Helen Reddy is in the middle of belting out the chorus of "I Am Woman, Hear Me Roar" through the speaker above my head as the elevator lurches to a stop and the doors slide open agonizingly slowly. The faintest hint of pine-scented cleanser fills my nostrils as I march resolutely through the pristine executive suites to Danny's office, and I clench my fists to quiet my shaking hands. I am a woman on a mission. I am on the hunt, and as I round the final corner that leads to my destination, I spot my prey fifty paces straight ahead, his head bowed as he shuffles the pile of papers on the desk before him. For the briefest of moments, my fury lifts, and I actually contemplate turning around and heading home rather than unleashing my wrath. But the feminist in me wins out, and suddenly my feet refuse to cooperate with my brain.
And so, I press forward, my thirst for blood getting stronger with each step that draws me closer to my future husband. He has no idea what sort of storm he's created with that little newspaper ad, and I'm sure that he'll have a million different explanations for it. Too bad for Danny Santos that I've already decided not to accept a single one of them. He doesn't seem to realize that my job is the one thing in this relationship that's nonnegotiable. But... he will when I'm through with him.
Stepping with all of the precision of a caged animal, I bypass the desk of his executive secretary, her computer softly humming as dozens of flying toasters scroll across the monitor, and a picture of a her son's toothless grin smiles up at me from within it's silver frame. Thank God that it's Saturday. An audience is the last thing that I need right now. Immersed in his work, he's still unaware of my presence as I raise my knuckles to rap on the thick wood of the door just below his gold nameplate. "Michelle... what are you doing here, sweetie?" he asks, clearly startled to see me.
Pretending to remove a nonexistent piece of lint from the fabric of my sundress, I avoid his gaze, unwilling to let his hypnotic eyes deter me from my purpose. "You and I need to have a talk, Daniel," I respond, crossing my arms across my chest and assuming a defiant stance. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I'm keenly aware that I sound like a mother preparing to discipline her naughty child. I quickly stamp that thought down as I take a seat across the desk from him, my back so straight that it may very well snap at any moment.
"About what, dear?" he questions, dropping his pen on the desk as he leans back in his leather chair and stretches his muscles, the playfulness in his voice telling me that he's intrigued by my unannounced visit. That only serves to raise my ire even more.
I cross my legs and grip the intricately carved wood of the chair's armrests as I sit forward, answering with a great deal of control, "About the little ad that you've placed in 'The Springfield Journal'."
Shock flashes in his eyes, but he shakes his head nonetheless, asking, "What ad?" Oh... so that's how you're going to play your cards, huh? Plead ignorance. Fine. I'll play along.
Rising to my feet, I snatch his discarded copy of today's edition of the newspaper off of the corner of his desk where it sits alongside a cup of now cold coffee. Licking my thumb and index finger deliberately, I slowly thumb through the pages, catching a glimpse of him squirming nervously in his chair out of the corner of my eye. Good. "Ah, yes... here we are," I begin, pressing crisp creases into the wrinkled pages as I fold back the paper to reveal the 'Classified' section. I can feel his eyes upon me even though mine never leave the task at hand. "This one right here, Daniel," I finish, slamming it down in front of him and pointing an angry finger at an advertisement near the top of the page under the 'Professionals Needed' heading.
His parted lips move ever so slightly as he reads the words in the ad to himself. Finding his stall tactics amusing, I reclaim my seat, clasping my hands across my belly and cocking my head to the side as I watch him silently contemplating a way out of this. "Michelle... honey... I can explain this," he stutters feebly, tossing the paper into the wastebasket and finally lifting his eyes to mine.
Nodding my head dramatically, I lean forward, resting my elbows on the desk and lowering my chin to my clasped hands, insisting, "I'm all ears." This should be good.
"Sweetie... I just thought that you could use a break, that's all. You work so hard every day and neither of us knows how long the morning sickness is going to last, right?" he declares, reaching for my wrists, waiting for me to offer him some sign that I understand. I jerk away from his touch and sit back in my seat in response. He sees that I'm less than convinced, and I say nothing as he opens his mouth to continue this line of defense. "The stress alone isn't good for the baby, not to mention the physical exertion on you, honey," he insists, trying to gauge my reaction, and he sighs heavily when he sees my eyes narrow in anger.
