July 2010

On Lyla and Louis' two-year wedding anniversary, they decided to splurge on a fancy hotel for the weekend despite their upcoming trip to San Francisco. Their first anniversary hadn't been celebrated as much as they would have liked because of the birth of their son the month before, so they decided that they'd go all out for their second anniversary instead.

On Friday evening, they dropped Ben off with Maya, Mateo, and a recovering Marshall, letting August finally stay home alone (with checkups from his uncle), and went to check in to their hotel, which wasn't all that far from home. The room, situated on the twentieth floor, provided a view overlooking Manhattan, which would sparkle in the night.

As soon as the suite door closed behind the couple, Louis had Lyla in his embrace, kissing her neck and running his hands over her body.

Lyla giggled, "stop."

"Can't," he murmured.

She took his face in both her hands and steadied him; she brought her lips to his slowly and sweetly. "We have the whole weekend," she whispered, "and nothing but time."

He kissed her quickly, a peck, and said, "you do that and then think I'm able to keep my hands off you?"

"At least until after our reservation," she smiled, bringing his hand to her lips and kissing it. "Let's get ready, go to dinner, and we'll be back here and naked before you know it."

Louis laughed, "I think I can do that."

Dressed to the nines, the couple left their hotel room at seven o'clock for their reservation at an upscale restaurant nearby. Lyla wore a dark plum lace dress with no back that fit to the contours of her body and drove Louis crazy. He thought that she must've got some tips from Maya; he had never seen Lyla in anything so revealing – at least, not in public. Yet, she walked confidently and effortlessly in her sparkling silver heels.

"You're so sexy," he whispered into her ear as they entered the high-end restaurant.

She grinned and kissed his cheek, "you're not so bad yourself."

"Hey," Louis said to the hostess. "Table for Louis Connelly."

The hostess took a moment to find the reservation then said, "certainly, Mr. Connelly. This way."

She led them to a small table near the back of the crowded restaurant. Soft jazz music and ambient lighting created a laidback atmosphere despite the hundreds of dollars undoubtedly being spent by the crowd of couples scattered throughout.

Lyla ordered the two of them a dry white wine for the table before they began perusing the menus.

"I'm starvin'," Louis said, scanning the very pricey menu for something satisfying. "Haven't had anythin' since noon."

"Be careful what you order then," Lyla replied. "This seems like the type of place where the portions are meant for people who don't eat."

Louis snickered, "we'll stop by a hotdog stand afterwards."

"Oh, good," she smirked.

Louis ended up ordering steak, hoping there would be some substance there, along with a side of grilled vegetables while Lyla ordered a pasta dish. Both started with a thick, creamy soup that was both expensive and delicious. When they were finished their main course, they sat back and drank more of their wine and talked, waiting to order dessert to share.

"…and she said that I would have classes in the mornings, three times a week instead," Lyla said.

"Would you only be part-time then?"

"No, still a full-time salary, but I could set my office hours on the mornings I don't have classes, and then in the afternoons, I'd just need to be easily reachable but could be home with Ben or do whatever else. That reminds me: when we get home from San Francisco, we need to look into a nanny."

"Should just hire Maya. She's not doin' anythin'."

"Don't be rude. She's going back to school."

"Really? For what?"

"She's working on getting her GED right now and then she'll go part time to the community college near them—actually, we should see if we could get a nanny for both Mateo and Ben, then she wouldn't have to worry."

Louis shrugged, "whatever works best."

The waiter came to take their plates and dessert order and provide another bottle of wine.

"I was thinking," Lyla said after a sip of her new glass of wine. "After San Francisco, I might go off birth control?"

"Yeah?" Louis said, thrilled at the prospect of another little Connelly.

"Yeah, but we wouldn't start trying for a few months yet, so we'd have to be careful. I just don't want a repeat." She had decided that the cause of her miscarriage nearly two years prior was due to getting pregnant before the birth control was entirely out of her system, which caused deformities that her body rejected. Whether it was true or not, it helped her make sense of the situation and feel like she could actively take control to avoid it happening again.

Louis nodded, understanding fully. "That's okay. I'm excited."

Lyla smiled, "me too."

