The Other Woman

A chill sweep of air dances between the sheets this morning. Sporting only a XL 'AC/DC' t-shirt and an ancient pair of gym shorts, my limbs silently beg for any source of warmth they can find. And when I feel Tre's arm swing around, pressing onto my torso, I'm forced to smile in my sleep, enjoying his body and security draping around me. His soft and repetitive breaths are purring into the back of my voluminous hair, and the tender feel of his bare legs rubbing against my own should be prescribed as a sedative.

"Now," I hear him whisper huskily into my right ear. Frowning a bit, I ignore his gentle words, not sure if he had actually spoken of if I'm still caught in a dream. When another plea tickles my ear, sounding a bit more desperate this time, I position myself around so that we're face to face, morning breath to morning breath. My barely awake eyes manage to flutter open through the dim sunlight peaking in the room, attempting to decipher what he has just spoken.

"What?" I croak, running my palm along the side of my tired face.

"Now," he repeats in a soft whisper, and a small grin is now sculpting onto his expression.

"Now what? What are you talking about?" I ask getting faintly annoyed.

He begins grinning madly now, and his frisky fingers begin trailing underneath my shirt, caressing my bare and taught stomach.

"I want you, right now..." he murmurs.

Stunned, flattered, and slightly appalled I roll my eyes before turning back around to my original position in bed, muttering, "You're out of your mind," before attempting to fall back asleep. My attempts fail miserably when Tre and his soft lips start a kissing spree upon my neck. Even at seven in the early chill morning his kisses were addicting. My neck involuntarily rolls around, giving him more room so he can gain more succulent coverage.

"Don't make me beg..." he pleas in a raspy voice, gripping my waist from underneath. I snort with a pinch of laughter before turning around once again to lick my slightly chapped lips.

"Did you plan this from last night?" I ask skeptically.

He fervently shakes his head, sin sparkling in his dazzling cobalt eyes.

"Trust me baby, I couldn't plan this up," and he further explains by seizing my hand from underneath the covers and pressing my palm against his crotch, which I feel is exceedingly hard at the moment. Gasping, I swiftly withdraw my hands from his MAJOR morning wood as he wiggles his eyebrows at me, desire utterly apparent.

"What the hell were you dreaming of last night?! Tyra Banks and Carmen Electra mud wrestling?" I laugh. Our haughty laughs quickly fill the room.

"I can't remember what I dreamt about, but it most likely involved you," he coos into my hair, strengthening his grip around my waist. Cocking an eyebrow at the delicious 32-year old, I unexpectedly push him back against the mattress and its pillows as I mount atop his inviting body. I watch as groans while grasping my hips with his hands, sheer anticipation coursing through his veins. With one quick pull and shove, his boxers are dragged from off his hips, while I begin fumbling with my own clothing until we're both bare to the bone. Grinning like crazy, I slither down his hard body meriting sighs from the caverns of his mouth. When my lips travel south towards his happy trail, I whisper,

"Happy Birthday, but try and not wake whoever's next door."

* * *

"He says thank you, but where's his present," I reply. From the other end of the phone, I'm able to hear Jen's small but evil laugh.

"Tell Tre I'll be saving it for the next time he visits you in Miami." I turn my head around to tell Tre of Jennifer's offer, but only hear the click of the door as he steps outside for a moment.

"He just stepped out, I'll tell him later," I declare.

"So..." she drags on, "What have you guys got planned for him? A huge party with mindless celebrities?" she offers with limited enthusiasm.

"No actually," I murmur while walking towards my luggage in the corner of the room. "Billie told me that they're all goin' down to some strip club, then coming back here for a few drinks, and then I have him for the rest of the night"

"Did you guys talk about the four letter word yet?" she sneers, and I can almost see her sinister smirk even miles and miles apart.

"Fortunately no, I'm praying that he doesn't bring it up, or that he forgot about it. And your not gonna believe this..." I spout while opening up another compartment in my suitcase.

"Believe what?"

"He informed me earlier today that we're going to Oakland at the end of this week. Meaning, I'll be meeting his son and ex-wife."

"Aww, you're gonna meet the kiddies," she giggles briskly, "better make a nice impression."

Before I can respond, the door hatches open once again, and a bouncy Tre bustles inside the room, his once dry faux-hawked hair now crushed and dripping wet with that smells like beer.

"Yea, I'll call you later. Bye Jen."

"Peace," she calls out. I pocket the phone into my long flared jeans, a whimsical expression on display.

