This story is based upon the BBC Shakespeare Retold version of The Taming of the Shrew with Shirley Henderson and Rufus Sewell.

It was written in honour of my friend Frannie's 40th birthday, so on this occasion, she will play the part of Kate. And because in her TOTS stories, she calls him Piers, I shall do the same.

And it's also for all the other girls on the Rooftop who've ever wondered............... (and they know what about!!!)

Of course, the soundtrack is Happy Birthday, but the Altered Images version from 1981:

"Happy happy birthday in a hot bath

To those nice nice nights

I remember always always

I got such a fright

Seeing them in my dark cupboard

With my great big cake

If they were me, if they were me

And I was you, and I was you

If they were me, if they were me

And I was you, and I was you

If they were me and I was you

Would you like a present too

Happy Birthday Frannie xxx

"Kate!"

She heard his rough voice calling her impatiently from the other room.

"KATE!!"

She ignored it.

"KATE!!!"

Bloody hell why could she never get any peace and quiet?

"WHAT!!!" she snapped back. It was bad enough that she had to go to this stupid party. He could at least give her an hour's peace and quiet before they left, to get some work done.

"KATE!!!"

"WHAT!!!"

"COME HERE!!!"

"WHY???

"BECAUSE I WANT YOU TOO!!!"

She sighed and got up from her desk, and walked into the front room where she'd heard his voice coming from.

He was sitting on the sofa, his back to her.

"What Piers? I'm trying to get some work done before we have to leave for this stupid party."

He turned, "now come on Kate, you can't call your own 40th birthday party stupid! Where's your birthday spirit?"

She grimaced. She grimaced at what he said – the fact that it was her 40th birthday party gave her even more reason to think it was stupid as far as she was concerned. And she grimaced at him. She grimaced at his dark eyeliner and lipstick, at his eye shadow and the blush on his high cheekbones.

Kate loved her gorgeous husband more than life itself. Despite the fact that he was big, noisy, clumsy, overconfident and tactless, he was also generous, loving, open, fun and very, very sexy and she adored him.

He was also the loud, proud dad of her 18-month-old triplet sons, and allowed her the freedom to pursue her political ambitions whilst he cared for them. He was probably the best dad that three little boys could have. She often wondered what he would do when they grew up and he didn't, but at this point in time, when they could play and roll on the floor and laugh together, they were a perfect match.

But despite the fact that she thought he was just about as perfect as a man could possibly be, there was one thing she had trouble accepting. She still couldn't stand his penchant for dressing like a drag queen. It wasn't something he did very often, but when he did, it was always at the most inappropriate time, like their wedding day, and she saw that today, the occasion of her 40th birthday, was no exception.

"Piers," she said threateningly, "please don't tell me that you're planning to go to my party dressed like, like, like………"

"Like this?" He gave her a big smile "Come on, it's a party isn't it? Surely you don't mind me dressing up for your party. Parties are so much more fun if you dress up Kate"

Her teeth were gritted, her jaw clenched. She tried to speak but all she could do was growl.

"Oooh Kate," he purred, his eyes narrowing. "You know you'll just give me a hard on if you growl like that. And I need you to help me with my nail polish."

He held out a bottle of dark polish.

"I never do a very good job if I try and do it myself. Harry used to help me but, well, he's not here is he?"

She stared at him. She tried to look calm and accepting but she'd never been any good at hiding her true feelings. She tried to smile but could feel her face contorting into some kind of hideous grimace.

"You're just making me hornier and hornier," he murmured to her.

"Just give me that," she snapped, snatching the bottle of polish from him. She stomped around the sofa and sat next to him. Grabbed his big hand and put it on her knee, spreading his fingers flat.

"You know I hate it when you dress like this," she snarled at him. "If you want to do it, why can't you just do it at home like all the other cross dressing loonies? Why do you have to save it for when we go out? Why do you only do it on really big occasions when all our friends are there, and my work colleagues, and our families?"

He reached over to her hair, and tucked the loose strand that was hanging in her face behind her ear.

"Why do you get upset Kate? Why don't you just accept that you can't control everything? You knew at the wedding that there were things about me that you'd never be able to control. If you didn't like it you shouldn't have married me. Why don't you just accept it as one of my lovable eccentricities instead of fighting it?"

