Morning Chill

Brad could sense the chill in the air right away. He was still groggy before his first cup of coffee, but he wasn’t dead. Of course, Liz wasn’t exactly subtle, either, when she was annoyed about something. Everything she did took on a certain crispness, an economy of action, plus a few extra decibels, whether she was closing a cabinet door or setting a plate on the table. She was working the kitchen like an instrument as she got breakfast ready, letting it sound out her mood in clinks and clanks and slams.

The last 12 hours played through Brad’s mind automatically, as he tried to figure out what might have set her off. Nothing jumped out at him, though. Yesterday had been normal enough, perfectly routine. When they went to bed last night, she’d kissed him and told him she loved him. “Love you, too,” were the last words he recalled saying to her. And now this strange mood first thing in the morning.

Gathering up his resolve, he walked into the kitchen and put his arm around her icy shoulders. “Morning, honey. Can I help with anything?”

She lowered her shoulders, pulling away from him. “No. I’m taking care of it.”

Wow, he thought. Her tone of voice was something only a penguin could love. He sucked in his breath and tried to stifle the weary sigh he felt building up. Why are we starting the day like this? he wondered. The direct approach to finding out rarely worked, but it was the only one he knew. “What’s the matter?” he asked.

“Nothing’s the matter,” she answered curtly. “What makes you think something’s the matter?”

Because you’re being a bitch for no goddamn reason, he thought. Aloud he said, “I don’t know. You just seem to be annoyed about something this morning.” He hoped he’d kept the edge he felt out of his voice.

She stopped what she was doing and stared at him. “Would you even care if I was?”

Well, he thought, whatever it is, I’m obviously the problem. But what did I do? “Of course I care, sweetheart,” he said. “Why don’t you just tell me what’s on your mind.”

She’d resumed clanking some utensils around. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“Well, I can’t understand if you don’t tell me.”

“You’ll think I’m being silly.”

“No I won’t. Honest.”

Again, she stopped and looked him in the eyes. “Fine,” she said. “If you must know…” She hesitated as though reconsidering, then went on. “If you must know,” she repeated, “you were very mean to me in my dream last night.”

Brad blinked. He blinked again. Then a third time. She’s right, he thought. I don’t understand, and I do think she’s being silly. He knew he had to say something, but it couldn’t very well be the first thing that came to mind. His brain raced. There had to be something he could say to defuse this, and he had to say it fast, before his silence was misconstrued. “But-”

“See!” she cut him off. He was already too late. “I knew you wouldn’t understand.”

“But how-”

“You’re just going to tell me it was a stupid dream.”

“But I-”

“And I know that, but it still hurt me as if it was real.”

“But…” He stopped. In the sudden silence, he could hear a single drop falling from the faucet against the stainless steel bowl. Now that she’d stopped interrupting him, he realized he didn’t know what else to say. She’d anticipated his logical, rational approach. She smirked at him, no doubt pleased to see that her assessment was accurate, and resumed clinking and slamming things.

Brad walked over to the coffee maker as if in a daze. If nothing else, Liz was an efficient machine when she was in a snit. He poured himself a cup and tried to regroup as he sucked in the rich aroma. “Okay,” he started. “Fine… ‘I’ was mean in your dream last night, and you’re really upset about it. Why don’t you at least tell me what ‘I’ did in this dream.”

Liz glanced at him skeptically, but apparently decided his offer was valid. “We were in a bar,” she began. “You kept staring at this other woman. Just like I’ve seen you do dozens of times before.” Well, that much was true to life. He couldn’t help it if he liked to look at pretty girls.

“She had long, dark, thick, wild hair, just like you like. Low cut dress. Nice tits, but not so big as to be cartoonish. And she was sure making eyes at you too.”

“So ‘I’ did a little harmless flirt-”

“It was more than that,” she interrupted again. “You went over to her. The two of you got right down to nuzzling and smooching, like you were long lost lovers. You were both laughing. I could see her writing down her number. Then she… Then she pointed over to me.”

Liz’s voice began to shake. Her chin and lips were quivering. Oh no, thought Brad. Here come the tears.

“You just looked up and, loud as can be, you said ‘Oh her? She’s nothing.’ Nothing!” The tears were flowing freely now. “You said I was nothing, Brad.”

“Oh, honey-”

“And THEN!” she continued despite the sniffles. “Then I woke up. I was so upset, I was shaking. And there you were. Sleeping away like nothing had happened.”