"What happened to you?" I ask Tre, who is now examining his drenched appearance in a large mirror in front of the room.

"Jason and Mike decided to be assholes and poured their beers on me," he replies, treading his fingers through his dark hair. I lean in to kiss the back of his neck, but just as my lips reach out, he sidesteps me and walks towards the bathroom. Trying my very best to ignore his probably unintentional gesture, I park down on the edge of the large bed, reading the digital clock on a nearby end table before deciding to just sprawl myself out like a starfish against the soft mattress. As a weak yawn slips out of my mouth, I hear the loud shower begin to rain.

"Seny?!" Tre calls out through the emerging waterfall.

"Yeah?"

"Are you coming with me to the club tonight?" he asks, about five decibels louder than necessary.

"I dunno," I shrug, "Do you want me to?"

"Only if you do, I don't really care," he casually responds.

His choice of words and his careless tone brushes me the wrong way, so I don't answer to his haughty attitude, only hoist my iPod up from off the nightstand and lay back down and immediately let the music filter throughout my ears and sing along, deafening anything else the drummer might be saying.

Drivin' faster in my car
falling farther from just what we are
smoke a cigarette and lie some more
these conversations kill
falling faster in my... car

Time to take her home
her dizzy head is conscience laden
Time to take a ride
it leaves today no conversation

Just as my lips open to chirp out the following stanza of Big Empty, a rough unknown force, violently snatches the earbuds from my ears. My eyes open, and none other than Tre stands before me, a mask of frustration marring his face while his dripping wet body wears only a white towel, tied snugly around his scrumptious hips.

"Did you hear anything I was saying?!" he squawks, standing with a tilt right between my legs, my headphones swaying loosely in his grasp.

"I don't know, it's not like you really care," I respond bitterly, expressing my unappreciative attitude towards his previous remark. I sit up right and raise my arms to retrieve my headphones, but he continuously hangs them above my reach, smirking all the while.

Rolling my eyes, I lay back against the bed after my attempts fail. It's only five in the afternoon, and he was already becoming a nuisance, a damn sexy nuisance.

"I love when you're mad at me, its so cute," he coos, dropping the white ear buds next to my head, stepping away from me and quickly throwing on an old pair of plaid shorts and a simple black t-shirt.

"That's nice," I murmur, now scrolling through my iPod for any song that would energize me. The bed fiercely jolts when Tre springs aboard, rolling happily next to me as I give him an unimpressed glare in return. Now laying on my stomach, my limbs outstretched, Tre rolls around right next to me, allowing his back to be against the mattress, his daring eyes staring straight up at me.

"Stop staring at me," I whine, turning my head to flee away from those eyes. Nevertheless, he only chuckles while repositioning his head to continue staring at me, sighing in contempt.

"I think you should invest in a new hobby," I mumble irritably, milliseconds away from clicking the play button on the device, but not before his questioning remark is said.

"Well, I think you should invest in a new phone."

"What?" I quirk, now placing the mp3 player down, "What's wrong with my phone?"

"I called you a couple days ago, and I heard talking, and I kept calling for you, but the call suddenly dropped," he smirks. My breath silently hitches in my throat, and my eyes widen at his words, staring frighteningly back into his.

"And then when I called back," he continues, grinning evilly now, "It went straight to your voicemail, so someone must've shut it off on purpose."

I avert my brown eyes south; just to make sure that my heart isn't thudding out of my chest. When that is certain, I give Tre a lazy shrug, desperately acting to hide my true feelings.

"I guess I'll get a new phone then," I murmur shakily, playing with my fingernails as he watches me closely.

"Care to clarify on anything I might have heard?" he smirks, raising a challenging eyebrow up at me.

Slightly irritated and embarrassed, I roll my eyes at him for the umpteenth time.

"I don't know what you're talking about," I mumble irritably, now beginning to roll off the bed to escape the conversation, but Tre knows me all too well by now, and quickly slings his arm around my side, blocking me from escaping. He scoots a little closer to me, allowing his nose to brush over mine. Now in opposite positions, me on my back and he on his stomach, he arches over me, my heart pounding even harder than before.

"I think you do," he whispers, ocean blue eyes trained on me, and only me.

"Tre, I don't wanna talk about this at five in the afternoon," I announce desperately. He smiles down at me, letting his fingers trail through my hair, striving to calm me down with his gentle gestures.

"I do," is his simple response. I cover my face with my palms, murmuring profanities about Jennifer into my fingers as Tre continues smiling down at me with now both of his hands on my sides.