"Stress?" I spit. "Physical exertion?" I spit even more venomously, a maniacal cackle escaping my throat at the ridiculousness of his rationale. "What in the hell are you talking about, Danny? What exactly is it about my job that you think is so damned stressful?" Try as he might to respond, I cut him off abruptly, unwilling to give him the floor. "In case you hadn't noticed, abuela's improved tremendously since we've been working together. It's been weeks since she's needed my brute strength to get her through a session, Danny."
He offers up whispered words of praise for my accomplishments, but I tune it all out. I'm on a roll. "What I'm doing now is applying the principles that I was taught in college, so the only thing that I'm exerting is a little bit of brain power." Unable to remain in my seat for a second longer, I stand and walk to the windows behind his desk, looking down at the sleepy city streets sixteen stories beneath us. "I'm assuming that you don't have a problem with me taxing myself mentally, Danny," I bark, never turning to face him. "So if it's all the same to you, I think I'll be keeping my job." My tirade over, tears well up in my eyes and I'm unable to control their descent down my cheeks. Goddamn hormones.
This time I don't shrink away from his touch when his fingers wrap around mine, and even though I inch closer when he pulls me to him, I stubbornly keep my eyes fixed on our cars in the parking lot. "Michelle," he pleads, his voice soft and trailing off at the end, an unspoken invitation for me to look at him. When he sees that I won't budge, he explains to my back, "Look, sweetie... I really did have good intentions. Believe me. I guess I just thought that you'd like some time for yourself." Deep down in my heart, I know that what he's saying is true. The gentleness in his voice and in his caress tells me that there isn't a malicious bone in his body. "And... it's not as if we need two incomes, right?" he asks, laughing nervously, his pitiful attempt at interjecting levity into our conversation having the opposite of the desired effect on me. He really needs to learn to quit while he's ahead.
I cast a sideways glance in his direction, twisting my hand out of his grip and dropping it to my side. Realizing that I don't find his lame joke the least bit funny, he covers quickly for his blunder, saying, "Listen, sweetie... I'll call that friend of yours, Holly Lindsay, at 'The Journal' first thing on Monday morning and make sure that the ad is dropped, ok?"
Making no effort to reply as I turn my attention back to the window, I slump my shoulders forward, asking dejectedly, "When were you going to tell me about the ad, Danny?"
The deafening silence between us is finally punctuated when he draws in a deep breath. I know that he's at a loss for words. This normally brilliant and articulate man is so afraid to say anything, terrified that'll he'll set me off, and he's walking on eggshells to protect my delicate psyche. Guilt washes over me and I bite my lip to stave off my tears as I press my shoulder to the sun-warmed window, turning towards him as I clarify, "I mean... were you going to wait until after you'd already hired someone new?"
Finally. I've finally gotten to the heart of what's really bothering me about this whole thing, and he finally understands. I see it in his eyes... eyes that beckon me to let my guard down and to allow him to reach out to me. I comply. "Baby," he whispers, his warm hands enveloping mine as he pulls me to stand between him and the desk. I lower my eyes to our joined hands, but when he demands, "Baby... look at me," I do as he asks. "Michelle... I wish a million times over that I hadn't placed that ad. I do," he beseeches when I shake my head 'no' in an attempt to halt his apology. "And you're absolutely right. I should have discussed it with you first. It's not my place to make a decision like that without you. I guess that I'm a little rusty on this relationship thing, huh?" I manage a weak smile and a slight nod of the head. "Forgive me?" he begs, batting thick, flirtatious lashes up at me as he turns his smoldering, bedroom eyes to mine.
There's no opportunity for any sort of response as his hands slide up my arms to cradle my face in one swift motion, and he pulls my lips down to his for an all too brief kiss. "You're forgiven," I mumble against his lips, my palms pressing into his denim clad thighs as I lean over his lap.
