Noel
Have you ever been in the middle of having sex with someone and found you can’t stop your mind from wandering?
Did I remember to pay the electric bill?
Are we almost out of milk?
Did I call my mother back when she left me a voice mail?
Is Sam not making any noise because I’ve crushed him with my giant belly?
Not that I’m doing any of those things right now, seated on top of my husband in our bed while he thrusts his hips up. My husband is gorgeous, and he’s the best sex I’ve ever had, but I’m too big and irritable and scatterbrained to even pretend I’m enjoying it.
“All right, spit it out,” Sam says softly when he stops moving, sliding his hands up my bare thighs and resting them on my hips.
“That’s not what you said last night,” I joke, trying to lighten the mood instead of bringing it down with my insecurities and crazy brain.
“Ha ha,” he deadpans. “Come on, I know something is bothering you. Do we need to have another intervention, where I tell you all the ways your pregnant body is beautiful and how I still think you’re sexy?”
He helps me lift myself up and off of him, and I lay down on my back next to him, staring up at the ceiling. Sam turns on his side, propping himself on one elbow and supporting his head in one hand while the other rests on my stomach. He stares down at me.
“No, I don’t need another pregnancy intervention. I’m sorry, my head is just all over the place right now.”
“The baby cannot see my penis coming toward its face, we already Googled that shit and found out it isn’t true,” Sam reminds me.
“It’s not that either. But did you know the baby can feel my orgasm? It’s like a sense of euphoria for them. That’s weird. Our baby is having orgasms in the womb. Our baby is having orgasms before it can walk or talk. Isn’t that weird? Doesn’t that creep you out?”
This is not at all the thought that was running through my head, but I don’t want my husband to know I feel gross and ugly, because he’ll just think I’m being silly.
“It didn’t five seconds ago, but thanks for giving me that image right before I go to sleep,” Sam complains.
“I’m sorry,” I apologize again, turning on my side and resting my hand on his chest. “I think I’m just feeling a little off because it’s almost Halloween and we don’t have one decoration up. I know, I know, it was all my idea last year, but this is my favorite holiday. And we don’t have one pumpkin or any corn stalks on the front porch. And it still kind of sucks that we don’t get any trick-or-treaters living way out here in the boonies.”
“Honey, we can do whatever you want. If you want to make Halloween throw up all over this house, we’ll do it. And we always go to your parents’ house for trick-or-treaters anyway, so it doesn’t even matter that we don’t get any kids here,” Sam reminds me.
He’s right, and I don’t know why I’m being all emo about this all of a sudden. My parents’ street, aside from having a Halloween decorating contest, goes all out on Halloween night. Everyone sets up tables and chairs and fire pits in their driveways, and the neighbors spend the night going from house to house, voting on which house has the best decorations, sharing food and drinks everyone has set out, and having a fun time hanging out in between passing out candy to all the kids.
It’s probably because of that stupid house across the street from my parents. Knowing someone else is living there and will get to enjoy the fun that is Halloween night right in their own front yard is depressing. But Sam’s right. We go there every year, and this year will be no different, even though it will be the day after Alex and Scheva’s wedding, and a week before I’m due to give birth.
I stare at Sam’s face and for the first time see just how exhausted he looks. He’s been working a ton of overtime lately, leaving the house before the sun comes up and coming home long after it’s gone down most nights. I feel bad that I’m making him feel bad about where we live. This is a great house to raise a baby, and I’m just going to have to deal with the fact that we’re thirty minutes away from my family and I’ll always have to go there if I want to enjoy the fun of trick-or-treat night.
“First thing tomorrow, I’ll go out and get us a bunch of pumpkins to carve and corn stalks to put on the front porch. And before I leave, I’ll bring all of your boxes full of Halloween decorations down from the attic so you can go crazy around this place. Sound good?” Sam asks.
Giving him a smile, I push myself up, and with a few grunts and sighs and a lot of effort, I climb back onto his lap and rock my hips against him until I feel him start to grow hard again between my thighs.
“Have I told you lately how much I love you?” I ask, lifting my body a few inches so Sam can reach between us and line himself up.
