“Oh, I like where this is going,” I murmured, and gripped her hips, bringing my mouth down to suck on her earlobe. She whimpered. “I can see it now. You all hot and needy for my cock, and then you have a light bulb moment.”
“Stop joking around. I knew you were going to laugh at me,” she huffed.
“I’m not joking, Freda. Continue with your story,” I urged, and ran my hand up her inner thigh, sliding under her knickers and straight to her wetness, teasing.
Her voice was laboured when she went on, “So I got the vibrator out, obviously. It actually took me a while to figure out how to use it. But oh, my God, once I did….” She trailed off and moaned when I thrust two fingers deep inside her.
“Once you did?”
“Once I did,” she began again, “it was a fucking revelation. And I know this might sound weird, but my sheets still smell of you, so when I closed my eyes, I could almost imagine you were there in the room with me.”
I grinned and quickly undid my pants, pulling out my cock and fisting it, teasing it over her lips. “Well, aren’t you a naughty, imaginative little thing.”
“Nicholas,” she gasped when my tip slipped inside her, but I withdrew quickly. I wanted to tantalise her until she was begging for it. My restraint was a surprise to me, because the whole flight home I’d been figuring out the quickest and most efficient way to get inside her. She wasn’t the only one who’d had to resort to masturbation this week, and if she knew the things that were in my filthy mind, she’d know her little stint with the vibrator was positively PG.
I gave her what she wanted then, jerking my hips forward as I filled her up. Noise from cars and people out on the street drifted in, a reminder that the world was mere feet away from us, yet here we were in our own little bubble.
“Love you,” I whispered as I palmed her hips and picked up the pace. Her head fell back and her eyes closed, her mouth hanging open as she panted.
“I love you, too,” she replied, and it didn’t take long before I was coming and collapsing on top of her. She held me close, and as our breathing evened out, I smiled, because in that moment I knew I had to make her my wife.
How I would propose, though…that was the question.
December 25th, 2012.
Soundtrack: “Take Your Mama” by Scissor Sisters
It was Christmas, and I was going with Fred to spend the day with her parents. This would be my first time meeting them, and I couldn’t deny that I had a touch of anxiety. Just a touch. I was in love with their daughter; she was my everything now, so I desperately wanted them to accept me. From what Fred had told me, her folks, Pam and Bill, were in their early seventies (she was the youngest of four older siblings), and I knew that their generation might find the idea of what I did for a living strange – offensive, even.
Apparently, Fred’s sister Eileen was going to be there. She had recently separated from her husband and had moved back in with her parents until she figured out what her next step would be. Fred had been acting strangely for the past few days, and I couldn’t decide if it was nerves over me meeting her mum and dad, or something else. I’d knocked on the door of her apartment several days ago, and she let me in with an odd look on her face. She’d quickly covered it up and tried to act normal, but I could tell something was bothering her.
That night when I tried to have sex with her, she’d made an excuse not to. My mind was awash with worry that she’d gotten sick of me and was going to try to end things. I couldn’t think of a single reason for her sudden withdrawal. I’d been sober for almost five months, been on my best behaviour, and basically worshipped the ground she walked on. I planned on discovering what was going on with her, but for now we had Christmas to contend with.
We’d been planning to spend the day with her parents for weeks, so I plastered on a brave face and tried to be my usual charming self. That morning when I’d dropped into her apartment to collect her, she’d grabbed me by the face and given me a hard, passionate kiss on the lips. When I asked what it was for, she answered that she just felt like it. Then she looked a little teary-eyed as she very seriously told me how amazing she thought I was.
Again, she was being weird.
I was beginning to worry if maybe she was sick or something, but she hadn’t mentioned going to see the doctor.
On the drive to her parents’ house, she was quiet. I put my hand on her knee as a soothing gesture, and she welcomed the touch. Perhaps she’d just been having her time of the month, and that was why she hadn’t wanted to have sex with me. It would also explain her odd moods.
