the dark eyes looking up at her before he’d dug in with his fork, the morning paper unfolded before him, coffee cup raised to his lips between hungry mouthfuls.
When he’d finished his breakfast, ‘that was delicious, Val,’ plate scraped cleaned with accompanying loud sound effects, he’d helpfully placed his dish in the sink and pulled his dark winter coat off the hook by the door, shrugging it on and buttoning it up to leave. Looping the colorful scarf she’d lovingly knit for him around his neck, he’d walked over to her and she’d pretended to be busy loading the dishwasher. Had turned a cool cheek to his departing kiss instead of offering him her lips as per their usual ritual.
‘ I’ll see you tonight,’ Stash had murmured after opening the back door that led to the garage letting another blast of cold air in to the already chilly atmosphere. ‘I’ll try to come home early…so we can spend the entire evening together.’
What he means by that , Valentina had silently translated, slamming dishes into the dishwasher. Was that he would come straight home. Instead of stopping by his mother’s house to check on her which had become a frequent habit of his after leaving the office in the last few months.
She’d soon become suspicious of his movements. Knowing it wasn’t just some ‘construction project’ delaying him after he’d also begun picking at the gourmet dinners she’d made for him each day from scratch. It was something Valentina had loved – cooking for him. He hadn’t wanted her modeling. Stash, in typical Greek male fashion, had stated he didn’t want his wife posing in provocative outfits before the camera any longer.
‘ Why would I want any other man to see what is so beautiful, so desirable…and now, legally, for my eyes only,’ he’d husked their first night in the luxurious bedroom suite of their new home, his tongue lathing over a peaked nipple making her body squirm with ecstasy beneath him. It had been a calculated bit of timing on his part, for when he was deep inside of her, Valentina would agree to all his demands, willingly, eagerly.
M indlessly.
‘ Go back to school if you want to earn your degree,’ he’d suggested. ‘Join a local improv group and work on your comedy routines, or stay home and take care of our beautiful babies when they arrive, do whatever the hell you please, but I do not want you modeling any longer,’ Stash had growled on a powerful plunge between her parted thighs, ‘you agree, Valentina?’
‘Yes, I agree, Stash!’ She’d screamed out her agreement on the cusp of a shattering orgasm. Would probably have agreed to cold-blooded murder to keep him sheathed between her thighs at that particular moment!
A nd she’d kept herself busy at first in the huge seven bedroom, five bathroom house. Had refused to hire help as Stash had offered, and instead dusted and vacuumed like a crazy woman – attacking any particle of dirt that had dared reared its vermin-filled head with a vengeance. She’d also become addicted to the cooking channels on cable. Bought numerous cookbooks, expensive cooking utensils and top-of-the line name brand cookware advertised during commercials.
I t had made her feel like a real bonafide ‘ wife. So proud of the meals she’d made for her man that he’d deemed, ‘damned tasty’ as he’d gobbled them down. So when he’d stopped eating these lovingly prepared meals, she’d known there had to be a reason. Had strongly suspected there was another woman. And of course, there had been. His mother.
Mana mou.
When Valentina had pressed him on it one night after he’d taken just a few forced bites of the pasta fettuccine she’d whipped up to perfection closely following a new recipe from her favorite Italian chef on a popular show on the Gourmet Network, Stash had lain his knife and fork down beside his plate.
‘ I ate at my mother’s house already, Val,’
When he’d finished his breakfast, ‘that was delicious, Val,’ plate scraped cleaned with accompanying loud sound effects, he’d helpfully placed his dish in the sink and pulled his dark winter coat off the hook by the door, shrugging it on and buttoning it up to leave. Looping the colorful scarf she’d lovingly knit for him around his neck, he’d walked over to her and she’d pretended to be busy loading the dishwasher. Had turned a cool cheek to his departing kiss instead of offering him her lips as per their usual ritual.
‘ I’ll see you tonight,’ Stash had murmured after opening the back door that led to the garage letting another blast of cold air in to the already chilly atmosphere. ‘I’ll try to come home early…so we can spend the entire evening together.’
What he means by that , Valentina had silently translated, slamming dishes into the dishwasher. Was that he would come straight home. Instead of stopping by his mother’s house to check on her which had become a frequent habit of his after leaving the office in the last few months.
She’d soon become suspicious of his movements. Knowing it wasn’t just some ‘construction project’ delaying him after he’d also begun picking at the gourmet dinners she’d made for him each day from scratch. It was something Valentina had loved – cooking for him. He hadn’t wanted her modeling. Stash, in typical Greek male fashion, had stated he didn’t want his wife posing in provocative outfits before the camera any longer.
‘ Why would I want any other man to see what is so beautiful, so desirable…and now, legally, for my eyes only,’ he’d husked their first night in the luxurious bedroom suite of their new home, his tongue lathing over a peaked nipple making her body squirm with ecstasy beneath him. It had been a calculated bit of timing on his part, for when he was deep inside of her, Valentina would agree to all his demands, willingly, eagerly.
M indlessly.
‘ Go back to school if you want to earn your degree,’ he’d suggested. ‘Join a local improv group and work on your comedy routines, or stay home and take care of our beautiful babies when they arrive, do whatever the hell you please, but I do not want you modeling any longer,’ Stash had growled on a powerful plunge between her parted thighs, ‘you agree, Valentina?’
‘Yes, I agree, Stash!’ She’d screamed out her agreement on the cusp of a shattering orgasm. Would probably have agreed to cold-blooded murder to keep him sheathed between her thighs at that particular moment!
A nd she’d kept herself busy at first in the huge seven bedroom, five bathroom house. Had refused to hire help as Stash had offered, and instead dusted and vacuumed like a crazy woman – attacking any particle of dirt that had dared reared its vermin-filled head with a vengeance. She’d also become addicted to the cooking channels on cable. Bought numerous cookbooks, expensive cooking utensils and top-of-the line name brand cookware advertised during commercials.
I t had made her feel like a real bonafide ‘ wife. So proud of the meals she’d made for her man that he’d deemed, ‘damned tasty’ as he’d gobbled them down. So when he’d stopped eating these lovingly prepared meals, she’d known there had to be a reason. Had strongly suspected there was another woman. And of course, there had been. His mother.
Mana mou.
When Valentina had pressed him on it one night after he’d taken just a few forced bites of the pasta fettuccine she’d whipped up to perfection closely following a new recipe from her favorite Italian chef on a popular show on the Gourmet Network, Stash had lain his knife and fork down beside his plate.
‘ I ate at my mother’s house already, Val,’
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