literal leigh 05 - joyful leigh (3 page)

Now, I ask you: How can a guy, who was so vigorously wide awake only ten minutes ago, suddenly fall into such a deep sleep? When I say vigorously, I’m talking about making the bed bounce across the floor like it was being carried by four methed up clowns hopping on pogo sticks kind of vigor.

“I suppose I could cut you some slack for falling asleep on me. You were going for the Olympic gold medal or something tonight. Anyway, I was only going to talk about our wedding, Thanksgiving dinner, the color of the kitchen blinds I picked out, and if you wanted to shop for some new bathroom rugs tomorrow.” I poked him again and after no response I relented to the late night and fell asleep.

I woke up to a micro massage of my ass cheeks courtesy of Luna’s cold, kneading paws. “It’s freezing in here, Luna.” I blew out a few puffs of air and I was pretty sure I saw my breath. The old window in our room is beautiful and I love the way the morning sun glints off of the old beveled glass, but all it’s good for is looking at. The cold air came in around it with a devilish fury that made our little curtains visibly flutter. “So this is what an ice cave feels like. Great! Except, I’m not a fucking polar bear.”

It was still early, so I let Hunter sleep while Luna led me down into the freshly painted living room. “Don’t worry, Luna. I’ll just turn up the furnace.” Some things really are easier said than done. Moving into an old house while getting it fixed up at the same time made me lose focus on finding out some of the very basic necessities. For example, the location of the thermostat was a complete mystery to me. I had no idea how the place was even heated and there was no way I was going into the basement to find the furnace. I opted for a heavy sweater, a thick blanket, a warm cat, and some hot tea.

It wasn’t long before I could imagine the old house full of happy guests enjoying a Thanksgiving feast. Luna seemed to have read my mind.

“Meeoow.”

“Oh I’m sure I can handle it. How hard can it be? There’s got to be a million recipes for cooking a turkey and all the other stuff like...well, whatever else you serve with a turkey. Sweet potatoes and yams and…wine.” Yes, it would be my first attempt at a big holiday meal, but I was excited. I wanted to prove to myself that I was not only a successful woman with a promising career but also one that could go toe to toe with the best of the traditional domestic goddesses out there. I have to admit that my imagination included all of my awestruck guests gushing out streams of praise for my fabulous cooking abilities. I planned to take it in stride. “Oh, you’ve never tasted anything that good? Thank you, but it was nothing, really.”

“You’ll see, Luna. It’ll be great.”

To follow up on the conversation I had with Hunter, I decided to call his parents and invite them over.

“Hi, Millie. I’m calling to see if you guys would like to come over here for Thanksgiving dinner. Would that be okay with you?”

“Sure. Did you already talk to Hunter about it?”

“Yep! Just last night. He said it sounded good to him.”

“And did he mention anything about a turkey?”

“Yeah. I’m pretty sure he did. He said it would be nice.”

“Really? That’s wonderful. Max and I will bring the turkey that morning then. We can prepare it together.”

“Awesome! See you on Thanksgiving morning, Millie!”

After I was off the phone, I had to share my joy with Luna the cynical cat. “Super great news, Luna! I won’t even need to buy a turkey. I really don’t think it takes too long to cook one if she is planning on bringing it over Thanksgiving morning. Oh, Luna. I know this sounds cheesy, but I can just picture myself with my future mother-in-law, bonding together in the kitchen as she shows me her age old recipes.”

“Meow. Meow.”

“No, I don’t feel bad for not sharing the experience with my mom. Hell, the only thing I’ve ever seen her make on Thanksgiving was a martini.”

“Meow.”

“Keep your negative thoughts to yourself, cat. This will work out great. Who knows? Maybe it’ll become a new Epstein-Kovacs tradition.”

“Meeeeooow.”

“No, not a tradition of calling 911 on Thanksgiving. You always expect the worst case scenario. You know that, right? Well, you can just kiss my ass.
My
Thanksgiving Day feast is going to look like a fucking Norman Rockwell painting.”

