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“God, Eric ... I think I’m going to have to sit on a cushion.”
Eric laughs, but he sees right away that I’m serious.
“Sorry ... sorry.”
Very carefully, I sit on the bed, and before he can say anything, I lift a finger in warning. “And not one single joke about this, understood?”
“Understood.”
Then, suddenly, a song comes on that makes us both laugh. Eric pushes me down on the bed.
“Like the song says, ‘I’m dying to kiss you.’”
He kisses me. I’m enjoying the kiss, when the phone rings. Eric lets me go and picks up the phone. He has a brief conversation and hangs up.
“It was my mother. She’ll meet us at twelve thirty at the hotel restaurant.”
“For lunch?”
“Yes.”
“This tourist schedule is going to kill me,” I say. “I think I’d rather have breakfast.”
“I know, love, but she goes back to Munich this afternoon, and she wants to have a meal with us,” Eric responds.
“All right,” I say. “Do you have ibuprofen or something like that?”
“Yes ... in my toiletry bag,” Eric says as he laughs and goes to get it. “Don’t worry, love. The chairs at the restaurant are very, very soft.”
That little joke makes me snort. Still in pain, I get up and open the dresser. I have a pair of jeans and a torn T-shirt, but I can’t find what I’m looking for. “Goddamn it, I don’t even have underwear!”
“Come on, love.” Eric consoles me with a hug.
“I’m sorry, but you tear all my panties, and my provisions here are at a minimum, and now I don’t have one damned piece of underwear to put on. And you really can’t think I’m going to go have lunch with your mother without underwear, can you?”
He hands me the ibuprofen. “She’s not going to know. What’s the problem?”
I grab one of his clean Calvin Klein boxers and put them on. Eric looks surprised.
“Whoa! Even in boxers you turn me on. Come here.”
“Don’t even think about it.”
“Come here.”
“I said no ... Your mother is waiting for us for lunch.”
“Come on, babe, there’s time!”
At that precise moment, Eric’s cell buzzes. I point it out to him, but he has a very clear idea about what he wants. And what he wants is me.
I run through the room and climb onto the bed, but he grabs me. He throws me down, and I laugh shamelessly. He kisses me with great exuberance as he laughs and peels off the boxers. He unbuttons his pants, and without taking off his underwear, he penetrates me and I lock on to him. We look each other in the eye, and as he pumps in and out of me, he whispers sweet words in my ear that drive me crazy.
After our quickie, we get dressed. Between laughter and kisses, I put on the boxers, my jeans, and the torn T-shirt. I hear the buzzing of messages on his cell again, insisting. After giving me a delicious kiss on the lips, he goes to deal with them. We are so happy right now, so in love, and so ready to start our new lives together.
So why does the constant buzzing of his phone feel so ominous?