Part 13

Day 67

Jon woke up first on Thursday, which meant he could be the one to say "Happy Valentine's Day" first.

"Aww, I wanted to say it first," Caitlyn said, leaning in for a kiss.

"I could fall asleep again," Jon said.

"No, we don't have time," Caitlyn said. They had gotten into the habit (when they weren't abstaining due to arguments) of waking up quite a bit earlier than the alarm, in order to fool around if they wanted. Sometimes they didn't; sometimes, especially of late, they preferred to just lie together and talk. These times were not only some of their best sex, but some of their best love and communication as well—not to mention, sometimes, their only chances to get in touch with each other all day, especially on Tuesdays and Thursdays when their schedules kept them apart from 9 to 8. When they were fighting, Jon had missed these moments more than he could say, and he was more glad than he could say that they had fallen into this particular habit; it was the best way he could think of to start the day: focused on what mattered to them. Focused on each other.

"But next year," she threatened, "you'd better sleep in so I can wake up first."

"Next year?" Jon said. "I didn't realize we were planning that far ahead."

"Well, now you do," she said with a smile. It was a gentle reminder, he knew, that she wasn't going anywhere. She leaned in to kiss him again. "And since I haven't said it yet: Happy Valentine's Day."

For a moment, they just cuddled together, skin on skin, breath on breath.

"Man. I can't believe we can do this," he said. "Before we got married, if we'd been like this, I would've been all like, you know, 'Sex! Let's have it!' But now we can just ... Be."

"Yeah."

"I've been looking forward to this for a long time."

"Huh?" She peered up at him. "Not having sex?"

"Yeah." He smiled. "Well, not, I mean, not-having-sex, but ... Being in a place and a position where ... It's okay not to. Where we know we don't have to be, you know, all over each other, because there will be time. When there's no pressure and we can just ... Be."

"Where we can take each other for granted."

"Yeah. This is why I was pushing for us to, you know, start getting intimate sooner. So that we could arrive here."

She gave him a sardonic look. "Sweetie, if you're gonna tell me you wanted us to start having sex early so that we could stop having sex early ... I'm not gonna believe you."

"Well, umm ... Humph," said Jon, to admit defeat, and they snuggled silently for a few more minutes.

"So," she said finally. "What would you like to do on this lovely first Valentine's Day together?"

"Stay home and make sweet love to you all day long," Jon said.

"And what are you gonna do?"

"Get up, go to work, and make money," Jon said. "And then sit around for an hour and a half until you get home and I can spring my surprise on you."

"Is it a reservation somewhere?" she asked.

"That would be telling," he said, giving her a smile. He wasn't going to let this one out until they got there.

"Can it be changed?"

"Why?"

"Because I talked to Dr. Murray, the orchestra conductor. He says that they aren't doing any of the music that requires a harp today, and I don't have to show up if I want."

Jon blinked. That did indeed throw all his plans out the window. "Umm ... It's Valentine's Day. People book these things like six months in advance. I don't know if we can change it."

She gave him a leer. "Well, this is what happens when you keep secrets from your wife."

"How am I supposed to make it a surprise if I don't keep it a secret," Jon protested, sticking his tongue out at her.

"Well, umm ... Humph," said Caitlyn, to admit defeat. "Just like a man, of course. Makes all these plans, and then doesn't account for new developments. Can't be bothered to..."

Jon rolled his eyes and dove in to kiss her.

They quickly grew amorous, and before he knew it he was suckling at her breasts, feeling her pliant flesh against his face, drawing her nipples into stiff tension. She drew his head in closer, pressing him to her, and somehow they ended up rolled over, with her above him, cradled in the curve of his body, moaning and gasping and pressing herself to him. He didn't have to reach below to check her rising ardor; he could feel the heat, and now the wetness, against the skin of his stomach.

Unexpectedly she backed away from him, maneuvering, reaching for his hand with hers. Then she was straddling him, guiding him in, sinking clear to the bottom in one smooth thrust. She wriggled her other hand and he seized it in hers. Then, supported thusly, she began to ride him.