Soon, the waiter brought out the dessert they had ordered – a simple apple-caramel crumble a la mode. But as they were about to dig in, Louis stopped mid-bite. "Shit."

Lyla glanced at her own forkful, confused. "What is it?"

"Y'remember that girl I was tellin' you about from that festival?"

"The one with the serial killer eyes?"

Louis nodded, "she's over there and comin' this way."

Lyla glanced behind her to see a stunning red-head with an icy blue gaze walking purposefully to their table. Her sparkling sleeveless tent dress was loud and drew all eyes to her; her abnormally high black cutout heels, smoky eye, and high-fashion upswept hair gave the impression of her being otherworldly. Knowing that this gorgeous woman was clearly interested in her husband based on what he had told her, Lyla felt a little niggling of jealousy.

"Louis," she said in a voice that Lyla thought sounded like dripping honey. "How are you?" she asked, her hand resting on his shoulder despite towering over him.

"Hi Sophie," Louis said, trying his best to be cordial. "Lyla, this is Sophie," he said, knowing full well she knew exactly who this girl was. "She is the sister of Dave from Cornerstone. Sophie, this is my wife, Lyla."

Lyla thought she heard a small emphasis on 'wife'. She smiled and held out her hand, "it's nice to meet you."

Sophie simply smiled a forced smile, keeping her hands at her side, and said, "this is Roger," indicating an older gentleman who neither Louis nor Lyla noticed until he was pointed out. "We were shooting together today for a spread in Vogue and thought we'd get some drinks before heading over to a party to celebrate the opening of some new club. You should come," she looked directly at Louis.

"Ah, thanks, but we're celebratin' our anniversary," Louis responded politely, though Lyla could see he was clearly annoyed.

Sophie grasped his shoulder, quickly glanced at Lyla, and said, "you know, I don't think I knew you were married."

Lyla kept her face stoically pleasant, not one to rise to the bait set out by girls like Sophie.

"Yeah," Louis said, waggling his ring finger. "Married two years now. In love longer. We have two kids."

Sophie smiled and shrugged, "well, if you change your mind—" she opened her clutch a pulled out a card, "call me and we can meet up." She glanced at Lyla again, "all of us, of course." She set the card on the table and left with Roger, her hand tracing from Louis' one shoulder, behind his neck, and off his other shoulder.

"What an awful person," Lyla said when Sophie was out of earshot.

"That's a nice way to put it," he said, picking up the card, glancing at it, then handing it over to Lyla. "Here."

"Why do I want this?" She glanced at the card. Lyla groaned, "how tacky." The card was plain white with Sophie's information written boldly across the front, but the backside portrayed a nude Sophie seductively eyeing the viewer, a black blanket strategically placed for some semblance of modesty.

In the middle of their table, there was a clear glass with a burning tealight candle. Louis pushed it towards Lyla.

Lyla glanced around her. "I can't do that," she whispered.

Louis smirked at her innocence, "c'mon, it'll make us both feel better."

She sighed and brought the candle close to her as if to shield the sight from the staff. Slowly, she dipped the card into the flame and watched Sophie's face slowly dissolve. It did make her feel better.

As the flame crept closer to Lyla's fingers, Louis reached over, took the card from her and blew it out before ripping the remaining pieces in two. "Don't be jealous of someone like her," Louis said. "She's not worth your time."

"I know," Lyla said quietly. "I just… really hate her."

Louis laughed, "me too."

"Good." She leaned over and kissed her husband before they went back to their nearly-forgotten dessert and finished it completely.

At half past eight, the couple paid their bill and headed back to their hotel with a decent wine buzz making them both a little more talkative and handsy. They laughed as Louis pulled Lyla's hands off of him in the lobby while they waited for the elevator. The doors dinged, revealing smartly dressed individuals just getting out for the night; Louis and Lyla rushed into the newly empty elevator and pressed the 'close doors' button repeatedly. Once the doors closed, Louis had Lyla in his arms, hands running along her bare back, her thighs wrapped tightly around his hips.

"Wait," she said. With Louis holding her, she reached over to the elevator buttons and hit their floor number before again focusing her attention on her husband with his soft blue eyes and dark luscious hair that she swooned over.

