Footsteps sound on her spiral staircase and our cat mews in the background. At the sound of the refrigerator door, I wait for the pop of a beer can but instead, liquid splashes into a glass. A patient man, I give her plenty of time to put her thoughts in order.
After a few gulps, she clears her throat. “So… I’ve been thinking about… You know, starting a family, that’s all.”
I smile because I’ve been waiting for her to give the word for over a year. This week, being around Stacy, made me realize how much I want a rug rat of my own. First, we need a bigger place. The bonus will help, along with a rich, new client. We’ll buy a condo, and from there, springboard to a small house in the burbs.
“Are you ready to stay with online investigations and stop being a danger dust mop?” To me, her tendency to get into messes is my biggest reserve when it comes to starting a family.
“I know you are but what am I?” She says it in a sing-song voice better served by a five-year-old.
Chuckling, I smile. “I’m trained for action, pudding-head.”
“And I worked for the FBI.”
“As an analyst.”
“Which proves the United States government believes in me.”
“You still haven’t answered my question.”
“Suds, I am working on the most boring-est cases you can imagine. Well, except for something small I picked up for my cousin.”
I catch my socks and stand. “Wait. No way. Doesn’t he work for his dad?”
“You say it as if Uncle Vinny’s a hitman or something.”
“No, that would be your good pal Frankie.”
“He’s a former client, not a bestie.” She sounds overly defensive which pisses me off. We agreed no working for her mobster side of the family.
“Babe, he cat-sits for us. I know who he is.” When my voice raises, someone next door pounds on the wall, so I move into the bathroom.
“He offered to help. You want to tell him he can’t?” She’s a master of diverting conversations but this time it won’t work.
“Hold on. Let’s roll this conversation on back. What, exactly, are you researching for your cousin?” I wrack my brain to recall the last few Sunday dinners with Joey but they mostly revolved around his kid’s daycare.
“Nothing dangerous, I promise. He said a friend of his lost a package and asked if I could help.”
My spidey senses tingle. “What kind of package?”
“He didn’t say and I didn’t ask. Listen, it’s all legit. I’m waiting for his down payment. Then, I’m going to retrieve some video footage. Online only. Bada-bing. Bada-boom. Are we going to argue or do you want to have phone sex?”
“I should be going to bed.” My cock, however, disagrees, instantly dissolving my anger.
“What are you wearing, Jake from Sta-”
“Not khakis. Nothin’.” Moaning to myself, I slip off my briefs and fist myself.
On the other side of the line, her bare feet pad up the iron steps. Our futon creaks, clothing rustles and Catrina mews.
“Don’t tell me you’re gonna let the kitten watch?”
“She’ll go downstairs once I start to moan and squirm.” Ah, hell, my wife is way too good at this.
“Babe. Touch yourself. Picture my lips between your legs. Tell me what you feel.” Closing my eyes, I slide up and down my thickening length.
She puts the phone closer to her mouth. “Mmm. I’m remembering the first time we made love.”
My desire swells as does my appendage. “Revenge-sex, Washington DC. We almost didn’t make it to the hotel room.”