The penetration was deeper and of a different quality than he was used to, as she guided him towards spots inside herself he hadn't known existed. It was also completely different to be seeing everything; normally he either got the arch and bump of her back, or her face beside his, but now he could see it all: her nipples, taut and still shiny with damp; her breasts proud and erect as she rode him; the smooth flat expanse of her belly and the adorable dimple of her belly button; and even her pussy lips clasping his shaft, pressing against him with every downstroke. He stared at that greedily for a moment before leaning up to attack her breasts again.

Between urine pressure and the incredible stimulation, he wasn't going to last long and he knew it. He asked her to stop, or at least slow down, until he could get some control over herself and last longer.

She gave him a wicked grin. "Who says I want you to last longer?" She ceased her thrusting, but began to move her hips back and forth against his, his cock still trapped inside her and caressed on all sides by her warm, clinging pussy. Jon moaned into the hollow of her neck. "It's Valentine's Day, my dear, and I want to start it off right: with your cum inside me."

The fleeting thought crossed Jon's mind that he might have bitten off more than he could chew; then he was cumming, ecstasy pounding through him as he exploded inside her, held rigid by the sensation as she continued to move on him, sending paroxysms of pleasure through him as he groaned and clenched and spurted up deep inside her, harder and longer (it seemed) than he had ever come before. His whole body felt tight, especially below, as though she had begun to suck him into herself; his heart was hammering within his chest.

He collapsed back against the headboard, spent. After a moment, he felt her lips feathering against his neck.

"Happy Valentine's Day, my love."

"Unhg..." he said. It was about as much coherence as he could manage.

He heard her pleased giggle. "This time, I don't care who notices: this one's staying inside me."

"Unh ... Aren't you ... Going to school?"

"Yeah, but it's only one class and my lesson. After that, we're going out to dinner."

"Where more people see you."

"So, maybe I'll take a shower before then." He heard her grin.

He tried to open his eyes; he didn't really succeed. "You're much too chipper for this early in the morning."

She kissed him. "What's not to be happy about? It's Valentine's Day, I'm with the man I love, I have a load of his cum deep inside me where hopefully it'll stay when we're done—and, from the looks of things, I just did such a good job with you that I blew a couple of fuses. I'd call that a good start to the day."

"Well, I'm glad you're happy. I have to drive a car." This time his eyes opened. "Maybe I should take a shower."

"Wouldn't that be a reversal," she said, teasing. She lifted herself off him, and he almost whimpered at the sensation rippling through his still-too-sensitive cock. "Well, there's nothing else to be accomplished here. Up and at 'em, sweetie. We got a long day ahead."

In the shower, Jon woke up fully. He shook out his head and chuckled to himself. I might indeed have bitten off more than I can chew ... But at the very least, the ride will be fun. The funny thing is, though, that there's only certain things she's really enthusiastic about. She likes the idea of being dominated, and she likes it when I cum inside her, but mention almost anything else... He shook his head again. Well, that's the way it works sometimes. Besides, both of those ideas are relatively conservative—almost Biblical, in their own way. And the part where she likes me cumming isn't a bad benefit.

When he came out of the shower, Caitlyn was dressed and preparing for her day. "Just so you know," she said, "You're not the only one with surprises."

"Umm..." he said.

"What?" she said.

"Well ... Considering you almost killed me just now and we haven't been up an hour yet, I'm kind of..."

"Well, that was one of the surprises, so now you know what's in store," she said, smiling.

Jon was devoutly glad he had stacked a couple more surprises of his own throughout the day. Meanwhile, though... "So you mean I'll be fucked within an inch of my life more than once today?"

"Nooo," she said, giving him a patient smile. "Not all of them involve sex.""But some of them do?"

Her enigmatic smile was all the answer he got.

"Man," he said. "I'm not sure whether to jump with glee or run for the hills."

"And here I thought you were the one with the sex drive," she said, grinning.

"I do have a sex drive. It's just that it's pretty general. You only like a couple of things, but you're really into them. It's about the same energy as mine, but, really concentrated."

"Hmm. Fair enough," she said, smiling. "But, in the meanwhile, go on ahead and go to work. You have surprises to look forward to."

"I'd also better fill out a life insurance policy," he said. "Just in case."