I knocked on the door when we arrived, and Fred stood beside me, holding a bag of gifts in her arms. I’d gotten her mother a bottle of her favourite perfume and her father a pair of tickets to an upcoming football game. Fred had advised me on both. Her mother answered the door wearing a Christmas jumper and a long navy skirt. I took it that Christmas jumpers were a tradition for this family, because Fred was wearing one, too. It was red, navy, and white, and prominently featured reindeer and mistletoe.
I’d told her outright that it was both hideous and adorable, and she appeared to enjoy my evaluation. Only Fred would feel complimented upon being told that her clothing was hideous. She was unique in that sense.
“Nicholas!” said Fred’s mother the moment she saw me. “Aren’t you handsome! I’ve been dying to meet you. Come in, come in.” She gestured for me to step inside and then pulled me into a hug. Already I knew I was going to like Pam. Bill, on the other hand, stood by the doorway to the living room, lips thinned into a straight line, sizing me up. I was wearing a midnight-blue shirt, grey slacks, and a burgundy tie. I could tell that the tie was probably showing too much…personality, shall we say, for Bill’s taste. My hair, which I had cut just a week beforehand, was neatly styled. Bill’s tuft of curly grey hair sat atop his head like he’d just stepped off a boat after a rather choppy journey. I imagined his tuft had yet to experience a styling product in all of its seventy-something years.
Bill was a man’s man, drank beer, watched football, mowed the lawn, and expected his dinner to be ready on the table promptly at seven every evening. Of course, all of these were assumptions on my part, but I’d learned over the years to read people. I had no problem with men like Bill. Unfortunately, though, men like Bill often had problems with me. So yes, in terms of Fred’s parents, her father was going to be the tough nut to crack.
On the bright side, I could tell Pam was madly enamoured with me the moment I complimented the red and green Christmas-themed napkins she’d used to set the table.
“You’re too kind,” she said, and went to check on the turkey.
“I’m going to leave these presents under the tree,” Fred called as she wandered into the living room. Bill appeared again, this time to retrieve a beer from the fridge, so I decided it was time to break the ice.
I held out my hand. “It’s nice to finally meet you, Bill.”
He glanced at my hand, then back up at my face, grunted, and finally shook with me. His grip was firm and dry. He cleared his throat. “Good to meet you too, son,” he said, then took his beer and went back into the living room. I thought he might actually be a little bit shy. Fred had once told me that her father was a man of few words.
“Oh, Mum, I can smell the roast potatoes from here,” a woman exclaimed as she walked into the room. “Absolutely heavenly. I’m starving. Did you use the beef dripping?”
“I did,” Pam replied, now stirring a pot of gravy. “They’re going to be melt in the mouth.”
I presumed this to be Fred’s older sister, Eileen. She looked like she was in her early forties, sporting a blonde dye job, gold hoop earrings, a pink robe, matching silk nightie underneath, and fluffy kitten-heel slippers. She hadn’t yet bothered to get dressed, and I was oddly overjoyed by that fact. I could tell immediately that she was going to be an interesting character.
“Oh, Nicholas,” Pam went on. “This is my daughter Eileen, Fred’s sister. She??
?s staying with us for a little while.”
I gave her a dashing smile. “A pleasure to meet you, Eileen.”
One eyebrow rose, and her lips formed a pleased little grin. She didn’t seem at all put out that she’d been caught still in her night things well after midday. “Nicholas, Fred’s told me so much about you,” she said, and I took her hand, bringing it to my lips for a brief kiss. She giggled and looked to her mother. “He’s a charmer, this one.”
At that Fred walked back in, spotted her sister, and immediately shielded her face with her arm. “My eyes, my eyes!”
Pam laughed softly, but Eileen scowled. “Oh, shush.”
Fred chuckled and lowered her arm, giving Eileen a funny look up and down. The woman was even more well-endowed in the chest region than Fred was, and she had quite clearly neglected to put on a bra. Let’s just say, gravity had not been kind.
