An Anniversary Waltz story
NOTE: I hereby grant permission for all archiving and other uses of this work, public or private, free or paid, in any format whether existing now or to be invented in the future, so long as a copy of this note and credit to "theGreatxIam" is given and no alteration is made to the body of the work. Copyright 2002, theGreatxIam
Steve Oldham had picked the restaurant with an eye to seduction.
Belladonna, his buddy Pete had assured him, was the best in the city for proving that the way to a woman's pussy was through her stomach. "Absolutely, dude," Pete had said. "It's where everyone goes not to be seen."
That threw Steve, but Pete explained: Belladonna was darkness and candlelight and waiters who didn't tell you their names and knew never to ask yours. No tables, just booths. Secluded booths.
It wasn't exactly what Steve had in mind. After all, the woman he planned to seduce was his wife. But his other choices were booked. So Belladonna it was.
He was surprised at how effusively the maitre d' had greeted them. But not too surprised. Being married to Paula had its perks. When your wife has a body that's caused more drooling than Pavlov's bell, you get used to extra attention. What astonished Steve were the times, like this one, when Paula herself seemed embarrassed by the fuss people made over her.
He knew just how much time she spent arranging her lush blonde hair, selecting her outfits, like tonight's skin-tight red sheath. How could she not expect men to fawn over her?
But that modesty was one of her most endearing traits, one of the hundred reasons Steve had enjoyed being married to her. She was so wonderful that there was only one disappointment: They hadn't started a family yet.
That was what tonight was all about. It was sneaky, he knew. But what choice did he have? Paula had avoided all discussion. It was always "someday."
Steve had decided. Someday was today, their second anniversary. All his plans were complete. This time there would be no slip-up, not like before. Not like last summer. This time, he'd thought of everything.
The July sun applied another bronzing coat to Paula's skin as she stretched out on the beach chair in her backyard. She was "between jobs," a condition that had existed since shortly after her wedding -- so, about one, one-and-a-half years. "Between jobs" was what she told other people. To herself, she thought of it as having taken on the bigger job of being a full-time wife.
It all took so much time. Waiting around for pick-ups and deliveries, for example. How would their laundry ever get done if she wasn't there to hand it to the service and take it back when it was done? Of course, they could have a maid, but Steve was so penny-pinching about that. Fortunately he was working longer and longer hours, doing whatever he did in that office of his, so the money situation should be improving. Maybe she could even afford to get a job again.
Paula rolled onto her back and adjusted her tiny red bikini, idly thinking about job possibilities. She sighed. Even with a maid, there would still be so much she had to do. Especially all the effort it took to make herself look nice for Steve: the gym, her nutritionist, clothes shopping, hair appointments, sunbathing -- that couldn't be rushed. Where would the time come from if she worked?
Look at Steve. He still had the good looks that had first attracted her -- the firm jaw, that lovely head of dark hair. But he had neglected his time in the sun for years; he was so pale now he almost glowed in the dark. And he had a hint of a roll around the tummy. Paula would just die if she let herself go like that.
She rolled onto her flat, taut stomach and reached back to undo the knot of her top, letting the strings fall to the chair. Still, she thought, it would be fun to work again. Maybe in that little dress shop tucked away in Pomona. Would they give employee discounts?
She began to drift off to sleep with pleasant thoughts of couture coupons dancing in her head. Then a loud voice crashed into her reverie.
Paula looked up, startled. A tall, well-built Latino towered over her, muscles almost bursting out of a stained blue workshirt with the sleeves ripped off. She grabbed her sunglasses; the glare always seemed worse because of her contacts.
"Lady, these yours? You mean to throw them out?"
In one gloved hand the mysterious stranger held out a small plastic bag. Paula scrambled to her feet, inadvertently leaving her bikini top behind.
A small, shallow furrow came and went on her forehead, right between her sky blue eyes, as she plucked the bag from him. Her eyes opened wide as she saw what was inside.
"Where did you find these?" Paula's eyes flicked back and forth between the bag and the man.
"In the garbage, lady. They are yours, huh?"
