“How do I look?”
“What? Just a minute. It’s almost the end of the game.”
Hubby sunk deeper into the leather cushions, beak thrust forward, intent on the movement on the television screen. The announcer was screaming. 28 to 27 and the quarterback threw an interception. I slid my shoes off and under the coffee table. My perfectly painted toes sparkled against the white carpet. I snuggled my toes into the plush wool, smiling as I nibbled on a juicy yellow apple, liquid dripping down my chin, and wondered about its resemblance to an aphrodisiac mandrake. Or is that a poisonous mandrake? No matter. I slipped the strap of my top down to my elbow, exposing the shoulder nearest him. My bare breasts rubbed the inside of the fabric.
He sensed my movement and leaned further forward. The announcer was nearly hoarse.
Hubby groaned and I turned to the screen to see if it was time yet. No, three minutes left and his team was losing. I unbuttoned the top of my jeans and settled further back into the deep cushions. I rested my hand gently at the top of my thigh, fingers brushing the inseam between my legs. Apparently it was a very exciting game and hubby was conflicted. His eyes slipped momentarily away from the screen and settled on my hand. I watched his jeans bulge.
He growled as he turned away from the television and rolled on top of me.
“I should never have left home to watch a game here….your sister isn’t nearly as distracting.”
I smiled and spread my legs. He licked the apple juice from my chin. And I thought again about the mandrake…poison or passion?