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“That’s good. My pretty nipples are not fans of extraneous pain.”
“Extraneous? A little pain is okay?”
“They are more than happy with your teeth, darling.”
I felt him growing firm against my stomach and smiled up into his handsome face. “Looks like you’ll be able to perform tonight after all.”
Later that night, Lucky told me he’d been tested and cleared. We decided to forego the use of condoms.
There was no chance of pregnancy. I explained to him how I’d had my tubes tied over a decade before due to my dependance on my medication and the fact it did not mix well with pregnancy. We were slowly getting to know each other, inside and outside of the bedroom.
We still had a way to go. Lucky held a false impression of me. I knew this with a certainty because on Friday he took me to see Shakespeare.
I hated Shakespeare.
“Do you like theatre, Lucky?” We stood in the lobby waiting for the doors of the theatre to open.
He slanted a sideways look in my direction. “I’m not a huge fan, but I wanted to do something special.” Huffing out a laugh, he continued, “Especially after the art gallery debacle.”
I squeezed his arm to my chest. “It all worked out in the end. All your parts are still in working order. No lasting trauma,” I teased.
No man had ever worked so hard to please me. I needed to tell him exactly how to do that before I found myself at an opera. Not sure I could sit through that.
The first scene took place behind a backlit screen. While the language was distinctly Shakespearean, it appeared as though the actors wore leotards and large masks.
Before scene two began, the lights dimmed and not a sound was heard while the screen rose revealing a frozen tableau.
In the silence, Lucky’s pained whisper easily reached me. “How is this happening?”
Shakespeare.
But naked.
Full frontal nudity, both sexes.
“It’s Shakespeare,” he whispered again in disbelief.
My shoulders began to shake.
The sudden visual of Lucky and me fucking on stage made me laugh harder.
The woman behind me cleared her throat, making her irritation known.
You want to lick her pussy.
I momentarily grimaced in distaste but swept the thought away.
Lucky shrank down in his seat which at his height was not an easy feat.
We waited until intermission, and then got the hell out of dodge.
“Minty,” he began. “I’m sorry.” He scrubbed his hand through his hair.
I looked down at the ground while we walked to the car. “Lucky, I think you have the wrong idea about me…”
He cut me off. “No. Honestly. This was a mistake.” He held his hands out as if to stay my words. “Another one. I know how it looks, but I just wanted to do something nice for you. Something cultured. Classy. As you are.”
He gave me the perfect opening and I wasn’t about to waste it. “Lucky, I like music. I like going to the movies. Coffee shops are my soul food, and bookstores are my catnip. I love art, and don’t mind going to the occasional art gallery or museum, but I prefer to practice rather than view. I don’t mind theatre, but I like modern. And funny. I like to read. Bake cookies. Listen to music. One day I’d love to travel. I’m not really a classy kind of girl. It’s not hard to please me. Especially not for you. You please me just by being you.”
