Daughter tells Mom a shocking secret.
The good times were exquisite, though too few and far between for them both. Now this -- the faxes, gifts -- and, the doorbell?
The florist's timing was impeccable, and she had never seen more magnificent long-stemmed roses. They were barely in the vase when the fax buzzed again:
"Back verandah... in the snow... it couldn't be wrapped, but it's chilled. And when I walk in the door at 6:30, be in the bath, in a mountain of bubbles. And save me a place!"
* * *
The light scent of candles hung in the air when he closed the foyer door behind him. The house was dark, silent; he heard only the very faint sound of water sculled by a hand in the bath upstairs.
He loosened his tie and dropped his jacket on the living-room wingback, and had kicked off his shoes and socks and unbuttoned his shirt when he saw the first gold-wrapped heart, on the bottom stair, beside a small wicker basket. Then another heart, and another... a trail leading to the bathroom. He brought one to his nose. It seems his lovely wife also had chocolate, and more, on her mind, her wonderful streak of mischief alive and well.
He harvested them all as he took the stairs up, picking the last one up at the bathroom door, just slightly ajar. What he saw as he pushed it open took his breath away.
She was sitting up in the deep roman tub, a million bubbles shimmering on her skin, dancing in the glow of the candles. Even in this dim light he could see the vase of roses on the vanity.
"From a secret admirer? he asked coyly.
He could make out the sparkle in her eyes and her hair that curled nicely in the humid room. So too could he see her appealing curves, and his smile broadened as she slowly sluiced away the foam from her left breast, revealing a dusty brown nipple that was sharply erect in the cool February evening's air.
"Yes, some guy who seems to have stolen my heart. So... how'd you like to share one?" she replied, and as she did she unwrapped a dark chocolate heart and took it between her teeth, leaning up to him. Their lips met, and they bit the chocolate in half, each drawing a portion over their tongues, savoring its bittersweet taste.
"Happy Valentine's Day, darling," he said to her softly, his hand dipping into the bubbles and slipping up her stomach, tracing a light line along her exposed breast. "Thank you for saving my place."
"And to you, baby," she replied, watching him crack open the champagne he had somehow gotten onto the back verandah this morning without her knowledge. She took the flute glass and smiled softly as he toasted her with his love, absolute and undying. Then he stepped from his wool trousers and his silk boxers and swung a leg over the tub's edge, gingerly moving into the steaming suds.
She leaned toward him quickly, placing a soft kiss on the swelling head of his cock which hung semi-erect between his legs, then pulled him gently down into the tub with her, their kiss lingering.
"Come here, honey," he said, turning her away from him as he slid down fully into the tub. He cupped her breasts with strong, warm hands and eased her between his legs, her back pressing his erection onto his flat stomach; his cock and balls now seemed weightless in the water as he rolled her nipples gently between his thumbs and forefingers.
He hugged her for what seemed forever, inhaling the scent that rose from her, kissing her neck. They seemed to be floating; she too felt weightless.
His head was swimming from the sudden rush of the champagne and the years-long love he felt for his wife as his hands slipped beneath the firm cheeks of her behind and lifted her a few inches. She helpfully moved her hand to his groin, her long fingers encircling his thickening shaft.
"Mmmm, my baby wants to make love?" she asked in a whisper.
Their lovemaking sometimes was frantic, sometimes was slow and languid, like it would be now. Yet they had never assumed this position, not in the bath, and both felt energized and deeply aroused by its possibilities.
He continued to kiss her skin wordlessly, nibbling