Place at His Table

This changed everything. The first time he had fallen for her they were both young and inexperienced. They were older, wiser, and practiced lovers. But now he had gone places she had never permitted in their married life, He had stepped out their exclusive love life to indulge in pleasures she had not condoned, and she had released him to do so. For the first time, it dawned on her that it was easy for a new lover to be exciting, not because they were better, or even good at all, but because there was the thrill of exploring someone new. Tom had enjoyed that, how could he possibly be excited settling back with her?

"Listen, I can imagine that seems strange to you, but I'm not about to hide who I've become the last year. I don't know what the future holds for us, but I do know what my immediate past has held. I know that the present holds a lot of uncertainty. I don't want to fall for you again only to be dumped in a year or two. I'll need some assurances before I can wipe that uncertainty from my mind. I'll need to protect myself . You cleaned me out in the divorce, and I've been lucky enough to rebuild both my life and wealth. Any kind of encore for us will mean an iron clad contract giving me a guarantee of keeping the wealth I've accumulated in the event we part again. That would have to be the cost of dumping me the first time."

It was a lot to think about. He knew it, and kissed her forehead before exiting gracefully. He promised to call her about getting together the following weekend, but also told her not to be surprised to hear about him dating, as he rather liked it and didn't plan to stop before they had made some decisions. She knew the jealous pangs she felt were unwarranted. She had let him go. No that was sugar coated, he had let her go when she had dumped him unceremoniously after years of a happy marriage. What had she been thinking? Now she found herself in competitions for the only man who had ever made her happy.

He called the next day to ask her to dinner Saturday night. She spent the week both fretting over their meeting, but wondering what he was doing. Who was he seeing? Were they younger? Prettier? Her mind replayed the movie of their lives together over and over, looking for some key that might unlock the secret to winning him back. He'd been very up front with her, and not in a way that would put her off, just straight honesty. She had left him for excitement, and no one exciting had been interested. He however, had been quite the playboy, and she was prepared to step up her game to win him back.

Friday she went to dinner and happy hour with the girls from work. The news that she was trying to reconcile with her ex had been all the buzz at work that week, and their usual little table was overflowing with what amounted to a war party of plotting women. In their mind, Tom was already captured. The talk turned from what she should wear to a game of "what ifs" as the women tried to pry gossip tidbits from her while preparing her for any eventuality.

"I can get any man I want and keep him as long as I want, just as long as I can get his cock in my mouth honey."

Carla wasn't known for her tact around the office. She was the prototypical flirt, using her generous cleavage as a bribe by placing it prominently in the direct line of sight of any man who had, or could accomplish something she needed.

"Get a couple of good beers in him, sit close with your titties almost fully on display, then when he gets comfy, gently brush your hand on his woody. Next thing you know, his cock is out and it's time to lick the lollipop. Get it twitching and his hips pressing for more, then put him off til he moans. That's when you take it in long and slow all the way in. You can't do that, practice on a banana til you can. Any girl that can't deep throat her man has a man I can steal!"

Laughter erupted from the group amid considerable agreement. Except for Rosie.

"I don't think every man needs or expects oral sex. Besides, how gross is that if they cum"

Carla's eyes grew wide as she looked at the innocent young woman. "Honey we have to talk. There is a word for girls who don't blow their men, 'dumped!' Suck him, fuck him take it between the tits, take it on your face, take it up the ass. Just take it until he can't give anymore. That's the only way to guarantee his pecker is yours. Take it and keep it home!"

"Carla, that's gross!"

"Honey, did you ever taste a pussy? Men go down on women willingly because it gets us off. That taste on is own doesn't do it, that taste means we're turned on, or that we're getting off, or that we belong to them. And while they're tasting it, do you know what they're smelling? Urine soaked pubic hair and stanky ass! You let your man go down on you without you going down on him, you're not only leaving him ripe for the picking by some other woman, you're building resentment in his mind. He'll think you don't love him as much as he loves you! Guess what, he'll be right. Got a headache? Give him a quickie. Got your period? Suck him dry! Pussy sore? Take it up the ass!"

