For this week’s 15 random words I’m using:

• 1 word that was left in the comments of last week’s post:

obfuscate

• 14 words from https://randomwordgenerator.com. To the right is a screen print of the words it gave me:

cool – retain – rubbish – indication – sip – communication – heart – chart – fantasy – relinquish – ritual – spine – cell phone – nervous

Below is the short-short I wrote using these words. This week I turned the words into a continuation scene for To Love and To Cherish told from Emmitt’s 1st person POV.

“Hey, Emmitt,” Nash said, looking up from the bench in the dressing room. He bit his lip. Was he nervous? Troubled?

I’d put a bottle of champagne into a bucket of ice to cool, strategically placed on the other side of the huge round tub in the bathroom. I didn’t think Nash had seen me put it there, but why would he be uneasy even if he had? Maybe he wasn’t in the mood and was concerned about hurting my feelings.

There was no doubt he generally loved it when I injected a little fantasy role-playing, or even just an extra heavy dose of romance into our love life. It wouldn’t bother me if he didn’t want to play tonight. It would trouble me if he humored me when he didn’t feel up to it.

“What’s the matter?” I asked.

“Nothing’s the matter,” he replied. “I was just thinking about stuff, and wondering…”

I approached and knelt next to him and picked up his hand. If I knew anything, it was that the cornerstone of a healthy relationship was about keeping open the lines of communication.

“Tell me.” I brought his hand up to my lips and lightly kissed the palm.

Nash’s mouth quivered, and the dilation of his pupils was a good indication that I’d distracted rather than encouraged him. I nodded reassuringly to prod him to get it off his chest.

“I…uh…was thinking about when we first got together. What do you think we’d be doing right now if I hadn’t lost my memory and assumed we must be a love match?”

“We are a love match.”

“Well, yeah…now. But when we first agreed to get married we both said we didn’t believe in love.”

“Physically, we’d probably be going through the same evening ritual we are now. Emotionally? I’m sure I’d be a mess.”

“Yeah, me too.”

Because we’d have fallen in love despite our misguided attempts to obfuscate the reality of our natures by telling ourselves love wasn’t real. We’d each have hidden our feelings, assuming they would be unwelcomed by the other. My heart would have broken. Instead I’d managed to retain it intact. It had thawed when Nash had looked up from the hospital bed, a weak but open and natural smile on his lips, and said, “I can see why I fell in love with you.”

“We’d have gotten here eventually,” I said. “I was already halfway in love with you when I first asked you to marry me. I just wasn’t able to acknowledge it to myself.”

“We talked ourselves into believing a bunch of rubbish,” he said.

“That we did.” I nodded. “But we figured it out. I love you, Nash, more than I ever thought I was capable of loving another human being.”

“I love you, too.” The smile that spread across Nash’s face could have lit the room, and the hunger in his eyes told me I’d been way off base thinking his issue might be that he wasn’t in the mood. I quickly stripped and joined up with my husband in the tub.

“First things, first.” I popped open the champagne and poured two flutes.

“To love.” Nash raised his glass. I tapped it lightly with my own and echoed his toast.

I took a single sip before putting it down and reaching for Nash. He swallowed a couple gulps and placed his glass next to mine, then melted into my embrace.

We were well-matched in that I enjoyed taking control for our sexual activities, and he liked to relinquish it. We shared a kiss, then I began to chart a course along his collarbone, licking and nipping before heading south to one of his nipples.

A delicious shiver ran down my spine at the sound of my husband’s soft groan, then we both stiffened at the sound of Nash’s cell phone. I quickly recognized the Scooby-Doo theme song, which was the ringtone Nash had assigned to his best friend Harley.

“Fuck ’im,” Nash muttered. “I’ll call him back later.”

I smiled and moved back to his mouth for another kiss. “Don’t want to fuck him,” I teased. “Want to fuck you.”

Nash’s body vibrated beneath mine with his suppressed laughter. “Good.”

“Or…” We hadn’t switched things up, yet. Nash had once indicated that he was versatile, although he’d never pushed to top. Perhaps he was waiting for me to say something?

“Or what?” Was that a spark of hope in Nash’s eyes?

“Or you could fuck me.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

The Grinch himself would have been envious of the sly grin that spread across Nash’s face.

#sorrynotsorry for ending it here. 🍾

Once again, because I can’t resist a good challenge, I’ll take the first 15 prompt words given to me in the comments, below, for next week’s Flash Fiction Friday post. One word per commenter, please. I’ll make up the difference using the random word generator site if I don’t get 15 here.

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