February 27th
"I need a pen!"
Roz stuck the second plate in the dish rack and started work on the casserole dish. "Look in the top drawer!" she called.
"Duh, already did that!" Greg's scorn was palpable. "Nada, zilch, zip."
"There would be pens in the drawer if you'd put them back when you're done with them," Roz said, and scrubbed at the stuck-on cheese around the rim of the dish.
"That's irrelevant to my needs!" A muffled slam followed his words. Roz rolled her eyes.
"There are pens in the nightstand by the bed," she said. There was a pause, then the familiar hesitant gait she'd come to know so well traveled across the living room and down the hall. Roz waited, but no further comments came her way. She continued her work on the casserole dish, and got the last of the food scoured off before she added soap and began to scrub.
It had been a good day; they'd gone out to look at the Widmeyer place, explored it thoroughly. Greg had prowled through rooms to get a feel for the layout while she'd examined the wiring and checked structural elements; they'd searched for water leaks, termites, cracks—anything they could think of, and had been pleasantly surprised to find the building was in decent shape for its age. Some renovation would be needed to open up the interior, but the biggest plus was everything on one floor. Greg had liked what he'd seen, she knew by the way he fired questions at her on the way home. Roz smiled to herself. One step closer to the clinic, she thought, and hugged the knowledge close, the same way she did her secret dreams about their wedding.
She'd just finished the final batch of silverware when Greg appeared in the doorway.
"Find what you were looking for?" Roz rinsed a handful of forks.
"I found this." There was an odd tone in his voice. Roz glanced over. He held up something that was definitely not a pen. She paused, not quite sure what to say.
"It's a g-spot vibrator," she replied finally. "Um, you can't write with that, you know."
"A vibrator." Greg gave her a speculative look. "There was more than one."
"Variety is the spice of life." She dried her hands on the towel by the oven and turned to him. "Did you find a pen?"
"Apparently I'm not enough for you." He mock-glared at her, but she could sense some anxiety behind the play-acting. "You have to keep a whole drawerful of toys around in case you don't get what you need with me."
Roz stared at him, surprised. "I bought them years ago," she said. She walked toward him and plucked the vibrator out of his hand. "I didn't have a boyfriend and I'm a healthy woman who likes sex. You're gonna tell me you're shocked? Because if you are, I have to say right now I think you're full of it." She tilted her head. "Are you telling me you don't have a stash of porn by your bedside or on your computer that you still look through, even though we're having sex more than six times a week?"
He had the grace to look a little embarrassed, though he tried to hide it with a glare. "It's not—I don't—what's your point?"
"I haven't used a vibrator since we started making love. I don't need them now," she said quietly. "They served a purpose when I was alone. I'm not anymore. You give me everything, amante."
"Your touching statement is completely nullified by the presence of this thing in your nightstand drawer," Greg said. For answer Roz walked to the trash can.
"Nice knowing you, Doc Johnson," she said, and dropped the vibrator into the can. She moved past Greg to the bedroom, collected the two other vibrators, went back into the kitchen and dumped them as well.
"I'd like to know why they were still in the drawer." Greg was plainly unimpressed by her actions.
"I forgot they were there," Roz said. When Greg snorted she gave him an exasperated look. "I'm not kidding. You think I've been using them behind your back or something?" The light dawned. "Because then maybe you wouldn't have to account for the fact that you still use porn to jack off when I'm not around, is that it?"
The sudden flare of defiance tinged with guilt in those vivid blue eyes almost made her smile. "Whoever told you that was lying."
"You know, I do wash the bedsheets at both houses," she said. "And your clothes now and then." She resisted the urge to give him a hard time because she knew it would only make him feel more insecure and defensive. Instead she walked up to him and kissed his cheek. "It's okay," she said softly. "Let's watch some tv."
Quite clearly he'd expected a scolding or lecture, or at least disapproval. He followed her into the living room and sat next to her on the couch but he was tense, fidgety. Roz turned on the television and settled back with remote in hand. "Anything on tonight?" she asked.
"You're acting like you don't care about this," Greg said. He sounded pissed off, but Roz knew it was more anxiety than anger.
"I do care," she said. "But I also know you need more than I can give you, right now anyway." She hid a smile at his groan of frustration. "Am I taking all the fun out of it?" she asked, and struggled not to laugh.
"Yes!" He grabbed the remote out of her hand and glared at her. She looked down and bit her lip. "You're not gonna cry, are you?" He rolled his eyes. "You're making me rethink the whole idea of marrying you if . . ." He stopped and peered at her. "Oh, nice."
"If you want me to be mad I can do that," she said, and knew the quiver in her voice added fuel to the fire, but she couldn't help it, it was funny.
"I'm glad you're amused," Greg said. The coldness in his tone warned her he was close to truly angry now. With a sigh she stood up, and tried to keep a straight face.
"Fine. I'm going to bed. If you want to sleep out here it's up to you. There are extra pillows and blankets in the linen closet." She put a bit of stiffness in her words. "Good night." She stalked off to the bedroom and closed the door quietly behind her before she gave in to silent laughter.
"You're not hiding anything!" Greg bellowed from the living room. "It's not nice to mock your life partner, you know!"
Of course that only made things worse; she ended up on the bed in absolute hysterics at the predictability of the fragile male ego, her face stuffed in a pillow to stifle her giggles. Eventually she wound down to the occasional chuckle as she thought about the situation. Maybe she was weird, but it really didn't bother her that he looked at porn. Okay, she wished she had more curves instead of straight lines, but most people wanted to change something about themselves, and anyway she didn't blame Greg for liking big boobs or a nice butt. In the end he came home to her, and that was all she cared about.
