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Who says romance is dead? The couple in this story, married for decades, treat themselves to a little getaway amidst botanical beauty.
A Flowerly Tale (Romantic, 1,500 words)
The last of the yard sale curiosity seekers didn't leave until nearly five o'clock. By then, Hal and Margaret had ordered a pizza and took turns going into the house to grab a slice.
Hal watched Margaret as she explained the quirks of their 12-year-old toaster to a woman who insisted that one dollar was too high a price. Margaret, always grounded, always calm, charmed the woman with her sincerity and lack of pretentiousness. No doubt she was offering to stop by the woman's house sometime in the near future to make sure the toaster was operating properly, Hal snickered to himself.
As he bit into a tepid piece of pepperoni pizza, he admired the soft glints in Margaret's auburn hair as the sun threatened to set. The summertime evening took its time about arriving, but the balmy portent of it made it worth the wait. Was it the seductive summer air or Margaret's hair that kept him semi-erect while he chewed? He wasn't sure. He and Margaret had been flirting all day. Like adolescents. He would wink at her while she bartered with neighbors or run a palm over her shapely bottom as he passed behind her — all of which served to visibly discombobulate her enough to make her blush. He loved it when she blushed.
The woman clutched the toaster and made her way back to her car. Margaret trudged inside and flopped into the chair nearest the door.
"You know most of these people pay top dollar for things at Ayers," she sighed. "Why do they expect to pay nothing here?"
"Because the stuff is used?" He tendered, grinning.
"Details," she sniffed, throwing him a coy smile. "At least we sold everything."
"That' s my girl. Look at the bright side," he said, sidling up behind her chair to massage her neck. "Tired?"
"Mmmmm," she responded to his touch. "I'm tired, all right. But I'm suddenly feeling better."
"And I have not yet begun to revive you." He knelt before her and removed her sandals. Placing her right foot on his thighs, he began to stroke her instep the way he knew she liked it. Her happy groan told him he'd hit the mark.
"That feels soooo good," she said quietly. "Thank you." He would have seen the gratitude in her eyes even without hearing the words. He took time with each toe, the soft, warm soles, and worked away the strap marks on the tops of her feet. She closed her eyes with a tiny grin on her lips.
"I have a surprise for you," he said as he finished working his magic with her left foot.
She opened one eye. "Funny, I could've sworn this was my surprise."
He chuckled. "This is only the beginning. Are you feeling up to putting on your sandals again?"
She hesitated, so he picked her and her shoes up and carried them to the car sitting in the driveway.
"Hal! What are you doing? Where are we going?" She asked, giggling with delight.
"If I told you, it wouldn't be a surprise, would it?"
They didn't drive long. The Chesterton Arboretum and Gardens weren't far from their house but by the time they arrived, the sun had set.
"I think they must be closed this time of night, aren't they?" Margaret wondered aloud.
"Not if you make a reservation," he winked as he opened his car door. "Are you willing to walk with me to the hothouse?" He asked, glancing down at her feet.
"Of course. Otherwise, you'll carry me again!" She slipped into her sandals and followed him.
The door to the large hothouse was unlocked, so they walked right in. Immediately, the scents of roses, hyacinths, gardenias, and jasmine wafted towards them. Hundreds of small candles floated in bowls of clear water, illuminating the glass structure like a tiny universe. Mini eco-systems existed throughout Chesterton, and here in the hothouse, a quarter of the building was a field of wild flowers. Next to it, a riotous rose garden bloomed. The ground throughout was rich, aromatic loam. Margaret took off her sandals to wiggle her toes in it.
"This is incredible, Hal. How on earth did you get them to let us visit? And did they light all the candles for you?"
"Love fires the imagination," he said, kissing her forehead. "All that's necessary after that is a little persuasion and some carefully placed payola."
"It's beautiful. I don't know what to say."
"Say nothing. Just let me have my way with you." He moved to kiss her mouth but she stopped him.
"But is it private? The door was unlocked. Somebody else might come in."
He walked to the door and locked it. "It's private."
As they kissed, he unbuttoned her perfectly pressed white cotton blouse. As she looked up at him with those big, beautiful eyes, he was struck once again by her youthful shyness. Every time felt like the first time with Margaret.
Once her blouse was open and the gentle curve of her cleavage visible in the flickering candlelight, he led her to the grassy patch just before the field of flowers. Wordlessly, he removed her shorts and blouse so she stood in only her bra and panties. Grinning, she undressed him, too, until they faced each other in their unmentionables. When he slipped out of his briefs, revealing the erection he'd been fighting all day, she didn't protest. In fact, she raised an interested eyebrow at its readiness.
"It's been this way all day for you," he whispered into her hair.
They fell to their knees, reveling in the scent of the pristine grass. He removed her bra, releasing her full, luscious breasts and kissed them softly, avoiding the tempting areoles to stir her desire further. When he finally put his lips to her pointed nipple, she gasped with relief.
He swirled his tongue around them very slowly, prolonging the agony of her pleasure. With great reverence, he held one breast in each palm and alternated between them, licking one nipple until she nearly swooned and then switching to the other. He looked up at her face because he loved to watch her rapture whenever he tended to her sexual happiness. Her eyes were closed and her head was tilted — she looked lost in a wonderful dream.
Her nipples hardened the longer he flicked his tongue over them. When they seemed to be as plump as he could make them, he took one into his mouth for sucking. Her moans increased and she stroked his head as if to encourage him.
She would never ask him for what she wanted or needed — her modesty prevented it — but she sent subtle signals to him. In their twenty-eight years of marriage, he'd learned to read all of them. Now, as he suckled at her breasts, she rocked her hips forward and back in a slightly suggestive rhythm. This meant she wanted her pussy touched.
He was happy to oblige.
He began by stroking her through her panties, which were now soaked with her juices. The wet fabric clung to her private places, following the contours of her labia. His sucking continued as he traced the moist outlines of her swollen lips.
She spread her legs a bit wider in an attempt to invite him inside the panties. He moved the crotch aside at first to tickle her damp pubic hair. To his surprise, she pushed the elastic top of her panties downward in a signal too obvious to even qualify as a signal. He cooperated by pulling the other side in the same direction until the garment was halfway down her thighs, and then he helped her out of them entirely. She opened her eyes now, enveloping him in a mute message of loving trust.
His fingers massaged her wetness, spreading her juices all over her pussy. Her scent now vied for attention with the flowers, but it was a marvelously heady combination. If he had to feel dizzy, this was the way to go, he thought to himself.
He moved his mouth from her nipple to her clit. Her legs were splayed open for him now in wanton abandon and as he explored her nether regions with his tongue, he could feel her practically drip into his mouth. Her clit swelled and hardened after a few moments of his licking it, and when she orgasmed, her moans fell across the flowers like a benevolent windstorm.
"Make love to me, Hal," she pleaded, sitting up now to nuzzle his neck. Her request surprised him so much, he froze for a moment. In that pause, she got on all fours and presented her smooth, sexy backside to him.
He was now so hard he could barely even think. As he entered her sweet heat, his mind careened around the room. Nevertheless, he forced himself to contain his release until she'd had another. And another. Finally, when many minutes had passed and he knew she couldn't stand much more pleasure, he allowed his orgasm to surge up through his balls and into her warm, tight pussy. His own shouts of pleasure were not as refined as her own.
As they lay in the candlelight, surrounded by nature's wonders, they spooned in silent contentment until she spoke.
"I'm thinking it's time we planted a flower garden."
He laughed. "It would certainly thrive. We'd always be in it."
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