Sunday, May 11, 2008

The Big 4-Oh! by Beth Wylde

I kicked the front door shut with my foot and tossed my coat and purse absentmindedly across the hutch in the foyer before storming my way to the bathroom. "Who in the hell do they think they are?" I cranked on the water until it was just this side of scalding and shoved in the stopper, letting the huge garden tub fill up as I added a generous handful of bath beads in hopes of calming myself down. "Little, preppy bitches. They wouldn't know old if Father Time slapped them in the face with a walker."

I pulled off the rest of my clothes and twisted up my long, curly mane so the heavy vanilla oil wouldn't seep into it. I caught sight of myself in the small mirror over the sink and paused to tilt my chin to the left and right in search of wrinkles or other signs of my advancing age. When I didn't find any, I felt a tiny bit better, but I was still righteously pissed about what had just transpired at my work place.

Most of the new employees at the law firm were young, twenty-something females who were fresh out of law school. They insisted on trying to brown-nose their way into a partnership instead of actually learning their chosen profession and doing what they were paid to do. On the other hand, I was a seasoned professional earning six figures, with ten years of cases under my belt and the ability to enjoy plenty of time at home with my hubby. The new trainees were the ones who had to stay late doing the drudge work and research while I got to go home every evening at five.

Gerald, the big boss, often used me as a prime example of what to do to win in the courtroom and it made my position as their supervisor even more difficult. They call jealousy the little green monster for a reason.

With my fortieth birthday looming on the horizon, the girls had finally found a way to get back at me while still staying in Gerald's good graces. After all, throwing me a birthday party could hardly be considered a personal attack against me, or at least they knew Gerald wouldn't see it as such. They also knew it would anger me to no end and that's exactly the reaction they were aiming for. They figured they owed me for making them work and this would be an easy way to get revenge. They were right.

Age isn't a big deal to most men. We women are the ones who don't like to be reminded how many years we've been walking upright on the planet. We prefer the idea of being young and vibrant forever, even if it's only an illusion. Otherwise, plastic surgeons and hair salons wouldn't be so busy all the time.

Thinking about hair made me do a quick check on my own head to make sure none of my roots were showing. Finding my auburn curls free of gray, and satisfied that I could wait another week or so before calling my hairdresser for an appointment, I sank down into the tub. The hot water was exactly what I needed to soothe my frazzled nerves.

I reclined against the padded backrest of the whirlpool tub and flicked on the button for the jets. The sudden swirling motion of the water mixed up the bath oil until the entire room filled with steam and the heady scent of vanilla. After a few minutes of floating, my troubles seemed even further away. I had my own ideas about how I wanted to spend my birthday next week, but I wanted to talk to Dave, my husband, about them first.

I pulled the small tray of bath supplies closer, grabbing the shaving gel and razor first. My fingers were slippery from the oil, so I paused after spreading the cream on my legs to wipe my hands on a nearby towel. Smooth skin is very sexy; multiple nicks and cuts are not.

I took my time, making sure that every place with unnecessary hair was shaved clean before pulling the plug out to drain the rapidly cooling water. I stepped out onto the Oriental, no-slip throw rug that bridged the gab between the tub and the shower, shivering as I turned the knob halfway to hot and jumped inside. I normally don't take a bath and a shower because I think it's a big waste of water, but I still felt sticky from the shaving gel residue and the oil. Washing my hair was on the agenda also.

I picked up the shower head and held it downward toward the floor so the first cold blast didn't make me any colder. I held my hand in the spray until the temperature was satisfactory then hung the shower head back up in order to finish. I unpinned and scrubbed my hair first since the long auburn mass took forever to wash and condition. Once that chore was finished, the rest of the job went quickly. Within minutes I was soapy, scrubbed, and ready to rinse.

I grabbed the shower head once again, focusing the water on my body. As I ran it over my belly and the tops of my thighs, I noticed how the gentle pulsing made my skin tingle, especially between my legs on my newly-shaved pussy. Instantly, I knew another way I could take my mind off of my disastrous day.

Spreading my legs just a bit more, I aimed the nozzle directly where it felt the best. The hot, massaging spray worked wonders for my mood and had my clit throbbing in seconds. I leaned back against the wall and held the shower wand closer, lifting up one leg and propping it on one of the two built-in seats to allow the spray better access.

