Up For Review:
The Good Wife
Work in progress
Chapter 1
Wetness saturated every molecule in my small greenhouse. Every breath I took felt too moist, too hot, too difficult to inhale. The humidity wreaked havoc with my auburn hair. I caught my reflection in the glass door and shook the wild medusa-like ribbons, scooping the sweaty strands off my neck and shoulders. It was June and the temperature outside was a good ten degrees above the expected average for the month. Working inside the greenhouse intensified the heat to an outrageous degree. I grabbed the mister on my potting bench and began spraying my face, neck and shoulders. The minuscule droplets cooled my heated skin but only briefly. Grabbing a pencil, I shoved it through the thick knot of hair I twisted to the top of my head. A few auburn snakes squirmed free of the makeshift up-do.
The greenhouse was an anniversary surprise from my husband, Griffon Charles McIlhenney, Jr., or "Griff" to his friends. In it I nursed to life precious plants, rare grafts and new hybrids of antique and tea roses, and sold them to nurseries. Business was booming at Sun Gables Nursery and, although demanding, I still remained a very involved mother in our only child's life. It didn't hurt that my business operated fifty yards from our kitchen door and I employed a college-aged girl to help out around the house.
I was just finishing up the latest labeling and notes on some china rose grafts when the phone rang. I put the plants aside and answered on the third ring.
"Mrs. McIlhenney?" a deep voice spoke from the other end of the line.
"Yes?" I answered, already recognizing the voice.
"This is Trent from down the street. I've spent the last hour and a half looking for our dog, Bacchus. You don't happen to know where he is, do you?"
I laughed a little, "Would Bacchus be a monstrous yellow lab?"
"That sounds like him," Trent said.
"He's been enjoying the pond on the east side. I can see him from here if I stand on a chair ... "
"I'm sorry. He's usually swims in our pool but somehow he must have discovered your pond and likes it better."
"The koi probably have a lot to do with it."
"Damn. I'll replace whatever damage he's done."
"He's fine, Trent. Will you be coming over to get him soon?"
"I'll be there in five minutes."
I hung up the phone. A thrill shot through me suddenly at the thought of Trent. Don't get me wrong, I love my husband. He's an extremely attractive, sexy man. But who said I couldn't admire another man from afar? I might have been nearly old enough to be his mother but I certainly wasn't blind to his sun-kissed good looks.
I took a quick inventory of my appearance in the gazing ball by the cutting garden. I wiped the sweat from my forehead and chin. My face glowed, although more likely from the heat than anything else. I unbuttoned one more button on my sleeveless shirt and smoothed down my khaki shorts. Dirt was caked under my nails and on my knees and my hiking boots looked to have seen better days. I quickly dashed my hands under running water, cleaning my nails and splashing away the last bit of garden soil from my legs. Just in time, too. No sooner had I dried my hands on my shorts I heard the tell-tale creak of the wrought iron gate at the nursery entrance.
From behind the sketchy cover of a palm, I watched Trent approach. He stood tall, but not as tall as Griff. His shoulders were unbelievably wide and narrowed down his torso into a tight waistline. I knew he played football for the local high school and was said to have received a scholarship to a University somewhere in the state. I didn't doubt that in the least as the boy was always athletic. But now, and it was so obvious, this boy had turned into a powerful man.
As I continued to spy on Trent, all the while slyly appearing to be examining a touch of brown spot on a hybrid tea, he did something that surprised me. He paused at a rose bush and fingered one of the pink blooms. His fingers were long and thick with the smooth, tanned skin of youth. They were also tender and gentle with the fragile bloom, turning it over and examining the underside and nearby drooping leaves. He appeared to have recognized a problem with the troublesome hybrid and I couldn't resist but draw him into conversation.
"That one should be re-grafted with a stronger one of its species. I'm afraid it'll never shake the fungus killing it." I stepped onto the pebble path. Trent looked up from the plant and smiled. I felt my blood surge like a rogue wave plowing through dry sand, wetting me in awkward places. His face was so ruggedly handsome for his age yet appeared to be soft as silk. I stepped closer still, my smile growing wider. He certainly had a way with dressing up a wilting spot in my garden with his masculinity and charm.
"Maybe it just needs to be cut back and aired out," Trent responded with a shrug. "It worked once with one of my grandmother's rose bushes."
I blushed, reaching for a soft branch, "I will try that and report back to you." I turned and gave him a little wink, noticing for the briefest moment that his eyes had traveled to the gap in my blouse.
"Did Bacchus tear anything up?" Trent asked, burying his hands in his pockets.