She was on the verge of sleep when the bedroom door opened. Greg stood in the doorway. Roz sat up a little and yawned.
"You'd better be done laughing at me." Affront dripped from every syllable, but the gleam in his eyes belied the frost in his tone.
She smiled. "Come to bed."
After a moment he limped over and sat down next to her. He held something out. "Here." She saw it was the g-spot vibrator. "Show me how you use it."
Roz made no move to take it. "I really hope you washed it first."
He sighed and thrust the vibrator at her. "Show me."
"You're telling me you've never seen a woman use a sex toy?" She looked down her nose at him. "Liar liar, pants on fire."
"I never said anything one way or the other, but I can state with absolute truth that I've never seen you use one." He dumped the vibrator on the bed. "Hop to it."
Gingerly Roz took it. It felt a little strange to sit in front of him with it in her hand. Her cheeks grew warm as she checked the base. It could be a bit temperamental if the cap was tightened too much and the batteries weren't aligned right, but when she turned it on it started up. She smiled at the familiar buzz and slipped her tee shirt off before she pressed the vibrator gently to her body and brought the rounded head in contact with her left breast. She slowly ran it around the outside of her aureole, sighed as her nipples tightened, and reached out to the cube radio next to the bed. Music began to play softly.
"Oh, you've got to be fucking kidding me," Greg said. He sounded strange, until Roz realized he held back laughter. "David Cassidy?"
"Shut up, I like this song," Roz said, and drew the vibrator down her belly. She circled her abdomen as the music wound on, felt her clitoris give a little throb and gasped softly. She moved the head along her inner thigh as she spread her legs. As many times as she'd made love to Greg, she couldn't look at him. It felt strange to have him there as she did this very private thing, his vivid gaze intent as she brought the vibrator up over her clitoris and kept it there until the first faint pulses of pleasure began to build. When she slipped it inside herself Greg made a noise, and Roz glanced at him. He was absolutely huge; he rubbed his erection through the rough fabric of his jeans, and somehow that made her own need skyrocket. With her free hand she reached out to him.
"Come here," she said, and smiled at the unintentional double entendre. He blinked; then he stood up, ditched his jeans, and clambered into bed beside her. She took his hand and put it on the handle of the vibrator. "Do me," she whispered, and gasped as he took over. With his free hand he began to tease her clitoris. He stroked her prepuce with his callused fingertip as sweetness gathered and rolled over her in a pulsing wave. When she came she closed her eyes, assaulted by intense pleasure on every side. "Greg . . . oh my god . . ."
He didn't stop, only pushed her on to a second orgasm even more powerful than the first one, so overwhelming she finally put her hands over his and lifted them away.
"Please," she said, barely able to speak, "please . . . I don't want that, I want you."
When he slid inside her she was ready for him but still whimpered a little when he rubbed her swollen clitoris with his shaft. He paused, looking down at her with a bit of worry. "Are you-?"
"I'm fine, please!" she groaned, and moved underneath him to pull a pillow over her left leg. He made a noise that could have been a chuckle and plunged in with enthusiasm. They'd figured out a way for him to use something close to the missionary position if she put one of the thinner pillows over her left thigh; it allowed him to rest his weight on her without crushing her while he had enough support to thrust without tightening the muscle too much. Though they enjoyed being inventive, both of them liked the closeness this method gave them, the ability to watch each other as they both came. And Roz liked sex with Greg on top, it was enjoyable for both of them.
Afterward, as they lay together, he picked up the vibrator and looked at it. "We shouldn't get rid of the Doc," he said. Roz snorted.
"So now I have to play with him while you watch or you can't get it up?" She turned it on and put it to his left nipple. Greg jumped.
"Hey!"
She lifted the covers and gently pressed the head to the base of his genitals. Greg froze, the look on his face priceless. Roz giggled.
"Pull it out deeper?" she said.
"God, that feels . . . good, but really weird," he said, and the tone of confused wonder made her laugh even harder. He reached down and took the vibrator away, then turned it over. "How the hell do you turn it off?"
She showed him how the base twisted, shut it off and tossed it over the side of the bed. "I have something so much better now," she said, and snuggled in with her head on his chest. Greg chuckled.
"Good to know I'm better than a pocket rocket. And no double A batteries needed," he said. "Although I saw x-rays once from some guy who came into the ER with a dildo up his ass—"
"Oh hush," she said. "Pervert."
"Absolutely." He brought her close with his long arms. After a moment he said, "I'm sleeping, and right in the middle of a good dream, like all at once I wake up . . ."
After a moment Roz caught onto the game. "From something that keeps knocking at my brain; before I go insane I put my pillow to my head . . ."
"And spring up in my bed, screaming out the words I dread—" He stopped when she smacked him lightly. "It's just the words. You started it, I didn't choose that stupid song."
She stroked the spot she'd smacked and settled in once more, sighed a little as he held her. "Do you think I have a case?" she said after a time. Greg grunted.
"Hmm . . ." His hands slid over her, rubbed her gently.
"I think I love you," she said. Greg made a little noise of contentment and buried his nose in her hair. Roz's heart swelled with tenderness. She kissed the corner of his chin. After a moment she felt him smile just a little.
"Go to sleep," he grumbled, but his smile widened. Roz's toes curled with pure happiness. Within the circle of his arms she drifted off. Her last thought was whether she dared to use the song for the first dance at the reception.
'I Think I Love You,' the Partridge Family