She gave him a dirty look, and then snagged him as he was going out the door for a long, lingering kiss. Suddenly she was clinging to him, tears in her eyes.

"I love you so much, Jon," she whispered. "I never thought ... I never thought I could be playful like this. I never thought I'd be able to be ... This."

He gave her a wry smile. "Crazy and horny?"

She blinked up at him with her beautiful dark eyes. "Happy."

He kissed her back. "I love you too, Caitlyn. Making you happy is what I was put on this earth to do."

"Happy Valentine's Day."

"Happy Valentine's Day."

The first surprise was a Singing Valentine. Jon was in the back along with Nathalie Watts, Jason Belton, Hector Gonzales and Celise Chan—the other trainees, in other words—being lectured on the intricacies of the blood-pressure cuff, when someone cleared his throat from the doorway, and everyone turned to see a man of immense stateliness and immense bulk. "Excuse me," said the man in a resonant voice. "Is this Room 204?"

"It is," said Thuy, the teacher.

"My name is Roger Valentino," the very large man said. His every movement and word carried the gravitas of a Shakespearean actor. "I am looking for Mr. Jonathan Stanford. Is he within the confines of this room?"

Everyone looked at Jon. Jon felt a bead of sweat drip down his face.

"Ahh, I see I have found the right place." The man entered the room. He was of such ponderous girth that Jon had no idea how he would fit through the threshold, yet he seemed to negotiate it as though it were nothing. "I have here a Singing Valentine to be delivered to a Mr. Jonathan Stanford from a Miss Cai— Ah, I beg your pardon, from a Mrs. Caitlyn Stanford. Your bride, I presume?"

Nathalie giggled. Jon had to clear his throat before speaking. "Uhh, yes, that would be—" He had the insane urge to say, 'No, that's my mother.' "That would be she."

"Well, then, Mr. Stanford, I beg you attend these words which I shall now sing. And, your beloved urges me to assure you, they are meant from the heart."

Thus he planted his legs solidly, drew a dramatic breath, and began to sing in his rich, resonant voice.

Baby, I'm so into you
You got that something: what can I do?
Baby, you spin me around
The earth is moving, but I can't feel the ground

People were beginning to laugh, which (Jon had a hunch) was the whole point. Mr. Valentino's voice rang through the room; Jon could see, from the room across the hall, heads popping out, and thought people might be hearing it all the way to the front desk. Even better, Mr. Valentino was overplaying the part: dramatic gestures and facial expressions, and the most exaggerated vibrato Jon had ever heard; he sounded a little bit like an ambulance siren. Jon was beginning to smile himself.

Every time you look at me,
My heart is jumping, it's easy to see:
You drive me crazy!
I just can't sleep
I'm so excited, I'm in too deep
Whoa-a-a, cra-zy,
But it feels all right!
Baby, thinking of you keeps me up all night!

At this, Mr. Valentino flourished his cape and gave a deep bow, as though he hadn't just finished an operatic rendition of a Britney Spears song, and everyone applauded, Jon included. Man, how am I gonna top that! Everything I set up seems so lame in comparison. Though at least the musical Valentine he'd set up involved some flowers.

During his break, he called the restaurant to alter the reservation. Clearly, the gods were smiling on him: the person who had called before him had done so to cancel their 6:30 appointment, which the Stanfords would be able to make if they hurried. So, with a minute left in his break, he called Caitlyn. "Hey baby."

"'N Sync?"

"Yeah."

"You know I hate them." She was grinning.

"Oh yeah? Well, you know I hate Britney Spears."

"It was revenge. I knew you were gonna send someone to sing 'N Sync to me."

He laughed. "Well, the good news is, we're on for dinner at 6:30."

"You got the reservation moved?"

"Yup. Be ready to jump out the door the instant I get home."

"Aww, too bad. I had some ideas about how to spend the the time until our 8:00 reservation."

"Oh?" he said.

"Yeah. But there's no time now. And besides, you said I had to be dressed."

He felt his eyebrows jump. "And was that going to be one of your surprises?"

"Well, I think it would've been surprising, but no, I hadn't planned it; it just occurred to me."

Unfortunately, he didn't think the restaurant would be pleased if he switched back to the 8-PM timeslot. "Well, we'll just put that into play after we get home."

