Captain David Nolan was dead tired when he got home that night. He unlocked the door to their apartment, and was surprised to realize that his wife was there already and waiting for him. Usually Mary Margaret was the one stuck late at the office, not him. But tonight she was in the kitchen humming, and, he realized as the tantalizing aromas enticed him, making spaghetti for dinner. He tossed his briefcase onto the sofa and followed his nose.
When he got to the kitchen, he stopped in the doorway to watch her. She was one of the best police officers ever to graduate from the academy, top of her class, no nonsense, and dedicated to the community. But she didn't look like the Chief of Internal Affairs right now, he thought with a smile. Dressed in a pair of his boxers and a thin camisole, she was stirring the sauce while the spaghetti roiled in the pot, and the sight of her, standing there as the steam rose up around her, coaxing her hair into curls, awakened something deep inside him. It always happened; every time he saw her was like the first time, even though they had been married for years. His heart seemed to miss a beat, and he forgot how to breathe for just a moment. He felt flushed, as if he was running a never-ending fever, which he was—a fever for her.
They had met for the first time at the police academy. She was a new recruit and he was a hard-nosed instructor of physical training. He took his job very seriously; he weeded out those who could not stand up to the job. An officer not able to defend himself with his bare hands if necessary was not an officer he wanted to put out on the street.
The first day of training, he had paid little attention to the short haired woman in academy issued sweats that turned her petite body into a gray lump. She thought he was intimidating, especially the way he shouted at the recruits as they ran, did pushups, and lifted weights. But she had always wanted to be a police offer, to protect and serve her fellow people, and she wasn't going to let anyone scare her away.
"Blanchard!" his growl echoed through the gym an hour into the third day, as the recruits were lined up, panting after 20 laps, 30 pushups, and enough weight lifting to make their arms feel like cement. It was proving to be the regular morning warm up. Mary Margaret could have sworn the other cadets sidled away from her as if his voice calling her name might somehow trap them into his field of vision. "Sir!" she responded and stepped forward smartly. She was one of only 2 females in this particular class, and the other woman was built like an Amazon warrior.
"You're going to help me demonstrate how to escape from a choke hold, recruit." He motioned her forward onto the mat. She stepped up next to him, the first time she'd been this close to her instructor. "You never know," he continued his lecture, "when you may be attacked. You have to be constantly vigilant." Suddenly, without warning, he seized her from behind, and wrapped his arm around her throat. "What can you do if this happens to you?" he asked the class, pretty much ignoring the slight figure he held fast. Mary Margaret leaned back, bent her knees slightly, and shoved her right foot between his feet. Then lunging forward, she held onto his arm, bent down slightly, and jerked him off his feet, tossing him over her shoulder while she held on to his wrist.
Dazed, he stared up at her from the floor. "Where—where'd you learn that?" he stammered. Mary Margaret let go immediately. "Sorry, sir," she apologized, "it was just instinct. I've trained in judo since I was 6 years old." "Get back in line," he growled, watching her as she quickly returned to the class of open-mouthed recruits. That had never happened to him in all his time as an instructor. This was one for the books. He decided to keep an eye on this recruit.
Weeks later, after graduation, David approached her. "Officer Blanchard," he'd commented, noticing suddenly how nicely her new uniform fit her, "congratulations." She smiled, and his heart miss-fired. "Thank you, sir." "I understand you've been assigned to the South Main station," he continued. "Yes, sir," she noticed how blue his eyes were up close like this.
"Well, I've accepted an assignment there too," he informed her, "so I guess we'll be seeing a lot more of each other." Her smile seemed to shoot into his heart. "I'm glad to hear it, sir," she replied, "I look forward to working with you."
The memories of that first encounter, so long ago, was still as fresh in his heart as if her smile had engraved it there permanently. He watched her from the doorway for a moment more, then came up behind her and rested his hands on her shoulders for a gentle massage. She continued stirring the spaghetti as he lowered his head to caress her gently on her neck with his lips. He knew she was smiling. He fought the urge to skip the meal and just grab her and carry her to their bedroom. She had this effect on him every time; he would forget everything around him and enter a universe that contained only the two of them.
"Whoever ever you are," she teased, her back still to him, "you should know my husband is a very jealous police captain who carries a sidearm at all times." She put down her spoon, turned slowly around, and pulled his face down to hers. 'Maybe they wouldn't even make it to the bedroom,' he thought, as he gazed down at her, 'It's not like it hadn't happened before.'
He kissed her deeply, tasting her sweetness; every kiss with her was like the first kiss, like a fine cabernet, like fireworks, like leaping off a cliff into a rushing torrent of water. "Aren't you hungry?" she asked softly, licking his lower lip and cupping his cheek in her hand. He reached around her and turned off the stove burners with one hand, never letting go of her. "I'm hungry for something else," he purred, as he swept her up into his arms and carried her into their bedroom. They collapsed on the bed, and he immediately fell on top of her, again tasting her lips, her cheeks, her neck. She moaned, and shrugged off her blouse, then began pulling at his belt. As her breasts were freed from the fabric, his lips fell first to worship one, then the other, and she moaned again.
Afterwards, as usual, they ended up having dinner in bed. And as usual, when that happened, they ended up eating from each other's plates and feeding each other. Finally, they settled back on the pillows, a half-empty bottle of wine on the nightstand, and entwined themselves into each other's arms. They'd been married forever, but it seemed like only a moment. Mary Margaret took a sip of the pinot grigio and snuggled up against David's bare chest. "You know," she murmured, "no matter what kind of day I have, this is always the best way to end it—in bed with you." She reached back to put her glass down, then caressed his face. "This is the only way to end it," he agreed, his free hand roaming her perfect form.
She giggled at his tickling touch. "You know what they call us," she asked, "down at the station?"
He leaned over her. "What," he kissed her forehead, "do," he kissed her right cheek, "they," he nibbled on her ear, "call," he kissed her chin, "us?" He kissed her on the lips, long and deep. "Mmmmmm," her soft contented purr sounded faintly, as her hands stroked his hair. When they finally broke apart, she smiled. "They call us 'the old married couple'," she laughed. "Is that right?" he questioned, although he knew that's exactly how everyone at the precinct referred to them. (His secretary Ruby even said that to his face a few times, whenever she entered his office and found him on the phone with his wife, or happened to come upon them both together, "you guys are such an old married couple!") "A lot they know!" He slid a hand slowly over her breasts and down her flat stomach. "You know what I say?" he continued in a low growl. "I say all those carbs you just fed me have given me a hell of a lot of energy I need to burn off."
"Hungry for more, are you?" she teased, taking his hand and kissing his fingertips.
"I dunno," he growled in her ear, "I think I'm ready for a rich, sweet dessert."