"So I make you happy?" he asks dumbly, referring to my rambling from off the phone. I nod my head at him, still plotting ways to murder my best friend through my palms. "I'm sweet and charming?" he continues with a grin. I again nod my head, a smile finally starting to creep towards my mouth. "And you love my hair?"

Nod.

"You love my attractiveness?" he says with a sly emphasis on attractiveness.

Nod.

"And you love my jokes right?" he says softly, adding a small kiss to the back of my hands. At this query, I shake my head at him, and when I hear him gasp, I burst out laughing, uncovering my face as I giggle at his shocked expression.

"The majority of your jokes are corny, but I manage to love them, just to make you feel good," I respond. He closes his mouth now, not a single shred of humor on his face now. He leans into my ear, whispering

"Well, that leaves me with one more question. Do you love me?"

When he lifts his head back up to both hear and see my reply, I give him a tender smile before arching up and kissing him with my every being. He exhales shakily into my mouth before adding pressure, allowing me to relax against the bed. His lips leave mine in what seems like only seconds, and for a small moment, I fear that he might NOT retract these same feelings.

"Wanna know something?" he whispers softly from above, not waiting for a reply. "I love you too."

I smile sheepishly at him, unable to form words at the moment. Unable to describe the chemical reactions processing through me, unable to describe why I felt so warm now, so complete, so loved.

"I love the way you kiss me," he murmurs, adding a subtle kiss to my lips. "I love your spunky attitude," he adds another kiss to my lips. "I love when you leave stupid messages on my phone." Another kiss, "I love when you don't take my shit. I love when you cook, how kind and generous you are, you're death glares. Everything Seny," he finally sighs.

The room is now a smoldering hue of burnt orange as the winter sun begins to set. The curtains draping above the large oval windows add a special shadowy effect to the already outstanding room. Shades of pink and lavender seep through the setting sky, sparking a glow in the room, only making my love for him stronger.

"I love you so much Tre," I murmur, wrapping my arms around his sturdy neck.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner, I just wa—"

Tre interrupts my mindless chatter with a passionate kiss to my mouth. Heart pumping, I let my tongue slip into his mouth, searching out for his own. I sigh when his lips leave mine and instead choose the trail of my neck, sucking softly on my delicate skin and adding small nibbles here and there. To the back of my neck, he exercises his signature move, carefully pressing his index finger and thumb to the delicate pulse points in the skin of my neck, making me shiver and shake with delight when he finds and works the right spot.

"I love you Serenity," he mutters lovingly between kisses. My skin begins to tickle with joy and warm with love, his love. He slowly slithers on top of me, rubbing his nose against my own for a second time. My fingers slide through the hair on the back of his head as I revel in the feeling of his body pressing against my own.

"I love you too," I manage to choke out, an overwhelming emotion flowing through me. This is what it felt like to be loved, to be not just wanted, but needed. This was what was missing in my life in past years. And now as I think about it more, I know why Billie Joe couldn't give it to me, couldn't possibly express these same feelings to another woman.

It was simple, he couldn't.

The bond is so strong, the love, that it cant be reciprocated to another, no matter what. The love for his wife is so unlimited that he can't bare express it to anyone else but her, and it's now that I understand why. Sure, he may have physically strayed, but he never emotionally strayed.

Tre's lingering hands move to my shoulders, adding desirable kisses to my jaw line, my mouth belting out more than satisfied sighs of bliss.

"Let me make love to you," he barely whispers to my ear, rubbing his hands over my sides. The desire and desperate feelings in my gut tell me to nod my head and let things progress, but my tentative brain is telling me 'no', and to wait until tonight.

"Not now," I murmur into his temple. He lifts his head; a crooked and unstable expression plasters his face.

"Excuse me?" he quips

"Let's just wait for tonight, I have something special planned and this would ruin it," I explain with a smile, loving the way his head lies against my chest. Whining like only a 4 year old child is capable of, he soon scrambles off the bed, even stomping his feet in protest.

"I still love you though," I grin from the bed. He quickly faces me, a sincere and beaming smile on his lips, saying "I love you too".

After joining in on a small birthday dinner with Tre and the gang, time had quickly weaved through the day, and pretty soon it was time for the guys and their rendezvous at the strip club to ensue. After threatening Tre a couple times about not getting too drunk, we kissed goodbye and he left with the other men. When he was completely out of sight, I took it upon myself to prepare my surprise for him in our room, tinkering away to myself for about an hour and a half. After that brilliant chore was completed, the other women in the group and myself toiled about and prepared Mike's room for Tre's small get together. Nothing simple, just obscene amounts of alcohol lying here and there, a silver stereo with a party mix of rock tunes in stow, some snack foods, and a small cake with a single candle in the center that replicated a keg of beer.

