Page 117 of Between Now and Always

Susu, as the kids call her, is legendary for her eagle eyes and heavy hands.

We’re almost at the sliding glass doors that lead from our terrace to our kitchen when Beth stops and groans.

“God, this is a total shit show,” She lifts her foot up and peels a discarded pineapple wedge off thebottom. She holds it out in front of her and glares at it.

“Too bad that pineapple wedge isn’t a mirror,” I quip and hold the door open for her to step into the house.

“What is that supposed to mean?” she asks, indignantly as we step into our blessedly quiet and clean kitchen.

“That this poor man’s Coachella that you planned is turning out exactly as Ipredicted,” I say and duck just in time to dodge the pineapple.

“It’s not that bad,” she insists, crossing her arms in front of her and glaring at me.

I eye her coolly and wordlessly as I makeslow work of peeling the pineapple off the wall behind me.

“Right, sure. This is all perfectly normal,” I say meaningfully, my eyes never leaving her face, as I drop it ceremoniously into the trashcan.

She throws her head back and laughs in self deprecation. “Fine, it’s terrible. But look at him. He’s so happy,” she says and points to the huge stage set up across the entire width of our massive back lawn. Our son, Spencer is playing his guitar, surrounded by his idols. His shoulder length dark brown hair flies like awind-whipped flag around his head and his shirtless torso is speckled with glitter and confetti from the hundreds of tiny cannons thatwent off when we sang happy birthday an hour ago.

Before our yard turned into a mosh pit.

“He would have been happy if we’d gone to dinner. That is what you call euphoric.” I say sarcastically, but I’m smiling while I watch him and two hundred of his closest friends have the time of their lives.

“I’m thinking after everything he’s been through, he’d due a little euphoria. So, it willbe worth the cleanup.”

“And replacing the trampled grass. And the noise complaint,” I add just to tease her with a wink before I walkover to the fridge.

“Oh, those guys only complained because we didn’t invite them. And I showed the policeman our permit for the event. He was so excited when he saw Jack and Porsha, I invited him to join us after work. He’s been here for an hour,” she volleys back, undaunted.

This party was her idea. When she told me she wanted to invite every kid in our son’s sixth grade class to his birthday party, I didn’t blink. I was just glad he finally wanted to have a birthday party. It wasn’t until I saw the bill for the caterer she hired that I realized she meant his entire grade.

It wasn’t the 21 kids we hauled pizza to his class’s end-of-year party. It more than a hundred kids, their siblings and their parents. In fewcases, all three of their parents.

“Semantics,” she’d said with an unrepentant smile when I asked her.

I open the fridge and pull out a pastry box. When I turn around, she’s moved to the huge island and is standing between me the white stone countertop. Her hands are behind her, resting on it. The position pushes her bikini-clad breasts forward and I give her an assessing once over. She’s a Pelaton evangelist and her body shows it.

The black bikini isn’t skimpy, but it’s hot. I’ve enjoyed watching her prance around in it all day. “You look good enough to eat,”I drawl and eye her breasts with unabashed hunger.

A satisfied smile spreads across her face.

“I was hoping you’d say that, I’m in the mood to be eaten,” she says and then reaches us up untie the top of her suit.

“Beth, there might be people in here.”

“Lucky them,” she says and her top falls.

I put the small boxes down and stalk over to her. Her eyes gleam, and she cups my cock through my shorts.

“Mmmm, baby you’re hard already,” she croons. I drop my head to her breast and pull one of her plump nipples into my mouth. Her skin is cool in my hot mouth. I taste chlorine and honey and life on tongue. Her hands roam my back and her hand slide into my shorts and her cool, soft hand wraps around the throbbing erection.

I lavish her breasts with attention until she’s lost the rhythm of her stroke and is making that sweet sound that is more beautiful than any note my piano has ever made.

I press her back until her back is flat on the counter. I pull her bottoms off and take her in. She has tattooed what I call love notes all over beautiful body. Her brother James’ name is right below her collarbone. The one on her ribs now has severallines below it.

Live free or die trying.

You are my wildest dream come true.

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