Happy 47th, Jon!

I posted this quickie on my main blog on Jon's birthday

I know you hate surprises.

Really, really hate them.

Even when you half expect them, they tend piss you off.

Because you’re a control freak. Type-A all the way.

But so am I.

Oh we’ve had mighty arguments over the years.... screaming matches that would have made a stadium full of people jealous at the noise level.... or the desperate quiet of the silent treatment that would have made a monk proud....

But we always make up, you and I. And THAT is the reason for the surprise.

I know full well this is going to spin you off into a whole new dimension of pissed off. I you actually made plans for tonight, and I agreed to them, knowing full well I was going to disregard them.

I don’t care. It’s SO going to be worth it.

You see, our make-up activities are amazing. I should really qualify that. What I mean to say is they’re holy-shit-I-won’t-be-able-to-walk-straight-for-a-week amazing. Remember that one fight we had? I can’t even really remember what it was about now, but I do remember Rich being shocked at the things that came out of our mouths at each other. He’d never really seen that before, had he? Oh sure, he’d seen one or the other of us pissed off, but never both together.

We were something to behold that day. We may even have scared Tico, and that man is unflappable.

And that night? I can honestly say, I’ve never been fucked so well. Not before and not since.

Well maybe not until tonight; I’ll let you know tomorrow.

See, you had wanted a nice quiet evening at home for your birthday. Just me, you, a bottle of wine, take-away Chinese, and some smooth jazz on the Bose. You’ve been looking forward to it since last week.

Really looking forward to it.

But, I had something else in mind.

Do you realize how many birthdays you’ve had on the road? How precious few we’ve had to celebrate together? I know, that’s one of your arguments for having a quiet dinner, just the two of is what you had in mind, but I haven’t gotten to plan a party for you.

And I want to.

And I’m a control freak.

So, you came home, wide smile and tired eyes, a bag full of Mr. Wu’s under your arm, and your cock already at half mast, but before you could finish your “Honey, I’m home,” we descended. Dozens of your closest friends and family. With a heartfelt “SURPRISE!” we erupted from everywhere.

You nearly dropped the bag in your shock, you certainly shriveled, and just for a moment, your eyes narrowed at me. Then your smile widened, your eyes brightened, and Richie came up to stand between us. He saw the signs that you were ready to light into me.

Oh, you’ll get your chance later; I’m banking on that fact.

I sidle up to you and whisper “Happy Birthday, baby,” in your ear, and you wrap your arms around my body and pull me to you. To everyone else, it looks like a great hug, and I can practically hear the women sighing. But I know what this is. You’re crushing me to you, hard. The air is whooshed out of my lungs, and for a moment, just a split second, I’m afraid. But that fear turns to arousal, and you can feel the shiver run through my body.

You know what that means, and I know what that does to you...what it makes you want to do.

Your eyes darken just a little, and you whisper, “No I don’t” to me.

But yeah you do. I can FEEL that you do. You think you’re so pissed off that you won’t want to fuck me later. In fact, you’ll make a show tonight of grabbing your pillow and telling me you’re sleeping in the guest room, but you won’t.

And I tell you so.

You shake your head, but I whisper, “Just wait until you see the other surprise I have for you.”

This one, I think you’ll like.

You see, Mrs. Wu, of the Chinese take-away Wu’s, is a gifted aesthetician. She truly is a wonder. I don’t think I’ve ever been this smooth all over before.

That’s right.

You winged an eyebrow at me and loosen your grasp just enough for the air to come back into my lungs. “You aren’t the only one who visited a Wu today, darling,” I tell you.

Your eyes go wide as you realize what that means.

“Everyone,” I say to the room in general, “go make yourselves another drink; I need to take my husband into the kitchen for a moment – help him put his food away.”

I take your hand and lead you to the kitchen. After stowing the Chinese, which admit it, is better cold, you advance on me. I hold up a hand and tell you to stop.

I can see by the way your hands are clenching at your sides, you’re only grudgingly giving me my way.

God, I love it that everything is a battle between us. It makes things SO very interesting and SO exciting.

Anyway, I take a step back and widen my stance.

You lick your lips and your gaze is on my knees, where I want it to be.

I very slowly raise the hem of my dress to mid-thigh, and stop, blowing you a kiss.

“Jesus, Donna,” you croak.

I turn my back to you, and bunch up the dress around my waist, showing you that I’ve got nothing on under my dress except a my stilettos and a little dampness. Slowly I turn, and your eyes nearly bug out of your head as you take in the smooth lines of my body.

Surprise.