Fatal Identity: After the Epilogue

By: Marie Force

Sam

I can’t believe I let Angela talk me into this. After listening to her “wax poetic”—haha—about the marital benefits of the Brazilian, I find myself stretched out on a table in my bedroom, naked from the waist down, covered by a scrap of towel, about to be brutalized by a woman named Joanna, who Angela assures me is “the best.”

Joanna is petite, with enviable biceps that were visible under the formfitting tank she was wearing under her parka when she arrived, putting me immediately at ease with her friendly disposition. To her credit, she took only a quick look at our home, didn’t ask to meet the vice president and got right down to business by asking me where I wanted to set up.

I’d chosen the bedroom because it’s one of the few places in our home completely off limits to the Secret Service. I chose this particular evening because Nick is out at a fundraising dinner with our son, Scotty, who wanted to go with him, and because it’s three days before Nick and I leave for Bora Bora to celebrate our first anniversary. I wanted some time to recover from this sure to be hellish experience before I’m expected to perform.

Staring up at the ceiling, I laugh to myself over the word “perform,” because once my devoted husband gets a look at this, I have no doubt I’ll be performing—over and over and over again.

Okay, don’t think about that or she’ll notice you’ve been thinking dirty thoughts while she makes you wait for her. And where the hell is she anyway? I’m on the verge of getting up to find her when she knocks on the door.

“All set?”

“Yep.” I grit my teeth and hope I’m not making a huge mistake here. What if it hurts so bad that I can’t “perform” during the vacation we’ve been counting down to with growing anticipation? That would truly suck.

Joanna comes breezing in and goes right over to check the vat of wax she plugged in when she first arrived. “Looking good,” she declares. “This house is amazing! I love how spacious it is.”

“It’s a double-sized town house. My husband knocked down some walls when he bought the two units.”

“What a smart idea.”

This conversation is taking place as if we’re old friends and as if my coochie is not about to be on full display for a woman I’d never met until ten minutes ago.

“All righty. Are you ready?”

“Let me ask you one thing.”

“Sure. Anything you want.”

“How long will I be out of commission after this?”

Her dark brows furrow. “Five, maybe ten minutes?”

“Seriously? That’s it?”

“Yep.”

“Huh. I thought it would be longer.”

“Nope. Anything else?”

“On a scale of one to ten, ten being the worst, how bad does it hurt? Tell me the truth.” I feel a cold sweat coming on.

“The first time? Probably around a seven.”

“That’s not a one.”

“No,” she says, laughing. “It isn’t. But I promise you’ll survive just fine. A tough gal like you? You got this.”

I bite back a whimper and the strong desire to beat the shit out of my sister for convincing me to do this in the first place. Spencer was down there for hours, Angela had said.

The thought of Nick being “down there” for hours had brought me to this momentous occasion in which a strange woman was about to smear hot wax on my pubes and rip them out. Sure. I got this. No problem. Then why do I suddenly want my mommy?

Joanna is nonplussed as she removes the tiny towel that barely covered me. This reminds me all too much of being at the gyno, or worse, the many infertility treatments that had people of all sorts crawling around in my plumbing. She places a hand on my thigh and silently compels me to spread my legs for her inspection of the forest.

Did I really just refer to it as a forest? The thought nearly makes me laugh until I hear her say, “Hmmm.”

“What?”

“So you don’t do any routine maintenance down there, huh?”

“Define routine?” Now I’m actively sweating as I begin to wonder what it looks like from her point of view. I mean, this is a woman who has her face in a lot of va-jay-jays. Is mine really so different? And dear God, will she talk about it afterward? I can just imagine that exclusive for sale to the highest bidder and plastered across every website in America. “Wait.”

She looks up at me, brown eyes inquisitive.

“You won’t talk about this with anyone will you?”

“Of course not! Oh my God! Never. That would put me out of business, and besides, it’s such an honor to have you for a client. I admire you and your husband more than just about anyone. Besides, your sister made me sign a nondisclosure agreement before she told me who the VIP client was. Although, I suspected it might be you.”

Good old Ang is nothing if not thorough. “Okay, then. Sorry I had to ask. It’s just that—”

Joanna pats my thigh. “No need to apologize. I totally get it.”

