Kayla - It Begins

"Oh, do you know her? I think she's only been married about a month, I forgot what her name was before."

Kayla turned her head away to say, "No, no, I don't know her. I was just ... maybe it was some ... I guess I thought ... maybe I recognized the name. It's not important." Kayla couldn't wait to change the subject, "So, how did you meet her?"

"Her new husband wants her to cover up her sports bra."

"Oh well," Kayla stood and walked over to me, put her arms around my neck and kissed me, then nuzzled my neck. "I'm sure glad my hubby isn't jealous."

I put my arms around Kayla and slid my palms down to cup her bottom, pulling her against the bulge that was forming at the front of my shorts.

Kayla slid her hand down the inside of my shorts and asked me, "Is this monster for me?"

I assured her it was indeed for her. She still had her hand wrapped around my cock and was leading me across the room.

Her cell phone rang, but I was startled when she pulled away from me to answer it, saying, "This is Kayla Rogers." In the evenings, she usually let messages go to voice mail, but then I recalled she had said she was waiting for a call.

I turned around and took plates out of the cabinet, then looked for utensils, cringing again that she wouldn't say her name was Kayla Gannaway. We'd been married long enough that most people she came in contact with knew she was married, even if they didn't know I was her husband. The few times I'd mentioned it, I'd admitted it was selfish. My name might not be a household word, but I wanted people to know she belonged with me. She had once given me a smart-alecky response that if I was so worried about us both having the same name, I could change mine to Rogers. I shrugged my shoulders and said it might not be a bad idea. It was certainly easier to spell.

It wasn't an immediate thought, but I hadn't said a word about jealousy. I didn't think I'd ever displayed any evidence that I was a jealous husband, but Kayla had used the word. I might be a little protective of Kayla, asking her to call me when she arrived at an evening meeting or before she left the meeting, but those were safety issues. I wondered why Kayla would automatically think the reason Patrice was shopping for tee shirts was because her husband was jealous.

Kayla finished her call and started walking out of the kitchen, commenting over her shoulder. "I'll eat a few bites when I get changed."

We'd done it so many times I was accustomed to eating alone. I put a small serving of chicken and steamed vegetables on her plate, then fixed my plate and took it to my study. I'd been thinking about some research I needed to do for book three, and I was making the corrections and changes my editor wanted done on book number two. I knew I had about three hours before Kayla would return home.

I was surprised when I looked at the time. I'd been working steadily for almost an hour. I looked out the window, her car was gone from in front of the house. We had a mild running disagreement with Kayla refusing to park in the rear garage. She did not like the lane at the rear of the townhomes. It was narrow, full of potholes, and required some navigating to get all the way down to our end of the long row of homes. She only wanted to park in front where she could leave quickly, make it to the end of the street, and turn onto a wide thoroughfare.

As sort of a celebration on the opening of her store, and because she no longer needed to work out of the rear of her old van, I'd bought her a small sports car. I spent more money than was prudent but she so enjoyed looking out the front windows at her small, easy-to-maneuver car. We'd had a recent discussion on the merits of a new car for her. She was enthralled with some features of the newer, more expensive models, but I was resisting.

Kayla had not come in to tell me she was leaving nor had she called to tell me she had arrived at her appointment. I checked the kitchen and found she'd eaten less than a fourth of the chicken I'd fixed for her. I started to clean the kitchen intending to go back to my study, but it really bothered me that Kayla had left without telling me and hadn't called when she arrived at her meeting, so I called her cell phone.

"Uh, hi, Wendell. Why did you call?" She sounded out of breath as if she were walking too fast.

"I'm just checking on you. You didn't let me know you were leaving or that you'd arrived for your appointment."

"Wendell, don't babysit me. I'll be home later."

Wow, I wasn't expecting that. Kayla wasn't often so short with me. She'd hung up before I could tell her to call me before she left. I chalked up her shortness to the possibility she was dealing with some difficult clients and went back to my study.

By eleven o'clock Kayla had not called and I was growing concerned. I didn't want to interrupt her meeting if it was a contentious one, but she was out later than usual. I waited another half hour and called her cell phone.

