Honey Does (2 page)

Now two weeks later, she sat down to look at the item again.

“Sandy, you’re a woman.”

Mack’s partner kept her eyes on the road. “Yes, so?” Her tone held a warning. He puzzled a moment then plunged on.

“So…I don’t understand my wife.”

Sandy hit the brakes, hard. Squealing and honking came from behind them, but she ignored it, turning a reddened face to him. “How original. But you have it backwards, partner. The line is ‘My wife doesn’t understand me.’” Slamming a hand on the steering wheel, she jerked the car back into motion. “What the hell. I thought you were different. Not like those jerks at the precinct, always hitting on me and making one double entendre after another, thinking they are so clever.”

Mack’s jaw dropped in horror. “No. I’m not hitting on you. I mean what I said. I don’t understand her. You’ve met Honey. She’s bright and beautiful and smart. What does she want with a guy like me?”

A little smile quirked the edge of Sandy’s mouth and she relaxed her grip on the wheel. “Sorry. For a moment, you had me going. I swear, someday that obnoxious jerk, Baxter, is going to say something offensive to me and I’m going to knock his block off. I can’t believe such a letch is part of the force. The other guys are a little off-color, but nothing I can’t take.”

“You get violent, you’ll wreck your career. Maybe you should talk to the chief.”

“And have him lecture them all on sexual harassment? Since Juanita and I are the only women on the force, and she’s at least sixty, everyone would know who complained. I’d be a pariah. I have to tough this out.”

A call came in: domestic disturbance at an apartment building across town. Sandy flipped on lights and siren, and the conversation ended. Mack hated family fights. Cops and innocent bystanders sometimes died when passions flew out of control. He focused on the matter at hand and hoped this would not be one of those times.

~ * ~

By three o’clock, Little Miss Kindergarten had returned, shared her grilled cheese sandwich with Mommy, and enjoyed a good nap. The other two were descending the bus steps. Grandma—Mack’s mother—waited in the living room to take her three favorite kidlings to her house for a sleepover, their first. Since Honey forbade overnights, feeling the children were still a little young, Marla had asked no questions and turned up an hour early. Just as Honey finished checking the tracking online again.

Honey sat on the edge of her chair, fidgeting and keeping an eye on the picture window behind her mother-in-law’s broad silhouette. The bus doors closed, and the yellow vehicle pulled away with a whoosh. Leaping to her feet, Honey herded her five-year-old and the older woman toward the door. She’d piled the overnight bags and toys in the car when Marla arrived.

“Okay, you might as well go. Thanks for taking the kids, Mom. You know how much they enjoy visiting with you and Dad.” By intercepting the other two, she could prevent the inevitable time loss. Although she’d packed their special toys and electronics, if Bonnie and Eric got in the house, they’d dally, and she couldn’t afford to waste so much time.

Not with her last peek at the online order tracking showing the item expected anytime.

"Okay, everyone, hop in the car.” She reached in to check seat belts and kiss foreheads. “Grandma needs to get going.”

Marla slid behind the wheel, muttering. “I’m not sure what the rush is.”

“Rush hour, Mom. I know how you hate it.”

“Where will I encounter a traffic jam in the two miles of suburbia between our homes?”

Honey closed the driver’s door. “Have a great time, everyone. Be good for Grandma and Grandpa.” Desperation rose as a big truck turned the corner. “Bye now.”
Leave!
If a box arrived, her nosy mother-in-law would get out of the car to watch her open it. What a horrifying scenario.

To her relief, Marla put the car in gear and backed out, shaking her head. The woman likely doubted her sanity, but better that than the alternative.

Sure enough, the truck groaned to a stop in front of her home and the driver hopped out, a big box cradled in his muscular arms. He headed up her walk. “Delivery.”

A master of understatement.

“Thanks.” The plain brown cardboard gave nothing away, but she blushed anyway. “I’ll take it.”

He eyed her. “I can take it inside for you if you like.”

She blushed harder. “Oh, no, it’s not heavy is it?”

“Nope, what is it? Candles or something?” He passed her the package and smiled. “I know how you ladies like your pretty things.”