It was a little after 11 p.m when they returned, and thankfully no one was overly drunk, although Mike was slurring his words a bit. Sitting comfortably in a deep and large gray lounge chair with a bottle of Corona in my hands, I watch as all the men flood into the room, surprisingly occupying all the seemingly empty space. I run my fingers through my freshly washed and now wavy hair, bopping my head to a meticulous Nine Inch Nails song that was playing on the stereo.

When Tre saunters inside, the tie that he had worn before leaving now sticking out of his pants pocket, and a small lipstick stain decorating both cheeks, I roll my eyes and completely ignore his presence.

That's a good way to show you love somebody...

"Seny!!" I hear him chirp, his voice nearly as loud as the music itself. Giving him a skeptical and most unpleasing look, I place my beer down at the foot of the chair, deciding that right now is a good time to file my nails.

"Hey! What are you doin'?!" he yells at me, standing right before me with a light smile on display.

"Skiing in the Alps!" I yell back with an obviously false smile, still trying to file and round my index finger to perfection, but when he suddenly snatches the utensil from my grasp and throws the ragged nail file behind his back, I realize just how silly I'm acting.

"You mad at me?" he mumbles while seating himself in my lap. Giggling, I shake my head 'no' before shouting "Happy Birthday" to the gentleman crushed into my small lap. He gives me a short but sweet kiss on my plump lips in return.

"You look amazing tonight," he coos pathetically, eyes washing over my choice of wardrobe for tonight. Consisting of dark mysterious eyeliner, a curtain of raven colored tousled hair, a small tank top which showed the little cleavage I had, yet rid up a little above my stomach, showing the pleasing results of a belly dancing course I took years prior, and finally a tight pair of black, low rider jeans, hugging the curves of my frame.

"You hungry?" he asks after exiting my lap, the blood finally able to flow through my legs once again. I nod as he drags me up from my comfortable seat to a table where beer, beer, nachos, watermelon, beer, and more nachos are all allocating. I lean against the rectangular plastic table and wrap my fingers around another bottle of beer, branding it as my own. Tre is busy gobbling up small chunks of watermelon and nachos himself, and after a small burp he leans into me, pointing a sickeningly cheesy nacho chip towards my mouth.

"Open up," he whispers. Obeying, I open my mouth, letting his fingers slide the artery-clogging chip into my mouth, savoring and enjoying the delicacy. He winks at me before leaning in to whisper something into my ear, but stops when a young woman saunters over to him, a bright smile on her face as she extends her hand to greet him. With an innocent quip, I briefly place a small kiss to the corner of his mouth before walking away to mingle with the interesting crowd of people.

By now, the room smells of nothing but marijuana and possibly more marijuana. A thin fog of the drug hazes throughout the large room, surprisingly not starting the smoke alarm. The stereo system is pumping out wicked punk and rock n roll tunes, a few people dancing like fouls in the center. I advance on to a small corner, where I see a familiar face, Vanessa, talking rather boisterously and messily to a small crowd of individuals, ready to join in on the festive conversation.

But I swing back around when she faces me, a small ash of white powder smothering the corners of her nose, along with other people in the crowd. Weakly smiling I trudge somewhere else, feeling rather unexperimental at the moment. Cocaine wasn't my thing...

I look to Tre to see if he's finished with his conversation, but ultimately sigh when I see the 32-year old now swapping joints of weed and shots of tequila with Mike and Jason. Getting rather bored, I finish off the remainder of Corona and toss it into a nearby garbage before settling myself into the center of the room where the dancing ensues. A certain rowdy party anthem by none other than Buckcherry is blazoning through the room, inviting my hips to sway.

I'm on a plane with cocaine
And yes I'm all lit up again
Cough up love and touch up
Your mama says packin' lines is sin

And yes I'm all litup again
On the couch, in my bed
And yes I'm all lit up again, flyin'
I love the cocaine, I love the cocaine
Mama can you wait, mama can you wait
I love the cocaine, I love the cocaine
Mama can you wait
Oh can you wait long?

Amongst the grand mist of people dancing on the floor, high and mighty, pair of calloused fingers are suddenly touching my bare midriff. When metal studs press dangerously close against the top of my ass, I already know who is behind me.

