Heart to Heart
by
Owlcroft
Delia had thought it might be a good idea to have a heart-to-heart with Lydia, just the two of them, so she'd arranged for both husbands to be busy that afternoon picking up the Deetz firewood order for the coming winter. It involved renting a pick-up truck, so she knew she had at least an hour for what might turn into an intense conversation.
"So, dear," she said, pouring out a large glass of wine for Lydia, "now that you've been married for a few weeks –" She broke off to pour her own glass nearly full, then went on, "I wondered if you . . . ah, well, if you had any . . ." Now she stopped to clear her throat, then bravely went on, "had any questions or anything I could . . . help you with?" She finally stopped and looked at her step-daughter tentatively.
"Actually, I did have something I wanted to talk to someone about." Lydia took a sip of the white wine and then looked at the suddenly nervous woman across the kitchen table from her. "It might sound kind of . . . personal, but you're the only one I know that can help me with it."
Delia blinked, blinked again, then took a deep breath and courageously said, "I'll certainly do my best." She gestured to Lydia to continue then took a gulp of her own wine.
"Well, you know I'm not very . . . experienced . . . with married life." Lydia moved her glass slightly, appeared dissatisfied with it, then moved it again. "And there are some things I've never had to deal with. Like . . ."
Delia took another large gulp of wine and another deep breath. "Yes, dear?"
"Actually, I was wondering . . . when you find out your husband likes certain things . . . and you really don't," Lydia stopped to sip at her wine again, eyeing her step-mother with quiet enjoyment, "how do you handle that? I mean, you and Father probably don't have that problem, but . . . I wondered if you had any way of . . . pleasing him even when you don't like . . . boiled onions." She concentrated on staring at her glass while Delia closed her mouth and got her breath back.
ooooo
"And then she said," Lydia laughed again, "that she always thought it was a good idea to take turns. In everything." She shook her head ruefully. "It was so mean of me, but I just couldn't resist it."
Beetlejuice, arm around her shoulders, threw his head back and cackled loudly. "Babes, you are a gal after my own heart! Except that you already have it." He pressed a grinning kiss onto her cheek.
Lydia still smiled, but said, "It was unfair of me, I guess. She wanted to help. To help with important things, too. She really did mean well and I took advantage of that."
Her husband considered that for a while, then offered, "You do know, right, that if there's anything you . . . like or don't like, want or don't want . . . or don't . . . enjoy . . ." he trailed off, looking uncertain.
"Beej," she leaned against him and snuggled her head against his shoulder, "are you turning shy on me?"
"No, 'course not!" He took two seconds to think. "I don't think so." Two more seconds. "I don't know. I'm not sure." He looked down at her, puzzled.
"You do know we can talk about anything, right? Even really . . . personal stuff."
He shrugged and nodded. "Oh, sure! I know that."
"Well then, is there anything that you don't like that you want to tell me. Or something you'd really like?" Lydia snuggled a little closer.
"Nah, not really. I mean, so far, everything's been fine." He twisted his face to the side in thought. "Besides, trying new stuff is fun, too. But if I do something you don't like, tell me. Tell me what you'd rather have."
"Beej, the same goes for you, too. You know I only want to do things that you want . . . things that you like." She wrapped her arm around his chest. "And I'd never ask you to do something you didn't want. And I know you wouldn't ask me, either."
He nodded again. "Yeah, 'course. I mean, I would never ask you to eat a beetle."
"What? Is that some . . . some euphemism I don't know?" Lydia looked at him askance.
"No, it means . . . it means I would never ask you to eat a beetle. Like you'd never ask me to eat a salad." He stopped suddenly, then added, "Another one, anyway. Not after that Caesar salad." He grinned at the memory.
Completely confused, she asked, "We are talking about sex, aren't we?"
"What?! No, food!" Beetlejuice was thoroughly taken aback. "Babes, dearest . . . were you talking about sex?"
Lydia had to laugh. "Yes, I was. And you were talking about food?" When he nodded, looking bewildered, she tilted her head to give him a kiss. "Okay, I guess we were talking at cross-purposes, but we were still both right. Darling Beej, if there's anything I can cook, or do for you in the bedroom, please tell me. And I'll tell you, too. For instance, shrimp."
He raised his brows at her. "What about shrimp?"
"Those shrimp you made for me last month were so good. But I'm afraid they were a lot of trouble for you. If I help, can we have them again?"
"Hmm. Actually, when I got the shrimp I'd been looking for sea lice, but it turns out they're just little baby jellyfish." He thought some more. "Which might be really good, but you wouldn't like them. Anyway," he tightened his arm to give her a squeeze, "the shrimp weren't that much trouble. I'll do them the day after tomorrow."
She smiled at him happily. "Yum! Now, what would you like me to do or to do different? Kitchen or bedroom. Be honest, now."
"Um, well." He cleared his throat and took a deep breath. "There might be one thing . . . maybe, that you could . . ." He stopped and closed his eyes, then said quickly, "You know you kiss and lick a . . . a certain part of me and maybe . . . some day, if you wanted to, you could take it in . . . in your mouth."
She looked at him thoughtfully. "Beej, I have –"
"My ear," he whispered shyly.
Her mouth fell open in surprise, then she leaned up to whisper, "Your adorable, delicious pointed ear," and proceed to lick, kiss, and suck his ear tip until he trembled and reached for her and pulled her mouth to his where they exchanged tongues and each proceeded to do several things the other liked. Liked a lot.