His eyes were aimed several inches below her face. Paula found that shyness appealing. "Yes, they're mine. I guess -- They were in the trash?"
"Right on top, that's why I noticed. Still had the receipt and everything. Thought you might have thrown them out by mistake. Wouldn't want to lose those, huh?"
He smiled, bright ivories sparkling against his dark skin.
"No. I don't remember throwing anything on top of the trash, either. I -- you should get a reward."
"No sweat, lady. Glad I could help."
"But I should -- How about something cold to drink, at least? You do look hot."
He smiled again. "Thanks, but I gotta get back to the truck."
"Just a cold pop? Or -- something harder?"
He smiled again. "OK. Lemme tell the guys I'll catch up to 'em."
Paula went into the house and was bent over rooting through the fridge when the garbageman returned. She heard his heavy boots and turned toward him, opening the fridge door to let him see the beer and pop. "See anything you want?" she asked.
Her nipples showed the effects of the refrigerator's chill.
"Yeah," he said, his voice low and soft.
It was Paula's turn to smile as his open-mouthed stare made her finally notice her top was missing. She licked her lips. He did look handsome.
The garbageman stepped closer. A whiff of something dead and rotting made Paula gag. He apologized. He did it so politely, she thought, and it was wrong to treat people badly just because of their jobs. Her friend Lucy was a buyer for Sears, for example, but Paula didn't think any less of her.
But this man did, well, stink.
Paula had an idea. She crooked a finger and led him to the small bathroom just off the patio. It had a shower for when they came in from the pool.
The garbageman, who said his name was Luis, cleaned up real good. Paula soaped him up, top to tight bottom, and washed the odor right off. She had planned to bring him up to the bedroom after, but rubbing the suds into his firm muscles and feeling his hot flesh against her own made her impatient.
When she'd rinsed the last soapy residue off, she pushed him against the shower wall and got to her knees.
His cock was lovely, thick and hard. Its tip fit so nicely into her mouth. Paula sucked it so hard her cheeks hollowed. Her soft hands rubbed his stalk. The shower's warm jets cascaded over both of them as she worked him over.
After a few minutes, Luis grabbed her head with both hands and began driving his dick into her mouth. Paula didn't appreciate that, but fortunately it took only a few strokes before hot wads of cum burst from him. Luis sagged back, letting go of her.
He had the good manners to remain hard, Paula was delighted to see. She shut off the water and led him out. She considered the family room couch, but it was leather and, besides, she didn't want to waste time drying off.
She almost tugged Luis's arm off getting him outside. She had to assure him over and over that the neighbors wouldn't see anything. The struggle was worth it, though, when she got him down on the beach chair and sat on his cock.
Paula eased him in, bit by bit, and was a little astonished when she found herself sitting flat on his lap, all of him deep inside her. She hadn't dreamed she could get his whole length in her. It was a trifle uncomfortable and unfamiliar at first, but as she slid up and down she got used to it.
Luis was still aggressive, bucking up at her to ram his cock home, but Paula let herself go and gave as good as she got. Luis's manhandling of her breasts even excited her, just because it matched her mood.
She found herself riding him like a mechanical bull, her long hair flying out of its perm as she bounced on his cock. Paula enjoyed it so much that she didn't slow down, not even when Luis begged her. "Too much," he said, "slow down!"
But she couldn't. It felt like his cock filled every crevice, and the tingling in her body, in every nerve, had turned into a white heat. Paula drove down onto his pole, again, again and again, faster and faster. He put his strong hands on her waist but her passion made Paula stronger. She tore out of his grasp and continued her assault.
And then it hit, a volcano of ecstasy, ripping through her every fiber. Paula jerked and moaned, surfing the orgasm's waves. Somewhere in the middle of it Luis came, but she barely knew and didn't care. She held him firmly between her legs, refusing to let him go until she had squeezed every last drop out of her climax.
"I know, Mom. I know." Steve paced the floor of his parents' living room. "We do want a family. We're not selfish. It just -- it just hasn't happened yet."
.... There is more of this story ...