Honey nodded. “Yeah. We all like our candles and things.” Taking a step back, she wished him into the truck. “Well, thanks.”

“Sure thing. Hey, you look kind of flushed. Maybe you’d better get out of the sun.”

The man would never leave. “Oh, good idea. Thanks again.” Sure she’d achieved cheeks the color of ripe cherries, Honey fled into the cool darkness of the foyer and closed the door with a firm click. True to her profession, she had a practical, calculating streak a mile wide. Her clothes, her organization even with her family reflected this. When Marla opened those overnight bags, she would find neatly folded necessities. The chances of her needing to come back for anything were virtually nil.

Except… Honey’s eyes lit on a capacious, black leather tote on the floor next to the coffee table.
Dammit!
Marla did not share her daughter-n-law’s sense of organization.
And I did push her out the door.
Her fist closed around the handle, her heart sinking into her belly. No doubt the older woman’s cell phone lay inside as well, so she couldn’t even call her to come back.

A loud honk out front sent her flying to fling the door open, bag still clutched in her hand.
Thank God.
She hurried down the walk and thrust the purse through the open window.

“It’s your fault, you hurried me so. I couldn’t believe it when I—”

Relief mingling with impatience forced Honey to smile and nod. “You’re right, Mom. I’m glad you noticed right away.” She blew kisses toward the back seat. “Don’t unbuckle those seat belts. Bye now.” Before Marla could say another word—which could have begun an interminable story of the last time or six she’d left her bag somewhere—Honey dropped the purse on the passenger seat and made a beeline for the house. Rude, maybe, but she had no time to waste. After a moment, the car pulled away with only a slight screech of tires to indicate the driver’s opinion of her attitude.

Honey had always stayed to listen, no matter how familiar the tale. The dutiful daughter-in-law showed respect to her husband’s parents. No rocking the boat.

But the same nature held her back in the bedroom, kept her from initiating anything new with Mack. A situation she was about to change.

She grabbed a knife and plopped the carton on the kitchen island. Drawing a deep breath, she slit the tape and opened Pandora’s box.

Piles of glittery violet tissue paper filled the container, and Honey dug through it, tossing the crumpled sheets aside as she hunted for the answer to all their problems in the bedroom. At the bottom of the box, she found a lavender and black patterned drawstring bag about the size of one of Mack’s socks and pulled it out. Loosening the tie, she reached inside and froze. Honey darted over the kitchen window and jerked the frilly curtains closed.

Back at the counter, she opened the bag and spilled the contents into her hand. Biting her lip, she examined the clear cup with a mini-vibrator inside and plastic tubing. It connected to a small device with two batteries taped to the back. The whole thing terrified her.

When ordering it, the fright had been fun, like a quick scare in a movie. She’d envisioned herself powdered and perfumed and laid out on the bed in a sexy negligee like a 1950s starlet, her hair cascading over her shoulders in soft shiny waves. She would smile and say, “You’re home, darling. Come see what I bought us.”

If she had this much trouble even looking at a pussy pump, how on earth would she use it in front of Mack? What if she did it wrong? Sexy could go to awkward or worse fast—making her fix to their problem a disaster.

Honey picked up the device and marched for the bedroom. She’d have to try it first, on her own. Worst-case scenario, it might not fit or wouldn’t have any effect. Since her purchase consisted of a small pump mechanism and a suction cup, an unpromising and unsexy gizmo, if it didn’t work, she’d prepare a candlelight dinner to set a romantic mood anyway. They would be alone, and if Mack didn’t fall asleep right after they ate, she could try to coax him into an early bedtime. No earthshaking changes, but at least a longer session and some uninterrupted time together.

Dropping the pump on the dresser, she headed for the shower then changed her mind. A bath might relax her, and a bubble bath even more. With hours before Mack’s return, she sank up to her neck in a sea of milky foam, her tense neck muscles relaxing. Her handsome husband would appreciate the gesture and, in her fairytale imagination, be so wowed by her daring, they’d have a night like they used to. Making love in every position possible. She might even consider
that
way. Desperate times called for desperate actions.