"Any specifics on clothing?"

"It's a pretty nice place, if that's what you're asking."

"Oooh, splendor and finery." He heard her grin. "Now I know it's Valentine's Day."

"I love you."

"I love you. Happy Valentine's Day."

Fortunately, there were no more Caitlyn-sponsored surprises throughout the work day, though Jon did get a little good-natured ribbing from the other staff members. Okay, maybe a lot of ribbing. People were still asking about the 'opera singer' when he was leaving to go home. The worst, of course, came from his classmates.

"Wow, someone must really love you," Celise said. She had an accent, if not much of one, but the straight black hair and yellowish skin were a dead giveaway. "Either that, or have a lot of money to blow on you."

"How'd you get someone to like you that much," Jason asked him. "You secretly a hypnotist or something?"

"Hell, how'd you get married," Nathalie said, grinning. "You're, like ... What, twenty-two?"

"Twenty-four," Jon said.

"Shit, man, I'm twenty-eight," said Jason.

"He must've taken her to Vegas and got her drunk," Hector laughed.

"Or got her pregnant and had to marry her," Nathalie said.

"Or maybe it was an arranged marriage?" Celise said.

Jon decided to laugh about it. "You all are just jealous."

"Pfft. Of getting tied down?" Jason laughed. "Hell no, man; freedom's where it's at."

"Yeah, but, he gets it regularly," Celise said, nodding in Jon's direction. "Doesn't have to go out to a bar and get a girl all liquored up."

"Ha," Jason said, his teeth startlingly white in his dark face. "Like I got to get a girl drunk to get her interested in my johnson." He was grinning.

"Oh, you don't?" Nathalie said, laughing. "No wonder you don't get any."

"Hey now, don't be giving a brother a hard time," Jason said, with a transparent attempt at wounded dignity.

"So what actually did happen, Jon," Celise asked. "Now that we've impugned your reputation and that of everyone at this table. You're not that old. How'd you get hitched so quickly?"

Jon gave them the condensed version of it; their breaks weren't all that long, after all. For the most part, his coworkers seemed impressed.

"But don't tell me you're gonna take that shit lying down," Hector said. "She sent some guy in to sing bad music at you? You so pussy-whipped that you just gonna take it?"

Jon grinned. "I did the same to her."

"Britney Spears?"

"Worse. 'N Sync."

"Holy shit, man!" Hector exclaimed. "If you're divorced by tomorrow morning, we'll know why."

"I think the only thing colder would be to send someone to sing Eminem," Nathalie said.

"Excuse me!" said Celise.

"Or Whitney Houston, that song from The Bodyguard or whatever," said Jason. He pitched a screechy falsetto: "And I-iiiiiieeiiiiii... "

"Excuse me!" said Hector.

"You're in the wrong key," Jon said, deadpan. And that was how break went: with laughter and bad music all around.

Caitlyn, as he'd requested, was waiting and ready to go when he arrived home. "Where were you? That took a little longer than normal."

"Traffic," Jon said, grimacing. "At least we'll get the carpool lane together."

"What do you think," Caitlyn asked, spreading her arms. Her hair was up in a complicated knot, and she had dressed stylishly and well, in a night-black gown that somehow stayed demure despite the way it hugged her figure. The blue highlights brought out her eyes; the little fringe on her shawl swung as she moved. Jon, who had planned on a polo shirt and some khaki slacks, made a note to dress up a little more.

"I think that you must've gotten home and spent the entire time deciding what to wear," Jon said, grinning.

"No, I also decided what you should wear too," Caitlyn said, grinning. She gestured to the bed, where (indeed) a dress shirt, tie and pressed slacks were waiting for him. "We'll match."

"Cool," said Jon, smiling. "Do you know how to do a tie?"

"Yeah," she said, her smile vanishing, "don't you?"

"I barely ever wear one," he said.

"It's a men's accessory."

"I still barely ever wear one," he said.

She rolled her eyes and brushed past him into the room. She had it ready by the time he had the other clothes on. "I'm gonna have to teach you this. How are you going to tie me up if you can't even tie yourself?"

Jon blinked. "I'm tying you up?"

