Who would have thought to celebrate our one-year anniversary that we’d have ended up here, of all places?

As I looked down the table, I smiled to myself at the improbable scene. On one end of the table was my family, Mom, Dad, Billy and Diana; even Veronica had graced us with her presence. It had taken my family some convincing, but half a year ago they had agreed to give Clark a chance, for me. Now, as they all threw their heads back with laughter at something he’d said, you’d swear they were old friends.

On the other end of the table was a group that would have been equally unlikely a year ago: Clark’s family. His brother Eugene, and his sister Yvonne, sipping their drinks with slight smiles, his mother beaming. These days, every other word she said to me was “thank you.” For the change Clark had undergone, the caring and giving man he had become.

I watched him now silently, reflecting on the hundreds of ways these past months have transformed him before my eyes. The former workaholic who now had to stop himself from taking too many breaks to kiss his girlfriend (I took most of the credit for this). The closed-off man who now shared his views with anyone who’d listen. The distant son who now visited his family every week and called his mother every few days. Yes, everything had ended up wonderfully, better than I could’ve even hoped for.

“Are y’all ready to order?”

Our waitress was here, the same one as last time, with even the same strawberry blonde pigtails. And this time, we all chorused, “Yes!”

Once she had taken our orders, Clark raised his glass.

“To our upcoming vacation,” he said.

Everyone, including me, gaped at him blankly. But Clark’s smile was unwavering.

Turning to me and taking my hand, he announced to the table: “This should come as no surprise, but this past year has been the best one of my life. And I owe it all to this incredible woman here. From day one she has been steadfastly supportive and patient, honest and caring. This woman whose hand I’m holding has done nothing less than single-handedly save my life. So, today I wanted to announce to everyone, the little I’m going to give back to her.”

Clark turned to me, beaming.

“Babe, we’re going back to Cancun.”

There was a stunned silence, and then the whole table broke into excited whispers and murmurs of approval. Clark held up his hand.

“I should probably mention that we leave tomorrow.”

At this, both of our families whooped, raising their own glasses with smiling faces.

I turned to Clark with a searching look.

“Babe, what about the cats, work?”

He tapped me on the tip of my nose, grinning.

“It’s been taken care of.”

And just like that, it was official. We were going back to Cancun and I was, without a doubt, the luckiest girl in the world.

The food was as delicious as you’d expect; everyone tried bits of everyone else’s dishes, although the general consensus was that my ravioli was the best. Conversation flowed as easily as the wine; it was hard not to enjoy yourself and eat a little bit too much when Clark was footing the bill. By the time dessert had arrived however, Clark’s leg had started brushing mine in that way he did when he wanted something very particular.

“Well,” I said, rising, “We should get back home and pack.”

Everyone protested, but in the end, waved to us with big smiles. Clark drove us home and, once there, in our bedroom, I stopped in the door.

Eyes on him, I took off my blouse and let it drop to the floor. I slipped off my skirt and let it drop around my ankles. Next was my bra and then, finally, my panties. Now, standing in the doorway stark naked, I raised an eyebrow.

“We should pack.”

With his eyes all over me, Clark strode up to me and took me in his arms.

“We really should.”

The next thing I knew, his lips were over mine, his hands fondling my breasts. One breast, then the other, then both; soon he had me pressed to the wall. Slipping my nipple in his mouth, he slipped his hand between my legs. He stopped his sucking to say, pleasure lighting up his eyes: “So wet.”

Then his mouth was sucking my other nipple, his fingers pumping me, slowly, lazily, unhurried. As I moaned, he turned me around and continued pumping my pussy with his finger from behind.

“What do you say?” he murmured into my neck, “We try something a bit friskier?”

I pushed my ass out in response and, as he slid his fingers in and out of my pussy, his other hand started kneading my ass. Long, leisurely massages that had my whole body trembling. Meanwhile, he had upped the pace of his fingering and had started running his other finger up and down my crack.

I froze. Was he about to try what I thought he was about to try?

Clark rubbing his finger against my asshole was my answer.

“It’s okay,” he said, patting my head, “We’ll go slow.”

More pumping in my pussy, deeper pressure of his finger into my ass. It felt weird, wrong and yet…the deeper in he went, the better it felt.

Clark’s finger was vibrating inside my pussy now, and his other finger was in deep too, and it felt weird and wrong—but I liked it. Suddenly, Clark paused.

“Want me to stop?”

In response, I shoved my ass out further, warm and fuzzy with pleasure. Behind me, I heard a squirting sound and I turned to see Clark lubing up his dick. He caressed my wide-eyed face, whispering in my ear, “Slow and easy, that’s how we’ll go. Nice and slow for the tight little ass.”