He shifts uncomfortably in his chair when I make no move to back away from him, his eyes fixated on the ample breasts spilling forth from the top of my dress. "How about I take my beautiful fiancé out for a night of dinner and dancing... what do you say?" he asks, playfully slapping my behind, a lovely blush coloring his cheeks when he realizes that he's been caught peeking.
I haven't had much reason to feel sexy lately. When I haven't had my head in a toilet bowl, I've been shoving fistfuls of crackers down my throat to prevent the head-in-toilet bowl syndrome. And these little hormonal outbursts that I'm prone to, haven't been very conducive to seduction attempts. Still... I find myself tingling with all the excitement of a fifteen year old girl who's about to go to second base for the first time as Danny's eyes roam over my newly curvaceous body. "You don't have to say that, Danny," I offer demurely, remembering my failed attempt to initiate sex in our bathroom this morning.
"Say what, sweetie? That I want to take you out on a date?" he questions, reaching up to tuck a loose piece of hair behind my ear. "Nothing would make me happier," he insists, his voice trailing off to a whisper as he lifts my hands to his lips to feather soft kisses across my fingertips.
Stroking the side of his face, I smile shyly and avert my eyes, correcting, "No, Danny... I meant... you don't have to tell me that I'm beautiful. I know that I'm not." My overconfidence from a few moments ago has totally evaporated into oblivion.
Bewildered confusion registers in his eyes when he lifts my chin to return his gaze. "Baby... you're the most beautiful woman that I've ever seen," he says, unable to comprehend why I suddenly need that reassurance. "Why would you say something like that, huh?" he asks, stroking my hands as they rest in his, worried that he's unknowingly done something to put those doubts in my head.
Removing my hands from his, I push the hair off of my face determinedly, snapping back, "I'm not stupid, Danny." He's desperate to reestablish our physical contact, but I elude his touch, pressing my palms against the desk on either side of me instead, revealing with a shrug of the shoulders, "I know that you don't find me as desirable as I used to be. I'm dealing with it."
Frustrated and clearly rapidly losing his patience, he throws his hands up in the air in surrender, imploring, "Where is all of this coming from, Michelle?"
Standing up straight, I squeeze past him, desperate for some distance between us, and I wave him off as I retort curtly, "Never mind. Can we just drop it?"
"As a matter of fact... we can't," he insists, catching me by the wrist and pulling me onto his lap in one graceful motion. "No secrets, right?" he whispers, his breath in my ear like the most potent aphrodisiac known to womankind.
My cheeks stain with my embarrassment, and I take a calming breath, hoping that I don't lose the nerve to say the things that have gone unsaid for far too long. "We haven't made love since we found out about the baby," I blurt out, and I feel as though a two-ton weight has been lifted from my shoulders. "That was a month ago, Danny... a month. What else am I supposed to think?" I whine, not bothering to pause to catch my breath.
Something unreadable registers in the depths of his eyes as he lowers his lips to my shoulder and buries his face into the crook of my neck. Guilt, maybe. His lips and tongue on my skin are a welcome treat from the famine that we've been experiencing lately. Suddenly overcome by a feeling of coquettishness, I thread my fingers through his hair, whispering in a sultry voice that even I didn't know that I possess, "You used to be so hot for me... remember that? Remember all of those times that we barely made it to our bedroom before we were ripping each other's clothes off?" An animalistic groan escapes his throat, and my lips curl into a smile against his temple when he can manage only a nod. "I know that you don't want me like that anymore, Danny," I finish pitifully, knowing that those words will send him over the edge and that he'll spend the rest of the afternoon proving me wrong.
"God, Michelle... you have no idea how much I want you. You've never been more beautiful than you are right now, carrying our child," he reassures, his voice filled with a perceptible amount of pent-up lust. I am his for the taking. Just as I allow myself to get lost in the moment, he stops his delicious ministrations on my neck and earlobe abruptly, sitting back to gaze into my eyes longingly.