Caitlyn beamed at him. "I sure hope so."

Jon shook his head and smiled. "Let's at least have dinner first."

"Mmm, dinner," she said. "You said it's a surprise. Where are we going?"

"Didn't I say it's a surprise?"

"Yes."

"Well, it's a surprise." He stuck his tongue out at her.

"Don't point that at me unless you intend to use it," she said.

He gave her a leer. "Who says I don't?"

She stepped close, entwining herself into his arms, and kissed him. "Happy Valentine's Day."

"Happy Valentine's Day. You know, you do realize that saying it over and over doesn't make it true."

"So? What else am I supposed to say? Okay, then: Saaaaad Valentine's Day." She made a puppy-dog pout.

"Besides. With you here, I don't need anything else to make it a good day."

"Hmm." She pretended to think it over. "But I'm here every day."

"So, every day's like a Valentine's Day to me," he said.

"So, you mean I should send a Singing Valentine to you every day?" she said.

"No!" He laughed. "That's quite alright, thanks. Besides, I think we'd go bankrupt pretty quickly."

"True enough. Yours must've been even more expensive; it included flowers." She gestured to the bouquet she'd gotten, which (for once) looked exactly like the one he'd picked out of the brochure, and which was now resting in a vase. "How did people like it, anyway?"

He told her about it as they drove, and she told him hers. Evidently, she'd been in the middle of her Jazz Theory class, and many of her classmates (not to mention the teacher) had taken it upon themselves to accompany the performer. Then, somehow, they got into some improvising, which of course was the real heart of jazz anyhow; it was some fifteen minutes before the deliverer managed to get out again, but he seemed to have been quite entertained. Caitlyn, of course, had turned bright red once the mushy-gushy song started coming out. "God Must Have Spent A Little More Time On You. Jeez. Laying it on a little thick there, o hubby of mine."

Jon shrugged. "It seemed the best option for causing as much chaos as possible. Not to mention that it's also true."

"Have you seen that music video? You do know it's supposed to be a Mother's Day song, right?"

"Really? With that level of smarminess?"

"Well, I didn't do it," Caitlyn said.

"Good," said Jon. "I'd be extremely concerned if you turned out to have somehow been a former member of 'N Sync. It would certainly explain why you hate them, though."

"Yeah. I was their sixth member. Of course, that was before the sex change."

Jon stared at her. " ... Uhh, okay, 'Sad Valentine's Day' moment there."

Caitlyn smirked at him. "Jon, look at the road. You're driving."

Their dinner was not at Rebecca's Parliament. This was not for lack of trying; the maitre d' had informed him that they had been booked solid since November, and that (furthermore) the guest list was so predominantly female that Jon would feel completely out of place. "You know the term 'sausage-fest'?" the woman had said. "Yeah, we have like the opposite problem here." So, instead, Jon had looked up the nicest fondue place he could find. It was unusual, it was exotic, he knew Caitlyn had never been before, and he figured she'd love the richness of the food. Besides, he knew he could sell her on anything that involved a dipping-pan full of melted chocolate for dessert.

It was just as good a surprise as he'd hoped. Caitlyn was delighted with the food choice and particularly seemed to enjoy getting to spear things with the pronged fork. The presence of cheese didn't hurt either. They traded bites over the pot, giggling when one or more of them accidentally dropped something into the dip.

Of course, Caitlyn didn't eat much.

"What's wrong? Does something in the food not agree with you?"

"Silly." She flashed him a radiant grin. "I'm waiting for dessert. So hurry up and finish," she said, "so that we can get to the chocolate!"

Jon gave a theatrical roll of his eyes. "I might've known."

"And then, after the chocolate ... We can go home," she said, her voice husky now but no less excited, "and ... I can give you your next surprise." She caressed his cheek with a finger; the touch felt electric to him.

"Hmm," said Jon. "Should I get the check?"

"Silly," she said, "not before dessert. But, umm." Her grin widened. "Very soon after it."

Jon rolled his eyes again and signaled for the dessert course.

He had planned to basically attack Caitlyn once they got home, but she fended him off. "Nope! Nope, no no no no. These are very special and fancy clothes, Jon. We gotta get out of them and hang them up properly. Sheesh, what kind of a barbarian do you think I am." She stuck her tongue out at him.