Rubbing the sponge over her breasts and down her stomach, she frowned at the faint white stretch marks. She wouldn’t trade her imps for anything, not even the smooth, flat belly she’d once been so proud of. Mack told her he treasured her body more since it gave birth to the three, and she believed him. She couldn’t have picked a kinder, more loving father if she’d had the whole world to choose from. When he sat next to his eldest going over her homework or lifted the baby in his strong arms to hug her, Honey’s heart thumped.

What a package.

The bubbles dissipated. Squeaky clean, she would have to approach the dragon on the dresser. She shouldn’t be frightened of the pussy pump. The device guaranteed to put the zip back in their relationship. Stepping out of the tub, she reached for a towel and wrapped it around her body, patting herself dry, distressed by the shake in her hand.

C’mon, Honey. If it doesn’t work out, he’ll never even know. And if it does, it might be the answer.

She hung the towel on a hook and picked up the pump on her way to the bed. Lying on her back, she held the suction cup over her naked, defenseless pussy. Could it be worse than waxing?

“Okay, so what do we do here?” Instructions would have been helpful. Honey inserted the batteries in the black box and pressed the plastic cup to her skin, a little alarmed when it covered her entire slit, stopping short of her anus. She was pretty sure she didn’t want to make
that
swell—she’d never encouraged play in
that
area. If it looked too alluring, Mack might think she’d changed her mind, and she wasn’t sure yet she had.

Holding the device in place, she lifted the box with her other hand and gave a tentative push to the button. Nothing happened so she squeezed harder and the hard plastic edges dug in hard. Honey let go of the suction cup, and it stayed in place.

She flicked the switch from low to medium. Heat gathered in her pubic region. Not like normal arousal, like when Mack stroked her or rubbed her clit. Almost a burning. A little concerned, she turned it on high, determined to get maximum benefit from her purchase. What would she look like when she finished? Irresistible, as the website claimed? Guaranteed to drive her lover crazy with passion? It rather reminded her of those collagen injections women got to make their mouths look “bee stung.” All the fashion magazines at the grocery checkout called the effect super-sexy, but she had her doubts.

Focused on the intriguing sensations between her legs, she let the pump run for several minutes. A tingling followed the warmth, her captive pussy reacting to the pressure in a most positive way. A dull thrum of arousal responded to the cleverly built-in vibrator buzzing over her clit. The next best thing to hands-free eroticism. Honey’s lower belly tightened and she flicked the switch, turning the device off. She’d never intended to orgasm with the thing, not without Mack. She’d bought it for the sole purpose of adding excitement and another level of intimacy to their marriage. Maybe even a little fun. But not for solo fun.

She set the box on the bed, expecting the plastic cup to fall away, but the mighty pump with its powerful suction had created some kind of hermetic seal. The dang thing refused to come loose.

Honey pried at the edges with her fingernails, trying to get it off without gouging her skin, but the evil torture device still stayed, stuck. Cursing under her breath, she slipped off the bed and waddled, spraddle-legged to the kitchen, the black box dangling down her thigh, to paw through the carton. Perhaps she’d missed some sort of instruction sheet in her hurry to grab the prize.

No way would Mack find her sexy like this. He couldn’t even see if her lips were swollen and sensual. Instead of a romantic interlude, she’d created a situation likely to end in a trip to the emergency room. How humiliating. Even if she got it off, the whole process of lying on the bed while a suction cup stuck to her pussy and a small machine hummed might not be the solution to her marital blahs. Unless it gave Mack other ideas…

The deep purple tissue went flying as she dug to the bottom, but no helpful paperwork surfaced. In a burst of frustration, she tossed the container to the floor. Maybe she should call a plumber to get the evil device off her pubic area, which throbbed in a less pleasant way. Panic sent tingles of adrenalin through her arms and legs.

Without warning, for reasons of its own, the suction cup released and fell to the floor between her feet. Panting with relief, she picked it up and turned the cardboard box upright. Honey scooped up the fallen tissue paper and shoved it back where it came from.
To the trash with you. I’ll have to run to the store and get something special to prepare for our candlelight dinner.
Heading for the back door, she kicked an object on the floor. What on Earth? When she scooped it up, she found a lavender plastic bag marked “Free with Purchase.”