Leftovers: A Novel by Arthur Wooten Read Free Book Online

tempted to call the station again but decided not to.
    She paced the living room floor and that’s when she heard his car pull into the drive. Caught off guard, her first reaction was to run to the door. She thought twice about it and went into the kitchen, dabbed her finger one more time and threw away the napkin. Determined not to look as though she was waiting for him, she scurried over to the sofa, sat back down and picked up a copy of Anaïs Nin’s
A Spy In The House Of Love
. She flipped open to the dog-eared page and heard his keys in the door. She fought her instinct to jump to her feet and then took a deep breath.
    Paul entered and was momentarily surprised that the dining room table was so elaborately set.
    “Oh, you’re home,” Vivian said, sounding as nonchalant as possible. She casually got up off of the divan walked over to him. “Happy anniversary, darling.” She stretched up to kiss him but he gave her a peck on her forehead.
    Trying not to react, she strolled into the kitchen. “Go, sit. Get comfortable. I’ll bring you a beer.” She took a bottle of Rheingold out of the refrigerator. “I was going to serve a roast but I’m afraid there was an incident and I’ve reheated last night’s dinner.” She took a casserole dish out of the oven and placed it on the dining room table. “I picked up your dry cleaning and had my dress altered.” She went back into the kitchen and popped the top off of the bottle of beer.
    Vivian walked casually into the living room with the beer but Paul was gone.
    “Paul?”
    She actually ran to the front window to see if his car was still there, and it was. Thinking he must have gone upstairs, she grabbed the gift from the coffee table, put it in her pocket and went up with the beer.
    “Paul?” she asked again as she reached the top of the stairs and stood in the doorway to their bedroom.
    Paul came out of their bathroom wearing just his boxers. Vivian paused admiring his body. He had massive shoulders that narrowed down to his waist. His arms were strong and vascular, his legs powerful and defined. And he had the perfect amount of body hair, which highlighted his muscles making it look as though an artist had painted them on. Once on a trip to the Boston Museum of Fine Art, Vivian stood before a breathtakingly beautiful Greek statue and realized that was Paul’s body. She found it both intoxicating and irresistible.
    She snapped out of it and handed him the beer. “Oh, I saw Doctor Moody today and well, it was a false alarm. But I’m sure next month I’ll do much better and oh . . . ” She took the gift out of her pocket. “It’s nothing too fancy but I thought you’d like it.”
    Surprisingly, Paul pulled her close to him. “Let me give you my gift first.”
    He brought his lips close to hers and then paused a moment. The hesitation made her dizzy with anticipation. He slowly planted his full lips onto hers and kissed her deeply.
    But as Paul unzipped her dress allowing it to fall to the floor, the phone started to ring. Not knowing what she should do, Vivian just stood there in her bra and half-slip. She was about to speak but he put his finger to her lips. He literally swept her off her feet into his arms and carried her to the bed, laid her down and kissed her again even more passionately.
    Paul’s gift slipped from her hands to the floor as he ravaged her from head to toe, except for touching the scar around the waist. He never did and never would. It wasn’t out of respect for Vivian’s self-consciousness about it. It was because it repulsed him so and Vivian knew it.
    On this rare and erotic occasion, he pulled out all the stops knowing exactly how to pleasure his wife. Vivian’s need for Paul’s affection was like a parched and wilted flower thirsty for rain. She was in heaven. Time stood still and the world was good again.
    •  •  •
     
    Sated, Vivian laid on her stomach wrapped in the sheets with her head turned away from the