Alan & Sally - Bonus Content

Photo by Joshua Hummell on Unsplash

SALLY
Parking beside Alan’s truck in front of the farmhouse, I grab my laptop and purse, slide out, and hurry up the steps.
      “Hello! I’m home!” I call out, pushing through the squeaky screen door. I told Alan we should get it fixed, but he pointed out that a squeaky door is better than a doorbell, and I couldn’t really find fault with his argument.
      “We’re in the kitchen, sweet pea!” Following Alan’s voice, I move through to the kitchen, my smile widening to a beaming grin as I step into the kitchen, setting my bags on a chair in the corner.
      “Hi, guys! How’s dinner?”
      Stan grins gummily at me, banging his spoon eagerly on the table, while Mila reaches for the spoon Alan is attempting to place in her mouth. He looks up from where he’s feeding the twins, grinning at me. I drop a kiss on his lips, moving to the fridge. “You made puree?”
      I wasn’t expecting them to be already eating. I rushed straight home from work. Alan smirks at me. “Your mama stocked us up.”
      Sure enough, there are enough tubs of carefully labeled puree stacked in the bottom of the fridge to feed an army of six-month-olds, not just two. “When did she leave?”
      “About an hour ago. She has a date in Westboro, so I was happy to come in early.”
      My eyebrows shoot up as I grab the makings of baked steaks and green bean casserole. “A date? She didn’t mention she was seeing someone.”
      Alan nods to my laptop, sitting innocently in the corner of the room. “She said she met him online.”
      Rolling my eyes, I make the casserole and crumb the steaks. It took Mom three months after I called to tell her I was pregnant to organize to sell her house in Maine and move here to The Flats. I don’t blame her. She thought, because I told her more than once, that she was never getting grandkids. Well, now she has two, and she is smitten. Alan keeps feeding the kids, his eyes landing on me, watching me cook. “You’re such a farmer’s wife.”
      Whipping my head around, I glare at him. What did he say? “Excuse me. I am a newspaper editor.”
      “You’re still my wife.”
      “Always.”
      Chuckling, Alan spoons the last of the pureed carrots into Mila’s mouth, wiping them both with the cloth and standing. Hugging me against his chest, he drops a kiss on my upturned face. “I’m going to take these two terrors to have a bath.”
      “Okay. I’ll be up when these are in the oven.”
     “All right.” Picking a baby in each arm, Alan winks at me, disappearing out of the kitchen. The stairs creak as he goes up, and I smile to myself. I also suggested we change those, but when Alan found out one of the twins was going to be a girl, he flat-out refused. “Oh no, I need to hear if she’s sneaking out to mess around with a boy,” were his exact words. Ridiculous man. We’re in the middle of nowhere. If a boy is making his way out here to mess around with Mila when she’s older, he’s showing commitment, and maybe we should hear him out. Setting the casserole and steaks in the new oven I made Alan buy, I set the timer and grab my phone.
SALLY: Alan says you’re on a date. Which dating site? I want to see a picture. Call me after. I want to know how it went and that you’re safe x
      Dropping my phone back into my bag, I go upstairs, not bothering to skip the super creaky ones. Honestly, Mila will learn which ones not to step on. Alan is wasting his time. Following the happy squeals, I walk into the bathroom, laughing at the sight of Alan, covered in water, attempting to wash a squirming Stan while Mila sits contentedly in her bath seat, happily giggling as she splashes the surrounding water with flat palms.
     “Come here, darling, let’s get you clean,” I coo, sinking to my knees and seizing a clean washcloth.
      “Good luck with that,” Alan mutters, making another attempt to clean behind Stan’s ears while our son lets out an impressive war cry, twisting his head away. Laughing, I have more luck with Mila, who actually doesn’t mind getting washed at bath time. It’s why Alan always starts with Stan. Mila is a reward after that struggle. Still, we are both significantly damper than we were coming in when both kids are dressed in their footie pajamas and lying in their matching cribs, with little mobiles slowly turning above them. Alan sets the nightlight going, its soft music filling the space as we melt out of the room, blowing kisses to the kids. They are gurgling quietly to each other. They never cry when we put them down. I think they like being left alone together. They have an incredible bond. As only children, Alan and I love watching them together. As I close the bedroom door quietly, Alan wraps his arms around me, his face pressing into the top of my head.
      “Glad you came back to The Flats?”
      “Every day.”
      Alan chuckles, nuzzling his nose there. “Glad you had kids?”
      “Every second. Glad I came back?”
      “I thank God every day.”
      That’s sweet. “I love you, Alan Cummings.”
      “And I love you, sweet pea, a bushel and a peck.”
      Oh my god. I groan, stepping out of his arms and slapping at his hard chest. “I can’t believe I know what that means.”
      Seriously, I couldn’t be further from Brooklyn if I tried.
      “Know and love it.”
     Laughing, I follow Alan downstairs. Yeah, I do love it. I’m going to love planning the extension we’re going to need when the kids are older. Alan’s going to hate it. Especially when I plan on fixing those creaky stairs. He has learned which battles to fight, and I think I might win that one.

