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“What’s a seven-letter word,” Dominique asked, “for quote-unquote a reward one might get for being an exemplary husband?”
“Dunno,” Ned replied. “Wait, is that actually a clue in this puzzle?”
“Not exactly…”
***
If an encyclopedia needed an illustration of the “average (average height, average weight, average-looking, middle-aged) white man,” a picture of Ned would have more than sufficed. Dominique, however, ten years his junior, was stunning, tall, and very curvy; her French-Arabic ancestry had graced her with large dark eyes, full lips, and volumes of wavy, jet-black hair. After nearly five years together, Ned still reflected frequently on his incredibly good fortune.
They had been strangers, standing in line at a coffee shop when the bomb went off across the street. Instinctively (though when he thought about it later, over the days he spent in the hospital, he couldn’t find where that instinct came from), Ned threw up his arms, shielding Dominique from the hailstorm of debris. Traumatized but unhurt, she was one of the first to call 911, she held his hand as they waited for the first responders, then she saw him into the ambulance.
In a daze, zayıf gaziantep escort Dominique walked to the subway and went home, realizing somewhere along the way that she had never found out his name. A year later, almost to the day, they happened to meet again on a street corner. Formal introductions followed, numbers were exchanged, a date was set up, and within a year they were married.
***
On this particular Sunday morning, Ned got up early, did some exercises, and ran out to buy the paper and a couple of coffees. He also picked up a single red rose–just for good measure. Dominique, who had been asleep when he left, was awake and radiant-looking when he returned. He felt a tingle as he noticed that she had swapped her light silk pajamas for a gorgeous piece of lingerie (cream-colored lace that contrasted beautifully with her olive skin), that Ned had encouraged her to buy for herself.
“You’re the sweetest guy there is!” Dominique declared, picking up the rose from the tray that Ned presented. “Put that down and come here, so I can give you a hug.”
He set her coffee on the nightstand, handed her gaziantep zayıf escort the crossword puzzle, and put the tray down on the vanity. Scooting himself onto the bed–where Dominique was perched regally, amidst the covers and an assortment of pillows–he said,
“Triple-shot, low-fat latte, just the way you–“
The last words of his sentence were cut off as Dominique took his face in her hands and kissed him passionately.
***
“I’m still waiting for an answer,” Dominique reminded him sweetly, with a hint of a tease in her voice, “to that first clue I gave you.”
As she said this, her hand slipped down the front of Ned’s joggers (it was unseasonably warm, and he had chosen to forgo underwear, in favor of casual comfort). While Dominique’s cool, firm hand went to work, Ned quickly filled in a series of descending three- and four-letter words. Then he paused, having almost completed the top row of the puzzle.
“Don’t stop on my account,” she purred seductively, “seems like you’re on a roll.”
“Oh god,” said Ned abruptly, in a hoarse whisper, “sweetheart–wait…”
As Dominique gaziantep zayıf escort bayan withdrew her hand, Ned exhaled with a shiver. Glancing to his left, he saw her smile alluringly, as she slipped the thin straps of the lacy camisole off her shoulders. His momentary thrill at the sight of her her beautiful, pillowy breasts, with their large dark areolae and prominent nipples, was cut short as she leaned in toward him, her hands gently freeing his already-rigid member from his pants,
“I hope I’m not distracting you,” she said inquiringly, “Am I?”
But before Ned could answer, his brain and body were awash with the sensations afforded him by Dominique’s luscious mouth. He slumped backward, watching as her head bobbed up and down. Instinctively, Dominique pulled away, just before the little eruption that splattered the puzzle still lying across Ned’s lap. He shuddered as she squeezed out the last couple of drops, and cleaned them off with a flick of her tongue. Eyeing the soggy paper, he quipped,
“Guess I might need to run to the corner again, huh?”
“I guess so!” she replied, then gingerly picked up the ruined puzzle, and tossed it on the floor.
Turning toward the foot of the bed, Dominique straddled Ned, and thrust her wide, soft hips back at him. Pulling her sheer lace bikinis aside, she offered him a lurid, delectable view, and asked, in a deep, husky whisper,
“So, if you want my help to actually finish the puzzle this time, I think it’s only fair that you return the favor, n’est-ce pas?”
“Mais bien sûr, ma chérie!”
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