I relax ever so slightly until she spreads my legs farther apart, encouraging me to put the bottoms of my feet together so she can get at the “full landscape.” And yes, she uses those words. It’s a masterpiece, if I do say so my own self. At least Nick thinks so, and I’m doing this for him. Imagining the shocked, aroused expression on his face is all the motivation I need to go through with this.

The hot wax is smeared all over me, followed by something that feels like cloth pressed gently against it. So far, not so bad.

“Okay, are you ready?”

Before I can answer or prepare myself or hold my breath, she pulls that motherfucker off so fast that I don’t even see it coming. For a second, I think it might be okay until a savage, burning pain erupts that has me howling. “That. Was. Not. A. Seven. That. Was. A. Fucking. Twenty!”

“Nah, no biggie.”

“Stop. I can’t do this.”

“Um, well, you’re going to bald on one side and hairy on the other. That’s kind of weird.”

“Trust me,” I say, beginning to sit up as the fire below burns unabated, “he won’t care.”

“You’ve come this far. Why not see it through to the big finish?”

“Stop being so fucking perky! This is no time for that!”

I can see she’s trying her best not to laugh.

Just then a pounding sound on the door has us looking at each other.

“Mrs. Cappuano, are you all right?” one of the Secret Service agents asks.

Please. Shoot me right now. Put me out of my misery.

“I’m fine,” I say through gritted teeth.

“I’d like to see that with my own eyes.”

“That is not happening. Go away.”

“But—”

There’s a disturbance outside the door, which then, to my horror, opens to admit my sister. She slams the door in the face of the agent. “Don’t worry. I took care of him.” Angela takes a good look at the real estate between my legs and blanches. “Fuck, Sam, you don’t shave that beast or anything? And he still goes at you every goddamned day?”

I’d almost rather have the agent in here than her.

“Shut up, Angela. Joanna was just leaving.”

“Oh no way. You’re finishing this.”

“No, I’m not. It hurts like a motherfucker.”

“Of course it does! You’re having your pubes ripped out of your pussy. Did you think it would feel like ice cream and sunshine?”

“I didn’t think it would hurt that bad!”

“Joanna, finish her,” Angela says. “I’ll hold her down.”

“As if you could.”

She comes at me with steely-eyed determination that freaks me out. She slams me back onto the table. “Go to it, girlfriend.”

“Um, are you sure?” Joanna asks hesitantly.

Angela answers for both of us. “We’re sure.”

“I’m going to fucking kill you for this.”

“Whatever.”

The second time is actually worse than the first, and after the third one, I start to go a little numb, which is a blessed relief until I remember that numbness wears off, and I’m definitely going to kill Angela when that happens.

“See?” Joanna says after about ten more minutes of wax and rip. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

I think maybe I growl at her, and she laughs along with Angela, who is a dead woman after this.

“Hours, Sam,” Angela says as if she knows she’s in big trouble. “Hours and hours. Just think about that.”

“We’re almost done,” perky Joanna says. “I just need you to roll your knees to your chest for me.”

“Wha-what?”

“So she can do the back,” Angela says. Apparently she’s an expert on these things.

“The back?”

“The back. Unless you want to have a hairy a-hole.”

“She is not waxing my a-hole.”

“Yes, she is. It’s part of the Brazilian, and trust me, you’ll like the way it feels.”

“I like the way it feels now.”

“All sweaty and hairy and stinky?”

“It is not!” I can’t believe we’re having this conversation in front of a perfect stranger. I’m the fucking Second Lady, and this conversation could easily ruin my husband’s political career, not to mention my reputation as a badass cop.

“If he only stays down there for ten minutes, you’ll know why, and you don’t know what you’re missing not letting him, you know, do you there.”

“I’m going to murder you.” I say this even though letting him “do me there” is on my agenda for the trip. I can’t stand that he’s done that with other women but not me. I intend to fix that while we’re away, and that’s the only reason I’m even considering further waxing.

“No, you aren’t, because if you do, then you’ll have to work the case and do tons of paperwork, and that will mess up your vacation. Just do what she says and get it over with. Stop being such a baby and roll your ass.”

I do it more to shut her up than anything and am treated to the sublime misery of having hot wax smeared on my ass and more hair pulled from places I didn’t even know I had hair.

