Blue Collar Blues by Rosalyn McMillan Read Free Book Online

empty champagne glass on the fireplace mantel, Tomiko had presented R.C. with the Let’s Celebrate Kit—For Lovers Only, a good-luck gift she’d received from her girlfriend in Japan. Tomiko wanted to impress R.C. and show him that she could be adventurous in bed.
    Tomiko had been dressed in a sexy red satin teddy, and R.C. wore matching red satin boxers. They’d sat down on the bedroom floor in front of the blazing fire and R.C. began to look through the cleverly wrapped box, which contained wild berry body dust; pina colada warming oil; tropical fruit love gelee; strawberry kissing potion; lickable cherry body paint; strawberry whipped creme; China musk massage oil; aromatherapy bubble bath; a bag of confetti; a red, heart-shaped candle; a white feather; and two balloons.
    “Come on, Tomiko,” R.C. had said impatiently, “let’s get in the bed.”
    “This stuff smells good,” Tomiko had said in a throaty whisper as she’d sprayed the strawberry whipped creme into two pink clouds over both R.C.’s nipples.
    Looking down at himself, R.C. had laughed. “Is it my turn now?”
    Before she knew it, R.C. had sprayed the remainder of the can of whipped creme all over his wife, then proceeded to sprinkle her with the wild berry body dust. Minutes later, they were having a ball, but the room had been a wreck.
    “Are we through playing?” R.C. had said fondly as he picked confetti from Tomiko’s hair. “Can we fuck now?”
    “Only if I can get on top,” she’d said, popping the yellow and blue balloons taped on her breasts. As they’d made their way to the bed, they’d left a trail of red underwear along the floor.
    “Wait,” she’d said in a husky whisper. “I forgot something.” She had gone back and retrieved the white feather tickler and teased the length of his eager sex. “We might need this.”
    Once in bed, R.C. had taken Tomiko in his arms and kissed behind her ears and down the nape of her neck, arousing her. As R.C.’s tongue had slid inside her mouth, still sweet with the taste of wild berries, she’d reached down and caressed his hardened member.
    Opening her eyes now, then slowly closing them, she was reminded of their lovemaking once again as she pressed her nude body closer to her husband’s. Oh my, Tomiko thought, as her thoughts drifted back to the feather, who would have thought it could do so much. . . .
    Suddenly, her reverie was interrupted by a harsh knock at their bedroom door.
    “Mr. Richardson! Mr. Richardson! Get up!”
    R.C. jumped out of bed and began searching for his red satin robe.
    “What is it, Caleb?” he shouted as he stumbled over one of his slippers.
    Tomiko knew that Caleb was the man who worked with R.C.’s prized horses.
    “Got a problem out at the stables, boss.”
    As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, Tomiko slowly made out the shapes of the room: the lovers’ kit littering the floor, the empty champagne glasses, the scented joss sticks on the nightstand, her red satin teddy a few hand prints away. Tomiko also noticed the still-nude form of her husband. Looking at him now, she almost laughed. She hadn’t noticed before how oddly his buttocks were shaped. His broad, heart-shaped rear end with strong, narrow legs and dark-chestnut coloring looked much like those of the horses he bred. From the waist down, R.C. was the color of an ashy Andalusian. Even his wide, bulbous nose was shaped like a mare’s buttocks. Yet her husband, who had just turned fifty years old, was devastatingly handsome.
    Struggling to slip on his robe but not quite making it, R.C. poked his head outside the door.
    Tomiko raised up cautiously on her elbows and listened with her eyes as well as her ears.
    “Wicked Widow is in labor.”
    “Did you call the vet?”
    Since her father also bred horses, Tomiko had grown up around the beautiful animals and knew when she heard the sound of the groom’s voice that something was wrong. She also knew it was unusual for foals to be born on a farm