Page 70 of It Takes a Thief

“Yeah,” Ford said weakly. “After stroller shopping, he wants to go to some dive bars.”

“Ooo,” I said sweetly. “He’s trying to bond, Ford.”

“He wants to talk about gentrification. How tourists moving into P&E have ruined the downtown with their upscale shops, their plastic souvenir vortices.”

I shrugged. “It could be worse. Don’t forget, we own half the businesses on Bargain Boulevard.” Doggie Style was already packed noon to night with dogs of every stripe. It was a much-needed service. “We’ll stop the tourist traps from crowding us out.”

We’d gone in the main doors of the new building. Slushy wasn’t done with his speech but that didn’t stop people from milling around, bouncing basketballs, checking out the lockers, scoreboard, material they’d used for the court.

Ford had a special set of keys. Soon we were in the actual cedar-lined steam room, a beautiful windowless retreat with several levels of steps to sit on. Ford turned on the fake rocks to heat them up, but he left the room heat off in deference to my extreme state of pregnancy.

“We’re the first to baptize this room,” I said. I normally didn’t use religious terms, but it seemed apropos.

“Charlie wants to take me to a natural childbirth class,” moaned Ford, stripping off his shirt. He looked fine. Another thing he’d taken up since backing down on the construction was weight lifting and krav maga. He was killer in a wifebeater shirt. Why is it that some men only get more beautiful as they age? It’s so unfair.

I would only strip to my bra and slip. I’d taken self-consciously to wearing a slip under my skirt. I don’t know. I was highly uncomfortable with anyone looking at me, if you know what I mean. I knew I had to learn to accept it. My mother always carried her weight around her middle too—and her giant DD boobs that sagged to her waist when she aged. I was glad I was only a regular D cup. I could maybe keep my boobs somewhat upright.

“Natural childbirth? What the fuck does Charlie know about that?” Sabrina and Charlie had no kids. Why, I never asked. Their business.

Ford was always completely unashamed when naked. He came toward me, his enormous erection poking my belly. “Guess he’s been reading up on it for us.” He caressed my cheek lovingly. “You know, Maddy, there’s never been anyone even approaching you for me. You’re it, mija. You’re my one and only.”

“You sweetheart.” I felt relaxed and open, ready for anything.

Except what Ford did then.

With a sly little grin on that handsome face, he dropped to his knees. He began by mouthing my mound through my panties and slip, slyly dragging the slip down with his fingers.

And I flashed.

I flashed on that horrible moment when, captive by Noodlum, he’d done the exact thing Ford was now doing. Mouthing me through my satin panties. And I cried out.

My hands pushed Ford away by the shoulders. He sat back on his feet, a puppy dog wondering what he’d done wrong.

“I, uh, I want to please you.” I said. I hoped some idea I was distasteful at the moment might occur to him. Either way, he readily agreed, sitting on a towel on one of the steps, manspreading for all to see that glorious long, thick cock, angled up toward his belly button.

Now this was a task I never flashed badly on. Everything was right in the world.

FORD

I had a new lease on life. Again and again, I’d landed on the fact that I needed to step back from my company, allow others to take the reins. It was hard to let go of that authority—I’d always been something of a control freak—and it was my father and I who’d founded the company back in the dark ages.

But I took a whole week off to take my pregnant wife and two kids up to Alaska. Maddy was done with her Chinle internship—I never heard of that sleazy Dr. Chesbrough again—but she’d gone down to half time at the hospital so she could spend the other half near Flagstaff at a Native American joint. Native Americans for Community Action was an urban health program giving outpatient, substance addiction, nutrition, and behavioral health care, and Maddy loved using the skills she’d learned up at Chinle. Galileo even set up a sort of mobile dog grooming outfit to run up there once a month and wash the Indians’ dogs. Her salary went down because it was volunteer work, but mine really didn’t, not even when I gave Tuzigoot a raise. We certainly didn’t want for anything.

My lovely old lady was savage beautiful as she kneeled between my thighs and licked my dick all over, preparing it for the big plunge. She held it like a big ice cream cone, her pert little face all screwed up, intent on her work.

I loved my wife. I loved my life, matter of fact. I hadn’t realized how overwork was messing with me physically, which in turn messed with my head. I was starting to learn how to kick back, stand out on my deck at home, toke a little weed, and finally admire the amazing, ever-changing scenery of the red sandstone desert. I’d never really stopped to take full enjoyment of this view from my house. I had to go look at the deed to remember how many acres I owned. Only about three other houses were in sight from my deck, and I started thinking about getting a dog, too.

I’d grown up with an enormous family—my club, that is. I hadn’t discovered I had a half-brother, Lytton, until a couple years back. It was just my sociopathic birth father and me, and he’d gathered some like-minded guys around him to form this motorcycle club. So I’d always felt like I had an immense family, never stopping to question they were mostly men, or women wearing tight shirts and tons of lipstick. I wanted to create a big family again. Taking kids to ballet classes and baseball games would be my new obsession. Oh, and building bombs in our warehouse. Hey. You can’t take the outlaw out of the man.

When Maddy plunged my cock down her throat, the intense swelling of desire made me feel about to come. And I didn’t fucking want that. I half-stood, sort of rolling her out of my way, and lay flat on my back on one of the long benches. Maddy got the picture. Her little face just lit up as she clambered over me, her pretty belly brushing mine. I hitched my fingers underneath her bra strap, and she eagerly unhooked it, tossing it down by the hot rocks.

Fucking Charlie had actually told me about this. How the hell did that loser know so much when he didn’t have kids? Did he Google for this sort of thing? Anyway, this position with the woman on top was supposed to be excellent for her, and when Maddy sank down on my dick, her blissful expression spoke volumes. Fuck, yeah. I was just batting a thousand lately, on an incredibly good roll of luck and fortune. I did not take it for granted. I held Maddy’s hips as she bumped and ground down on me. She slapped her palm against the cedar wall, the other hand cupping a tit as she did the hula. She’d always been an incredibly erotic dancer, and pregnancy seemed to infuse her with carnal ways. Just her walking, her swaying that she called waddling, was an epic display of sexuality. I know she didn’t believe me. She tried to cover up at all moments. Now I tugged her slip down so her big belly popped free, and she didn’t bat an eyelash. She was too absorbed in her gyrations, my cock full inside of her.

I reached between us to find her button, and I went to town on it. I massaged her clit in just the right way I knew brought her off. I saw it coming a mile away. Her eyeballs rolling up into her head, her breath catching and holding, her lower lip trembling as if she were about to cry.

“Go for it, mija. Let loose. Come all over me. I want to feel your juice pour down my wrist. Yeah. That’s it. Just let go.”

And she did.