"Hi, Wendell. I was just going to call you." I heard music in the background and wondered where she was. "Sweetie, I'm at that little restaurant in Heritage Park with Jewel Adams. I'll be home in about an hour or so. Don't wait up for me."

"Okay, don't stay out too late."

Kayla knew better than to invite me to join her. I did not like Jewel Adams, even though she gave Kayla a lot of business. She was a middle aged, six foot three inch Amazon who ran roughshod over every supplier and subcontractor who ever worked with her. She was mean, seldom paid on time, and the only reason she continued to stay in business was that she built some of the largest homes in the city. Aside from the bank that managed her construction loans, the only people who liked her were her clients. She had a reputation for completing construction on time and within budget. If it wasn't completed on time, it was always someone else's fault, and if it was not on budget, she loudly claimed it wasn't because of her.

I finished the outline of the next chapter of book three, shut down the computer, and went to bed.

* * *

Kayla was still in bed when I left for my jog the next morning. I didn't wake her up because she'd told me the night before that she was going to the store late because the order she was waiting for wouldn't be in before noon.

Patrice Harriman was more than one hundred yards ahead of me. I recognized her distinctive flopping ponytail. It looked like she wasn't having any trouble with the new tee shirt she was wearing. She rounded the curve at the bottom of the jogging track and waved at me from the opposite side as I neared the curve where I would leave the track to go to my shop.

I'd gotten into the habit of jogging one and a half circles every other day. Today was a short run of about three-fourths of the full circle. I adjusted my stride as I began going down the deep wide steps. I took three steps on each level, down a few inches to the next level and two more steps, down a few inches and two more steps and down a few inches. By the time I reached the lowest level, I could no longer see any of the townhouses or the street. I would adjust my stride when I went up the steps on the other side as I walked home.

I was just leaving the jogging track when I recalled I'd awakened sometime around two o'clock and heard the shower running in the master bath. I knew Kayla had taken a shower before she left, she always left the shower door open, and her towel draped over the shower door. I'd hung her towel on the towel rack and it was back on the shower door when I went into the bathroom after I got out of bed.

I forgot all about Kayla's showers as I opened my shop and got the cash register ready for the Friday before a three-day weekend. By the time the day was over, I was thinking I needed to hire a part-time helper. I searched under the counter until I found the old Help Wanted Inquire Within sign the building's previous tenants had used and set it on top of the counter. I planned to hang it on the door when I opened in the morning.

* * *

Kayla was at home when I walked in the front door. "Wendell, I'm in the kitchen."

I walked into the kitchen and saw she was involved in a big dinner project. She had several dishes in various stages of completion. I gave her a long leisurely kiss and told her to remember that, as I'd repeat it a little later. I playfully swatted her on the ass and she laughed, promising a payback. I got a bottle of water from the refrigerator and sat at the kitchen table to talk with her while she worked.

I hadn't given it much thought when Kayla reminded me. "You know that big warehouse sale is next week-end. Are you going with me this year?"

"I probably shouldn't. I need to keep the tee shirt shop open."

"I didn't think you'd want to go. It's sort of boring if you don't need to be there. I'm going to make my reservation the first of the week. If you wanted to go I'd get a larger room."

"Then no, I'm not going. I'll just stay home, work at the shop Saturday and on my book the rest of the weekend. I owe my editor the outline for the next couple of chapters and the changes he wanted. He's pushing me to meet some date on his schedule."

As Kayla sliced the potatoes she was layering in a casserole dish, she asked, "Say, have you given any more thought to putting my name on the deed to this house? It would be so special if you would do that for me."

"Yeah, we did sort of talk about that, didn't we?"

She used her long-suffering wifely voice to say, "Yes, dear."

"By the way," I informed her, "The bank called this morning to say a large withdrawal was made for your store out of our joint account. Did you use the wrong account number again?"

She had done it once before when she purchased a large piece of equipment and then forgot to tell me. It didn't bother me so much that I got angry, but it seemed like she should be making enough money to afford to purchase the equipment she needed.

Kayla's hands stopped moving, but she didn't look up from the cutting board, when she answered. "I don't think I did."