When the elevator stopped, dinging again, Louis and Lyla were too busy with one another to notice the older couple waiting to get in. But the gentleman cleared his throat and got their attention. Louis placed Lyla on the ground, snickering at Lyla's reddening face as she adjusted her dress more modestly.

"We're so sorry," she pleaded, pulling her hem down. "It's our anniversary. Sorry."

"Congratulations," the woman said, smiling as her own husband chuckled. "How long have you been married?"

"Two years," Lyla said, still horrified. "Again, I'm so sorry."

"Oh, don't worry about it, honey. Enjoy yourselves." Louis and Lyla stepped out of the elevator as the old couple stepped in.

"Thank you," said Lyla.

As the doors began to close, Louis cackled at his wife's state. "Lyla, my love, you're beet-red. Embarrassed, are we?"

"Shut up," she laughed, grabbing his hand and pulling him close to her. She pressed her lips against his as they made their way towards their suite.

Louis pulled his wallet from his pocket and found the key card easily, which he held up to the reader until the little green light allowed them to push the door open.

Inside, Lyla kicked her shoes off. "I have a surprise for you," she said.

"Ah, good. I like your surprises," he said, untucking his shirt before sitting on the sofa.

"You're overdressed," she called from the bedroom. "Get a bit more comfortable."

Lyla emerged several minutes later, transformed. She opted for red this time. Beneath her red lace kimono was a matching bralette shaped by her soft breasts. Around her hips and connected to thigh-highs, she wore a garter that seemed to be strapped around her body with minimal fabric, doing nothing other than increasing his desire. Her lace panties matched her bralette but offered her chosen lover quick access.

Louis shook his head, grinning, "c'mere." He watched intently as she untied her kimono and let it drop to the floor before walking slowly over to him.

Lyla leaned over him, her hands resting on his now-bare chest, and kissed him on his lips before tracing her way down his neck with her lips and tongue to his chest. She knelt before him, her hands on his thighs and continued working her way down from his chest to his stomach to his pelvis, pulling down his underwear to find what she was looking for. She gripped him gently, running her tongue over his skin as she stroked rhythmically.

Louis tilted his head back, eyes closed, feeling the texture of Lyla's tongue on his skin as she took him in her warm mouth. He felt her determined tongue working around him while her delicate fingers fondled him purposefully. A groan escaped from deep inside Louis as his wife worked expertly at the head. He needed more of her.

He tilted his head forward so that he could see Lyla, who was looking up at him mischievously. "Lyla," he breathed, bringing his hands to either side of her head and urging her up towards him. She understood and worked her way back up towards his neck with her lips and tongue before climbing up on top of her husband, taking him inside her effortlessly. He ran his hands up her thighs and dug his fingers into the supple skin as she locked her fingers behind his neck; they held onto each other with all their strength, working together towards ecstasy.


"We need a tub like this in our new place," Lyla murmured lazily.

Opposite her, Louis nodded, "we might have t' settle for one a little less lavish."

"Deal-breaker," she replied.

Louis chuckled, "well, I'll see what I can do."

Both Louis and Lyla sat in the hotels long, deep tub, the lights dimmed and the water warm and scented with fragrant bubbles. Louis had Lyla's foot in his hands and was rubbing circles on its ball, arch, and toes, careful to use the right amount of pressure: too much and he'd hurt her, too little and he'd tickle her, most likely resulting in an uncontrolled kick to his face.

She sighed and put her foot back in the water. "I love you," she told him as she shifted to join him on his side of the tub.

He wrapped his arms around her, locking them into place, "I love you, a chuisle mo chroí." She leaned her head into the crook of his arm while he began to hum something unknown. They sat that way for a long time until Louis felt his head snap back up. "Lyla," he whispered. "Are you awake?"

Her silence coupled with her rhythmic breathing gave him his answer.

"Lyla, love," he said, his voice a little louder but still low. "It's time for bed." He kissed her temple and repeated her name.

She groaned and her eyes fluttered open, though just barely.

"Let's get to bed," he said, receiving a nod in response.

She sat forward and turned the knob that would drain the tub before standing unsteadily in search of a towel, which Louis had ready for her. "What time is it?" she asked, her voice groggy.

"Not sure. Was dozin' off myself." Louis held out his hand for Lyla to hold onto as she climbed out of the tub.