Because nothing HAD happened, thought Brad. He sat there sipping his coffee waiting for her to finish his indictment. Despite the heat of the coffee, he shuddered.

“Well?” she asked at last.

Well, what? thought Brad. Was it finally his turn to speak? He didn’t have a clue what he could possible say. He was totally lost. When Liz was like this, he couldn’t seem to get from point A to point B. There were just too many twists and turns in between.

Liz sucked in her lip. She lowered her eyes sadly. “You don’t really think I’m nothing, do you?” Her voice was a hushed quaver.

Suddenly the room seemed to brighten as understanding finally came to Brad. It was the same old insecurity thing Liz had always struggled with. He couldn’t believe how dense he was sometimes. He got up and wrapped his arms around her now accepting shoulders. “Of course, I don’t think your nothing,” he said. “You’re everything to me.”

“Even if my hair isn’t long and dark like that?”

“I love your hair.”

“And I don’t have a perfect figure?”

Holding Liz, Brad realized he was suddenly ready for action, and sensed that she wanted to get beyond words too. Ignoring her question for the moment, he pulled her close, almost painfully tight, the way she liked when she needed reassurance. He brushed his lips along her face in a meandering path to her mouth. “I’m gonna show you what I think of your imperfect figure,” he whispered.

He pressed his lips against hers and began to probe her mouth with his tongue. She sucked on it eagerly. His hands roamed down her back to her ass, pulling her against his hardness. He ground his hips into her, pushing her up to the refrigerator. Magnets rearranged themselves and fell to the floor.

Taking her wrists in hand, he lifted her arms above her head, pinning them against the tall white appliance. He stepped back and let his eyes take a long, lingering tour of her body. She held her arms up where he’d left them, breathing heavily though parted lips. When his eyes met hers again, they found remnants of her last question mixed with her hunger for him. “You are perfect for me,” he said.

Then, as he kissed her again, he untied the velvet rope-belt of her peach-colored robe, letting the robe fall open. He pulled the belt from its loop and pressed it firmly against her chest, rubbing it up and down, back and forth, over her puckered nipples.

“Yes,” she whispered in response. She lowered her arms, unbuttoned her pajamas, and thrust her bare breasts into the soft caresses of the belt. Even as she did so, she reached around and pulled up the T-shirt that Brad had slept in. Her fingers clutched at him, pinching his own nipples and pulling lightly at his chest hair.

Brad moaned, feeling himself stiffen even more. He pulled the soft rope-belt behind Liz and guided it between her legs. With one arm behind her and one in front, he lifted the belt with a gentle sawing motion, until she was pulled up on her toes.

“Oh god, Brad,” she gasped. She kissed him voraciously as she humped the velvet violator. Then, all at once, she broke away, pushing desperately at her boxers, kicking them across the floor. The scent of her arousal mingled with that of the morning coffee.

Brad dropped the belt and quickly pulled off his briefs. Their bodies flew back together. Liz stood on tiptoe again, this time guiding Brad’s cock into her. He lifted her, pressing her against the refrigerator again. She reached up, grabbed the top and pulled herself up, as she wrapped her legs around his thighs.

They writhed together for some minutes, gasping, moaning. Brad could hear things tipping over inside the refrigerator as they rocked it, but he didn’t care. Just when it seemed that he couldn’t hold Liz up any longer, he felt himself surging to climax. He gaped at her. She was screaming at him to continue.

“Don’t stop! Don’t… Oh god. Don’t stop. Fuck it. Fuck it!”

His explosion came at once. Grunting, his eyes rolled back, and he shuddered with the swift release. “Jee-zus, Liz,” he hissed. As he withdrew, Liz lowered her legs to the floor, but continued to grind her hips against him. It was clear she wanted more.

He brought his right hand around and began rubbing her engorged nub with his thumb, as he thrust two fingers deep inside her slick cunt. He licked and nibbled on her breasts, continuing to finger fuck her for several more minutes.

At last, between her sighs, he heard her whisper, “We still have to get ready for work, dear.”

Together they sank to the floor, amid the dislocated magnets. She looked at him with happy eyes. “I’m sorry I got so upset about a stupid dream,” she said.

He smiled. “It’s okay. I understand.” Then, feeling mischievous, he added, “But, I was wondering. About that woman in your dream… Did you get her name?”

Copyright 2000 by Rod Harden All rights reserved. Reproduction prohibited in any form without written permission of the author.

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