"I will never accept it, never, how can I accept something that I don't understand?" she said, her jaw still clenched.

"You can't make it go away just because you don't understand it. Come on Kate, lighten up, have some fun with it." He leant over to her and kissed her on the cheek, touching it gently with the tip of his tongue as he pulled away.

She grabbed his other hand and started stroking the polish on. She loved his broad hands and his long fingers. She did sometimes think to herself that she didn't know any other man who could pull off wearing nail polish the way that he could. Or fish nets and high-heeled boots for that matter.

"What are you going to be wearing tonight Kate? Something sexy I hope. I wouldn't want to look sexier than you."

She glanced at him. Her eyes flashed black with anger.

He threw his head back, laughing. "God Kate, you're so easy to wind up you know." He leant over and whispered in her ear, "you know I think you're sexy whatever you wear. I love your prissy uptight Leader of the Opposition get up because I know what you look like naked. I know what's under that little skirt and those sensible shoes."

She looked at him coyly. She did love it when he talked to her like this, in his sexy, throaty voice. She held his fingertips close to her mouth and blew gently on his painted nails.

"Mmmm, I love how your mouth looks when you make that blowing face. Your lips look lust like they do when they're wrapped around my….."

"Piers," she said warningly, but looked up at him slyly through her eyelashes.

"You know the boys have left with the nanny for the night, don't you?" he whispered to her seductively. "And we have a couple of hours before we have to leave for the party. We could, you know, shag for a bit. It's your birthday after all. And I haven't given you my special present yet have I?"

"Now, now Piers, your nail polish is still wet and you've just spent all this time getting done up like, like, well, like this." She gestured helplessly towards him. "And you'd just have to take those boots and stockings off."

"Um, well, no I wouldn't actually," he said quietly. His eyes narrowed, "do you not understand what goes on under this skirt, Kate?"

"Er," she frowned, "what do you mean, 'what goes on under this skirt'?"

"Well, you could find out if you wanted," he murmured, "I mean, I can't stop you can I, not without smudging my nail polish anyway?"

She moved her hand from his knee and ran it slowly up his thigh. The feel of his strong leg muscle under his fish net stockings was strangely appealing, and she felt a tingle of anticipation travel through her body. Her fingers reached the top edge, confirming as she hoped that they were indeed stockings and not tights, and she felt the warm skin of his upper thigh. She stopped; it wasn't like she hadn't had her fingers in his groin before but somehow, it seemed wrong to be putting her hand up somebody else's skirt.

"Don't stop now Kate," he whispered. His eyes were closed and he was leaning back on the sofa.

She moved her hand slowly upward, feeling the warm hairy skin of his thigh and then further. She was hoping to feel the reassuring cotton of his jocks, but knew she would probably feel French lace or silk. Because really, she thought, if a man went to all the effort of dressing up like this and wearing makeup and stockings and high heeled boots, it was unlikely that he'd stick to his sensible cotton undies.

But she felt neither cotton, nor lace, nor silk. She just felt skin and more skin. Thigh and groin and balls and cock. Bare thigh, bare skin, bare balls and bare, hard cock.

She drew breath, just for a second.

"Piers, surely you usually wear jocks or French knickers or something under here."

"No," he answered, not moving or opening his eyes. "Never."

"What? You mean that when we got married, you were………………"

"Oh yes, especially then"

"Naked?"

"Yep"

"Under that skirt?"

"Uh – hu"

"Nothing?"

"Nothing"

"Piers!!!!"

"Oh come on Kate, don't pretend to be shocked. It turns you on really doesn't it? It's ok, you can tell me." He opened one green eye and looked up at her through his long dark eyelashes.

"No!"

"What - no it doesn't turn you on - or no you can't tell me?"

"Neither"

"I don't believe you Kate. I mean it's not like you've let go yet." He smirked slyly at her.

She realised that her hand was still wrapped around his big erection. Somehow though, it felt like the right place for her hand to be. She didn't really want to let go. He felt hot, and hard, and thick, and well, sexy as hell.

He lent over to her and kissed her full on the lips. His mouth was big and wet, and his tongue took no time at all to find hers through her parted lips. He eased his big body on top of hers, pushing her gently back into the couch.