"Wanna dance?" whispers a red-eyed and most definitely intoxicated Billie Joe. I slowly turn around, noticing an unlit joint tucked firmly atop his left ear, the faint smell of alcohol in his speech, the way his jet black hair managed to perfectly frame his face, his smoldering green eyes lined with heavy kohl. Wearing a red checkered tie with his usual black concert attire, he cracks a small smirk at me and cocks one of his eyebrows up as in a challenge.

"Sure," I smile, letting my intuition figure out the familiar chords to a different song now playing. Billie presses a lazy hand on the small of my back, leading us closer to a particularly crowded area of the 'dance floor'. A bomb rush of whistles and hoots howl around me as the proverbial Guilty by Gravity Kills floods the scene.

Behind closed doors your words ring hollow
What you said they'd be
What behavior? Who are you, but I like it
Now I'm done with nothing new, sometimes green sometimes blue
And I'm guilty, and I'm guilty, and I'm guilty, and I'm guilty
And you're guilty too

Hey Hey Hey I'm guilty and you're guilty too
Hey Hey Hey Hey
I'll tell you something, something new
You're hearing nothing, nothing true
You're killing me, I'm killing you
And I'm guilty too

The fast beat is paralyzing as Billie Joe moves behind me, slowly but surely grinding his front against my back. Like that of a dead hamster, I stand completely rigid in front of him as waves of people move into us.

Maybe this wasn't such a good idea.

"Come on girl, DANCE!!" shouts a happy and vibrant man, who is weaving through the room to the beat of the music, a red plastic cup of alcohol in his grasp. The smashed figure behind is now gurgling the lyrics into my ear, his entire body now jumping and jolting with static. Feeling the somewhat ancient moves of Billie Joe pressed against me with the addition of upbeat music, my hips finally begin to sway, an innocent smirk on my lips. At the feeling of my body reacting to his, Billie begins pumping his fist into the air every time the chorus appears.

Working up a damper sweat, his hands move from my sides and travel south, and for a short moment, Mr. Armstrong is grabbing my ass, and just as fast, his naughty hands travel to my hips, gripping and working them in the way he so chooses. When the song fondles to a change, I laugh and turn around to face Billie, grinning at his fazed demeanor.

Stone Temple Pilots' Sex Type Thing drowns the room in a flood of excited desire. Nearly everyone is now on the makeshift 'dance floor', squished together in a mess of drunken foolery. With my eyes now closed shut and my body dipping and twisting in untamed waves, I let the haughty voice of Scott Weiland wash over me...

I know you want what's on my mind
I know you like what's on my mind
I know it eats you up inside
I know, you know, you know

I am a man, a man
I'll give ya somethin' that ya won't forget
I said ya shouldn't have worn that dress
I said ya shouldn't have worn that dress

Here I come, I come, I come

In the blind flurry of dancing, I barely notice when a warm chest unexpectedly crashes against mine and hands of steel grab my ass as if it were their own. Jerking my eyes open, I look to see a tipsy Tre, hovering above me as he bumps to the music. I'm now sandwiched between front man and drummer, Tre slithering up my front, and Billie Joe shimmying down my back.

Yummy.

Tre's hands move intricately from my ass to my waist, both of us now smeared together like white on rice. With a loud groan to my ear, he begins whispering very inappropriate gestures into my ear, most consisting of things he was going to do to me tonight. Still grinding his front against mine, I manage to twirl around to see Billie Joe no longer behind me, instead he's just a short distance away, a glass of champagne now in his right hand as he dances with another woman.

"I didn't know you were such a good dancer" I tease Tre, now wrapping my arms around his waist. I drop my head against his chest, inhaling a mixture of weed, cologne, and detergent, which startlingly smells pleasant.

"Well, I am a musician, it's sort of a requirement," he smiles.

My lips absentmindedly kiss his chest as his hips continue to rock against mine, only a little slower this time, still slowly drugging me.

"Are you comfortable around all these drugs and stuff?" he suddenly asks, swaying me back and forth as a slower paced song comes to life. I lift my head from his pillow like chest, giving him a cynical look in return.

"Who do you think introduced you to Mark?!" I laugh, him grinning down at me seconds later. "I don't mind, as long as I'm not forced to partake in anything."

He stares at me long after my reply, those spellbinding sapphire eyes gazing right through me.

"I love you," he hums into my temple, sparking a flame of affection in my heart.

"I love you too," I whisper in return, tightening my hold around his brawny shoulders.

