Today had just been ridiculous. As an avid classical vocalist and pianist, I knew I needed to practice at least two hours every day, but today it had been difficult. My mind kept wandering off, drifting away to some unknown thoughts floating about in my head, causing my normally nimble fingers to fumble over the keys of my beloved baby grand piano. Knowing that this would only cause bad muscle memory and would set me back, I decided to give up for the afternoon and try again later.
I stood up from my piano bench and walked over to the other side of the room, to my favorite window seat. Before sitting down, I looked in the built in bookcase for a dusty tome to mull over, selected my dog eared copy of Jane Eyre, then plopped down and closed the curtains behind me, snuggling down onto the cushions and losing myself in the world of 1830's England.
Soon, after feeling warm and cozy and listening to the gentle rain falling outside on the windowpane, I developed a craving for some tea. Carefully setting my book down, I got up and sashayed happily into the kitchen, not realizing that I was no longer alone.
As I half waltzed, half skipped around the kitchen gathering the items I needed for my tea, I found myself humming a tune that I couldn't quite place the name of. I pondered that for a few moments, trying to place the name of the song as I continued to hum and began to fill my tea kettle. As soon as I set the kettle on the stove and switched the heating element on, I suddenly felt like I was being watched.
"My god, but you are beautiful."
I whirled around in a panic and was relieved to see that the one who spoke was my husband, Taylor. He sat on one of the barstools at the island counter in the middle of the kitchen, his chin resting on his hand, eyeing me with adoration and what I assumed was affectionate amusement. He was still wearing his suit and his briefcase was sitting in the counter, so he must have just gotten home. My eyes widened. Oh my god, was it that time already? "Darling, please tell me you're not home early." I said.
He frowned slightly. "If I said yes, would that bring back that smile you just had on your face?"
I sighed and rubbed my temple. "Darling, I am so sorry that I didn't start dinner. I have been in an odd mental state all day and I couldn't practice piano and I couldn't think straight because I was frustrated and... well, I sort of... forgot." I said, sighing.
He got up from the stool and walked over to me, pulling me to his chest and left a chaste, loving kiss on my lips. "My beautiful wife. You are the sweetest, most silly thing on the planet. Look at you, getting all upset over something like this. You don't have to have dinner on the table when I come home, sweetheart. I understand that you get caught up in your music; that is one of the many things I love about you.
"Besides, I thought that maybe we should make dinner together tonight. How does that sound?" he said to me, caressing my cheek.
I know I was positively beaming. Oh, how I loved this man; he always knew exactly how to make me feel good. "I like that idea very much." I said, standing on my tiptoes to kiss him.
He grinned. "Good. I am glad you approve." he said. He kissed my forehead, then walked over to the refrigerator, furrowing his eyebrows in thought.
"What sounds good to you?" he asked, looking at me.
I thought for a moment. "Steak sounds good to me. Perhaps with a nice garden salad, home made ranch dressing, and some mashed potatoes?" I suggested.
"That sounds amazing. What do you want to do: steak, potatoes, or salad?" he asked.
"I can take care of the salad. I know you love to make the steak, and we can make the potatoes together." I said, smiling sweetly at him.
He gave me a shy grin -was he blushing?- and got the angus steaks from the fridge, then tossed me a head of lettuce to wash and separate.
We worked silently for a few moments, him mixing a bowl of seasonings for the steak and I shredding lettuce. Then, he spoke. "Why were you frustrated about your piano playing today?" he asked.
I frowned. "My mind didn't want to focus. My fingers kept fumbling over the keys... so I stopped doing it for a while." I said.
"What were you thinking about?" he said.
I stopped what I was doing for a moment. His tone had changed to something more silky, more... sultry. I felt my abdomen tighten a bit, but ignored it. "I'm not sure, honestly." I said nonchalantly.
"Are you sure?" he said again. I looked over at him, and he had an impish grin on his face.
