Page 7 of Festive Flings

Jonty:

Be home in twenty minutes… starving!

After putting the pasta bake and fish into the oven, I freshen up, wanting to look appealing for my talk with my husband. All I want is to feel the heat and desire in him. For him to look at me, really look at me, and find me attractive.

Looking in the mirror while brushing my long blond hair, I assess the damage. I don't think I look too bad. A bit more worn than I used to be: age and life will do that.

After a quick spritz of perfume, I return downstairs and ask the children to help set the table while I lay the food out in the middle..

Jonty arrives just as we are about to sit down. “Something smells delicious,” he shouts to us before coming into the dining room.

Chloe runs to him first, leaving the seat she has just sat in. “Daddy!” she shouts and he laughs as he picks her up before placing her back into her seat.

Oscar holds out his fist and father and son fist bump. “Dad, you’ll never guess what player I got in my ultimate team.”

My words of greeting are lost in a haze of excited children, and it's not the first time I realise Jonty doesn’t even notice me.

I serve the dinner in silence, feeling conflicted and embarrassed. Am I jealous of my own children? Of course, I love their relationship with their father, and it’s great that we are all so close. Is it wrong for me to want a bit of my husband’s love, affection and time? I am fading like a wallflower, when I was once his centrepiece.

“You’re quiet, Bilbo, is everything okay?” I manage a tight smile, but I am annoyed that these are the first words my husband has said to me. Goddamn it, where is the love and the passion? There was once a time when Jonty couldn’t keep his eyes and hands off me.

After dinner is another blur of washing up, bath and story time, a quick game of FIFA and under the bed monster checking. When we finally get to our bedroom, we both flop onto the bed exhausted.

However, tonight I am not accepting ‘I’m tired’ or 'it's late.’ We are in serious danger right now if we don’t talk.

“Jonty… do you still love me?” I blurt out. I don’t mean to start off with that but the words leave before I could stop them.

“You know I do, where did that come from?” He turns onto his side and looks at me with concern in his eyes.

The very same steel-grey eyes he once couldn’t keep off me, the eyes that used to light up at the mere mention of me, or at the promise of what was to come.

“Evidently, I don’t know you do, or I wouldn’t have asked. I’m worried about us. Things are quickly getting stale and old between us, and I think we need to do something now before we start to lose our connection.” He looks back at me with shock, but I can see he is protectively going to defend himself.

“Is this about sex? I’m just tired, Bill. It's been a long day; it's another long day tomorrow. I just want to get in my comfies and chill out. I want to chill out with you.”

“Yes, this is about sex. It’s about everything. I miss how things were before the children.” As I say the words, I am filled with surprise that I'm actually saying them out loud. We had agreed we wouldn’t mention our time before the children, because it wouldn’t be wise to continue with that lifestyle once children were involved.

“You miss the swinging? The threesomes? The sex parties? The kinky stuff? We agreed once the children came we would go vanilla so it would never affect them, Bill. I miss that stuff too, but we can’t go back to that time.”

“Why not? Would us doing some kink really affect the children? Can’t we find a way to have a bit of what we used to enjoy? I miss us, Jonty, we are fading away and quickly at that ! We need to rekindle that fire and keep it burning or we aren’t going to last.”

I look down at my husband, his eyes are dark and filled with the passion I have ached to see. I can see the evidence of his excitement, the tent in his pants confirms he still wants that stuff too.

But will he give in to his desire and take the plunge with me again?

~ Jonty ~

There are many events that are imprinted in my mind, events that have shaped the man I am today. The death of my father when I was fourteen years old, graduating from the University of Cambridge with a first-class honours degree, the birth of my children, marrying my beautiful Billie. But the one event that pales all of them in comparison is the day I met my future wife for the very first time. I can’t help my mind wandering back to the day I met her and our subsequent courtship and first year of marriage.

~*~ Flashback ~*~

~~~ Twelve Years Ago ~~~

As I enter the restaurant, I pull my friend Marcus back by the arm. “Promise me she isn’t a weirdo,” I say to him.

Marcus laughs as he replies, “Honestly, she’s a stunner, dark haired, stacked and great in the sack, apparently.”

As a favour to my friend, I am going on a blind date. His new girlfriend begged him to bring a friend for one of hers and Marcus roped me into going with him on the proviso that he foots the whole bill.

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