We drive back to the house in comfortable silence. Andrea drives, as she always seems to prefer, though I suspect this is born from a desire to take care of me, which never fails to make me feel cherished. The snow is falling steadily now, large flakes swirling all around, dancing in the headlights of the car. The world is white and the trees that line the road are bowing slightly under the weight of their burden.
The girls have spent the afternoon chattering at a mile a minute, so delighted to spend their day with their favourite person apart from me. Exhausted now from their excursion, they are both sleeping in the back of the car as we make our way to the house.
It's a sobering thought that all these years I have paid people to buy them the best of everything. They wear exclusively designer clothing, they have the latest toys available, and they are being educated at one of the best schools in the country. They have a nanny, and a housekeeper to help take care of them. When needed, they also have a tutor that steps in, to help them with their lessons.
The one thing that they have never really had though, is me, and I can see today that this is the one thing that they have craved.
I don't think I have ever seen my girls happier than they have been today. We went to a huge superstore, and Andrea helped them choose and then purchase off the rack winter clothing, ready for their day in the snow tomorrow. I had discreetly offered to pay, but Andrea shook her head, and I could see how much it meant to her.
Now that I know that she has her own money and not just the measly amount she was earning as my assistant, then finances are no longer an issue. If she wants to pay for something, then it's not for me to try and convince her otherwise. I have my own wealth, which is fairly substantial, and I would be offended if someone tried to dictate what I could or should spend it on.
There will be plenty of situations where I can and will pay instead of Andrea, but again I am relieved to know that this is not one of the things that will be an issue in our relationship. I was fully prepared to support her if necessary, and I had not thought less of her because I was under the impression that she had less affluence than me. It does give me solace though, to know that of all the things we will no doubt need to overcome, our financial disparity will not be one of them.
We had dinner at Chiquito, the Mexican restaurant that Andrea had mentioned to us, and I enjoyed it immensely. All the dishes were brought out and placed in the middle of the table for us to help ourselves to and it was a surprise just how much fun it was to share a meal this way. Sizzling dishes of red peppers and chicken to fill fajitas, steaming chilli to ladle over cheese covered nacho chips, and jalapeƱo poppers.
This is a world apart from the dishes I usually order in restaurants in New York, but I found my mouth watering at the sights, sounds and smells of our food as it arrived. I have been wealthy for so long and eaten at the most expensive restaurants in the world, but I don't remember gaining such pleasure just from the simple act of eating before. I am going to have to curtail this soon, I think. If I don't stop eating this way, I will not stay trim and fit for long, and I will need to be in the best of health to keep up with my much younger lover.
Andrea will be good for the girls, I can see that already. I have often worried that they will grow up spoiled and a product of their privilege in life but I think she will keep them grounded. I can not think of a more wonderful role model for them to grow up with. As a significant adult in their lives, I know she will not guide them in the wrong direction.
When we arrive back at the house, Andrea looks back at the sleeping girls.
"It's quite late, do we wake them? Or should I carry them to bed?"
I look at the time on my cell phone, and realise that it's already 9pm. No wonder my girls are so tired. There isn't any point in waking them up fully in order for them to go straight back to sleep again. I turn to Andrea, "Caroline will be disorientated if she wakes up in a different place to where she went to sleep, so we should wake her. Cassidy can be taken straight in though if you don't mind?"
The girls are getting far too old for me to carry, but I imagine that Andrea will have no such problems. I have experienced the raw power of her strength many times in the last couple of days. I feel the heat flare in my cheeks, as I think about some of those displays of power I have been witness to. When I look across at her, I can see Andrea smirking at me as if she knows exactly what thoughts have crossed through my mind.
She probably does. She has an uncanny knack for reading my mind.
We get out of the car, and both open one of the backseat doors. As I rouse Caroline, so she can walk into the house under her own steam, Andrea takes off Cassidy's seatbelt and lifts her out of the car. I was right, she makes it look effortless.