I sink down on him and we both groan.
“Yes, but I don’t mind you telling me again,” Sam mutters, his eyes fluttering closed as I swivel my hips and he jerks his up to meet me. “Oh, shit. Do that again.”
I do as he asks, wishing my huge belly weren’t in the way so I could look down and see him moving inside me.
Right when my mind finally clears of all the nonsense and I can feel my release start to creep up on me, the baby kicks, and my body jerks to a halt.
“What’s wrong? What happened? Are you okay?” Sam asks, his eyes flying open as he looks up at me with worry.
“The baby kicked,” I whisper.
“Um, okay?”
“The baby knows I was almost ready to have an orgasm,” I whisper again.
“The baby does not know you were almost ready to have an orgasm,” Sam says with a sigh.
“The baby knows. I can’t be responsible for my baby learning about orgasms when it can’t even speak to tell me to stop talking about orgasms,” I complain.
“It’s like you want me to throw up in my mouth right now,” Sam mutters.
“I’m sorry. I’ll make it up to you. When this baby is out of me and is nowhere near my orgasms, everything will be fine.”
“You can make it up to me right now. Let me do that thing,” he demands.
Sam gently lifts me off his body again, moving out from under me and sitting up in bed next to me as I grunt and huff and position myself until my back is leaning up against the headboard.
“No. Absolutely not. I told you to never ask me if you could do that again. That was NOT fun for me, nor was it a pleasurable experience,” I remind him, crossing my arms in front of me and resting them on my huge belly.
“I’ll go slower this time. I promise you’ll like it.”
“You said that last time, and it ended in me crying and having to take five showers,” I argue.
His mouth turns into a pout, and he bats his eyelashes at me.
“Please, Noel? Pretty please? I promise I’ll never ask you to do this again. I know it’s more fun for me than it is for you, but I’ll be quick. It will be over before you know it,” he begs.
Considering I just ruined his evening, I have no choice but to give in.
Sam lets out a whoop of excitement and scrambles off the bed to grab all of the necessary supplies.
True to his word, he’s quick and it’s over before I know it. There are no screams of protest or crying from me this time, just a look of complete annoyance that I don’t even bother hiding from my husband.
“Okay, all finished. Shit, baby. You’re so cute. I don’t know why you won’t let me take a picture. Your mother would love this.”
Lifting my head from the pillows where I scooted down to let him do his thing, I stare at my huge belly, now completely covered in orange paint, with a jack-o’-lantern face drawn on with black paint.
“Stop giving me that look. You’re adorable. This is what happens when you’re going to have a baby right after Halloween, so deal with it. This is all I have to live for right now. Don’t ruin it,” Sam scolds, unable to keep the stern look on his face, his dimples popping out as he stares at the masterpiece he just painted on my stomach.
I know I should probably think this is cute, but it just makes me feel even more unattractive, knowing my stomach resembles a giant, plump pumpkin.
“Fuck it. I’m taking a picture,” Sam mutters, reaching over to grab his cell phone from his nightstand.
“I will shove that thing up your ass if you take a picture of my stomach right now,” I threaten.
“Too late,” Sam says with a smile, pressing a couple of buttons on his phone until I hear a whoosh sound, letting me know he just sent the damn thing to God knows how many people.
Instead of throwing a fit, I get up out of bed and head to the shower, quietly plotting his death as I turn on the water and let it warm up.
“Ch-ch-ch-ch-ch-ch, ah-ah-ah-ah-ah-ah,” I start chanting.
“I HEARD THAT!” Sam shouts from the other side of the door. “STOP DOING THAT. IT’S FREAKING ME THE FUCK OUT!”
With a laugh, I get into the shower and start scrubbing the damn pumpkin off my stomach, looking forward to getting into the Halloween spirit tomorrow and forgetting all about my stupid superstition. Alex and Scheva are going to have a fun, awesome wedding, we’re going to hang out at my parents’ house for trick-or-treat and have an amazing time, and Sam and I will celebrate another holiday without any mishaps. I can feel it.