The conversation flowed with wine through sexual topics. By the time she was ready to leave, she wondered why Tom hadn't left her for a different woman. The girls had convinced her that she dressed too conservatively, that she was too vanilla in the bedroom, and that she was too reserved to capture Tom back. She and Carla were the last two at the table, when she spotted Tom. And his date.

The woman was a knockout. She was tiny, but looked tall in those "fuck me" heels. Her frame supported a pair of luscious, pert breasts that would start any man to stammer, drool and stutter. Every woman would die for her body. Her skirt was tastefully short and revealed long legs that were an invitation to dance, and not just on a public dance floor. She was gorgeous, she was hot.

Suddenly the conversation of the happy hour bunch rang in her ears. Her shoes were always sensibly flat, her hems over the knee, and necklines never offered a hint of cleavage. Her underwear was sensible and comfortable. Her daughter had long teased her about granny panties, and Tom had often called it "the armor" along with the long flannel pajamas she favored. She looked at her current attire, frumpy and baggy. She thought of all those nights Tom wanted to make love when she had turned him away entirely. She thought of the nights Tom wanted something special, and realized the many nights he went down on her licking, kissing stoking and sucking her body as she writhed in orgasm, yet she had rarely touched her mouth to any part of his body below his shoulders. She thought of the times when she could have "sucked him dry" as Carla put it while she was having her period, or those pesky bladder and yeast infections. She thought of how patient he had been while she was pregnant, when she had hurt her leg, and other times when she was less then ready to make love. How could she have been so selfish as to leave him while calling her life with him boring. She began to cry. Bitterly.

Carla noticed and was quick to console her friend. Between sobs she pieced together a picture of a lonely insecure woman, who had taken the love of a good man for granted, and now wasn't sure she could get it back. But Carla's words were less than consoling when Tom was out on the dance floor whirling his sexy young date to the strains of the hot Latin band that was featured.

"The man always could dance. Damn Carla, I'm a "B" movie, and he's moved on to main features."

"Honey, tomorrow morning, nine o'clock, I want you ready. You have a date with that man tomorrow night, and I'm going to personally see to it you are ready. "B" movie my ass, you are an Oscar waiting to happen!"

True to her word, Carla knocked on the door promptly at 9:00. They spent the morning at a day spa, seeing to it that every speck of skin was exfoliated and hydrated while hair was coiffed and nails were polished until they glowed. Lunch was served in the boutique while personal shoppers swarmed over her. She walked out of the spa a different person. Of course she also managed to absorb a copious amount of Carla's how to win a man advice, and felt thoroughly schooled in the arts of massaging both the male ego and body. The piece de resistance came as the women arrived home, when they spent an hour with ice cream cones, lollipops and a bunch of bananas in Carla's crash course on quality fellatio, or as Carla put it "sucking success."

Tom reached to knock on the door, but stopped short when he spied the note instructing him to come on in. She called from upstairs, telling him there were appetizers on the coffee table. Ok, I stacked the deck. He loved seafood, so I had shrimp waiting with his favorite Belgian ale in an ice bucket. I wasn't really still getting ready, I was anxiously waiting and when I saw him pull up ran upstairs to avoid appearing anxious. Oh the games we play, right? I wanted to make an entrance. It felt like prom night!

Tom definitely noticed my entrance. My little black dress hugged my figure perfectly, sexy, but with the dignity appropriate to a woman my age. I had never displayed so much cleavage, yet my boobs were still well contained, and my hem line was far enough above the knee to say "flirt with me" without saying "I'll sleep with you for a price. I wore the string of pearls he had bought for Christmas on a whim one year, with the matching drop earrings he'd bought the next anniversary. Black stockings adorned my sexy legs, but the real message was sent with the high stiletto heels that said "You can get lucky tonight, stud."

He complimented me, and was a bit embarrassed that our kiss lingered as long as it did, I was almost convinced he was about to walk me right back up to the bedroom. Hell, it had been so long and the promise of making amends and recapturing the love of my life had me do hot to trot I was ready to drag him upstairs and ravage him. He looked so good....the man CAN wear a suit! Oh yes he can, yes he can, what the HELL was I thinking, I have GOT to win him back.

