Broken

I took the box back to my chair and fussed with the table, pushing it out of the way so I could sit and hold the box upon my lap. It weighed far heavier on my legs than it had in my hands.

“C’mon.”

I couldn’t put aside his eagerness any longer. I slid a fingernail beneath the taped edge and the paper fell away. The box under it was plain and white, without markings. I lifted the lid.

“Oh, Adam.”

He laughed. “Do you like it?”

I lifted the sheer red fabric and held it to my chest. I wanted to cry but didn’t. I forced a dry tone.

“Who’d you buy this for, you or me?”

“Are you kidding? They don’t make those in my size.” He grinned and raised the bed a bit higher with the remote control. “Stand up. Put it on.”

I stood. The baby-doll nightie had thin straps and a pair of matching thong panties. It wasn’t something I’d have chosen for myself, but I could see the appeal.

“Where did you get this?” A vision of Adam sending Dennis on the errand heated my cheeks.

“I ordered it online. Dennis wrapped it for me, but don’t worry, he didn’t see what was in the box. I was worried it might not be what I ordered but I knew you wouldn’t want him to check it out.”

“Is it what you ordered?” I held it up, turning it from side to side.

“Oh, hell yes.”

We hadn’t made love in a long time. Nearly a year, as a matter of fact, the last time prompted by Valentine’s Day. It had ended badly, with both of us in tears. I wondered, now, what had prompted this effort and knew it was the man in the store I’d told Adam about.

“Put it on.” Adam’s voice was hoarse with a familiar longing, and I couldn’t deny him.

I’d been naked in front of him thousands of times. In the dark, in the light. He’d seen me change a tampon, use the toilet. Held my hair when I puked. And still, I hesitated to strip out of my clothes in front of him now.

“I’ll go into the bathroom.” I offered it hesitantly, uncertain, and to my relief he nodded.

“Yes. Do that.”

In the bathroom I avoided my reflection as I took off my clothes and laid them neatly on the chair. I held up the lingerie to my bare skin and shivered with sudden, fierce longing. When had I last worn something like this? Garments made to arouse? I favored the practicality of cotton panties and bras, serviceable underwear meant to cover, not entice.

I felt like a virgin again. I slipped the panties, no more than a triangle of lace held together by two straps, up my legs. The thong slipped between my buttocks, an odd but sensual sensation I wasn’t sure I liked. The lace covered my pubic hair while the straps crossed my hips, where the bones most definitely didn’t jut forth as they had on our wedding night.

“Sadie?”

“I’ll be right there!”

I pulled the gown over my head and adjusted the fit. It barely covered my breasts and split in the front to swing open as I moved. The hem hit me mid-thigh but provided no real coverage. The entire outfit had been designed to reveal and enhance, not conceal.

When I looked at last into the mirror, I saw my cheeks had flushed and my eyes sparkled. My nipples had gone tight beneath the nylon, and already the lace between my legs was rub-rubbing in a way that made me shiver.

It’s a rare woman who can view herself in an outfit like that and not find flaws, but I wasn’t unhappy with what I saw. I was no longer a bride, true, but time hadn’t been cruel, either. No children had stretched my stomach and breasts, and diet and exercise had kept me in shape. There was no reason for me not to show my husband my body, displayed in the finery of his gift. Yet it took me a full minute to gather the courage to turn the door handle and step out.

Candlelight is forgiving, but if I’d had any doubts about how Adam would see me they vanished the moment I stepped through the door. His eyes gleamed, and his low whistle of appreciation sent a warm flutter through me. I moved closer to the bed, foolishly shy, and twirled slowly so the material flared out from my hips and thighs.

“You’re fucking gorgeous,” Adam said.

My heart skipped at his words, so affecting. It had been a long time since he’d written poems praising the arch of my eyebrows and fullness of my lips. “You like it?”

“What do you think?”

In the past, his erection would have let me know how much. Now I had to be satisfied with the curve of his mouth and tone of his voice. I was ashamed to find them poor substitutes, and forced myself not to think about it.

“Come here.”

I moved closer to the bed. Déjà vu hit with me with force and I stumbled and had to steady myself. For one moment I’d imagined him reaching for me with such clarity I’d felt his hands on me. Breasts, belly, cunt. I’d felt his kiss on my bare skin, his tongue on my clit.

“Kiss me.” Adam’s voice was rough. His eyes roamed over my body, touching me in all the places he’d once stroked and licked and nibbled. He looked at the sheer triangle between my thighs, and his eyes gleamed. He licked his mouth.

Always, in our life before, Adam knew what he wanted and how to get it, was never afraid to ask for things I’d have been unable to voice aloud. Adam had liked dirty talk, bedroom games, adventure, all things in which I’d been content to follow but never lead.

I kissed him. Our breath mingled. He stroked my tongue with his, making me gasp. I wanted his hands on me but had to be content with putting mine on him. His shoulder blades jutted forth and I moved my hands to cup his biceps, so still.

Our faces so close, I could almost forget the rest of him had changed. I could pretend it was like the past, when he could lift me with one arm to toss me, laughing, onto our bed where he’d cover me with his body and pull orgasms out of me like pearls on a string, one after the other.

“I want you so much,” Adam said.

“You have me.”

Something flickered in his dark blue eyes, and I wondered if he was thinking about the man who’d propositioned me in the store. “Touch yourself for me?”

I had to swallow hard at that request. Masturbation was such a private thing, a solo pleasure. For me, a necessity. Release. It kept me faithful, at least in body.

“Sadie? Will you?”

I nodded and stepped back. My hands went up to cup my breasts. Adam’s gaze went there, avid. Bright color had flushed his cheeks. I let my thumbs rub across my nipples, making them hard again.

“I love your breasts.”

This was how it had to be, with us. He would make love to me with his words while I acted out his commands, bringing myself the pleasure he couldn’t.

“Take them out of the nightgown.”

I did, easily enough, for it was made for easy access. I licked my fingertips and pinched my nipples, wetting them. Adam groaned. I did it again, until they glistened and darkened with arousal.

“Yeah, just like that. Stroke them. I love to lick your tits, just like that.”

My breath caught at his words. He used to whisper them to me before taking my nipple between his lips and suckling. The memory made my nipples throb, and I rolled them with my fingers until I had to moan, myself.

“I want to taste you, Sadie. Let me see your pussy.”

I sat in the chair, my legs spread so wide the panties could no longer cover me. I pushed the scrap of lace to the side, showing him my clit, my cunt, my thighs. His words became his hands and tongue, my hands his cock.