Los Casados

Mid morning in the Blue Coyote Café, Flora pauses over her notepad. Thoughts about earlier this morning distract her. It was a good morning. Her husband told her about his dream. He didn’t usually do that.

In the dream they were driving an old van to a place in New Jersey. He had a crudely drawn map on a piece of crumpled old paper. He was looking for Indian Street but no matter which way they went they ended up on Los Casados.

“Doesn’t that mean wedding, or something like that?” Flora said. “Were we going to a wedding?”

“I don’t know,” Mark said. “Your Spanish is better than mine.”

“So what do you think it means?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” he said, and he took her into an embrace.

These days they didn’t often make love in the morning. The sex was slow and good. She didn’t come, but she loved the pulse of Mark’s cock in her cunt when he came. So many strong jolts of pleasure. “Oh, sweetie, I love you so much,” he said, still deep and strong inside her. That was the best.

They showered together, something else they rarely did anymore. He stood behind her, one hand on her breast, another at her pubis, and he fingered her while the warm spray rained down. This time she did come. The pleasure was intense. She sagged to her knees. When she turned, his thoroughly cleaned, thoroughly rinsed cock was right there. She kissed the tip, a sweet little kiss at first, but then she took him in her mouth and sucked. He firmed up so big and full, and though she knew he wouldn’t come again so soon after the first time, she masturbated him anyway, firm rapid strokes while sucking voraciously. “Hey, hey, hey,” he said, urging her up, then kissing her. A deep kiss. “We’d better hurry, you have that meeting this morning, right?” he said. “It’s not til ten but I have some stuff still to prepare,” she said. “Well, I hope it goes well,” he said. “Me too,” she said. They kissed again.

That’s what she’s supposed to be doing now. Preparing. The client will be showing up any minute now. She wishes she had fresh panties to change into. Even though it’s been several hours since the morning fuck, she can feel some of the seep. He must have really flooded her.

When Mark comes home that evening she greets him at the door with a big kiss. “I’m so glad to see you,” she says, then kisses him again. “I was thinking of you all day. I was thinking how nice this morning was.”

“Me too,” he says. “How was your meeting?”

“Okay,” she says. “The client was kind of late, but I think he wants to go forward. He liked my ideas.”

“That’s great,” Mark says.

“One strange thing happened though.”

“Oh? What’s that?”

“This was just before the meeting. I was preparing stuff. I had a window seat at the coffee shop. And there was this guy sitting across the way reading a book. I didn’t really pay much attention. But then he was doing something with his cell phone and then I was sure he took a picture me.”

“Kind of rude, huh?”

“‘Did you just take a picture of me?’ I asked him. He admitted it. He said he was sorry, he didn’t mean to intrude or to upset me.”

“Were you upset?”

“That’s a good question. Maybe a little. He said something about how I looked so full of joy and life. ‘Wistfully intense,’ he said. I had to smile. ‘Maybe intensely wistful,’ I said. I asked him if I could see the picture. ‘Definitely,’ he said, and she showed me the picture on his phone. It was strange to see myself, Not posing, you know? Not knowing how I look. He asked if he should delete the picture. ‘Or I could email it to you,’ he offered. I said okay, maybe because I wanted to show the picture to you. So he emailed the picture to me.”

“So now he has your email address,” Mark says while studying the picture on Flora’s phone.