Control

“It’s okay.” I gave his hand a reassuring squeeze.

I turned and exited the bedroom. Halfway down the hallway, I felt tears fill my eyes.

What am I doing wrong?

Robert and I hadn’t made love in nearly two weeks. There’d been some crisis at the office, Kolstad Systems, and he’d stepped in to help sort the problem out. I’d been busy with work. With all that had been going on, we hadn’t carved out any time for us.

This was the first evening in a while that we had spent any significant time together. I hadn’t wanted it to end like this.

Because I was pretty certain I was ovulating.

I went downstairs to the kitchen and made some tea and put on some smooth jazz. I hoped it would wash away my disappointment, but it didn’t. Two years I’d been off the Pill. Two years I’d been trying to get pregnant.

Robert’s rejection—even if he was tired—stung.

And then I asked myself why the night was necessarily over. Sometimes one partner had to do some coaxing to get the other in the mood. It wouldn’t be the first time I’d seduced my husband.

My drive renewed, I made my way back upstairs. I would take off my clothes and crawl into bed with him. All he needed to do was get erect. I would climb on top of him and do the rest of the work.

As I neared the bedroom, I unzipped my dress. I pulled it over my head and tossed it onto the floor. Then I unclasped my bra and let it fall, as well. It was an idea that came to me, and I acted. Surely when I entered the room, naked except for the pumps and necklace, Robert would become aroused.

Outside the door, I paused to strip off my thong panties.

The lights in the room were doused, except the lamp on my night table. Robert was lying on his side with his back to me. He didn’t hear me approach.

“Robert,” I whispered.

No answer.

Time for plan B.

I kicked off my pumps and pulled the covers back on my side of the bed. Then I slipped under the sheets, their coolness caressing my skin. I slid over to my husband, running my hand down his left arm. He didn’t react, so I leaned closer, nuzzling against his neck.

That’s when I heard his deep, steady breaths—and realized he was sleeping.

Still, I ran my hand over his hip and stroked him through his silk pajamas, hoping to wake him. Robert didn’t react.

I was defeated. I lay back on my pillow, sighing. It wasn’t just that I wanted to make a baby. I was sexually frustrated, needed sexual release.

As I lay in the dimly lit room listening to my husband’s steady breathing, I rested my right hand on the lower edge of my belly. I ran my fingertips over my skin. It was my own touch, yet my vagina thrummed in response. It needed to be stroked.

My hand went lower, over my pubic hair and to my center. I spread my folds. Lazily let my finger stroke my clitoris.

Angling my head slightly, I glanced at Robert. He hadn’t moved. He was still asleep. But even if he woke up and found me touching myself, I wouldn’t stop.

If he saw me, hopefully he would become aroused and make love to me.

I circled my finger around my clit, each stroke making me hotter. Raising my left hand to my breast, I tweaked my nipple. It hardened instantly.

I played with my nipple. Played with my clit. Looked toward Robert and saw that his back was still to me. He was clueless.

Closing my eyes, I started to imagine my husband’s hands on my pussy. But the fact that he was sleeping beside me, that he’d turned me down…It left me cold.

So I began to imagine someone else’s hand playing with my pussy. A man who, if I climbed into bed naked beside him, would wake up. He would wake up, lower his head over my chest and lick my nipples with his tongue. He would lick and suck, pull at them with his teeth…

My clit flinched in response to the image playing out in my mind. I moved my finger more quickly over my sweet spot, then dipped it into the soft folds. I was wet.

I used two fingers to play with my pussy now, but in my mind it was a tongue. A wet and hungry tongue that couldn’t get enough of me.

The tongue belonged to the man with the hazel eyes. And he was merciless with it. He circled it around my clit, over and over and over. Oh, God, I needed this. And he needed it, too, this lover of mine. He was young and virile and would fuck me all night long…eat my pussy all night long, if he knew I wanted that.

I spread my legs wider and arched my hips upward, giving him more of me. He buried his fingers inside of me and drew my engorged clitoris into his mouth and suckled me so damn sweetly…

An orgasm shuddered through my entire body. I arched my back, pushed my fingers deep into my pussy as I rode the wave. The pleasure was so intense and overdue that I couldn’t suppress my moan. I let myself enjoy every last bit of my orgasm.

As it subsided, I glanced to my right again. Robert’s back was still to me. He was still asleep, unaware that I’d brought myself to climax.

And for just a moment, I wished the man with the hazel eyes was beside me in this bed. That I could climb on him right now and slide onto a hard penis. One that could stay hard for a very long time.

Just as quickly as I thought it, I pushed the idea away. Guilt ate at me immediately. It wasn’t the first time I had fantasized about him—but I hoped it would be the last.

It was wrong, I knew. Wrong to have such an explicit fantasy about someone other than Robert.

I got up and went to the bathroom, where I started the shower. I stayed in there for a good long time, letting the cool water splash over my body.

Letting the memory of my fantasy wash away, like the soapsuds disappearing down the drain.

Chapter Four

All the next week, Robert was preoccupied by business. There was some complication with a company out of Germany that Kolstad Systems wanted to buy—a software firm with some sort of graphics technology that would aid in the computer systems Robert’s company created. The German owner was suddenly stalling, and Robert believed he was trying to solicit other bids. If this acquisition didn’t go through as planned, Robert feared that Kolstad Systems’ stock would fall.

With all of this weighing on his mind, he wasn’t interested in sex—not in the least. But I was able to coax him to erection one morning with a blow job. Excited that he was hard—and without the aid of Viagra, at that—I had straddled him, then moved slowly and steadily over his penis until I made him come.

I hadn’t come, but that didn’t matter. My husband’s sperm was inside me, and I was elated.

“What are you doing?” Robert had asked when he came out of the bathroom and saw me lying on my back on the bed, my legs bent at the knee. What he couldn’t see was the pillow beneath my hips, positioned to angle my pelvis on a downward slope—something I hoped would give Robert’s sperm the advantage of gravity.

“I read somewhere that lying on your back for thirty minutes increases the chance of conception,” I told him. “I’ve got fifteen minutes to go.”

“Oh.” He raised his eyebrows. “All right. I’ll be downstairs, having breakfast.”

“If I don’t see you, I hope all goes well at the office.”

When I was sure Robert was downstairs, I closed my eyes and began to stroke my clit. A couple minutes later, my body was shuddering with an orgasm.

What I didn’t tell Robert was something else I’d read—that a woman’s orgasm also aided her chances of conceiving.

I didn’t know if that was true, but I wanted to give myself every advantage in getting pregnant.