The rain pounded outside the bedroom window and branches on the tree in front brushed against the windowpane as though a thousand fingers were scratching to get in. The covers wrapped around my frigid body and I lay, sorrow filled, as giant crocodile tears slid down my cheeks only to vanish in the white cotton material of my pillowcase. Loneliness and the bleak tide of January had set in, nothing could shake me from my misery.
Suddenly, the house shook as the garage door opened and wet tires squealed on the cement floor. Footsteps pounded through the hall and my heart raced at the thought of someone breaking into my home.
"Who's there?!" I yelled out, not recognizing my own frightened voice.
"Don't you mean, who is it please?" Eric responded in a high pitched impression of me.
I jumped, thrilled to see my husband, disheveled and half cooked after a 14 hour plane ride, endless lines in customs, and wild winds coupled with fits of rain as he made his way to the long term park and ride.
"What are you..."I began but he cut in, jumping on the bed with a grin that could tame a rabid dawg.
"I saw your post, Lamey," he teased. "Figured I should come home and make things right."
"I didn't mean to put more pressure on you," I said softly reaching out and caressing his handsome face, completely in disbelief that he was for real.
"I'd have come home quicker if you'd signed it LayMe instead," he said winking and lifting my shirt, diving into my belly with kisses.
A huge sense of relief came over my body. Bologna in his shoes, Eric was back and as silly as ever. We rolled around in the covers; lips, tongues, arms, legs criss-crossing until we became one huddled mass of lovers entwined in fevered passion.
"Make love to me," I said, pulling at the nightie I had buried myself in just an hour before.
"Not yet," he replied and balancing on his elbow uttered the words, "I quit my job today."
Eric is not a quitter and it is certainly not like him to walk away from a fight. "Let's dance, MF" is more his style of engagement.
I looked into his bright sparkling eyes and we both let his statement hang in the air for a moment.
"I quit the job with this client and took a position in Tahiti."
I froze, my nightmare coming back, sure his next words would be, "I'm just here to pack my things and say goodbye."
Once again, that bologna in his shoes, Eric kept me on the hook for about thirty seconds and then laughing said, "I gave that client to someone else to deal with and told the company they've got me for three more months and then I'm going to retire."
Another giant sense of relief, this time from my mind, and I caught myself taking in a slow easy breath.
"We can move, honey," he said. "Anywhere you want."
I couldn't kiss him often enough, hug him hard enough, dance and jump and scream loud enough. We reveled in the moment and then I found myself standing in the corner.
"You need a reset," came the strong authoritative tone that I've learned to respond to so well. Eric took his time peeling the nightie up my thighs, over my hips, back and shoulders. He draped it on the chair and generously massaged my cheeks, warming my buns with his hands while inadvertently pressing my nipples into the cold plaster of the wall.
I moaned. Literally moaned under his touch and then WHACK, a sharp red hand print worked itself out across my right cheek.
"You're not supposed to be enjoying this," Eric warned, knowing full well what he was doing to me.
A few slaps later, we made our way to the spanking chair. Eric sat comfortably on his throne, pulling me, naked and ready, over his lap.
"Amy Lynn," he started while smacking each cheek, one after the other, as though he were playing a bongo drum. Harder, softer. Softer, harder. The rhythm generating a sweet sizzling glow of pink pleasure on my skin.
"Amy Lynn," he began again, "you've got to have patience, and faith, and confidence that I'm equally vested in this dream of ours and I want the same things you do."
From out of nowhere, a large wooden paddle appeared and Eric steadily spanked both cheeks at once in time with each of his fifteen words, "You - have - to - learn - to - trust - that - I - will - do - what - is - best - for - us."
By the time he finished, my shoulders were quaking and those massive tears had returned, this time only to vanish in the carpet at his feet. Eric held me in his arms, confused by the enormous outpouring of emotion from the girl who never really cries because of a spanking.
"What's wrong, honey," he asked, hugging tighter and listening through the sniffling sputter of words that flowed from my mouth.
"But I want to take care of you and it always seems like I just make things harder..." sniffle, sputter, sob.
"Amy Lynn," Eric said, standing face to face with me as he wiped away all those tears. "For the first time in your life, let someone be there for you."
The waterworks dried up and our eyes stayed lock and step, along with our breathing. I swallowed and gathered my strength to speak.
"I could say the same to you," I said, earnestly.
For a moment, his eyes glistened with a tear filled pool and then Eric sat back, the months and months of being abused by his job fading away and leaving his taught frame. Hands clasped, we walked to the bed and crawled between crisp cool sheets, holding onto each other as though no one else existed or mattered in the entire world.
"Maybe it's time," Eric finally whispered, "to let go of everything else and focus on each other."
Amy smiled for the first time in weeks and nodded.
So, they did. And they both thrived and played and were happily every after; there for each other, making all of their dreams come true.
The end. Sweet Dreams.
The list for tomorrow:
1. Walk 10,000 steps and eat healthy all day
2. Meet with the boss and then LET IT GO
3. Important Doctor's appointment - discuss options and create a plan