I am more confused than ever. "Then why, Danny? What am I missing here? Why haven't we made love?" I plead, needing for him to make some sense out of all of this for me. A few seconds ago, it seemed like we were well on our way to ending our dry spell, and now we sit, staring at one another, both clearly sexually frustrated.
His eyes fixed on our interlaced fingers, he admits sheepishly, "I just... I don't want to do anything to hurt you or the baby, honey." I should have figured as much. He wouldn't be the man that I love if he wasn't so fiercely protective of us.
"Come on, Danny... you know that that's an old wives' tale," I reply, attempting to sweetly insinuate that his worries are irrational without hurting his feelings. He's not convinced. Trying my damnedest not to give in to the laughter that I feel building, I offer the most logical response that I can think of, explaining, "Nothing in the books that we've read says that sex during pregnancy is unsafe, and Dr. Sedwick never told us that we should abstain." Ever since we found out that we were expecting, he's taken it upon himself to read every piece of literature on pregnancy that he can get his hands on. Surely this argument will appeal to his left-brain way of thinking.
I should have known that he'd be prepared with a rebuttal. "We never really asked, Michelle," he clarifies, and I find myself counting to ten to calm my frazzled nerves. "And what am I supposed to do? Jump your bones when you're throwing up all of the time?" he continues to argue, shrugging his shoulders as if there's no way out of this desperate situation. He's obviously put a lot of thought into this very subject. I guess I should be flattered. It's better than the alternative... him not giving a shit.
"I'm not always sick, Danny. As a matter of fact, I'm not sick right now," I purr, resuming the sex kitten act that I was once sure that no red-blooded American male could resist. "I'm the picture of health, wouldn't you say?" I inquire, boldly placing his hand against my breast. My nipple tightens in response to his touch. I grow wet at the seductive smile that plays upon his lips when he sees the effect that he has over me. "Can you imagine giving this up for nine months? I don't think that I can do without you for nine more minutes, let alone nine months," I confess, throwing my head back when his hand moves to give equal treatment to the other breast. "Come on... are you trying to tell me that you haven't missed this at all, Danny?" I whisper enticingly, my hand sliding down to massage the growing erection that I feel pressing against the fabric of his jeans.
"Jesus Christ, Michelle! What are you trying to do to me? Drive me to an early grave?" he roars, forcing me off of his lap brusquely, and I can feel my cheeks blazing a fiery crimson. I've never been more humiliated. I'm quickly plotting my revenge as my hand hovers over the telephone's receiver. "What are you doing?" he demands, adjusting his pants over his still bulging crotch.
Depressing the first button of a phone number that I know all too well, I disclose, "I'm calling Rick." He's clearly confused about my intent, so I punch in five more digits, reminding him, "You were so hell-bent to tell him about the baby this morning. Well... here's our chance, Danny!" It's finally sinking in to that thick head of his. My finger hovers perilously close above the final number to Cedars emergency room, and I'm hoping against hope that he'll stop me from dialing it, knowing that I don't really have the nerve to go through with my own plan. "While I'm at it, I'll ask him if it's ok for us have sex," I bark, and just as I expected, he snatches my finger away from the keypad.
"You wouldn't dare!" he shouts, his eyes shooting daggers through mine. Strangely, I'm not frightened. I'm more turned on than ever.
"Watch me!" I scream back, the receiver still wedged between my jaw and shoulder. The release of my emotions feels nearly orgasmic.
He releases my hand from his grasp, an unspoken challenge for me to make good on my threat. "Damnit, Michelle... there's no way in hell that you're discussing our sex life with your brother," he insists anxiously as I turn my eyes back to the phone's base. "Put that damn phone down... now!" he bellows, and I'm so beyond mad that I actually contemplate letting the call go through, my index finger itching to hit '3' in defiance.
Perching my finger on the smooth, black button once again, I challenge, "Make me!" I sound juvenile even to my own ears, and suddenly I realize that I'm tired of playing games. I'm tired of playing the feisty, independent woman who walked into this office a half an hour ago, but I'm even more tired of playing the seductress that she morphed into. I've never had to beg for sex before, and I don't intend to start now. Throwing the receiver back into its cradle with one hand, I angrily jab at his chest with the other, announcing forcefully, "You know what? Forget it! I'm leaving... screw dinner and dancing. And screw you, too!"