Luna scampered off and I leaned my head back. I could pull this off. I went through my contacts list and made a flurry of quick calls. By the time Hunter was awake, I had confirmed that my parents, my sister, Bill and the kids, Lindsey, Kelly, Luke, Derek, Brad, Esmeralda, and Marie Laveau would all be coming. Gertie and Randy happily agreed to come the day before. Our house desperately needed some personal touches. I have to be honest, I lack any sense of décor. I mean
real
décor, worthy of an old historic house like the Schlitt house. You know the kind of décor that makes people walk into an old house and say, “Wow! I didn’t know this old place was a museum or an art gallery now.” If someone came in right now, they would see the empty boxes and dusty remnants of a major home improvement strewn about. They would be more likely to say something like, “Oh. So this is where you live.” As if they were visiting you in a rundown flop house.

“Good morning!” Hunter called from the stairs that came down into the foyer next to the living room. I turned around just as he walked in through the door, wearing only a pair of gym shorts. “Christ, it’s freezing in here!” Hunter pulled his arms up against his bare chest and rubbed them together.

“I know. I was going to turn on the heat, but I don’t have a clue where the thermostat is. And there is no way in hell that I’m going down into that spooky old basement alone to check on the furnace.” I had to be warm compared to Hunter. The only part of me showing was my face. The rest of me was completely hidden, buried under a pile of blankets. Hunter swiftly came over and joined me in my cocoon. “Um. Aren’t you going to turn on the heat?”

“Oh no. I’d much rather be under here sucking up whatever heat you have left.” He laid back and pulled me on top of him. I was sure to keep the blankets over both of us. “You know, the number one cold weather survival technique is to share body heat with skin to skin contact.”

“I don’t think that applies when one of those bodies is already a block of ice.” I poked his hard chest. “See. Frozen solid.”

“No, no. The idea is to rub the bare skin together, to transfer heat and get the blood circulating. What if we were stuck in a snow cave after an avalanche? Wouldn’t you want to know what to do?” Hunter teased.

I pulled the blankets over our heads and reluctantly slipped off my sweater. I gave it my best attempt at sensually rubbing my bare breasts against his chest. I was so cold that I acted more like a caterpillar trying to wiggle its way over a twig. “Okay, I’ve received my winter survival training. Can you please turn the furnace on now?”

“Hmm. I think you could try to persuade me.” Hunter arched his hips and pressed an unmistakable hardness against me.

“You’re really pushing it, buddy! Since I’m so cold, I’ll play along. Now, let me show you a sample of what I’ll give you in exchange for some goddamn heat in this place.” I fumbled around and managed to pull his shorts down to his thighs. I knew something that would motivate him. I slowly slid down his body until his engorged erection was nestled between my breasts. My movements were slow and deliberately executed to provide the ultimate tease. I allowed just enough of his hardness to touch my neck and the side of my face.

“Yeah. Oh yeah,” Hunter groaned. That was my cue. I popped right back up to his face. “There’s more where that came from. You just have to turn on the heat. Now, go on.” It was just on time, too, because now I was really turned on myself.

“Um, Leigh? I may have forgotten to tell you. The furnace is broken. I called around Friday and we’ll be lucky if we can get someone in here to fix it next week with it being Thanksgiving and all.”

I pulled the blankets away from our faces. A strange sound came out of my mouth. It was sort of an “ah” and a little of an “eh.” I really didn’t know what words I tried to form.

Hunter was sincerely apologetic when he said, “Sorry, baby. We can go out today and pick up a couple of space heaters.”

“Wait. Just wait. You knew you couldn’t turn on the furnace, yet you used our need for life-giving heat for some sexual favors. That’s quite manipulative of you.” I had just a few drops of playfulness added into my tone of voice, but not quite enough for him to know if I was actually upset or not.

“Yeah, I suppose you could say that. Let me put it this way, you are just so irresistibly cute and sexy that I just couldn’t help myself…” Hunter paused to gauge my reaction, but I kept a good poker face. Then he tried a little harder. “It’s because I
love
you
so much
that I have lost all control over my passion.”

“Hmm. Well said, well said.”  I put my hand to my chin and tapped my index finger on the side of my face. “Now I have to think about this. Am I upset? Or am I still turned on?” Tap, tap, tap went my finger. “You’re lucky I
love
you
so much
. I just can’t control myself.” I grabbed the sides of his head and kissed him before diving back under the blankets. I went about finishing what we started.

Chapter Four

Her Again

Monday seemed to be off to a good start, until lunch. My phone buzzed. “Hi, Hunter! Did you find anyone to come take care of the furnace?”