I giggled. "You hush. We're making dinner." I said, turning back to my work.
"Fine, I'll be good... for now." he said; I could hear the smile in his voice as he continued to season the steak in front of him.
Once I had finished the salad and mixed the dressing, he had finished with the steaks and put them on the grill. I got out four large potatoes, washed them, and then handed him a potato peeler. "Once you finish peeling them, I'll chop them and boil them. I'll make a gravy while you do that." I said. As I walked away, I felt his hand brush against my behind ever so gently. I knew he was trying to make it seem like it was an accident, but I knew full well what he was doing, and I told him so.
"Oh really? And, pray tell, what are you going to do about it?" he said, pulling my lips to his by my hair.
The moment our lips touched, fire ignited in my stomach and I drove into his kiss, teasing his tongue with mine, tangling my fingers into my husband's hair as I kissed him greedily. As unfocused as I was earlier, I was completely alert now.
He pulled away for a moment and whispered in my ear sensually, "You see, Aurora. While you were sitting at that piano and you couldn't focus, I know exactly what you were thinking about."
"And what was that?" I gasped, allowing myself to melt into his strong chest.
"You were thinking of my cock buried deep inside you. You wanted me to come home early and fuck you right over your piano, didn't you?" he said, grasping my breast and twisting my now erect nipple through my clothes.
I bit my lip, trying not to moan. I knew he was right; it had been so long since we had had sex, and I was fairly certain that even if I protested (as if), we would be making love tonight, no ifs ands or buts.
But for now, we had dinner to make, so I pulled away rather half heartedly. "We need to make the potatoes before we get too carried away; horny or not, you need to eat." I said, poking him playfully before I walked to the pantry for my jar of home made gravy mix.
Taylor pouted like a little boy who had just had his candy taken away. I laughed. "Don't laugh! I've been looking forward to this all day." he said, pretending to be mad.
I laughed again. "Don't act like such a child. If anything, you need to eat so you have the energy to fuck me over my piano." I said, allowing my hips to sway a little more temptingly than usual as I went to grab a pot and put it on the stove. As I measured the mix and the final ingredients into the pot, I became aware that I was being watched... and that the potatoes were again being neglected. "Chop and peel those potatoes, young man, or you get no dessert." I teased, shaking my spoon at him. Pouting again, he finally gave in and got the potatoes ready to boil.
Forty minutes later, dinner was ready and on the table. We sat down, and he took my hands in his across the small kitchen table. "Thank you for helping me." I said, smiling at him.
He smiled lovingly back at me. "And thank you for being my wife. I can't believe it's only been a little over a year; I feel like I've been married to you for much longer." he said, caressing my knuckles with his thumb.
I beamed, and he released my hands, picking up his fork. "Eat, or I will have to spank you." he said, grinning at me impishly.
I obeyed, allowing myself to fully enjoy the fruit of our labours; the steak was perfectly medium rare and juicy, the salad was fresh and crisp, and the potatoes were creamy and hot.
As we ate, he told me about his day at work. He was a Supervisor at a paper distribution firm, and he often had interesting stories to tell about his co workers, who all genuinely liked and respected him. They were all good friends, and as a result, Taylor rarely came home overly tired or stressed. Best of all, he loved his work and I had a very happy husband because of it.
Soon, we had finished eating. "Do you want more to eat, love?" he asked. I shook my head, stood up, and began to gather plates, humming the same tune I had earlier.
As soon as the dishes hit the sink, I gasped. "Now I remember!" I said, running to my piano.
Taylor followed me, obviously confused. He watched me scramble around in my box of sheet music for a few moments when finally with a triumphant "Aha!" I unveiled the sheet music to my mystery tune: The Music of the Night from The Phantom of the Opera.
"I... I'm confused?" Taylor said, chuckling a bit.
I pressed the sheet music to my chest. "I have been humming this tune all day and I couldn't remember what it was.