Stumbling over my own feet, I dab furiously at my eyes to clear away the tears that cloud my vision, my heart racing wildly within my chest. I haven't taken three steps before he catches me about the waist, standing to take me into his arms, and I press my wet face to his shoulder, muffling my sobs. Rocking me gently in his arms, he pushes the matted hair off of my neck and lowers his lips to the column of my throat once again, blazing a red hot trail of kisses to the upper swell of my breasts. When his hips grind against mine, I realize that his desire for me hasn't subsided. "God... I want you," he breathes into my ear, his tongue darting out to taste the lobe.
I'm desperate for him as well, but in a brief moment of lucidity, I manage to whimper, "I don't want a pity fuck, Danny." My delicate pride couldn't handle that.
"Shh," he whispers, silencing me with a tender kiss that leaves me breathless. "You know that's not what this is, baby," he affirms, cradling my face in his hands. "Let me love you." I am past the point of no return, utterly lost in his spell.
I clutch at his shoulders as his hands mold the curves of my rear end, pressing me closer against his arousal. The friction of our bodies as we move against one another is torturous, and my hands tug his shirt free from his pants, desperate to feel his bare skin underneath my fingertips. I lick my swollen lips, leaning against the desk for support as he steps back to pull the shirt over his head and throw it to the floor.
His eyes, glazed with an undeniable passion, follow the work of my hands as I reach out to caress the sculpted muscles of his chest and belly. Weeks of unsatisfied yearning culminate at this very moment, and a seemingly inextinguishable fire spreads between us when our flesh meets. He feels it too. I can see it in his eyes... eyes that burn so intensely as they scorch a lingering path down my body, that their heat threatens to consume me. "Put your hands on me, Danny," I sigh, shamelessly sliding the thin lycra dress up my legs to reveal a great deal of creamy white thigh to my very appreciative partner.
The dress goes the way of his shirt before I even get a chance to catch my breath. My eyes flutter closed as his fingers slide between my knees and delicately glide over the feverish skin of my inner thigh. The silky scrap of cloth that covers the curls at the apex of my thighs is already damp with my arousal, my body anticipating the intimate caresses of the familiar, nimble fingers that have brought me to the brink of ecstasy and beyond on occasions too numerous to count. "I've missed touching you, baby," he whispers huskily, massaging me through the flimsy material, and I lie back against the desk, lifting my head at an awkward angle to watch the work of those strong, sure hands.
My legs dangle over the edge of the desk, my feet never touching the carpeted floor as he slips the panties off of my hips and down my legs. He laughs a throaty, sexy laugh as I kick them off of my ankles and they land on the rubber tree plant in the far corner of the office. I sit up abruptly, overcome by a need to press my mouth to his smiling lips and indulge in the sweetness of his kisses.
Raising his hands to cup my breasts, he swallows one of the moans of pleasure that escapes my throat as he draws circles around the sensitive flesh of my hardened nipples. "That feels so good, Danny," I confess, breaking the kiss and covering his hands with mine as I lie back against the well-polished, glossy mahogany.
Soft, succulent lips close over one of the tight peaks, and I arch my back and whimper with delight as his tongue darts out to encircle the bud ever so tenderly. Scraping the valley between my breasts with his teeth as he moves to the opposite orb, I shiver at the tingling that he's creating down the length of my spine. "You like that, baby?" he asks between gentle licks.
"Mmm," I manage to utter, biting my bottom lip and nodding my head as I stare down at him through a thick, sensual haze of lust. Leaning over me to capture my lips with his once again, the course material of his blue jeans rubs against my exposed femininity, and I place my feet against the armrests of the chair behind him in response to the unexpected, stimulating sensation.