Dinner was charming. He doted on me and I ate the attention alive. Small Japanese restaurant, candlelight, soft music, and that tie was exactly the color of his eyes. He took me to a tiny jazz club, where everyone knew him. He even sat in on guitar for a song or two, managing to look me in the eye as he soloed. He played so passionately, I felt as if he were making love to me right there with his music. He brought me home and kissed me goodnight on the front porch. I had to invite him in for coffee. He obliged, but as soon as the door closed, reminded me my coffee making skills were sub-par.

"True," I said, "but I'm really good at breakfasts."

I locked my lips on his. He stayed for breakfast. I enjoyed the meal, nut not as much as the night before. I made sure he knew I wasn't a "B" movie, or a warm up act, or a flip side. When I said before I had stacked the deck, it applied to the bedroom as well. I no longer could claim the novelty his new flames had, but I knew him inside and out. I knew what he liked, and I knew what he had wanted that I hadn't given him. I scratched his itches with the familiar tough only a wife could wield. When I took his dick in my mouth, it wasn't the first time, but I had never been enthusiastic, and certainly had expressed disgust at the thought of him cumming in my mouth. He didn't object to my zeal, and responded by writhing under my control. When it became obvious he was about to climax, I let him. When he tried to pull out I didn't let him, remembering that part of Carla's training distinctly. Suddenly I desired to taste him more than anything. He came, and I relished the flavor.

We both came several times that night and the next morning. He spent breakfast and lunch re-connecting. As he prepared to go home I stopped him for a last word.

"I need to say I'm sorry. There had to be a better way of exciting our lives, and I took the coward's way out by deserting you. I know I can't turn back the clock or make it up to you, but I want you to know I am here for you. I don't want to date other men anymore, no one can compare to you, so why bother? I will never stop beating myself up for thinking anyone could compare to you. Someplace in my screwed up mind I thought going out, having sex with other guys would make me feel good. But every time I got into an intimate situation, I found myself missing the love we had. I never got to the sex, because I never had the feeling I wanted it. I just kept feeling you in my heart. How ironic can it be, I left you for a wild love life, and couldn't bring myself to go through with it. You had no interest in looking outside our marriage, and you wound up with the active love life!"

Tom, if you never bother with me again, I'll always remember last night as the best night of my life, the night you came home. I'm here for you whenever and for whatever you want. Dinner? Sure! Dancing? Sure! A card game? Yes! A drive in the country? Please! You can make love to me, come over for a quickie, or fuck my lights out. I will be here for you. Occasional, regular or permanent I'm yours You fit me in every way, and I want you in every way. I have no right to expect anything, so this is an offer, not a request or demand. And it's open ended. Take me into your life as much as you want."

"As much as I want?"

"Yes."

"If it is never?"

"I made my bed."

"If it is forever?"

"I'll make you happy in every way, you'll never regret it."

"If it is someplace in between?"

"I'm not a fool. If I have to share you I will. I will be jealous, but you'll never see it. I had the right to be exclusive together and gave it away."

"Big decision, I need time. But you'll definitely be seeing more of me."

Tears welled up in my eyes as I hugged him, knowing there was at least some small place in his world for me in the future.

He called me later that night, and asked me for a date in three weeks. He set up a couple lunch dates as well, but said he had a lot on his plate and had to beg off a "real date" for a while. The lunch dates were a delight, however. We managed to see each other seven times that way. I was very excited, but suspected he had something else up his sleeve, so avoided talking about Tom and me to my kids.

Again, date night approached. He told me to dress casually, he wanted to cook me dinner then see a movie. I arrived at his condo, and noticed the table was set for 6 Tom had always set the table immediately after a meal in order to prevent the kitchen from becoming a cluttered workshop for homework and arts and crafts instead of as a haven for the family meal. As the kids went off to college, he continued to set their places, insisting their always needed to be room at the table for family.

"Six place settings Tom, I can't believe you are still setting places for everyone, including little Tommy's fiancee. Tell me, did you always set a place for me?"

