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sometimes and reaching over
Jack for the game controller. On the screen, three giant robots battled each
other. His daughters were pummeling him, and his son was trying desperately to
redeem their gender.
    The kids had been happy to see him and even happier
when he’d agreed to play Clash of the Robot Titans with them. It was nothing
compared to how he felt. He was so grateful to be home safe with his family
intact. Today had been two close calls.
    Making love with Christine had been exactly what he
needed. Wrapping himself in all her soft warmth felt like coming home. She’d
been into it, too. He could always tell by how wet she got and the way her
pussy lips swelled. Too bad she couldn’t have an orgasm.
    Before he finished the thought, he stopped himself and
started to wonder. He’d gotten so used to thinking Christine couldn’t have an
orgasm; he’d stopped trying. How stupid was that? She could have an orgasm when
she masturbated. Early in their marriage he’d seen her do it. It suddenly
struck him how frustrating it must be for her to get all worked up and then
have everything stop before she came. No wonder she didn’t want to have sex
more often. It would be like choosing to deliberately be frustrated, and he
knew all about that.
    God, he’d been such a selfish idiot. If he’d gone home
with Olivia today, he’d have made sure she had an orgasm. He’d at least have
gone down on her. He wouldn’t have left her until he was sure she came. It
would have been a point of pride to have her naked, trembling with pleasure and
crying out his name. So why did he settle for less with the woman he loved?
    The realization that Christine might not be the only
one responsible for their crappy sex life didn’t sit well with him.
    “Beat your sisters, Ethan. Redeem me.” Jack handed the
game controller to his son and stalked to the kitchen determined to redeem
himself.
     
    ~~~~~
     
    Christine used her foot to turn the tap, and hot water
rushed into the cooling bathwater. Thank God for instant hot water heaters.
Bubbles covered the surface of the water and draped her full breasts. She
closed her eyes and breathed in the toasted sugar scent. Jack and the kids had
given her the bath stuff in her stocking for Christmas, but she rarely indulged
in using them.
    After they finished making love, she’d told Jack she
wanted to grab a quick shower. He insisted she relax and take a bath.
    Buoyant in a tub full of warm water and yummy scented
bubbles was bliss. Why didn’t she do this more often? Right on the heels of
that thought came a list of all the other things she didn’t do to take care of
herself.
    She’d gotten so used to pulling her hair back into a
ponytail, she barely brushed it. Jack looked so good in his suits—masculine,
virile and fit, but he came home to a woman in stained sweats and no makeup.
Jesus, she hardly ever shaved her legs anymore.  The hair was very fine, and
she’d convinced herself it wasn’t noticeable. The beautiful women in Jack’s
office shaved their legs. They might even shave more than their legs. She’d
read in the novels she liked about women who shaved their pussies bare. They
even talked about it on Sex in the City, but she’d never tried it.
    If she was honest with herself, she didn’t try much of
anything. No wonder Jack would rather masturbate in the shower than have sex
with her. How could he possibly be interested in her? She didn’t pay any
attention to herself anymore. And what’s worse, she’d used taking care of the
kids and her volunteer causes as a way to martyr herself.
    I don’t have time to get a haircut. I’m too busy
with more important things.
    When all she’d really been doing was hiding herself.
Hiding who she was. Hiding her sexuality. She’d buried herself under a big pile
of stained clothes, bad hair and obligations. It was hardly surprising Jack
wasn’t attracted to her anymore.
    Except he had been today. She sat up careful not to
slosh the water