"Will you check on that when you get to your store tomorrow? They had to transfer some money from my book account to cover the full amount. That's a lot of money to make a mistake on, Kayla."

"Okay, Wendell. I'll look at it first thing tomorrow, but write yourself a note about that deed thing. I'd like to say this is my home, instead of feeling like I'm just living with you."

"That's silly. This is our home. What brought all this up?"

Kayla turned to look at me and put her hands on her hips. "Wendell, I wanted to bring a prospective client to look at the work I did in the formal living room and the dining room. They're looking at one of the townhomes down the row. I didn't like saying this house belongs to my husband."

"Kayla, maybe we need to sit down and talk about finances again. I pay all the costs associated with this house and all of our living expenses, including your clothing. I've allowed you to use all of your income to support and grow your business. Maybe we need to do some adjusting around here."

Still in her confrontational stance, she said, "Don't be like that. You have a lot more than I do. All I have is my store."

"I know that and it's why I've allowed you to build up the business without contributing around here, but that's not a financial arrangement that can continue indefinitely." I stood to go to my office, but turned to remind Kayla, "Remember, don't plan anything for Sunday. We're going to my parents' house for a family barbeque."

"Oh Gawd," Kayla wailed as I took a few steps away from the table.

I turned to look at her, "What? It's once every couple of months and you didn't go last time because you had a headache."

Kayla's voice whined and it only took three words to understand she was trying to mimic my mother, "My, my, Kayla, you're so thin. When are you going to let me have a grandbaby to hold?"

Instead of going to my office, I walked back into the middle of the kitchen and put my hands on my hips, much as Kayla had done earlier. "Yeah, when are we going to start that family we discussed before we married?"

"Wendell, I'm not going to leave my store to fend for itself while I take care of some burping little brats of yours. When I know my store is financially stable we can discuss children."

In the mood she was in, I was not going to remind her that we had discussed having our children while we were still young. She wasn't thirty yet, nor was I, but the calendar pages were turning, sometimes faster than I wished.

Both of us had pretty much settled down by the time we were eating dinner. We didn't seem to have dinner together, just the two of us, as often as we would like -- or at least not as often as I would like. We probably managed to eat a home-cooked meal together three times a week, weekends included. Kayla liked to entertain and would have someone or a few couples over for a meal during the week or on a Saturday evening. She usually spent one or two nights away from home. She would occasionally stop off at the local builder's favorite watering hole for a couple of drinks after the work day was over. That pretty much took up the whole week.

Kayla seemed very interested in the movie deal being considered for my first book. She also asked if my editor planned to send the second book to the same filmmaker and if I might get an offer for a second film. I just couldn't figure out why she was so interested so I asked her.

"I'm worried about my store. If you have to move to California to work on the film, I don't think I can go with you."

"Good grief, Kayla, if that first book is ever made into a movie, I won't have anything to do with it. In fact, they'll most likely try to pay me the million dollars and make me sign a release of all my rights to a movie on that story. I doubt Hollis can get them to change the wording in the contract."

As we were cleaning up the kitchen, it didn't take but a couple of hints from Kayla to convince me I didn't want to work in the study that evening. We went to bed early. I guess I was still smarting about the 'burping little brats of yours' remark and I got a little aggressive. As I kissed her I put one hand between her legs to discover that she was ready for me. I flipped Kayla over on her tummy, lifted her hips, and slammed my hard cock into her very wet pussy.

Kayla grunted and said, "Fuck me hard, Wendell, real hard, but don't cum yet."

A few stokes later she was wailing and shaking with her first orgasm. I felt her muscles squeezing me and I stopped moving, I was so close. She dropped her hips and pulled away from me, then nudged me over onto my back and swallowed my cock, lifted her head then slurped along the length of it before taking it all the way down her throat.

Kayla jerked her head back and said, "Don't you dare cum. I need at least one more from this monster."

She swung one leg over me and held my cock as she lowered herself and began to raise and lower her hips as she fucked herself on my hard cock. It was all I could do to hold on to her hips and her bouncing breasts until she shuddered and shook with another hard orgasm. She fell forward onto my chest, panting, unable to speak as the aftershocks caused her body to twitch for several minutes.