In the bedroom, both Lyla and Louis dried themselves off as completely as they could before climbing into the fresh bed and falling asleep instantly.

Having forgotten to close the curtains, the sun rising up over Manhattan shone in Louis' eyes in the morning. Lyla was saved from the rude awakening by burying her head against Louis' chest and beneath the covers. He slid out from the covers to draw the curtains closed but was stopped by the beauty of the view. A sunrise from Central Park was very different from a sunrise twenty floors up. Gold painted the grey buildings brilliantly, the pale sky a stark contrast to the dark shadows being created. Few clouds were in the sky, but those that were shone in a brilliant orange.

"Lyla," he said, receiving a groan. "Lyla," he repeated, "come see the sunrise."

His earnestness drew her stumbling out of bed and to the window. She wrapped her arms around his middle and leaned her head against his chest to view to the scene. "Wow," she said, in awe of the colour just like he was.

They stood watching the sunrise until the sky shifted from gold to blue, then they slid the curtains shut and returned to bed.

Louis woke several hours later feeling refreshed and ready for an afternoon of time alone with Lyla going to see things unsuitable for an infant or family. He reached for his phone on the side table to check the time, which showed that it was nearly noon. His stomach's eager request for food only reinforced the time, but they were in a cribless room free from prying eyes and curious ears, and they would make the most of this opportunity.

Lyla was sleeping soundly, her chest rising and falling slowly, the blanket having fallen carelessly to her stomach.

Louis cupped her bare breast gently, circling her nipple with his finger before leaning over her and doing the same with his tongue. Lyla groaned softly, her body stretching out as her beautiful green eyes opened gently. She smiled and rested her hand on Louis' neck. "Morning," she said.

He sat up and knelt over her, bringing his lips to hers in response before focusing his attention beneath the covers. Louis spread her legs and worked his tongue deliberately until she began to move with him. She tore the covers off of them so that she could see him work, holding onto his hair like a lifeline. He wrapped his arms around her thighs, keeping them from closing and worked vigorously at pleasuring her.

She began to squirm, feeling her climax building as she took short, shallow, uncontrolled breaths. "Louis," she moaned helplessly. "Fuck," she whispered as her body began to convulse. Louis continued on his mission, holding her legs open with a vice grip as she moaned and swore. Then, suddenly, he was on top of her, unable to contain himself much longer. With her legs draped over his shoulders, he thrust into her and she felt a brand new wave of pleasure as he hit all the right spots. She held her thighs close to her stomach as he moved in her but lost her grip as she lost control a second time. Her convulsions and contractions around her husband sent him over the edge soon after until they were both still, sweaty individuals breathing one another in deeply. Louis kissed her chest before rolling over to lie on his back next to her.

"You're really good at that," Lyla breathed, still feeling aftershocks.

Louis snickered, "ditto."

They entwined their fingers together and studied one another until they were both relaxed. Lyla then slid out of bed and Louis smiled after her as she disappeared into the bathroom.

"That river thing booking is in about an hour," he called after her, checking the time. As part of their anniversary, they had booked a table for two on a river cruise that would sail up and down the Hudson for the afternoon serving high-end meals and non-stop alcohol.

Lyla's groan echoed against the walls of the bathroom, "okay."

Louis laughed, "'less you'd rather stay in and order room service instead."

Her head popped out of the bathroom, an eager expression on her face, "really?"

Louis sat up, laughing, "yeah, don't mind either way. You're the one wanted the cruise."

"I thought it'd be fun – and it would be – but I'd rather stay in bed with you. Until the show anyway."

"Then it's done," he stated. "But I'll go to the lobby and see if anyone else'll want to use them."

Lyla nodded before disappearing into the bathroom again, "that's a great idea." Then, "come join me in the shower when you're back."

Louis grinned to himself and pulled on his clothes from the night before to try and give away his tickets. The receptionist suggested a couple who were on their honeymoon and having a rough go of it; they were over-the-moon grateful for the tickets.

Back in the room, he heard the shower running, so he did what Lyla told him and joined her. They spent the rest of the day in bed, save for a spectacular Broadway show. Afterwards, they had gone out to different hot spots around town and drank too much before falling into each other's arms for some final moments of marital bliss before check out the next morning.