“Such a brave baby girl,” Angela coos when it’s over.

“Most humiliating thing I’ve ever done.”

“Then you need to get out more.”

Joanna snickers at our banter. “I do this every day, Sam, so please don’t be humiliated on my account. And if it makes you feel any better, I’ve seen much hairier bums than yours.”

“Gee, that makes it all better.”

“Last step is some lotion to take away the sting.”

The lotion feels good on my tortured skin, and when she’s finished, I sit up and reach for the scrap of towel she gave me at the beginning. “Now both of you get out of here so I can scrub this entire incident from my brain. And P.S., Angela, if you want to live, give her a good tip.”

“Already taken care of,” Angela retorts. “I knew you’d be too cranky to deal with it afterward. But you won’t be cranky in Bora Bora. No, you won’t.”

“May I please say you’re a lucky bitch to be going to Bora Bora with that man,” Joanna says, “and I guarantee he’ll enjoy the fruits of my labor.”

“He’ll enjoy the juicy fruit all right,” Angela says with a snort.

“Get. Out!”

My sister is still laughing as she follows Joanna out the door, leaving me to deal with my stinging flesh in private. If Nick doesn’t love the hell out of this, I will kill Angela, even if it creates a ton of paperwork. That’s a promise.

* * * 

Okay, he freaking loves it. He loves it so much, we’ve done nothing but fuck like bunnies since we arrived in Bora Bora. We’ve done it so much I’m actually sore for the first time since our honeymoon.

He can’t stop touching my smooth skin, running his fingers over every part of me and marveling at how soft and sweet I am.

I’ll never give Angela the satisfaction of telling her she was right, but… She was right.

“Tell me the whole story of how this came about,” he says when we’ve finally worn ourselves out hours after we arrived. “Leave nothing out. I want every detail.”

And so I tell him, beginning with the conversation I had with Angela and Tracy, who also said she was going to do it before she chickened out, and culminating with Joanna’s visit. He starts laughing at the part where the agent knocks on the door to check on me all the way through to the part where I have to roll my ass up to let her do down there.

“Let me see,” he says, his sexy hazel eyes heating with desire. How there can be any left after what we just did is beyond me, but he never runs out of desire for me or me for him. And after a year of marriage, I’m convinced that we’ll never stop feeling that way about each other.

“I’m not doing that demonstration. No way.”

“Please? Pretty please?”

“Oh my God, you can’t be serious. You do not want to see that.”

“I want it more than I’ve ever wanted anything. Ever.”

I know he’s playing and he’s lying, but he’s so damned sexy and cute that there’s nothing in this world I wouldn’t do for him, which of course he knows. The bastard. But because I love that bastard more than anything, I bring my knees to my chest and show him the full extent of my Brazilian.

He shocks the living hell out of me by licking me there.

That’s all it takes to make me forget I just came four times in two hours. I want more. “Nick.”

“What baby?” he says this while continuing to set me on fire with his tongue and his hands on my ass, holding me open.

This is crazy, even for us. “You know that thing we keep saying we’re going to do someday?”

“Hmmm. Am I in the right neighborhood?” He uses his thumb on my clit and I nearly explode before he backs off.

“Yes.”

“What about it?”

“I want to.”

“Why do you want to?” He continues to lick and stroke and feed the flames while I try to stay still and not scream my head off from what he’s doing to me.

“You know why!”

“Because I’ve done that before but not with you.”

“Yes!”

“That’s not a good reason for us to do it, babe.”

“Then how about this? I want everything with you. I don’t want there to be anything we haven’t done together.” A sound that’s a cross between a moan and a sob erupts from my chest. “Please, Nick. Don’t say no to me.”

“As if I ever could.” He withdraws from me and I want to cry from the loss of his touch, his body heat and the familiar scent of home he brings with him. I hear him rustling around in the box of sexy stuff he gave me for an anniversary gift.

“What’re you doing?” My legs are trembling in anticipation of what’s about to happen. I’m not sure I’ll like it, but I know for sure I want to try.

“Getting what we need.” He holds up a bottle of intimate lubricant.

We’re really doing this. I swallow hard. I can feel my heart racing, and I have to remind myself to breathe.

