Rating: Mature
“God, I hate undercover.” Malcolm started peeling out of his business jacket. “I swear if one more woman pinched me, I was going to slug someone, most likely the good-for-nothing bouncer.”
Sally stepped out of the kitchen to watch her man get comfortable. His sculptured chest was from weights and gym workouts, but for honest reasons instead of just to look good. He had to be ready to run a mile or swing a ram after pushing a few hours of paperwork at the station. The upside of his using a gym to make his muscles instead of hard labor was his hands stayed soft and subtle to stroke her just right. Her lower regions loosened, remembering how he had stroked her last night.
“Your own fault for speaking the language,” Sally pointed out. “You blend better than anyone else on the force.”
Malcolm unbuckled the S&M harness he was wearing under his street clothes and put it beside his unloaded piece in the small safe in the front closet. He rubbed his regulation weapon a moment, partly in longing, partly for luck. The present assignment didn’t provide a place to hide the gun. He had to depend on his backup across the street hoping they were listening in on the wire sewn inside the harness if some shit went down.
Crossing the room to kiss his wife, Malcolm admitted. “Cost of a misspent youth.” He tucked a curl behind her ear while they held each other in a light embrace. “But eventually I will be old and fat and they won’t send me on these trips.”
“Somehow I am not seeing the fat, my love. Instead I see distinguished, which means you will still pull undercover until you retire.” She teased before stepping back into the kitchen area.
“Don’t say that.” He rolled his eyes before following her. The table was already set. Sally pulled the last simmering pot from the stove. “Though I admit this gig is better than most. I get to come home every night to your cooking.”
Sally smiled, ducking her head to hide the blush. The look in his eye said he was glad to come home for more than just the food.
“So how was your day at the daycare center?” Malcolm asked changing the topic away from his work before they hit stuff he wasn’t supposed to talk about. Occasionally they did anyway. She was a better sounding board than the police psychiatrist, and sometimes brought things to the table his fellow officers could not see.
After the dinner table was cleared and the dishwasher started, Sally and Malcolm went to the living room bumping hips. The honeymoon was far from over despite the wedding being two year in the rearview mirror. Metal on Malcolm’s hip jingled as they walked.
“Mal, you forgot to put away the handcuffs.”
Pulling his wife past the television towards the bedroom, Malcolm growled, “I didn’t forget.”
(words 490 – originally appearing at Breathless Press 5/30/2013 for the 12/18/11 Sunday Fun – See the picture that inspired the story! – As I do not know the copyright permissions, I have not copied it here; republished in new blog format 12/9/2018)