Free Maid for You (Regular Sex Issue 5) by Kitty French

 
    Regular Sex ~ Issue 5 ~ Maid for you.
     
    It's Don's fortieth
birthday in three days, and I've decided to give him a birthday present he
won't forget in a hurry. I'll share this with you upfront - we've been married
for over ten years and our sex life has become dull. It happens to most couples
I'm sure, but lately the only big O's in my life have been at the beginning of OMG
he's finished and I haven't even started yet, and even those O's have become
rare. Don't get me wrong; I'm not blaming it all on Don. I'm just as guilty of
letting things slide. He's too tired after a long day at work or going to the
gym. I'm too busy thinking about the kids birthday parties or racing to read
the end of my book for book club tomorrow because I've not got around to it all
week. Oh, I always intend to, but it's one of those misery-lit things and I generally
prefer to read something racier. Much racier, if I'm honest. That Fifty Shades
has a lot to answer for!
    Actually, that's
sort of what's got me thinking about doing something more adventurous for Don's
birthday. There's only so many new shirts a man can need, and his bedside
table's stuffed full of aftershave. No. This birthday, my husband is going to
get his mind blown. And maybe something else too, depending on how he reacts.
    It's all
arranged. The kids are going to stay at his mother’s. She's always moaning that
she doesn't see enough of them, and this way she'll get to see Don on his
birthday when he drops them there after lunch. That gives us Saturday afternoon
and evening, and I intend to make every minute count.
    I won't lie; I'm
nervous about how it's going to go. Even when our sex life was on track it
always veered towards the safe end of the spectrum - maybe that's why it's
dried up? Variety is the spice of life, and all that. I'm an in for penny, in
for a pound kind of person when I decide to do something, so I'm not thinking
of just buying some new underwear. That would be much too subtle, in fact
there's a high chance he wouldn't even notice. I want to really surprise him;
shock him, even. I tried going into the sex store in town a few days back, and
oh my god, I didn't even know what half the stuff in there was. This wisp of a
boy wearing eyeliner and a string vest caught me handling the vibrators and
asked me if I needed any assistance. I mean! I don't know if he thought I
looked incapable of turning it on or was offering to bodge me with it behind
the counter, but either way I was out of there as if there was grease on the
soles of my shoes. I've shopped online in the end; at least that way I got to
read what everything was and pick out things I think we'll like and that won't
land us up in the local A&E. That would be embarrassing. Don's a doctor
there, he can hardly rock up because I've accidently flogged his cock. Note to
self: never flog a man on his cock. #moodkiller. Are we in the minority because
we've never experimented with sex toys? I think we probably are. I hear enough
from the girls at work to know that the fact I don't own a rabbit puts me out
of step with them. It's not that we're prudish or anything, it's more that we
don't find it so easy to say what we want in the bedroom, and that makes it
difficult to broach the idea of introducing new things to spice things up.
    Ooh! Hang on. A
delivery van's just pulled up outside. It must be the delivery. Jeez, I
hope they've wrapped it in plain paper or something, our usual delivery driver
is my dad's cousin twice removed. I'll never live it down at family parties, if
the parcel is stamped with a sex shop logo. 'COCKtail sausage, Cheryl? There's
strawberry gateau if you and Don are feeling FRUITY, our Cheryl. WHIPPED cream,
Cheryl?' Nudge nudge, wink wink, aren't we all bloody hilarious. I glance at my
mac on the coat hook as I go to answer the door and start to laugh nervously
under my breath. Christ, pull it together, Cheryl. If just accepting a delivery
of sex toys makes me feel I need to go incognito,