"So have you changed your mind about that birthday shag then?"

She nodded wordlessly. He put his hands on her face and kissed her again, long and passionately and deeply. This is what she loved about him. He was all or nothing; whatever he was doing he did it with his full attention. She never felt like his mind was somewhere else, like he was wondering about the football scores or what time the rugby was on the telly. When he kissed her, he did it like he meant it and when he loved her, he did it with his heart and soul.

And right now he was on a mission and she knew he had no intention of stopping 'til he reached his goal. And she had no intention of stopping him, because she knew what his goal was. It flooded her knickers and turned her knees to jelly just thinking about it.

His attention was on her fully and intensely. He undressed her and caressed her and kissed her and nibbled her and licked her and lapped her and touched her and held her. He lavished attention on every inch of her and while she loved every second of it, her favourite part, as always, was when he circled his tongue around her belly button and then ran it down her belly to her thighs. He could do things to her with his big broad tongue that she had never even imagined before their wedding night.

And he did them to her now. But today was different. She couldn't believe the way he was teasing her. His tongue and his lips were everything and everywhere, everywhere that is except on the tiny crucial target where she needed them to be. She squirmed and wriggled and lifted her hips and pushed his head trying to get him to do what she wanted.

And she heard him laughing as she did. "Talk to me Kate," he teased. "Tell me what you want."

"You know what I want you fucking bastard," she snarled at him.

He groaned, "oh god Kate, you're going to make me blow if you talk to me like that. You know how it turns me on."

"Piers stop teasing me, stop teasing me now."

"But it's your birthday Kate. I have to make it special for you. And if I keep you on the brink it will be so, so much better when I finally let you come."

"Let me come. You will not let me come. I will come whenever I want, you prick."

"Oooooh, now you know that that's just not true don't you? Unless you're planning to stroke this little gem yourself," he ran his tongue quickly over her clit, "then you'll be coming when, and only when, I say you can."

She squirmed. "Get on with it you fucking moron," she moaned.

"You are so, so sexy when you swear at me Kate. You know how much I love you don't you?" He rubbed his face on the sensitive skin of her inner thighs.

"Fuck off."

"Oh god, I can't resist you anymore Kate," and he sank his hot mouth back onto her. And as his lips closed around her and his tantalising tongue stroked her and he finally let her have what she so desperately wanted, she decided that this was well and truly the very best birthday present she'd ever been given.

But just when she wanted nothing more than to collapse onto the couch and lay in the aftermath of her shuddering orgasm, he slipped one big hand under her back and flipped her over on the couch. She felt him behind her and gasped as he slipped into her. He knew she loved him dominating her, knew she loved the feel of him behind her. But she didn't think she could cope. She was still melting and pulsing from coming in his mouth when he thrust deep inside her.

He had one paw on her tits and the other one wrapped around her waist pulling her up against him. He was fucking her hard, slamming into her, and filling her, groaning into her ear with each thrust. He was taking her back to the brink again, his knob bumping up hard against the sensitive spot inside her.

And just when she didn't think she could take anymore, when she felt like she was on the edge of heaven, she felt herself fall apart, contracting and pulsing around him as she collapsed face forward onto the sofa.

He held her hips high and rammed deeply into her three more times.

"Happy" slam "Birthday" slam "Kate" slam. And as he exploded inside her he held her so tightly, she didn't think she would ever breathe again.

He finally collapsed over her back, pinning her to the couch with the weight of his hot, slick, sweaty body. "And I didn't even have to take my boots or my stockings off," he gasped. "I love you Kate." He kissed the side of her face.

"And I love you, My Beloved," she murmured, unable to open her eyes, or move or think.

"My Beloved?" he repeated, sleepily. "I thought I was your Very Demanding Fantasy Lover."

She sighed, "listen you stupid prick; I've explained this before. When you're not here and I'm just thinking about you, then you're my Very Demanding Fantasy Lover, but when you're actually here with me then you're My Beloved.

"Oh yeah, I remember now," he murmured. "So what exactly is it that I demand you to do to me when I'm being your Very Demanding Fantasy Lover then?"

She smiled, eyes still closed, and snuggled down into his arms. "Oh, wouldn't you love to know Piers, wouldn't you love to know."