counter.

"G—G—God." Her shakes wouldn't stop.

"Yeah. Wham bam thank you ma'am."

"Carl!"

"You'd better clean up. Your makeup's a mess."

She made bug eyes at him. "Whose fault is that?"

"You lined my iron up."

"Out. Out!" She pushed him at the door. "Out, before someone comes looking." He let himself be pushed through the door. He only popped his head in once while she attempted to clean up.

"Out!"

He clomped up the stairs. She followed a bit later. She had another drink. Time slipped by.

It was late. The other guests had left. Carl approached.

"Jen, honey. Time to go. Work in the morning?"

Jen shot her Mom a crooked smile. "Well . . ."

"It was good to see you, dear," her Dad said.

Mother and Father escorted her and Carl to the door. Dad and Carl shook hands out on porch while she gathered her purse and coat. Her Mother embraced her.

"Thank you, Jenny. For coming over. It's been awhile."

"You're welcome, Mom."

"It was a good evening. Good to see you two flirting still."

Jen blinked.

"Oh come on, if you wanted to hide your wicked ways, you should have worn a longer skirt."

Jen choked. "Does Dad . . ."

"Of course. He's old. His nose isn't broken."

"You mean . . . the bathroom?"

Mother cocked an eyebrow at Jen. "It is a rather exotic perfume, dear.

"And effective. I may not be getting to sleep any time soon."

"You mean Dad approves?"

"Of course baby girl. You're grown up now. He knew about Gary, Paul and Lyle too. I don't think he caught onto Drew."

Heat seared every inch of flesh from the top of Jen's breasts to her forehead.

Jen's mouth opened. She snapped it closed just in time. What about Tom?

Her Mother raised an inquisitive eyebrow. "What?"

"Nothing."

"Oh yes, that was something. Who was he?"

"Jen!" Carl called. "Jen, we really got to go."

Jen hastily hugged her Mother. "Bye Mom."

"Oh no you don't."

Jen ran out the door as fast as her heels would allow. "Bye, Dad. Love you, Dad. Happy Birthday, Dad."

"Love you too Jenny."

"Bye!" She didn't wait for Carl to hand her into the car. He closed her door and scrambled around to the driver's side. She waved as they pulled away. As soon as they were out of sight she flopped back in her seat.

"Oh God!" She giggled.

"What is it?"

"She knows. They know. They knew all along."

"Of course. I told them."

"You what?"

"I told them."

"No way. Why?" She punched Carl.

He swerved in his lane. "You were so nervous. You needed to know it was okay. And just on the odds that it wasn't, they needed to know you and I are a thing now."

"A thing? What did Mom and Dad say?"

"Your Mom said to get to it and get you pregnant."

"Of course she did. What about Dad?"

"He grunted something and downed his whisky in one gulp."

"Huh."

They drove the rest of the way home in silence. Clark placed a steadying hand on the small of her back as they climbed the stairs to their third floor apartment. Jen shucked off her dress and fumbled her way straight to the shower.