Something Warm
By Nicholas Blakeman
Something Warm
Copyright © 2013 Nicholas Blakeman
Cover Design, Justin Garrison
*****
Something Warm
I undressed her with my eyes.
My wife was petite. She wore a flowery dress that fluttered as she had walked gracefully around earlier. How much I wanted to stand her up and tear the clothes off her was weighing heavily in my mind. I looked at her with hungry eyes. Being far from home for an entire week surrounded by other sweaty suits looking at financial plans for distant clients had made me desire to lay with my wife something awful.
I eyed her from across the table, ignoring the steaming dinner below. Our eyes finally locked as she pulled the fork from her mouth. I gently moistened my lips and bit down on my tongue. She noticed it and her gaze shifted to loving and warm. I wished I could sweep the food from the table to the floor and meet her on top of it in the middle. I began to feel my hand grip around my napkin to the right of my plate, balling it tightly. She pulled her bottom lip into her mouth slightly and swallowed the bite. Her juicy, full lip slipped out…
“Daddy?”
I jumped a little and released the air I had been inhaling. Loosening my fist around the napkin, I looked to my right at my daughter. She had brown flowing hair just like her mother and nearly an identical haircut, straight bangs across the front and a neat pony tail in the back held together with a thin white ribbon.
“Yes darling?” I responded noticing for the first time since I arrived home she was still wearing her light blue Sunday dress, white roses accenting the trim.
“What is bondage?” She asked from behind a missing front tooth.
My head recoiled in surprise and my eyes grew wide instantly. I shot a look to Margret across the table. She had a puzzled expression as well. Her bangs tossed quickly to the side as she looked back at our three year old sweetheart. “You must mean bandage sweetie,” my wife’s voice sounded more aimed at self-reassurance.
“Just show them what you found dork,” her brother sounded across from her. He had whitish blonde hair cropped close. I now saw the mud and grass stains on his striped shirt.
“Were you playing by the creek again Jamie?” I asked glancing toward Timothy who often led her astray. His idea of a fun game normally ended with his sister on the ground crying and dirty. He of course was five.
She nodded, the pony tail popping and swinging behind her.
“You know it’s dangerous. Mom and me don’t like it when you go back there. Did you find a bandage in the water?”
“Give it here, let’s throw it away.” Margret chimed in with disapproval.
Jamie hopped off the tall adult dinner chair and ran off to the hiding place she had stashed her secret. Her light-up shoes guiding the way.
“We need to punish her more Steven,” Margret glared at me.
“I know… But she is just so darn cute when she says sorry,” I grinned. I once again looked over at Timothy. “You, however, don’t look so cute when you get her in trouble. Don’t let her go back there anymore when you two are playing.”
“But dad, she ran over there because—,” he started.
I cut him off, “I’m tired of the excuses.”
“Just eat your dinner Timmy,” Margret offered soothingly.
Jamie sauntered back into the now quiet dining room with both hands behind her back. She made her way past her seat to mine and looked up at me, eyes beaming and a withheld smile beginning to peek.
“Hand it over missy.” I couldn’t help but let my smile show. She had a fresh, full hand print of mud on her tummy, obviously trying to clean off her hand after fishing out the band aide from the creek.
“Sorry…” she revealed the bandage.
“Oh my god!” I snatched the porn magazine from her hands and turned quickly to the other side of the table, away from her little blue eyes. I stared down at the bold lettering across the top of the filthy, immoral and muddy, magazine. It read BONDAGE. The image on the front was of a thin girl with long blonde hair. She was hog tied and nude. Her large breasts only covered by the hands of a man standing behind her. The grip on the woman’s breast’s holding her erect. If this garbage was on the front I didn’t dare imagine what was inside.
“Where did you get that?!” Margret’s voice forced my mind back to focusing on the immorality of the ignorant act of my daughter. She must have seen it from where she sat, although she was now standing.
“By the creek,” she trailed off letting her head droop. She must have expected a duller reaction like the normal discrepancy’s “sorry” would receive.
“Where by the creek-- show me.” I stood now. Dinner, as well as my sensual thoughts of my attractive, large breasted wife, was ruined.
________
“I hate them,” her thin frame inhaling then puffing out, her way of coping.
“I know Marg, they always seem to migrate back north after winter.” I continued to analyze the make shift home next to the creek. Jamie was allowed to show us the origin of the magazine then we put both her and Timothy to bed early. The shock at dinner and the awkward discussion afterward about the word bondage had been enough. Even if they weren’t tired, I was.
Homeless people wondering our little, rural town was never really an actual problem or nuisance. They only stayed for a few weeks during the spring, migrating north with the birds in a way.
“Steven—they had a perfect view of our bedroom window,” she said hesitantly. She rested her hands on her hips looking across the lawn at our window and grew a deep frown.
“He probably only stayed one night,” I lied. There was no reason to fuel her paranoia. I was furious that a random person, someone at all to be honest, had got their rocks off either on my property with a dirty magazine or looking at my wife through the window, but there was nothing we could do now. He was gone. I had already called the local police and they had simply said, “let us know if you see him again.” It was pointless and I was tired. I wanted to finally see my wife naked after a long week, and get a good night of sleep without my phone screaming at me.
The sun was only, barely peeping over the earth and as the air begun to turn chilly, rain fell. “It’s getting dark, and now it’s raining. He won’t be here tonight Marg. Let’s go inside.” I raised my hand and placed it gently on her lower back while I took my place by her side.
“It just scares me Steven. A dirty man so close to the house… to the kids.”
“Just go inside. It’s raining and cold. He’s moved on,” I said over the sound of plump droplets slapping the creek behind us. The water was slowly soaking us making Margret shiver quietly. Without further protest she stepped forward toward the house, the grass squishing under her heels.
I watched her walk halfway to the house. Her bottom swinging and her clothes all wet. The rain water ran down her toned and tanned legs, dripping off at the end. I turned and kicked the coffee cup ash tray into the creek. I then knelt and quickly pushed the cardboard sleeping mat and plastic grocery bag full of assorted homeless person items into the moving water, effectively washing the entire garbage home away. I stood and chased after my wife. I didn’t want to wait any longer.
________
After being curtly scolded, I was told-- “you can wait another ten minutes for me to bathe first Steven,” I found myself in the children’s bathroom showering. The room was small and full of numerous child bath time entertainment devices. Most often purchased by his wife with the thought, “this will be the one that makes them finally hold still while I scrub all the crap off them.”
I glanced through the clear plastic shower curtain. I had left the door open in case Margret had decided my eager advances in the
hall had indeed aroused her. However, as always, my innate sensual senses had been utterly lost in the labyrinth of pleasuring a woman. Ever since spotting her in college though, I had made my attempts at wooing her tactfully.
Margret’s body was perfect. Her supple breasts mounted on a slender frame gave her the idealistic curves every man fantasized about. I closed my eyes and aligned my thoughts to her naked form. She really was dazzling. I often had to force myself to walk past the stores that sold the outfits I longed to see her in.
Although I wouldn’t let myself give in and purchase such an ensemble, I could always, and did frequently, picture her in one. Something risqué. The thin cloth pulled tight across her smooth skin…
I heard the door creek as if slightly brushed up against, I smiled broadly. I hurriedly opened my eyes with the hope of seeing a nude Margret but instead was assaulted by a stream of soapy water in my