A Woman Alive ~ Fantasy is an erotica...though I hesitate to call it a romance. There is strong language and plenty of graphic sex between more than Deanna and Michael. I have originally self-published this on Smashwords under MJ Loughan. Hell of a psuedonym, right?

The novella in its entirety is labeled NSFW (Not Safe For Work) however the first chapter is mostly mild but it starts to get very hot soon afterwards. So, if sex makes you uncomfortable - click away NOW. If you are under 18 - click away NOW. If you are tired of the little disclaimer here...go ahead and keep reading. Enjoy Chapter 1. I'll post Chapter 2 tomorrow. :)

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CHAPTER ONE

“Happy Anniversary, sweetie.”

Deanna was surprised when her husband opened the front door for her with a greeting and a smile. Shit. Was it their anniversary? Lately they hadn’t had much to smile about but she noticed he was dressed in business casual and holding out a single rose. The only thing she really wanted to do was get out of her heels and pour herself a large glass of Merlot. Still, not to be a complete bitch, she smiled and kissed him at the threshold before she moved past him.

“Five years,” she called over her shoulder, plastering a smile on her face; one that she didn’t really feel.

Dropping her purse on the entryway table before kicking off her shoes, she padded her way to the kitchen and saw a beautiful display of fruit and cheese and a glass of wine already poured for her. So surprised by it, she stopped short and just admired it. For a split second she thought she might be in the wrong house.

Michael walked up behind her and rubbed her shoulders. She could feel the muscles pull and pop. Closing her eyes, she relished the feeling of his strong hands kneading at her back. “Mm,” she purred, back against him, “happy anniversary.”

This time her smile was genuine.

“Rough day?” he asked quietly into her neck sending small shivers down her arms.

“Pure hell,” she sighed. She felt disappointed when he stopped rubbing her shoulders and gladly took the wine he offered.

“I have a surprise for you…for us.”

“Oh, Michael, I hate surprises.”

“I know. I know.” He held up his hands in mock surrender. “But I think you’re going to really like what I have planned tonight.”

“Honey, I just got home. I’m exhausted.”

He wasn’t going to take no for an answer apparently. She could tell by the little quirk in his eyebrow when he had his mind set and just waiting for her to blow off steam or give up the argument. It was maddening.

“Where are we going?” she asked.

“It’s a surprise.”

“Can you at least tell me what I should wear?” She saw a little twinkle in his eye when he grinned and told her it was all picked out for her on the bed.

She had to admit that her curiosity was up. Michael never picked out her clothes. In fact, he rarely picked out his own. She looked a little more carefully at her husband. It was after 7PM and he was clean shaven, showered, dressed in a light cotton, button down shirt and dark khakis. There was a hint of cologne, just subtle enough to notice without being overpowering. He looked good - real good.

Taking her wine with her, she strode into the bedroom and saw her favorite, slinky black dress and a gift bag from V’s Secret. Inside was a very pretty black lace bra and panty set. She hadn’t worn anything like it since her wild 20s when she was snagging a nice piece of ass without a care in the world. It’s pretty much how she and Michael met - a one-night stand that lasted…until he put a ring on her finger.

Then it felt like it was over. Suddenly they were building a life together and sex was out the window. It wasn’t that they didn’t want to. It wasn’t even that they weren’t attracted to each other - they were. It’s just that she always felt exhausted and they were never in the mood at the same time. Half the time she just opened her legs to him and felt like it was…a job.

The spontaneity was gone, right along with the foreplay. And he was usually getting done just as she was warming up. More often than not, she was more frustrated by getting so close to an orgasm and just falling short that it almost wasn’t worth doing it anymore.

If she really needed that kind of release she had her vibrator tucked neatly away in the drawer of her night stand. And even that wasn’t satisfying anymore. She liked feeling the weight and heat of a man making love to her. But that was over now. Except… Feeling the soft lace of the bra between her fingers conjured up the old memories of hot nights together when the world could be on fire and no one noticed because nothing else mattered but fucking each other, finding those special zones, and piquing to the highest pleasure until she felt like she might explode.

If dessert was a visit to that kind of feeling again, Deanna would put aside her aching feet. As if on cue, Michael stepped behind her again and nuzzled her neck. His hand splayed across her flat stomach and worked slow circles down the front of her skirt. He cupped her at the apex of her thighs pressing his palm against her. She could feel his hard erection against her back. She wanted this. She yearned for the slow seduction. But when she reached around to touch him he stepped away.

“Oh, no you don’t,” he smiled painfully. “If you touch me I’m going to throw you on the bed and have my way with you.”

Yes, yes! She thought. What’s wrong with that? Much to her chagrin, he kept her at arm’s length. She could see he really wanted to fuck. His hard-on was apparent through his pants. She wanted that. She wanted to feel the length of him slide in her - ram her - make her cry out. She needed passion and fire and he was holding back. Damn him!
She took a shuddering breath as he left the room. Screw that. She wanted to scream in frustration.

“Whatever this event is better be fucking important!” she yelled at his retreating back. She wanted to throw something at him when he laughed. He had no earthly idea how much it hurt to have her advances shunned and set aside - like her needs weren’t important or something.

Resolving herself to whatever he had planned, Deanna showered, shaved, and dressed in the clothes he graciously picked out. He wouldn’t even give her a clue as to what his plans were and they had ridden in the car for nearly an hour.

Her mind ticked off possibilities he had in store for their evening. It wasn’t an overnight at a bed and breakfast -they didn’t pack a bag. Dinner and a show, maybe? She just settled on the idea that he was taking her into the city for a Broadway show when he turned off the main road and pulled up to a non-descript building with neon lights.

“A club?! Have you lost your mind, Michael? We drove an hour so you could take me to a dance club for our anniversary? What are we - 20 again?”

“It’s not just a club,” he answered, putting the car in park and killing the engine.

“It’s a club, Michael! I can hear the music.” She looked around and didn’t recognize any friends or family cars so it wasn’t a surprise party.

“All right, it’s a club!” he conceded. “But look around. Everyone’s around our age."

More cars pulled in and well-dressed couples, many appearing to be between 35 and 50 years old walked inside.

“Do you want to go back home?” he asked.

She thought about it. “No,” she pouted. “Fuck it. We’re already here. I guess I should see what’s so special about this place we drove an hour to get to.”

He nodded and got out of the car to open her door. She got out and glared at the building. This was not her idea of an ideal anniversary surprise. He gently grabbed her chin and kissed her softly on the lips.

“Listen, if you don’t like it we can leave at any time, but we have to go in first, okay?” He kissed her again and she grudgingly kissed him back.

“Fine,” she answered then plastered on another smile as they approached the door.

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