Disclaimer
See chapter 1 -if you must-.
Looking up from her plate, Emily addressed her husband, "Any special wishes for dinner tomorrow?"
"None in particular," he answered between bites, glancing at her. "Why do you ask?"
She shrugged her slim shoulder, brushing it off. "Well, tomorrow is Friday..."
"Oh, is it?" He looked up at her, "Hmm... I hadn't realized."
When he didn't say any more, she rolled her eyes, stating the obvious, "Tomorrow is Friday, which means that the girls are going to be here." Looking down at her plate, she cut the roast more forcefully than necessary. "After that dreadful party last week, I don't know if I want them here at all."
Putting down the silverware, he looked at her accusingly, "Oh, dear, don't you think you're overreacting a bit now?"
Their eyes met and he went on, "We discussed this matter thoroughly and I am sure that both you and the girls are going to be fine."
His wife looked back down at her plate, shrugging, "Yes, well ..."
Richard's face lit up as he remembered something. "Speaking of which, you know there was this very interesting article in the magazine Rory gave me." He tried to hide his grin.
Taking the glass of red wine that stood next to her plate, Emily looked at him, trying to sound as interested as she could muster. "Was there...?" The sparkle in his eyes made her wonder what he was up to, so she quickly looked away as she took a sip of her Merlot.
Trying to play it down as best he could, Richard concentrated on slicing the meat in front of him. "Yes. I would have never thought what women seem to dream about when it comes to their love life."
He looked up immediately as he heard his wife coughing, having choked on her wine after his statement.
Looking up at him wide-eyed, she tried to find her voice again, hoping she had misunderstood him. "WHAT?"
Glad that she was okay, he grinned boyishly at her, trying hard not to chuckle at her shocked expression. Richard shrugged innocently, explaining it further, "Well, there was this survey they printed and it seems that many women dream of having various kinds of food eaten off their bodies by their mate."
Emily's eyes widened even further, "You're not serious."
He couldn't hold back his chuckle. "Believe me, I am."
Taking her napkin, she looked away. "Well that is ..." she tried to search for the right word, "interesting...?" Dabbing her mouth with the napkin, she shrugged.
Richard grinned like the Cheshire Cat while they continued eating in silence.
Giving her a few minutes to let the information sink in, he couldn't stop himself from digging deeper. It was too tempting a topic to let it pass so quickly. Glancing at her, he tried to keep his voice as unbiased as possible, "So ...would you?"
She didn't look up as she answered with a question, "Would I what?"
He held back a chuckle, knowing full well that she knew what he was talking about. "Like me to eat my steak off your belly…?"
Letting her silverware fall onto the plate, she glared at him. "I most certainly would not."
Richard decided to tease her further, grinning broadly, "What about strawberries and whipped cream?"
"Richard!?" She raised her voice, anger burning in her eyes as she met his amused gaze.
Shrugging, he held up his hands in defense. "I'm just asking."
"Let's just drop the topic, please." Her voice was stern as she grabbed her knife and fork again.
Bowing his head lightly, he still grinned. "Whatever you say dear."
Concentrating on her dish, she swallowed a bite of potato before she took her glass again, mumbling, "It's not the season for strawberries anyway." She saw her husband's broad grin over the rim of the glass before she looked away.
Author's note: What? Am I bugging you too much? Nah, not really, or do I? Well, this was the 2nd scene I came up with ... the next installment is going to be smut. Yes, SMUT. I mean, NC-17. Between Emily and Richard. If you don't like it, don't read it. You have been warned!