Free Candy in the Sack by K. W. Jeter

Candy in the Sack
     
    “THIS is my least favorite time of year.” He spoke with deep, absolute conviction, as though passing judgment on the kind of criminal that other criminals were likely to beat the tar out of. “The absolute worst.”
    “Mmf?” Sherri looked over at him from where she stood at the bathroom sink, toothbrush in mouth. A white dab of foam showed when she pulled the brush out and pointed it toward him. “That’s because of the light thing. You know, there’s less light now than during summer. It bothers some people.” She leaned toward the mirror, grimacing for a moment to examine her incisors, then rubbed them with the tip of one finger. “Seasonal affective disorder, I think it’s called. I told you to get some of those full-spectrum light bulbs.”
    “I don’t think that’s it,” said Bryan. He stood leaning against the side of the bedroom doorway, watching his wife get ready. Ordinarily, that was a process that he enjoyed watching, even if what she was getting ready for was a three-day, out-of-town business trip. Putting on her clothes including her panties and bra was the last thing she did, which made all the steps leading to it that much more interesting. “It used to be my favorite time of year. If I’m this
    light-sensitive thing you’re talking about, why didn’t it bother me when I was a kid?”
    “You grew into it.” Standing on tiptoe, she opened the medicine cabinet behind the mirror, and reached up to sort through the little bottles on the top shelf. The stretch brought her rounded breasts up higher, which commanded more of his attention than what she was saying. “Maybe it happened with puberty. You didn’t complain about the rest of what came along with that, did you?”
    “No.” Bryan smiled and shook his head. “I just started hunting around for somebody like you.”
    “That’s because you were an evil little boy.” Sherri came out of the bathroom with a couple miniature bottles of shampoo and hair conditioner held in one hand and give him a quick kiss. “Lucky for me that’s the kind I like.”
    He tried making a grab for her, but she eluded him with a quick swerve of her bare hip and padded out to the living room.
    The blinds were open, letting in thin slices of the morning sunshine, but neither of them were concerned about privacy; the house was the last on the cul-de-sac, with the front turned away from the others and no-one across from them. Bryan watched his wife, charming in her nakedness, kneeling on the Indian-print rug and rooting through her open suitcase.
    “Did I already pack my hair dryer? The traveling one, I mean.”
    “Why do you bother taking it at all?” Bryan shrugged. “There’s always one in the hotel room.”
    “It’s a chick thing,” said Sherri. “That’s like asking why do you take your penis with you everywhere you go? Hair dryers are important to us, that’s all.”
    “I’ve never seen a hotel bathroom with a penis mounted on the wall.”
    “Well, that would be a full-service establishment, wouldn’t it?” Sherri didn’t look up at him; her blonde hair tumbled across her shoulders as she continued rummaging amidst folded clothing. “Great for the traveling businesswoman on a tight schedule. I wouldn’t even have to call room service and have them bring one up. Mounted on a bell-boy, of course.” She straightened up, dryer in hand. “Here it is.”
    “Like I’m worried about the bell-boy getting a piece.” Bryan went into the kitchen, poured a cup of coffee and returned to the living room with it. Sherri was just snapping the locks shut on the suitcase. “It’s still my least favorite time of year. And I used to love it.”
    “What was ever so great about it?” She slid past him where he was standing in the doorway, giving him a tantalizing whiff of the floral-scented shampoo she used just a little while ago, and the powder she had sprinkled on after she had toweled herself dry. “It’s like it rains or