You are what you read

Ok, you aren't really what you read, but it's fun to live through the book, to be in that place, that time, that moment. I love reading, absolutely love it. Thanks to my mother, who always has a smut book in her hands. I have been reading romance since I could remember, the first book I read was Flowers in the Attic. Loved it.
I like historical romance, but I don't think I could've lived it. I love mystery-suspense romance, but I would go to the police way before the end of the first chapter, and then there is erotica.
I have never in my life read one of these, I got a bunch at the Romance Writers Conference, and decided to give it a try. I read a chapter, actually five chapters in one day. That was a hell of a weekend. Since I promised my hubby that I will not discuss our personal life in my blog, I will say that we had executive meetings to attend through out the weekend, a retreat if you will. I was the CEO and he was under me, whatever is under the CEO, when he is CEO I am under the desk, talking to the microphone.
That book was mind boggling, as were our meetings. I didn't get to read it everyday, it took me a week total, but whenever I picked up that hot pink novel he knew that a meeting was in the making.
On the day I finished my book, I sauntered outside and grabbed a cold beer, my cigarettes and dove nose first into the book, exactly where I left off, a book had never made me sweat, breath deeply or whisper prayers to Jesus, this one did that and more. I didn't know you could use those words in books, much less the context, dear God the positions, the rough male enforcement. I spoke to God again just thinking about it. And my husband is always the hero in my mind, him or Johnny Depp. Lord help me.
I finished the book, sighed heavily and turned to enter the house, there was a meeting to adjourn. I opened the door to silence, darkness and a stillness that fell upon me like an ice cold shower. I had only been outside for half an hour. Did I miss something?
I looked at the clock and it wasn't even eleven, surely my assistant was awaiting at the head of the boardroom. He never goes to bed before midnight, and always falls asleep on the sofa.
I walked into the kitchen, the microwave lights were on, the tv cable box lit with the time. We had electricity, and even if we didn't we had batteries.
I went to the bathroom, brushed my teeth, freshened up, primped the girls, twisted and tweeked the knobs of the...girls, removed my bun from my hair, and was glad that they lights were off, I didn't resemble the person I just read about, I looked more like the help, I inhaled and calmed just a bit. I was ready to make some heads roll, to the conference room.
The wooden door creaked as I opened it, I stepped down slowly as I always have ever since the fall down the stairs when we first moved in, I am more careful now. I placed the hand on the wall guiding me to my side of the bed, I heard the covers move around and couldn't do anything to contain the smile now, and thinking of the smile to come, literally.
I placed a hand on the edge of the bed and continued to feel it towards the movement that I heard, my hand met a hairy limb followed by ravenous licking in quick excited thrusts.
"Dammit Juno, move out of the way!"
I pushed the fifteen pound mongrel out of the way, he was only a barrier to me now, I wondered if I should toss him out the door. After moving him, I continued to move towards the middle of the bed and heard the distinct grunt of a sleeping husband, for him to be snoring it only meant that he had to have been asleep for at least half an hour.
Maybe he just needs a little nudge to get this conversation going, I went to carress his cheek, to shower him with butterfly kisses, slowly and tenderly. Suddenly a hand flipped from the darkness onto my shoulder, I had one elbow propping my body at an angle and the free arm met the face of an angel. I moved Diego towards the middle giving myself enough room to sleep, resisting the urge to grab a high heeled stiletto from the closet and popping my slumbering husband from his undoubtedly boring dream of boats he can't afford, just popping him on the head with a good old whack.
Diego has been sleeping in his bed for weeks, he has a tv in his room, a lamp by the bed, everything he needs to be comfortable and cozy in his big boy bed, how had he gotten here?
It all came together like a Monk episode, I walked outside to read the book, gave my husband a wink, he smiled, it was a fake smile, covering up a desperate attempt at escaping something fearful, as if I was a high school coach obligating him to run lap after lap after lap thinking to himself "If I run another lap, I may collapse and die." As soon as the door closed and I had my back to the window, he bribed Diego with a happy meal and the only condition was that this was a secret operative mission, no words, they sign languaged back and forth ala GI Joe to the bed, once they were in the safe zone, they called the dog to join their mutiny and they peacefully fell asleep without a good night kiss from mom. Diego was helpless, strategically placed in the middle of the bed like a wall of sand bags blocking the insurgents from infiltrating their army tents. He had sabotaged me.
I called out his name and could almost hear his eyes blinking wildly praying I didn't turn on the lamp. I didn't turn on the lamp, I turned on my phone and played Bubble It, I played until I fell asleep.
But I am finding ways, my gypsy-like ass moves around the house with a little more of a shake when he is home, a little more spring to my step and a little more cleavage to my around-the-house clothes, and every night when we go to bed, I have a headache. It starts at seven and by nine I pop my medications and some PM medication, and I have a headache everyday.
I will teach him a thing or two yet, she who laughs last laughs hardest, because although you may have laughed at her when she tripped down the stairs, it is only fair for her to laugh her ass off after pushing you.