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU, HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU, HAPPY BIRTHDAY DEAR TREEE`, HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU!!" bellows are horrible wave of drunk voices. Smiling at the drunk symphony, I watch as Tre turns around and gives a bright smile to his guests. Somehow managing to unglue myself from his embrace, I give him a small kiss to the corners of his mouth, spanking his ass in the process. Billie Joe and Mike quickly appear from the bedroom area of the suite, a large cake shaking in their grasp. As soon as Tre leaves my side and ventures hungrily over to his bake, I make a quick exit from the room, letting everything fall into plan.

Purse in tow, I run along the corridor to our room and trip on my heel, nearly falling flat on my ass. When the door finally clicks open after multiple attempts, I quickly change my clothes, light numerous candles, and further prepare for a private party with the drummer. Only a few minutes later, I here a curious jingle at the door.

"Seny? Baby, you in there?" I hear Tre mumble sadly at the door, sad because Billie Joe and Vanessa had lied and told him that I was sick and fled his party. Laughing, I turn off the lights throughout the entire suite, before swiftly scurrying over to the door and slipping the key card underneath so he can open the door, and finally picking a place to hide.

"What the?" he squawks upon snatching up the laminated card on the floor. He quickly stacks the two plates of cake underneath his arm while opening the door. He's smiling and shaking his head as he enters the room and his eyes scan over the scene in front of him. Scattered around the drummer lie scented candles, grouped accordingly across the room in a circle. And inside this circle is a small picnic basket, with a large checkered quilt underneath. The intoxicating scent of delicious food wafts through his nostrils, and he only grins while closing and locking the door shut.

"Aww baby," he coos loudly enough for me to hear. Dropping the cakes onto the dining table, he mumbles, "What's this?" while picking up an index card I had left for him.

SIT. is all it reads, and he happily complies, taking a comfortable seat in the 'picnic' area. He further scans the room, and grins when another card appears.
'Lay down, and close your eyes. No fucking peaking!' it reads. Letting out a small laugh, Tre rests his head against the small pillows that lay about, closing his eyes with a relaxing sigh.

Stealthily walking out from the bathroom, I see the drummer in the room, an innocent grin plastered on his face. Laying down next to him, I know he knows I'm present.

"Can I open my eyes?" he inquires with a grin.

"No," is my short response as I add a kiss to his jaw, curling my fingers around his neck.

He's already moaning, and his hands move to my arched back.

"Nu uh, no touching," I tease at the feel of his hands on my back. Removing my lips from his neck, I finally mount atop his body, trailing my fingers down his chest to the zipper of his dress pants, slowly undoing the garment. When the material is unzipped and unbuttoned, I quickly slide them off his legs, laughing a little when I see he's wearing no underwear.

"Now can I open my eyes?" he pleas, an expression of despair marring his face.

"Not yet," I whisper into his ear, simultaneously nibbling on his earlobe and removing his dress shirt.

"Oh God," he groans, anxiety slowly killing him. My hair brushes across his neck and chin, as I kiss his lips. "Open your mouth," I mumble, grabbing a jar of something I had prepared earlier today for him. He slowly opens his mouth, eyes still tight shut. I grab a strawberry and swirl it around into a jar of melted chocolate mixed with caramel. I drag the sweet fruit around the rims of his lips for one second, letting him taste it first.

"Mmm, is that chocolate?" he asks with a smile.

Uh huh," I reply seductively, now dropping the fruit into his mouth, letting him take a bite out of it.

"Mmmm, I love strawberries," he mumbles between chews, red juice dripping from his mouth down to his jaw, but it never gets to reach anywhere else when I dart out my tongue, slowly lapping it up. He groans an approval, quickly swallowing his dessert.

"You can open your eyes now," I reveal, slowly leaning off him so he can see me better. He licks his lips and narrows his eyes at me, drinking in my appearance. Wearing a too short babydoll dress from the Victorias Secret catalog he had been examining and drooling over, I smile grimly at him. My breasts pumped up in the built in push-up bra, and the sheer and tight material fitting every delectable curve. Waves of hair cascade down my shoulders, and he takes a gentle moment to push a lock behind my ear.

"I think this is the best birthday I've ever had," he states, hooking his finger at me to come closer. With a raised eyebrow I draw nearer to him, and laugh when he spins me around and makes me lie horizontally on his lap, face down. I hear him cracking his fingers, and confusion hits me.

"What the hell are you doing?" I ask.

"Preparing to spank you," he responds, "And you better make obscene noises while I do it."

"Of course," I grin, anticipating the first blow.