I slid one hand down to join the water, holding myself open as I slipped in first one finger then another. The combination of the water outside and my fingers within was startling and almost more than I could stand. Within moments, my hips started moving of their own accord. I was so close to climax I could almost taste it. I knew since it had been a while that the end result would be extra sweet. My mouth opened on a groan.

"Yes, oh yes," I moaned, my body eagerly approaching the point of no return. In another minute or so, I'd be there.

Suddenly the frosted doors opened. My husband stood there watching me with a big smile on his face. Apparently he'd been there for quite a while, but I'd been too occupied to notice. In fact, I hadn't even heard him come in.

I screamed and dropped the shower head in the process. The thing swung backwards, spinning on its cord and shooting water all over everything, including Dave. I reached out and turned the water off as fast as I could, but it still wasn't quick enough. My husband looked like a drowned rat, albeit a very nicely dressed one. I expected him to be mad or irritated, but he still had the same big Cheshire Cat grin on his face that he'd had when he first opened the door. I knew something was up.

"How about a little warning next time?" I frowned. "What if I'd been shaving? I could have cut my leg off…" I paused to drop my foot back down on the tile and turn sideways so he could get a better look at the maintenance I'd just performed. "…or hurt something even more precious."

His gaze immediately drifted from my face to the shiny pink skin between my legs. "We definitely wouldn't want that to happen." He reached out and ran his fingers lightly over the super soft area. I gasped as he touched me tenderly, bringing denied nerve endings screaming back to life.

I was close to begging. "Do it harder." The look on his face was one of awe and I knew this wouldn't be my last time going bare. I'd definitely be checking into some laser hair removal or waxing in the near future.

He finally pulled back, after treating my clit to some up close and personal attention, and grabbed two towels off the rack nearby. I huffed out the breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding as he handed one to me and wrapped the other around his neck for himself after shucking off his dripping shirt.

Now I was really skeptical and quite a bit irritated as well. It wasn't like Dave to tease me and then stop. "What's the deal?"

He finally tore his gaze away from my pussy and looked up at my face. "Huh? What do you mean?"

"It's Friday evening." I glanced out the oval window situated above the tub. "The sun hasn't even gone down. You're home extremely early and you're way too calm about the fact that your entire outfit, including your favorite Gucci loafers, are soaking wet. You're not even trying to avoid the big puddle of water you're currently floating in."

"What?" Dave finally glanced down at the floor, cursing as he realized that his shoes and the rug were a lost cause. "Damn." He shrugged and kicked the offending items off across the room. "Oh, well. I can always get new shoes." He reached out and grabbed me by the waist, pulling me flush against his damp chest and the wet pants that were now molded against his lower body. "But you're one of a kind." He leaned down and ran his lips across my shoulder, pausing to sniff my skin. "God, you smell good." His tongue flicked out against my neck. "You taste good, too. Just like sugar cookies."

Before he could get me any hotter, I needed to finish my interrogation. "You never answered my question."

"What question?" His fingers were toying with the top of the towel where it was tied above my breasts.

"What are you doing home so early? You usually work until at least eight or nine on Friday evenings and you always come home grouchy. What do you have planned that I don't know about?"

He tried prying apart the knot, but I gripped it tighter until we were fighting it out tug-of-war style. He sighed as he let go, realizing I wasn't giving up anything until I got the information I wanted. "When did you become such a hard ass?"

I laughed at the teasing tone in his voice. "Twenty years ago when you married me; you love every minute of it. You wouldn't know what to do with a docile and proper lady. You need me to help keep you on your toes."

He nodded as he dried himself off as much as possible. When he pulled the towel off his head, I had to smile. The combination of the water and the humidity had curled his shaggy, dark hair into a tousled mess that just brushed his shoulders. It made him look very young and lent him an air of mischief that fit his personality to a 'T'. "Yeah, you're probably right. Would it help matters any if I told you I bought you a present?"

"Hm, it might. What did you bring me?"

He shuffled off toward our bedroom, dropping his damp towel in a heap on the tile. "Come see. The package is on the bed."