Wrapping his fingers around my slightly wider hips, he lowers his mouth to my belly, pressing gentle, reverent kisses just below my navel. "Love you," he says, his breath tickling my skin. "Daddy loves you," he whispers again, and I thread my fingers through his hair, affirming my love for him through a somewhat muffled sob.
A wave of guilt washes over me for the way that I behaved earlier, but when he drops to his knees before me and parts the wispy, blond curls between my legs, all rational thought abandons me. Making sure that I'm watching as he pleasures me, he lowers his face to me, nuzzling me briefly and breathing in the scent that is uniquely mine. I grip the edges of the desk when his mouth finds me, my flesh quivering in anticipation of the attention that it's been craving. My body opens underneath the gentle insistence of his warm, probing tongue. "Oh yes, Danny... yes!" I cry out as we become reacquainted with one another, sharing one of the most intimate experiences that a man and woman can.
Pressing myself closer to him as his lips encircle the swollen, throbbing bulb of flesh that is my pleasure center, I come down from my high, begging, "Now, Danny... please. I need to feel you inside of me." He needs no further invitation. Together, we rid him of his pants and briefs, and he springs forth into my awaiting hand, fully erect and pulsing with every beat of his racing heart.
I guide him to my silky opening, but he hesitates before entering me, looking to me for any signs of uncertainty. I answer the unspoken fears that I see in his eyes, nodding reassuringly and insisting, "You're not going to hurt me, baby. You could never hurt me." He believes me. Clutching his hips as he pushes into me, I thrill in indulging in a pleasure that I've done without for far too long. My sweaty back sliding against the lacquered wood creates a warm friction that isn't nearly as delicious as the one that Danny's creating as he moves within me, slowly at first, and then picking up speed when he sees that I won't break in two.
Sitting up, I wrap my arms around his neck and my legs around his hips, my arousal heightened when I catch our reflection in the window behind him, our bodies slamming into one another with each thrust. Completely attuned to one another, we each begin to tremble against the other, and I feel the orgasm pass from my body into his. Muffling our cries of ecstasy with a passionate kiss, we collapse into the chair, crashing into one another. Wrapped in each other's arms, we make no move to disentangle our bodies as we bask in the afterglow.
Prepared to make up for lost time, we're just about ready to go for round two when his cell phone begins its shrill, high-pitched ringing. Damn. Why can't I ever catch a break? "Danny, I swear... if that's someone calling to apply for the physical therapist job..."
"I'll tell them that the position's been filled," he laughs, cutting me off as he reaches around me for the palm-sized phone on the corner of his desk. "Santos," he barks at the caller, and as his smiling face falls, I know immediately that something is very wrong. "We'll be right there," he answers shortly as I rise to my feet and begin to pull on my clothes with a couple of trembling hands.
"Danny?" I say hesitantly as he throws the phone against the desk and jerks on his jeans.
"That was Olga," he says, pushing me out of the office towards the elevator when we've covered our nakedness. "Abuela's been rushed to the hospital with chest pains."
***
I'm still adjusting my clothes and hair as we burst through the doors to the ER. Unable to push the conversation that abuela and I had earlier today about motherhood from my mind, I try to put on a brave front for Danny's sake even though I'm scared as hell.
A robust nurse escorts us to a trauma room at the end of the hall, explaining that a cardiologist is in with her now, running tests. She doesn't know anything more than we do, and Danny loses his temper when she isn't able to answer the dozens of questions that he's throwing her way. When I try to say something in her defense, I'm the one suffering the consequences of his short fuse. He apologizes profusely as we wait to gain admittance to abuela's room, but it's not necessary. I know the close relationship that he and abuela share. He'd cut off his arm to take away her pain if he could.
"Why don't you go and sit in the waiting lounge? I'll come and get you when I know something," he insists, not accepting my words of protest. "Do it for me, Michelle. I don't want to have to worry about you and the baby," he begs, offering me a quick, perfunctory kiss.
"Baby?" a puzzled voice asks from behind me.
Looks like the cat's out of the bag after all. Taking a deep breath, I prepare myself for the lecture that I know will surely follow as I turn and face my big brother.
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