“No, seriously, Eileen, go put some clothes on. My poor boyfriend is going to need therapy after seeing you in that sexy getup.” She threw her arm around me then. “I mean, just look at him. He’s practically traumatised.” Her sarcastic tone was obvious, and Eileen narrowed her eyes, pulling a packet of cigarettes from her robe and lighting one up.
“Eileen! Take that outside!” Pam cried, coming to push her toward the back door. “I’ve been slaving over this dinner for hours. I don’t want it tasting of cigarette smoke.”
Eileen did as she was told, standing by the open door and taking a drag as she responded to Fred, “Afraid of a bit of competition, are you, Freda?” She gave me a sassy little wink, and I grinned.
“Of course I am. How can I be expected to compete with those knockers? Nicholas is lucky you didn’t take his eye out.”
“I’d quite happily lose an eye for a cause such as that,” I put in with a devilish grin. Fred’s smile deepened, enjoying the fact that I was playing along with her, while Eileen preened at the compliment.
“Oh, Fred,” Eileen sighed, and teased her sister back, “you always were the jealous type. Don’t hate me because I’m beautiful.”
“It’s not my fault I’m jealous. I haven’t seen sexy lingerie like that since Dynasty was on TV,” Fred quipped. “And I thought feathery kitten-heel slippers were a myth originating from fancy ladies in cartoons. Until now.”
Pam took a break from cooking to lean against the counter and dab her brow. It seemed she had only just had the opportunity to properly take in her daughter’s attire, because her eyes widened before she let out a sigh. “Oh, Eileen, do go and put a brassiere on. A woman of your endowment needs the support.” I tried to hold in a laugh, because Pam managed to make what she was saying sound mild-mannered and polite. Her daughter still took offense, though.
“Mum!” Eileen exclaimed, stubbing out the end of her smoke.
“You’re not twenty-one anymore,” said Pam consolingly. “And besides, your father’s only in the next room. It’s unseemly.”
Fred let out a burst of raucous laughter as Eileen stepped inside and closed the back door. “Yeah, listen to Mum. You don’t want to send Dad into therapy as well as Nicholas.”
“Fine,” Eileen huffed. “I’m going to get dressed.”
“Wear the peach wraparound,” Pam called after her. “It’s lovely on you.”
Fred’s sister disappeared and Pam shook her head, then whispered to the both of us conspiratorially, “We had quite the scene last night. Jim came around — that’s Eileen’s husband,” she said to me as an aside, “looking to talk things out. Eileen wouldn’t allow him into the house, and he proceeded to sing their wedding song while standing out in the front garden. He woke up half the neighbourhood.”
“Oh, my God, why do I always miss the good stuff?” Fred put in humorously.
“What was their wedding song?” I asked.
Pam pursed her lips like she was trying to suppress a smile. “‘Whatever You Want’ by Status Quo.” She paused as though feeling the need to explain further. “It was a big hit the year they first met.”
“I forgot about that!” Fred laughed. “Hi-fucking-larious. Jim was always partial to a double-denim ensemble.”
“Language, Freda,” Pam scolded mildly. “Anyway, your father had to go out and take Jim for a drink in the end. It was the only way to get him away from the house.”
“Poor Dad.”
“He wasn’t happy when he got home,” Pam went on. “Apparently, Jim began crying at the bar in front of everybody. Your father was mortified.”
“Eileen’s a bitch. He’s better off without her,” Fred said flippantly.
“Freda!”
“What? You know she’s self-centred, Mum. You’re just too nice to say it. I mean, she’s left him to take care of the kids and everything. I know they’re all teenagers now, but they were always a handful.”
“Yes, well, can you just please just be polite to your sister while we eat dinner? I don’t want a scene on Christmas Day.”
Fred nodded at her mother, who went back to her cooking. Her eyes landed on me, and she gave me a private little smile. I reached for her hand and interlaced our fingers, speaking low so Pam didn’t hear. “I think you should show me your old bedroom.” I desperately wanted a moment alone so I could kiss her. As I already said, she’d been distant the past few days, but she seemed to be in better spirits now, and I wanted to take advantage of her good mood.
She stared at me for a long moment, comprehension of my true intentions clear on her face, and then she just seemed to shut down.
