August days here are hot and humid. Almost unbearable. But that's only later after sunrise. Despite the heat and humidity, there is a delicious magical hour or so before dawn. Sure, it's going to be horrible later, but in those early moments not only is everything still, but the warm air is comforting. Arousing, too. You can feel the night coming to an end, even as everything pauses.
It is the perfect moment of the day.
On that day, the perfect moment came around 4:30 a.m. It was a Friday in August. Dawn still a long way off, but it was just starting to get a little less dark. I rolled over against Sandy. I was sure Alison, our busybody toddler, was still sleeping, and I knew Rebecca was in whatever part of the universe babies go to when they sleep and dream.
I kissed the back of Sandy's neck. Ran my hand down her back to her bottom. She tensed her cheeks for a moment, her "Yes, I'm interested" signal. I rolled on top of her, began sliding myself back and forth on her bottom.
Sounds nice, but to be honest it really doesn't work when it's so humid. No cool dry skin that's best for smooth sliding.
She twisted to look back at me.
"Shower, pal, now. And be quick about it."
I was hard, and I pressed myself into her crease.
"And then what?"
"Knock off the stupid questions and get your butt in gear, that's what. I'm next, and I want you out and clean and dry pronto, and then you'd better be back in bed and ready when I finish my shower. We've got a schedule."
She's my kind of girl. Friends since middle school, even if we didn't become a couple until much later. Early riser and a horny one. Can't stand the schedule part, but there was nothing I could do about that.
I was toweling off when Sandy stepped past me into the shower, running her hand over me, stroking me a second. When are we supposed to get a moment, anyway, with two little ones? Date night? Yeah, right. Both of us work, day care has a fee schedule with million-dollar fines, it seems like, if you're more than a couple of minutes late.
She's got a boss who loves to get into it at the end of the day, almost every day of the week. Why wouldn't he? Divorced, ex-wife and kids across the country, he could give a shit about his staff and their lives. All he's got on his evening agenda is a bottle of Scotch and the porn channels on cable.
My guy is a little better, I guess you could say, but he's not a planner. Most of the time our team can save him, but not always.
So, Sandy and I turned into early-morning people. Nursing mom, two little kids? That's quite a feat, let me tell you.
"On your back."
I looked up at her. Slim, dark blonde hair, curves in the right places. Fur neatly trimmed above her center.
She dropped her towel, moved onto the bed, knee on either side of me. Leaned forward for a kiss, breasts moving nicely. My hands up to hold them for a moment, heft them. One of the many delightful things about making love with a nursing mother is having a snack in the middle if you're hungry.
Lips parted a little. Tongues testing, challenging. I'm a coward. Surrendered immediately. Her tongue rigid, probing into me. I was hard, pressed against her where she was damp. Started to slide a little.
Sandy broke off for a second, kissed down the side of my neck, took a bite.
"Not so fast, pal. I don't want to have to really hurt you."
I think she was kidding. She was smiling, anyway.
Sandy knee-walked up my torso and lowered herself over my mouth. Oh, yes. My turn to explore. My hands now on her hips to steady her. She was wet, she was clean, just a taste, a tang, of excitement. I know what she likes and I aimed for the right spot. Bump, showing itself a little more as I explored. Long strokes over the length of her, always back up to circle that nubbin. Harder, softer, kept varying, always returning and pressing.
"Yes yes yes!"
Oh, yes. I had her now.
Thighs squeezed my cheeks, then she retreated. Knee-walked back a little, lowered herself to lie full-length on me. Her mouth on mine, tasting, licking, cleaning. Then she moved on down.
I always know where she's going, every time, and every time is new. That morning it was slow and easy, at least to start. Engulfed me, tongue, lips, just enough pressure in the right places. Most days I'd be happy to let her go on until the sweet delicious throb and release as I filled her mouth. Not that morning.
Grabbed her under her arms. Pulled her up. Kissed her. Rolled her off me. Moved up onto my knees.
"Turn over. Now."
My hands on her hips. Pulled them up and back. Legs a little apart. Slid right into her wetness. No more easy stuff now, it was straight fucking, and she loved it. She told me so. Slamming her, pounding her. Until I filled her, spurting again and again.
A moment lying on top of her, quiet, savoring, then it was back to the shower. Quick rinse. Shave. A little shoving as we angled to get the best light in front of the mirror.
Stream of babble from Alison's room. For a kid who doesn't speak English yet, she is fluent and voluble in toddler-speak. It helps to see her hands move and her eyebrows go up and down and her smile, since the words she uses don't make any sense, but it's always clear what she's saying. She once described a rain shower and what getting wet meant, in detail, to her grandparents, all without using a single intelligible word.
Rebecca is mostly a big smile and a gurgle. That's OK, too. In this family she'll be talking before we know it.
Sandy and I split up at the end of the hall. It was my turn for Rebecca. Sandy had Alison that morning. We take turns at night, too, putting them to bed. Whoever puts the kid to bed is responsible for whatever attention she needs during the night. Rebecca is too young to use words, of course, but Alison is infallible. It's either "Mommy" or "Daddy," two words she does have, and she always remembers, even in the middle of the night, which one of us is on duty.
Rebecca's diaper bag packed, extra toys, too, ready by the door. Rebecca into her mother's arms to latch on to the nearest nipple. Sandy had already expressed enough milk for the day. Bottles from the refrigerator into their special insulated pockets in Rebecca's bag.
Alison was jabbering away, getting most of her cereal into her mouth. She is a happy kid. She's been happy since the day we brought her home from the hospital.
I think the day started to go wrong when I dropped my coffee. Hand twitch or something. Missed my slacks, mostly, thank God.
Grabbed the pieces of the mug and tossed them. Towels and a sponge to clean the floor. Another cleaning tonight.
Sandy and Alison were off in Sandy's Jetta to day care and her office. I had the Toyota with Rebecca. Went through my usual routine. Baby buckled in. Check. Diaper bag. Check. Toy bag. Check. Briefcase? Shit. Leave the kid in the car while I go back in? Not a good idea. Looked around. Jesus, I'm a chicken. Didn't see anyone. No neighbor to call 911 about the abandoned baby in the car. It would only take a second.
Went back inside. Grabbed my briefcase, back out. It did only take a second. All OK. Couldn't see Rebecca's face since we have her car seat mounted facing the rear. Better support for her head and neck that way. But I could hear her. Cooing. Gabbling. She wouldn't last long once we got moving. She'd be asleep by the time we got to the first stoplight.
Car in gear, backed out to the street. Cell went off. Shit. Text from Sandy. Pick up the stupid fucking dry cleaning. Go by the ATM for cash. OK. This was all normal stuff. It shouldn't have thrown me. At the time, I didn't think it had.