“I called around when I had a break. I’m starting to think it’s the house. Once I tell them the address, it seems like their schedules are suddenly overloaded. I don’t get it. I won’t be home until later this evening, and I don’t think I’ll have time to call anyone else. You want to try your luck with getting ahold of someone?”

“I should be home early enough. I’ll charm them into it if I have to. We really need some heat. Otherwise, our Thanksgiving dinner guests will be greeted by our frozen corpses.”

“Oh, that’s right. Did you already call my parents?”

“Yep! Yesterday before you came downstairs. Everything is set.”

“Did you talk about the turkey?”

“Yeah, your mom said she’s going to bring the turkey along when they come over.”

“And you’re good with that?”

“Of course. Why wouldn’t I be? I love your parents.  I’m glad your mom wants to share her traditions with me.”

“That’s very cool of you, Leigh. Hey, I have to be going. I’ll see you this evening, I love you.”

“Love you too, baby. Hey, be sure you’re wearing your uniform when you get home. I could use a little heat, if you know what I mean. I’ve been very, very bad and may have broken the law. Only a bad cop like you will be able to take me down.” I ended the call and imagined Hunter in his uniform. I’m pretty sure I growled out loud.

“Hey there, Leigh. I couldn’t help but overhear you. Are you having some self-esteem problems? And you said something about being harassed by a police officer?” It was Carrie, the first grade teacher now in her second year at the school. I took a deep cleansing breath. The last time we talked she had given me a grotesque sympathy card created by her class that displayed carnage of biblical proportions. I had hoped a
teacher year
of dealing with a crew of malicious little goblins would have taken the edge off of her buoyant optimism.

I need to digress a bit here. I should probably explain what a
teacher year
is exactly. Most people aren’t aware that there is a secret Teacher Years Algorithm. Yes, you have to figure
teacher years
just like
dog years
. The way it works is that you take a year spent in a class room freshly stocked with a diverse assortment of students. When I say students, I’m talking about the kids seemingly handpicked by Satan to carry on his work on earth. Then you multiply those years by the grade level you are teaching. The answer is the equivalent to the psychological wear and tear a normal person would endure if they were locked away in a North Korean insane asylum. So in other words, Carrie hadn’t experienced anything more than the occasional migraine yet.

Carrie was droning on and on about “being concerned for my well-being” and “provided her support,” but my mind was drifting. I remembered coming into the lunch room one day and seeing a few other teachers staring at something under the table.

“What are you guys looking at?” I asked.

“It’s Kate. We found her in this fetal position,” Julie, one of the teachers, answered. “I’m not sure if she’s dead or alive. Maybe she’s both. It looks like fifteen years of sixth graders entering puberty and another new math method have finally taken her down.”

Another teacher, Gina, a dyed in the wool science geek, added her thoughts. “She’s alive, but if we wake her up, I’d say there’s about a 50/50 chance she’s going to be permanently insane.” She poked Kate. “Or she could be just fine.” Gina suddenly erupted from some strange fuzzy brained science related thought, typical of her kind. “Jesus! It’s like
Schrödinger's Cat in teacher form.”

I had to learn about the hypothetical experiments of people like Einstein and Schrödinger in college. It sailed right over my head. I had no idea what it meant.
Schrödinger's Cat? What the hell, Gina?
I thought
.
All I could say to Gina was, “Yeah, I never thought of it like that. Excellent observation, Gina.” Gina nodded approvingly to my supposedly sharp grasp of quantum mechanics.

“Julie, get the cork,”
I directed. We keep a reasonably fresh cork from a bottle of wine in the cupboard. It is first aid intended especially for cases like Kate’s. You place it under the victim’s nose like you would with smelling salts—works wonders.

“Leigh? Leigh? Are you even listening to me?” Carrie the Perky snapped me out of my thoughts.

“Oh, yes. Just taking in all of your advice. Or whatever that was.” Since she had been eavesdropping on my conversation with Hunter, I thought it would be fun to just be honest and see if I could make her tightly stretched skin blush. “But you’ve got this all wrong. I was just talking to my fiancé, doing a little roleplaying. If you know what I’m saying.” I winked and nudged her with my elbow. “I’m going to see if the big bad cop can
cuff
and
stuff
a naughty girl like me.”