"Don't point that at me unless you plan to use it," he said, echoing her comment. And Caitlyn turned right back to him and gave him that roguish grin: "What makes you think I don't?"

So Jon very carefully got out of his tie and shirt and slacks, and stored them very carefully back in the closet. He had just managed this when Caitlyn reached over and tugged on the leg of his boxers. "Those too," she said. And Jon, starting to get an idea of where this was going, took off his boxers and his socks and got totally naked.

"Should I fold these up too?" he joked, and went across the room to dump them in the hamper.

"Okay," she said, "all done." She closed the closet door and turned to him, bare as the day she was born. She had shaved recently; except for the patch between her legs, she was smooth and completely bare. Her long brown hair was loose and tucked behind her ears, a few tresses already working themselves loose; some of them cascaded down her shoulders, drawing out the pale perfection of her skin. Though long, her hair did not hide her nipples, nor her large puffy areolas, so tempting to the tongue. Her eyes were wide and luminous, the midnight color of a moon-drenched sky; he could spend years just staring into them.

"Now," she said, crossing the room to him. "Where were we?"

"Something like this," he murmured, and drew her lips up to his.

They stood entwined in the dim light, kissing, she on her toes and he bending down to compensate for the difference in height. His hand was between her legs, feeling the warmth and wetness between, and hers were between his, stroking him into erection; her other arm looped around his waist, his skin burning with her touch. He went to his knees to suckle at her breasts. It was a new dimension for him, to be shorter than her like this; her breasts were at the perfect level for his face. Her mouth opened in a silent 'O'; one arm circled his shoulders, the other hand ruffled his hair; and still he kept his hand busy between her legs, encouraging her continuing arousal.

Soon she was drawing him up, beckoning him. She leaned back onto the bed, her feet still dangling over the side, and drew him between her legs. They had never done it like this before, but the mechanics were obvious; he slid inside her and then bent over to kiss her. They moved together, she rising to meet his gentle thrusts with her legs now encircling his waist, her ankles locked. When he came it was silent, almost anticlimactic, but that was good in its own way; they kissed, staring into each other's eyes, whispering their love for one another, whispering the pleasure of their bodies to each other, enjoying the gentle blush of orgasm as his body pumped out its seed within her. He had cum, but he felt, not sated, but rather whetted for more, ready for greater play. And he could tell that she felt the same way.

"My last surprise," she said to him, "is one that had to wait until now."

"Oh really," he said, smiling. Considering where they were—considering he was still balls-deep inside her, her legs still up around him—it was pretty obvious what the surprise would concern.

"Yes," she said. "I have been thinking, and I've looked it up on the Internet ... And ... If you want to try, umm ... Doing it in my, umm, my tush ... Well, I'm willing to give it a try."

He realized his eyebrows were far above his hairline and made a conscious attempt to control them. Those muscles sure get a lot of work when she's around.

"But, a couple of conditions," she said. "You were talking about rules to prevent things from getting out of control, and you were right. So, first rule: If I ask you to stop, you stop. I don't know if it's going to be painful and I don't know if it's even going to work."

"Of course," he said, kissing her. "I wouldn't have it any other way."

"I'm not going to say 'Stop' unless it's one of those two things," she continued, "but I want your promise regardless."

"Of course," he said again.

"And second, you have to wear a condom."

"That sounds fair to me," he said.

"Okay," she said. "Okay. Then ... Well ... Let's try it."

So he got up and withdrew from her and they both went to the bathroom.

"What are you doing?" she said.

Jon pulled out the tube of KY Jelly he had brought from home. "We're going to need this."

"Where'd you get that?"

"I brought it when we moved here. I did masturbate until we got married, you know."

"We've been living here for over a month and I never found that?"

"Did you know what it was?"

"Okay, fair enough. Now, shoo."

"Why?"

"Well ... I wanna go to the bathroom," she said. "I don't think there's very much ... Back there..." She gave a covert tilt of her head to indicate. "But whatever is in there, I want it out so that you don't go bumping into it. The thought of you... interacting with that stuff ... isn't a turn-on for me, Jon."