ALAN
Drying the last of the dishes, I stack them in the cabinets, turning to where Sally sat back down at the table, flicking through her notepad of story allocations. More work. That will have to wait. I have other plans for tonight. Resting my hands on the table on either side of her notepad, I lower my head, my nose sliding up her neck, my lips pressing kisses as I go. Sally sighs, dropping her pen, her head tipping back as my tongue teases a particularly sensitive spot, and she shivers. “Are you trying to seduce me, cowboy?”
      “I sure am. Is it working?”
    “It sure is.” With a giggle, Sally shoves her notepad and pen away from her. That means I win. She won’t be doing any more work tonight. She’ll be too busy moaning my name. Grinning triumphantly, I swing Sally into my arms, carrying her upstairs.
      “Shh!” she giggles as the stairs creak under my feet. Sally is always at me to fix them, but they’re a built-in intruder alert. She’ll thank me in sixteen years when Mila is boy crazy. Sally thinks I’ve over-reacting, but I was once a sixteen-year-old boy here in Hamilton Flats, and I remember sneaking into Olivia Wright’s bedroom. Her daddy didn’t have creaky stairs, and he should have. Knocking the bedroom door shut behind me, I tumble Sally onto the bed, kicking off my shoes and coming down on top of her. Her giggles turn quickly to moans as I strip off her jeans, slicking my fingers through her folds in search of her clit. I don’t bother with her shirt. Sometimes, she still does overnight feeds, so those bad boys are still off-limits to me. I can’t wait for her to finish breastfeeding. I miss them. Sally’s fingers slide into my hair, gripping it tightly. I have her trained now. She doesn’t even bother bucking her hips to change the pace. Instead, she grabs my hair, or the comforter, to keep herself still, enjoying my tempo.
      “Good girl,” I murmur, pinching her clit as I slide deep into her. Sally sighs, her head tipping back. Abandoning her clit, I take my weight on one forearm, my other hand finding her jaw to cup it, and bring her head forward so I can see her eyes. “Right here, sweet pea. Stay in the moment with me.”
      “I will,” she promises, panting, her mouth still open. There’s no more beautiful sight in the world than watching my wife’s face as she comes for me. Nothing compares. Sally’s hands slide out of my hair, moving down my back and gripping my shoulder blades as her legs wrap around me, her ankles locking behind my waist. Her eyes widen, and I keep my slow pace, my own eyes burning into hers. Her pussy flutters and clenches at my dick as she comes with a breathy sigh.
     “That was perfect,” she murmurs as I take my weight on both arms, hammering into her until I come as well. Yes ma’am, it was perfect. Everything about her and with her is perfect. Rolling onto my back, I draw Sally onto my chest, wrapping my arms around her, the comforter around our waists. Sally talks softly about her day, we talked about mine during dinner, and I gently stroke her hair, listening to all the office gossip with a smile. This is the life right here. The day Sally blew into town was the start of the best days of my life, and I wouldn’t change a thing. Not for all the inheritance money in the world.
 
The End.

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