“Maybe later,” she answered finally.
I tried to disguise my disappointment as I silently accepted her reply. About an hour went by before we were all sitting at the table for dinner. I’d wrongly assumed I might get through the whole thing without anyone inquiring as to what I did for a living, but it wasn’t to be. Eileen, now dressed in her peach wraparound, swallowed a sip of white wine and brought her attention to me.
“So, Nicholas, Fred tells me you’re a singer. What style of music do you do?”
“A bit of everything, really. It depends on my mood. I’ve been getting into swing lately.”
“Oh, I love that! So, is it a Michael Bublé sort of thing?”
“Ugh, as if,” Fred snickered. “Nicholas is an artiste, Eileen. He doesn’t do all that bland middle class housewife-targeted shite. When he sings ‘Mack the Knife,’ it’s in the original German, and it gives you flipping goose bumps.”
I smiled at her fondly. She’d really loved it when I sang that song at the club on Halloween. A lot of people told me I’d creeped them out, which was kind of the intention and I think what Fred liked about it so much.
“Well, I’d love to come and see you perform sometime. Now that I’m single again, I want to make the most of it. Are there many eligible bachelors at the club where you perform?”
I made brief eye contact with Fred, whose face was contorted with the effort of holding in too many jokes.
“You could say that,” I answered.
“That’s it, then. I have to go. When’s your next gig?”
Fred cleared her throat. “I really don’t think it’d be your scene, Eileen.”
“What? Because I’m too old?” she scoffed. “Forty is the new thirty, I’ll have you know.”
“It’s got nothing to do with your age. It’s more a case of you not having the right equipment.”
“Now you’re being stupid. What are you talking about?”
Fred let out a long sigh. “Nicholas works in a gay bar, so unless you’re thinking of going for a sex change, you’re shit out of luck.”
Bill shifted uncomfortably in his seat, and Pam eyed me with surprise, coughing a little on the potatoes she’d just swallowed.
“A gay bar?” Eileen asked, looking at me curiously. “Really?”
I nodded. “It’s true.”
Under normal circumstances, I had no reservations in telling people about my profession, but these were Fred’s parents, and I didn’t want them to dislike me. Fred
must have been in the mood to shock her family, because she didn’t hold back on the details. “He’s a female impersonator.”
I rubbed my neck uncomfortably.
“Oh!” said Pam. “Like one of those…what do you call them? Drag queens? Like Lily Savage?”
“That’s right,” Fred told her, turning to give me an encouraging smile. I really wished she would have given me a little heads-up that she was going to tell them. It’s not that I minded, because it was probably for the best to get it out there, but it would have been nice to have some time to prepare.
“I thought it was only queer fellas who did that sort of thing,” Bill added, frowning. He didn’t appear to be angry, though, which was good.
“Predominantly, yes,” I replied breezily. “I’m something of a rare bird in that sense.”
“So you’re not bisexual, then?” Eileen questioned, sipping on her wine again. I didn’t get a judgmental vibe from her, which relaxed me a little. She actually seemed excited.
I glanced at Fred, smiling fondly. “Do you know, this conversation reminds me of the one we had the first time you came to see me perform. You were full of questions.”
“We Wilsons don’t hold back with the questions,” she said before turning to her sister. “And no, he’s not bisexual, Eileen. Nosy.”
“I was only curious,” Eileen said, defending herself. “And I still want to come to the club. I’ve never been to a gay bar before.”
“I’d like to go, too,” said Pam, surprising everyone. “I’ve always loved Lily Savage. Oh, and Dame Edna!”
Fred laughed loudly. “Oh, my God, this is going to be classic. Next thing you know, Dad will want to come as well.”
Bill glanced at her and the edges of his mouth twitched. Well, this was something. He was trying not to smile. I began to wonder if Fred took more after her father than her mother. He picked up a napkin and dabbed at his lips. “I think I’ll let you girls go and enjoy yourselves. You wouldn’t want an old fuddy duddy like me dulling the mood.”