Caroline stumbles ahead of us and I pass her the key to the front door. They are both of an age where they like to be given tasks like these, and I don't want to tell them that one day the novelty of opening the front door will surely wear off. For now, though, I watch as she carefully puts the key in the lock and turns the handle, smiling as she does so.
The girls chose to share a room, so I open the door and allow Andrea to pass through. I stand there watching with warmth in my heart, as she carefully lays my daughter on the bed and removes her shoes and coat.
"Can she sleep in this?" Andrea whispers to me, gesturing to the dress Cassidy is wearing, and the cardigan that she is wearing over the top.
"Just undo the top button of the dress and remove the cardigan so that she won't overheat," I whisper back, as Caroline sleepily changes into her nightgown on her own.
Andrea does what I suggested and then pulls the covers from underneath her, pulling them back over my daughter and tucking her in. As I watch, she hesitates and then bends down to kiss Cassidy's forehead, whispering "goodnight, Pumpkin," a small smile on her face as she does so.
Caroline gets into bed and looks slightly put out that Cassidy has been tucked in, but Andrea picks up on her silent request. She comes over to Caroline's bed, and gestures for the girl to lay down. She repeats the actions she did before, pulling the covers up, and tucking her in.
"Love you, Andy," Caroline mumbles sleepily, already slipping away into her dreams.
"Love you too, Pickle," Andrea replies, bending forward to kiss her on the forehead too. I shake my head, smiling, at the ridiculous nicknames she has for them. Since the moment they met, Caroline has been Pickle and Cassidy has been Pumpkin. They are normally offended when people call them anything other than their names, because it is usually an attempt to hide the fact that someone can't tell them apart.
Andrea has never struggled with this though, and they both know that nicknames or not, they are individual to them. They confessed once that it makes them feel special that she has these silly names for them.
I can see that Caroline is already asleep, but she is smiling, and suddenly I have a lump in my throat. Watching Andrea put my children to bed, and witnessing just how much love there is between them is surprisingly emotional for me.
My ex-husband, Stephen, did not even attempt to step into the role of parent with them, and he never cared for them. I was heartbroken for them when he announced his wish to be divorced from me. I didn't realise at the time just how little they cared for him too. They seemed relieved that he would no longer be living at the townhouse.
Their father was acceptable when they were younger, but now that they have personalities and opinions of their own, he seems disinterested. When they visit they often complain that he is more interested in his latest girlfriend than them, despite how infrequently they see him.
I have a suspicion that having Andrea in their life, as someone who loves and supports them will only serve to highlight this for them more. Not for the first time, I wonder what will happen between them and their father. I would never force them to stay with him if they choose not to in future, and I can see the cracks forming in an already tenuous relationship.
I have full custody of the girls, which I didn't even have to fight for. He simply wasn't interested in being their father. They visit him now, but it is for him to make the effort with them. If he doesn't then I feel like he will lose them forever, especially when they have someone as loving and supportive as Andrea in their lives.
Andrea is looking at me, and I realise I have been lost in my thoughts for a considerable amount of time. I walk towards the beds, kissing the cheeks of first Caroline and then Cassidy, and then reach for Andrea's hand as we walk out of their room together, heading into the hallway that leads to the kitchen.
"I'm just running out to get the bags from the car," Andrea tells me, and I want to kick myself for forgetting they were out there. I could have brought them in with us, and now Andrea is going back out into the snow and cold to fetch them. Before I can protest though, and suggest that I will go instead, she is out of the door.
She comes back in, grinning as she shakes the snow from her hair, "we're going to have a fantastic day with the girls tomorrow, the snow is perfect."
I am dreading tomorrow purely because I don't like the cold and I am not very comfortable with winter sports of any kind. They are all so excited though, so I gamely smile, "I'm sure we will have a lovely day." I'm surprised to realise I do actually mean that. Watching them have fun and enjoying themselves will be enough for me, even if it's not my favourite thing to do.