"Bacchus actually did me a favor this morning," I said, stepping next to him. We began to walk down the pebble path stretching to the east and to the sound of a barking dog.
"Oh?"
"A gopher or armadillo has been tearing up an area around some camellia's. I've not been able to catch the thing with traps. One of the plants was given to my by a friend who had it moved before developers killed it. She moved it over here." I pointed to a blooming bush which towered above many others in its bed. "That plant is about thirty years old and I'll be damned if some rodent is going to kill it. That's where Bacchus comes in. He caught the animal this morning."
"Geez, that must have been nasty." Trent shook his head. I noticed his blonde-tipped hair.
It was my turn to shrug. "Nothing I haven't seen before, or something like that. I was grateful to be rid of it. Bacchus deserved that swim in the Koi pond. I just hope the Koi are as understanding." I laughed a little, glancing at Trent. He smiled, watching his feet.
"I'll make sure he doesn't bother you again, Mrs. McIlhenney," Trent said.
There it was: that formal name people called my mother-in-law. It wasn't me. Not at all. "Trent, please call me Tonya. I absolutely hate being called anything else."
Trent looked up at me and smiled, "All right. Tonya."
Chapter 2
"Come on baby, give 'em a kiss," I said to Griff while rubbing my breasts against his cheek. My nipples quickly puckered against his unshaven cheek, sending trickles of desire to my center. "I'm hot and ready for you. My temperature is up and I'm lubed and ready."
Griff groaned against the side of my breast, quickly capturing a nipple between his teeth. I froze against the pain and pleasure, undulating my hips slightly. "Oh yeah. Like that ... "
Griff gazed into my eyes, the deep brown bathing me in love. My palm found his rough cheek and caressed softly. He was everything to me. Well, almost everything. Lara, our eight-year-old daughter, took top honors in that division. Griff came in at a very close second. Still, I couldn't imagine myself without him.
His fingertips lightly scraped against my sides. I squirmed suddenly, a normal reaction when he touched me there. His dark eyebrows shot up and he smiled, my nipple still caught between his teeth.
"That's not fair, tickling me there. I might have to do this ... " I slipped my hand quickly beneath the waistband of his briefs and gripped his balls. He shook his head slightly, pulling my nipple with his teeth. My middle finger explored further, feeling the hard yet hidden part of his shaft. My grip eased on his balls when my finger found the spot I was looking for. I began to stroke the sensitive spot, pushing my finger slightly deeper.
All at once Griff growled, releasing my nipple and flipping me to my back. "Not so fast, little girl! We have at least another ten minutes." Griff nuzzled my neck, one hand squeezing a breast.
"Who are you calling little?" I asked with a grin, cupping my breasts. I pushed them up and together and laughed as he buried his face in the soft flesh.
I felt Griff's stiff shaft prod my inner thigh. I gladly spread my legs and reached for him. He felt so good in my hands; hard, hot and so virile. I rubbed my clitoris with the slick head of his penis, enjoying the extra lubrication oozing from him. "Yes, oh yes Griff. I want you deep inside me."
Griff plunged in hard and fast. I arched my back, the top of my head nearly flush with the bedclothes. We quickly found our rhythm. He pumped and grunted while I undulated and moaned. It was sweet - our kind of sweet sex. He came soon after, dancing inside me while I gripped his shoulders, grinding against him. My orgasm came slowly, throbbing deeply inside of me.
"Fuck," Griff said, collapsing on top of me.
"Yeah," I panted. We lay like that for only a short time because Griff wasn't a 90 pound weakling. His size can quickly render me breathless as in devoid of sufficient room to exercise my respiratory functions. Griff rolled off of me, his flacid penis leaving a streak of our juices over my thigh.
As I lay there recovering my normal heart rate, still basking in the floating warmth of my orgasm, I said a little prayer. Let this be the time, I thought. We've waited so long. Although Griff has told me many times he doesn't care if we have one child or a dozen, I felt the need to have another child. Desperately. I was nearly 36 years old and wasn't getting any younger. Besides, chances were better of conceiving when both partners climax at the same time, or so I thought. It would seem the cervix would swell slightly with the orgasm, throbbing and dipping into the life giving semen as it splashed against it, tasting the milk of absolute satisfaction.
I rolled to my side and reached for Griff. He jumped from the bed and entered the bathroom. I heard the shower start and the clunk of the door closing. I felt a little vexed but only for a short time. He was a busy man with a growing business and he was always needed somewhere. I can surrender a few minutes of our time together for his career.