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“Ew,” Savannah interrupts, making a gagging gesture. “Make it stop, God.”
“Oh, the Lord has nothing to do with what he does to me,” Heather says, reaching over to Aiden and running her finger up his jaw. He stops chewing and looks at her like an obedient puppy. She growls at him like a cougar in heat, which describes her perfectly. “What he does is of the devil.”
“Let’s change the subject!” I say, and Savannah squeezes my leg under the table in appreciation.
“Sure,” Heather says like she just remembered her child is in the room. “What do you two have planned for the rest of cuffing season?”
“He’s going to spank me tonight.”
All heads, even mine, turn to Savannah, and every mouth stops chewing. Aiden drops his fork and mumbles something under his breath that sounds like, “Must run in the family.”
“Excuse me?” Heather asks.
“Yeah, Mom,” Savannah says, spooning broccoli and rice casserole onto her plate, tasting it, and giving a groan of pleasure. “You really outdid yourself on the food. I think after we eat, I’ll take Wilder home, have him massage me in places you don’t think I’ve ever been massaged in, and then he’ll spank me like the bad girl I am.”
Savannah finishes her tirade with a wink and takes another bite of the casserole as Aiden’s mouth goes slack.
Heather sips her wine and nods like Savannah is the most interesting person in the world as my face reddens. I’ve never been shy about sex, but I’ve also never had a cuffing partner tell her mother and her mother’s boyfriend about our special dirty times.
“Maybe he’ll rub some honey on me. No!” she jabs her finger in the air like she just invented the lightbulb. “No, it’ll be whipped cream. I have some in the spray can. Then, we’ll put my shower curtain down on the ground and roll around in it a little. Get it good and soaked all over my body.” She rubs her torso and clutches her boobs. My eyes widen and look between Heather and Savannah like I’m in the center row at Wimbledon.
Who is this woman next to me, suddenly free and fine with sex? I meant to open her up a bit, but I don’t recognize any of her usual awkwardness or hesitation. I vacillate between wanting to put my hand over her mouth to shut her up and thinking that whipped cream on the shower curtain sounds fun. Something tells me she’d like both.
Aiden looks at me with new respect. “Cool, dude. That’s the way to do it. I could learn so much.”
“Then we’ll get in the shower and use the pouf I know he likes but won’t admit to liking.”
Shit. Busted. I knew I used it too regularly there for about a month.
“Good for you, dear,” Heather says, raising her wine glass. “I’m glad you’re getting action and branching out. To say nothing of how you’re learning to respect what your body wants.”
“Are you fucking serious?” Savannah asks. “Your daughter is telling you the filthy things she’s going to do with her boyfriend that is sitting right in front of you eating your giblets, and you’re not offended or embarrassed.”
“Just as long as he’s eating your giblets dear.” Heather bites her lip and shimmies her shoulders.
A laugh bubbles out of Savannah’s chest. She looks down and picks up her fork. “Fine. You win, Mom. You got me to have a cuffing partner. You wanted me to get laid without having a long-term commitment. You always win.”
She shovels food into her mouth and chews silently. The rest of the table eats in silence, so I hesitantly pick up my fork to dig into the pile of perfectly browned stuffing on my plate.
“Are you going to any parties before the end of cuffing season?” Heather asks like she wants more dirty gossip.
“We have my work holiday party,” Savannah says, swallowing a bite of food. “Then, I assume we’ll go through this same interaction at Christmas.” She waves her hand at Aiden like he’s an afterthought. “For New Year’s, I’ll let Wilder pick what we do since all the other holiday good times involve my mother and her special friend, and then we’ll probably do something for Valentine’s Day. Then, it’s done. Over. Kaput.”
She stops talking abruptly and covers her face before banging her elbows on the table. Her hair flops forward, and I stop myself from reaching out and pushing it back from her face.
Something about the way she said we would be kaput soon makes my heart clench. She sounds angry, and I can’t decide if she’s angry with me or Heather. Maybe both of us. Does she want out of the contract? Is she mad at Heather for encouraging a cuff partner or me for busting out the contract and holding her to it?
We finish our food, and I mull these thoughts over in my mind until Heather gets up from the table and announces it’s time for pie. She takes my order for one slice of pecan and agrees to get Savannah’s slice of pumpkin.
After Heather disappears into the kitchen, she sticks her head around the doorframe. “I assume you both want whipped cream?” she asks, winking.
Savannah drops her head to the table and groans while Aiden adjusts his balls across from us.
December 1– Savannah
He’s kept his distance, that’s for sure. It’s also hurtful.
There was no honey, whipped cream, or roll in the shower curtain when we got home from Thanksgiving. Unfortunately, there wasn’t any spanking, either. That’s sad because I was actually looking forward to trying that. Wilder was quiet all through a few half-hearted rounds of Clue and a plate of leftover pie before excusing himself to go to bed. Sure, he slept in my bed with me, but something is different. Something changed with my outburst at Thanksgiving.