"Why don't we take a shower together and put on something more comfortable to relax in?" I hear her ask hopefully.
I would feel better, it's true, but I am also anxious about the talk that she wants to have with me. She sees my hesitance, and pulls me to her, holding me tightly against her body.
"Everything is ok, Miranda, please trust me," she murmurs against my ear, making me shiver.
Her breath against my ear ignites a spark, and suddenly I am desperate for her. I lean up to capture her lips, urgently taking what I need from her at this moment. She seems to understand, and kisses me back just as fervently, and before I can object she has backed me against the wall. She pulls away then and we are both flushed and gasping for breath.
"Bedroom," she informs me, taking my hand and leading me to the room furthest away from the children.
Neither of us speaks then, as she guides me through the door, and then without looking away from me, very deliberately turns the lock. The loud thunk as it clicks into place is like a starting pistol and I almost throw myself back into her arms, kissing her again. Our passion erupts into scorching heat, and I know that this is about pure need. There will be nothing soft or gentle about this union, and I am overcome with the urge for her to make me hers.
She backs me against the door, a move I know by now is one she enjoys. I feel her guiding my hands up above my head, and I am confused when she wraps my fingers around the metal bar that runs along the door. It is meant for hangers, but Andrea apparently has a different use in mind.
"Hold on and don't let go," she tells me, and I nod my agreement, wondering if my legs will support me. She slides her hands up the outside of my thighs until she reaches the button and small zipper at the front of my pants. She makes quick work of the fastening and wastes no time as she pulls them down, taking my thong with them. She drops to her knees and takes hold of my hips. I am grateful for the support as my legs feel weak.
I feel myself blushing as she stares at the apex of my thighs with what I assume is sheer lust judging by the intensity of her eyes. It's the only way I can describe the way she is looking at me, and I squirm slightly under the heat of her gaze.
"I love you like this; swollen and wet for me. I love to know just how much you want me. I can see how much you need me." With that, she takes my left leg, guiding it over her shoulder and without preamble dives in, taking me into her mouth.
I am embarrassingly close to climax as she devours me, and the leg she has left me standing on begins to shake. I bring my hands down to take hold of her head, wanting to tangle my fingers in her hair, but she pulls back and gives me a devious smirk.
"Hands back on the bar. You don't want me to stop, do you?"
"No! Please, Andrea," and without realising, I have immediately complied with her request.
The grip I have on the bar this time is more secure, and I am grateful to have something to hold on to, especially when without warning she has entered me with her fingers.
"Oh, God," I hear myself exclaim, as her fingers curl and she hits what I can only assume is my G-spot. I have heard of this place that women have, but always believed it was a myth until we made love for the first time. The intensity of pleasure I am feeling takes me by surprise and although I know I need to be quiet, I can't keep myself from crying out every time her fingers pull out and then plunge back in.
She is so deep within me because of the position that she has manoeuvred me into, and I know this was by design and not a happy accident. Andrea is an incredible lover and I can't bring myself to be jealous of those who may have come before me to teach her these tricks. I have her now and I will have her forever, I hope.
I feel her lips circle my clit and she sucks me into her mouth while flicking me roughly with her tongue. It's almost too much, too intense, but suddenly I am launching into a climax that makes me feel as though she is moving the world underneath me. I hear myself crying out my pleasure and I can't bring myself to care, as I rock myself against her mouth and fingers.
My leg does give out on me then, and my other one slips off of her shoulder as I slide down the door to the floor. She catches me and moves us so that I am sitting in her arms, and she is kissing my cheek so tenderly. I am struggling to catch my breath, but I know she doesn't need me to talk. She is happy to just hold me until I am recovered.
"Shower?" I hear her ask, and with that simple question, my want for her reignites.