Before he could answer, the door to the patio opened, and in strode little Tommy. Funny name, at 6'4'' he looked down on both me and Tom. Julie's hand was in his as she entered by his side.

"Yeah Mom, he always did. We teased him about it at first, but he stuck to his guns and insisted that this was our family's table, and as our mother you'd always have a place."

Julie diffused the uncomfortably emotional silence with a giggle "So when I dump you for a cuter guy there will still be a place for me?"

"Not quite Julie!" It was the unmistakably ringing voice of James, my youngest. "First you have to contribute a grandchild. Family isn't just a legal thing here, it's a blood thing! You can't just marry in, you have to earn it! So you two will have to either make a baby, or make a widow."

"Hmmmm," Tommy considered the choice "Make a baby or make a widow, what would I choose?"

We all had a laugh as he swept Julie over his shoulder towards the staircase that led towards the bedrooms. He didn't get far as my daughter was on her way down. She had inherited my love of making an entrance.

"Hi Mom! Hey hey, the gang's all here!"

"Wait, a minute, what is this. I love you guys and am glad you are all in town. But this is my date night. How am I supposed to have any fun with your dad while you are here to distract him?"

"You'll find out after we eat!." We never touched the table settings, as he ushered us to the patio for a grilled feast. Geer, wine, conversations and good memories were flowing freely. We all helped with the cleanup, and then Tom served dessert and coffee.

"I invited you all here today for a family meeting."

Julie stood to excuse herself.

"Sit down young lady, the price of a plate on that table is total involvement in the family, including meetings! We've had a very rough patch the last year, and things aren't over yet. There have been some drastic changes, but it appears to be time to settle things. I need you all here to be witnesses."

He stood up and looked at the kids, but had his back to me.

"Your mother has made it clear that she loves me as deeply as I thought she had for all of those years. She did leave, and I still have strong feelings about that, but it is between the two of us. I have a proposal to reconcile those feelings, and have typed them up for her to review in private or with me."

He turned to me and handed me a sealed manilla envelope marked "Only open this when you are really sure you want to."

As he turned back to the kids, I didn't notice him slip his hand into his pocket.

"I have thought long and hard about this. She took me by surprise when she said she missed me, and wanted any part of my life, any role I would give her. As I considered that, I noticed something obvious. The answer was right there on the table. Her place was still set."

So smooth, this beautiful man. He turned and took a knee as he removed his hand from his pocket. Those deep blue eyes of his froze me, then his voice melted me as he spoke. Nothing like "Will you marry me" or "Be my wife" could match the perfection of his proposal.

"Please come home."

Epilogue

Yes, there were hugs and tears all around, and I felt the world was made right. We partied with the kids into the wee hours, and went to bed exhausted. No, we didn't have sex that night, and making love consisted only of a couple of sweet goodnight kisses and sleeping securely in each other's embrace. We knew we had time for sex later, and believe me we made up for lost time and then some. I guess absence makes the heart grow fonder. We married in a quiet Wednesday evening ceremony at our church with only the kids as witnesses, but only after I signed the pre-nup which was contained in the envelope Tom gave me when hr proposed. It read:

I agree that I love Tom Carnes with all my heart, and if I am ever found to vacate to violate my second set of wedding vows with him, I relinquish all rights to property, dignity and body hair. Thus I will be forced to leave my house naked, shave my head and body on the front lawn, and carry nothing off the property. I also agree to make a spectacle of myself in the act of leaving by hopping away on one foot alternatively singing nursery rhymes and screaming like a chicken. Prior to my departure, I agree to alert the media and arrange for coverage of the event. I realize none of this will ever happen, so agree willingly, knowing full well the value of "'til death do we part."

I wore a white dress. Not for virginity or purity, for starting over with a clean slate.

He wore a new suit. I know you've heard it, but hey, The man can wear a suit.

I giggled at the prenup. The man can tell a joke.

I signed.

"Do you?"

"I do."

"Do you?"

"I do."

We kissed.

I'll tell you about my honeymoon,...

On second thought no I won't. You had to be there.