He's on Top by Rachel Kramer Bussel

Author:Rachel Kramer Bussel
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Cleis Press
Published: 2010-08-16T00:00:00+00:00

That night, he was surprised when Stella got into bed next to him in only a T-shirt. He’d picked up Cancer Husband, and found it wasn’t that bad, if a little froufrou for his taste. Of course, he’d started with the chapter on sex. Very vanilla, but still.

Stella reached out and took the book from his hands. She closed it without letting him mark his place and dropped it on the floor beside the bed.

“No more reading,” she said.

Hearing her say that made him smile. She used to say that all the time, when she wanted his attention for cuddling, for sex. He rolled toward her. Her body took up less space now—still her, only smaller, as if she’d been slightly shrunk. Still the same curves, the waist that hollowed out toward her round hips. He felt huge next to her, a dangerous giant who might roll over and crush her.

He couldn’t resist her play. He put his hand soft against her arm, slid it up beneath the shirt sleeve. Her skin was cool, but for the first time in a long time, her muscles didn’t tighten in pain at his touch.

“No more reading?” he said. “Why, do you have something better for me to do?”

Stella put her nose against his neck, inhaled deep.

“I might be able to think of something,” she said.

He swallowed hard, unable to speak. How does it feel when your wife comes on to you, finally, finally, after cancer? You feel like the earth has been out of axis, but you didn’t notice, until just now, when everything rights itself and settles in, the way it’s supposed to be.

“I’ve missed your body,” she said. A sigh, but different from the sighs she’d made in the car. “I’ve missed my body.”

How to say he’d missed her body too? He didn’t know, so he answered with his fingers on the curve of her hip, followed the slimmed half-circle of her ass. No underwear. The crease where the bottom of her ass met her legs was soft and smooth. Just the feel of it made his hand ache to slap it.

He almost did slap her, but took his hand away, fisted it around the blanket. How could he even think of it? He didn’t know, couldn’t imagine what kind of person he was to want it the way he did.

Stella’s lips moved smooth against his neck. She took his hand from the blankets, but laid it back on the edge of her hip, where her T-shirt met her skin.

“Undress me,” she said.

She sat up, and he pulled her shirt off over her head. And there was her star, right above her right nipple, the red heat of it dulled. He wanted to put his finger on it, to lick it and taste it like sun-warmed earth. He thought it would burn his tongue.

He said, “Does it hurt?”

“Stop asking,” she said, and her voice was brisk, but also tired.

He nodded. Even to himself, he’d started to sound like a quiz book.

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