"Yes," I agree. She gets to her feet in one fluid movement that shows off just how strong she is, and holds out a hand to help me up. I take it willingly because she never makes me feel weak or old with this gesture. It is just a fact that she is stronger than me, and I suspect even if I was her age, that this would be true.
As soon as we are in the shower, I pull her against me, and kiss her hard, wanting her to feel just how much I want her then. I want to be close to her, despite my almost overwhelming impulse to drop to my knees. I trail a hand down her body until I can cup her, enjoying the sensation of her desire, slippery against my fingers.
"You feel so good," she tells me, thrusting her hips forwards.
I take my cue from her, and slide my fingers between her lips, before entering her roughly.
"Tell me what you want," I ask her, "I want to make you feel as good as you make me."
"Miranda, you are already perfect. Just use your instincts, it's more than enough," she tells me, grasping my chin so I look at her. She is telling me the truth, I can see that, but I am distracted by her firm hold on my face as she calmly holds my gaze.
Something in my expression must have shown her just how much I enjoyed her holding me this way because she laughs softly.
"You like that, don't you? I wonder how you feel about being restrained?" she suggests wickedly, "I wonder if I should tie you to the headboard and tease you for hours? Bringing you to the edge over and over, not letting you come, until you beg me for your release."
To my horror, my face gives away my reaction to her words, and I feel my cheeks getting hot. I know that as a powerful woman who is always in control and has been at the top of her game for so long, that I should not want these things. The images she has sent through my imagination, send my libido rocketing though and I am embarrassed by just how much. I shouldn't want this, but I know I do.
As always, she reads me perfectly.
"It's ok to want these things. Who you are in the bedroom, is completely different to who you are the rest of the time. Who you are with me, is different again from who you are to the rest of the world."
I respond by starting to move my fingers, and she moans then.
"I don't know what you've done to me, Andrea. I wasn't like this before I met you," I confess, as I quicken my pace, and flatten my hand so that my palm rubs against her at the same time.
I am gratified to see just how difficult it is for her to talk, as she moans in my ear. I can feel the telltale fluttering against my fingers and keep up the pace even though my wrist is beginning to feel like it is cramping.
"You are perfect. So good," she tells me, before kissing me almost aggressively. I can feel her climax as it hits her, and I have still not lost my amazement at how it feels to have this privilege. I can feel every ounce of pleasure that I have managed to wring from her body, as she rides my fingers.
Panting softly, she takes my hand and stops it from moving, as she drops her head onto my shoulder. I remove my hand and wind my arms around her, as she pulls me close to her. We stand there as her breathing begins to steady, revelling in the closeness that has bubbled up between us.
Eventually, we realise that we do need to get out, and so we make quick work of washing each other's bodies and rinsing before getting out and towelling off. We both choose to wear yoga pants, and I sneakily commandeer her NorthWestern sweatshirt. She sees me pull it on and gives me a soft smile.
"It suits you," is all she says as she pulls me in for another cuddle. I have never been so physically close to someone, or affectionate, but now I don't know how I lived all my life without this level of intimacy.
It's not just the sex, it's all the other gestures that I have also missed out on. I realise that I have been very unfair to my husbands, and it is no wonder they judged me and found me lacking. It didn't take them long to realise that I was cold and distant, and they soon gave up attempting to be close to me. I thought that I didn't like physical affection but I couldn't have been more wrong.
The gentle touches she gives me as she walks by, the way she holds me in her arms in bed or just sitting on the sofa. Even the way she pulls me onto her lap so she can hold me close. They're all things that I never knew I wanted or needed but that I am almost sure I cannot live without now.
I cannot live without Andrea. This I know and the truth of that statement is wonderful and terrifying all at the same time. My heart is beating unpleasantly fast when she turns to me and asks if we should go and talk now. I hear myself agree with her, but the blood is rushing in my ears because I have realised that she has the power to destroy me. If Andrea has any demands that I cannot meet and decides she doesn't want this, then I am unsure how I would recover.
It's simple, I realise, at that moment. I would not.