She raised her head and shoulders and gave me a sweet tender kiss. "Wendell, will you make love to me now?" She rolled to the side and spread her legs. I could not pass up the invitation. I don't know how long I kissed and licked at my wife's soft responsive breasts. I just know she didn't want me to stop until I was trailing kisses down her belly. When she knew where I was headed she pushed on my shoulders.

"Oh yes, baby, eat me. I need it so bad."

I was able to give her at least two more orgasms before I began to want something more. As I moved up her body, she pulled me higher until my cock was poised at the entrance to her engorged lips. She had her arms around my neck, kissing me, chewing on my shoulder and biting my neck.

Although we had sex two or three times a week, it had been several months since we'd both been in such a frenzy to show our lust for each other. As I pushed into her, Kayla's voice was sweet. "Oh you beautiful man, I love you, I love you, I love you."

I was still for a moment, relishing the heat and wetness of her velvet and then I began to move. Once again, it was the most glorious feeling I'd ever experienced. I could never tire of this woman I'd married. We fit so well together that every time I made love to her it seemed like an endless time of passion. Yet, it always ended too soon. After a few minutes of the slower movements Karla was thrusting her hips up at me telling me to go faster and harder. When I finally sent several bursts of semen into her depths, she squealed and shook and I roared like a wild animal.

I fell to the side, exhausted and unable to raise my head. Kayla turned her back and pushed her hips against me, moving into the curl of my body, taking my arm across her, and holding my hand against her breast. * * *

By the time I was thinking about closing the shop on Saturday, I had six applications for employment filled out by young females and I knew not a single one of them could count change or hold the shop open for more than fifteen minutes without me spending two or three hours trying to straighten up whatever they screwed up. Without me asking, they told me what hours they could work and what days they wanted off, the holidays they had from school, plus the plans they'd made for those holidays. I wanted to put all six applications into the trash but was concerned I wasn't going to get any one better.

I was pulling the keys out of my pocket when a woman opened the front door of the shop. "Oh please don't close yet."

"Come in, come in. How can I help you?"

"That sign on the door, are you really looking for help?"

"Yes ma'am."

"I'd like to apply."

I stuttered, "But ... I don't know ..."

"Oh please."

My hesitation was because this woman was nothing like I was expecting to hire for part time work. She was in her mid to late forties and although she was slender and had a figure that would look good in a tee shirt, she was most definitely a mature woman.

I shrugged my shoulders and asked, "Okay, tell me why you're looking for a job."

She laughed and held out her hand, "I'm Linda Bledsoe."

I offered my own hand, "Wendell Gannaway," and was pleasantly surprised that I got a decent handshake. As Linda explained it, I had interviewed her youngest child earlier. The girl was the last child to leave home and Linda did not intend to stay home for another day. It was time for her to become a productive member of society. She laughed and said she wasn't going to be attractive to most shop owners because she wanted to use them as her school. She planned to open some kind of small business for herself and wanted to work for someone and learn what mistakes not to make.

I wanted her. I wanted her badly. She was exactly what I needed. She was mature, needed teaching about how to use a computer cash register, but already knew something about computers and a great deal about organization. She'd cared for a home, a husband and four children, and could surely put all of those skills to good use as she learned how to operate a small business. She was a godsend. She could start as soon as I wanted her and work as many hours as I needed, even if her husband had to eat a TV dinner at night. He was 100% percent behind her effort and Linda wanted me to call him to verify it.

We worked out a schedule to get Linda into a routine of working and I walked home with a spring in my step. When I got home, I didn't even mention Linda, my new shop assistant. I'm not sure why, perhaps it was just information I was going to withhold until I knew how well she would work out. Then later, there was no time to mention her. We had four couples coming for a small informal dinner and Kayla was involved in preparing the finger foods we would eat rather than a sit down meal. I set up the bar with ice and the mixers we had and checked the remaining supplies. It had become a custom that I would prepare the first drink or two for everyone then allow them to fend for themselves. There was always more interest in conversation and politics or city happenings than there was hard drinking.