And now, his fingers were inside me again, in my pussy and in my ass, pumping faster and faster now. My moans were something of an unending howl at this point, they didn’t even sound like mine at all. It was the weirdest sensation, this painful pleasure. And yet, I was twisting around on the carpet with the glory of it. When Clark paused to slip out his fingers, I knew it was time.

My body tensed, and for a moment I wasn’t sure what I wanted. And yet, when Clark said, “I don’t know, maybe we should just leave it,” my body reacted on its own. My ass shoved higher, and a desperate, “Please, Clark” gurgled out of my lips.

Pressing his dick against my hole, he paused and said, “You sure?”

I shoved my ass out further.

“Okay, if you say so…” Clark said, pressing his dick inside me.

Jesus fuck it was tight and it hurt and yet, if it didn’t feel really fucking good too.

Together we thrust, forward and back, in deeper and deeper. And it was crazy, it was dirty. It didn’t make sense—but the deeper in he went, the more painful it was—and pleasurable. And by the time he was in all the way, it was my ass that was rocking back and forth on his rock-hard dick, needing it deeper, harder, howling for deliverance.

Clark’s whole body was draped over me, pressing me into the floor. His dick was merciless, in and out, and over again, my whole body was throbbing with pain and pleasure, some blissful fusion of the two. Together we rocked, harder and faster, and better, until, with one final thrust to end all thrusts, Clark came. His pulsing rod shook an orgasm into me too, so it was both of us cumming, him on top of me, his cum spraying into me, while I soaked onto the carpet below.

We lay there for a while, and when Clark finally slid out of me, he told me to wait. I did as I was told, even as I heard water running in the bathroom. When Clark came back, he picked me up and carried me into the bathroom. There, he deposited me into a tub that was filled with rose petals. He climbed in after me and wrapped his arms around me. There we were joined once again, there was no need for conversation now that our bodies had said so much.

Now was the time to feel: the hot oblivion of the tub water, the cool breeze from the open window. Now was the time to smell the flush of the rose petals floating all around us. Now was the time to be thankful for it all, to thank God for Clark Denton, for all the hard years I had endured so that now I really appreciated what I had.

“I love you, Kristin Blair,” Clark said suddenly, and the whole room echoed with it, our little tune, our big love.

* * *

CLARK

The next morning, I served her breakfast in bed.

“I made your favorite: raisin toast and scrambled eggs,” I whispered and she kissed me.

We ate it together, the eggs and margarine-saturated bread, she feeding me when I wasn’t feeding her. By the time we were supposed to be leaving, Kristin was still naked and I had nothing but my boxers on. A quick call to the airport fixed that, however; I had bought my own jet a few months ago.

“We have another hour,” I announced to Kristin as soon as I hung up the phone.

“First, let’s check on the cats,” she said.

We went to our office, the felines’ current favorite hangout. As if it wasn’t enough that Kristin and I worked there (with breaks for sex and cuddling), lately the cats had taken to flopping together there, too.

This morning, sure enough, Kristin’s instincts had proven correct: all three cats were now curled in a warm pile of fur and fat. We surveyed them with incredulous grins.

We had introduced the cats to each other gradually, sure there would be conflict. But Romeo and Juliet had welcomed Nala as easily as if they had always known her, and Nala had quickly taken to eating like mad and curling up with the couple. Now, months later, she was just as fat and just as likely to be curled up with them.

“Okay,” I said after a few minutes of our amusing fat-cat cuddle show, “Should we get dressed now?”

But Kristin shook her head.

“There’s one more thing I want to do.”

“Oh?” I asked, but she only took my hand. Leading me up the stairs, she took me to the empty room with the window.

“It’s a while since we’ve been here,” she said softly.

She opened the window, climbed up and sat down in our old position, her legs hanging down over oblivion. I climbed up beside her, put my arm around her. I was reminded of why she liked it up here.

“It’s not just the beauty of the view, or being out in the fresh air, is it?” I asked. “It’s because sitting here like this reminds you of it, doesn’t it?”

Kristin nodded.

“It reminds me of sitting here just over a year ago and feeling the view reduce me to an insignificant speck, reminding me of just how lonely I was. Now, though, it makes me feel even more lucky to be sitting here and feel so differently, to have such a different life—such a full, vibrant and exciting life.”

I turned to her, because her words were as good as mine—better, because it was like our brains were hooked up on the same weirdly high wonderful line. And I kissed her because it was the only thing left to do to her, my Kristin Blair, my soulmate, and the love of my life.

And, as I drew back, I surveyed the landscape, clasped my love’s hand and thought: today was the day.

Yes, today was the day that nothing could get better.