“You have to relax, babe, or it won’t feel good at all.”

“I’m trying.”

“Close your eyes and just focus on breathing. I want to make it good for you.” As he says this, I feel his fingers back there, rubbing in circles that spark a new wave of desire. I never knew that would turn me on until he did it. But we’ve never gone any further than a finger or two. This is a whole new ballgame. “That’s it. Relax. Nice and easy.”

He slides one finger into me, and I gasp from the pressure and the pleasure. I’m always surprised by how much I like when he does that and how hot it makes me. This time is no different, especially when he leans forward and draws my clit into the heat of his mouth.

My body tightens in response to the dual assault on my senses. I can’t decide where I should focus—on what he’s doing to me with his mouth or the finger that’s sliding in and out of my ass. Dear God. Before this man and this love, I never would’ve considered what we’re about to do. But with him… With him, I want it all.

He adds a second finger, and suddenly the slide is not as comfortable as it was before. In addition to the pleasure, there’s also a sharp bite of pain.

“Keep breathing, babe. Try to relax and let me in. Push back like you’re trying to get me out. That’ll help.”

I can tell by the gruff tone of his voice that he’s loving this, and that’s all I need to know to follow his directions. I want to give him this. I want to be everything he’s ever needed and then some. He’d tell me I already am. I want to give him more. I push back and find that he’s right, it does help, so I do it again and again.

“Ah, God, Sam…”

I love the desperation I hear in his voice, and I relax ever so slightly, knowing how much he loves me and how he’d never hurt me. He’d rather die than hurt me.

“That’s it, babe. Relax and let go. Just feel.”

He withdraws his fingers, and I feel the press of something much bigger and harder against my opening.

My first impulse is to fight him, but then I remember how good it felt when I pushed back to let him in. So I do that now, and he groans as the head breaches the tight ring of muscles. I’m not going to lie. It hurts like hell, but he’s promised me it’ll be good, so I focus on the pressure rather than the pain as he enters me in small increments.

“Talk to me,” he says, sounding as breathless as I feel. “Are you okay?”

I can’t think, let alone form words, so I nod and wrap my arms around him to keep him close to me while we do this. We’re doing it. We’re actually doing it, and while it still hurts—a lot—there’s also something else, a tingle of pleasure that has my clit standing up to take notice of what’s going on.

Nick seems to know that, and reaches down to coax me there, caressing the tight knot of nerves as he continues to press deeper into me. “Almost there, babe. You’ve almost got all of me.”

I groan because I can’t imagine there could be more. The pressure is insane, but so too is the pleasure now that my body has decided to let him in.

Intense. That’s the only word I can seem to find to describe the pressure and the fierce way he watches over me as he begins to move in me.

OhmyGodohmyGodohmyGod… It’s too much and not enough all at the same time. I’m so full and climbing toward something that’s all new as I move with him, meeting him stroke for stroke.

“God, Sam,” he mutters, his face buried in my hair and his lips soft against my neck.

“Faster,” I whisper, aware that he’s going easy on me.

Raising his head, he looks down at me, taking a close look to make sure I’m okay.

“I’m fine. I love it. I want… more.”

I’ll never forget the growl that seems to come from his very soul. His fingers dig into my ass as he picks up the pace, pounding into me in a desperate race to a finish I don’t see coming until it’s upon us, wilder and darker than anything has ever been, even with him.

It’s a free fall, a spiral, a descent into temporary madness, and it leaves us both reeling and gasping for breath in the aftermath.

“Holy fuck,” he says, summing things up rather perfectly. “Samantha… God, babe.”

My beautiful, sexy, articulate husband has been rendered speechless, and I’ve never been more pleased with myself than I am in this moment. I feel closer to him than I ever have before, and I never want this feeling to end.

We hold each other for a long time before he begins to withdraw from me, and I discover that’s nearly as challenging as the entry was. When he slides free of me, he gazes down at me with those eyes that see me in a way that no one else ever has. “Good?”

I smile up at him. “You really have to ask?”

“Just making sure. No regrets?”

“Not one single regret.”

“We’ll see if you still feel that way tomorrow.”

“I’ll always feel that way. It was incredible, and I wish we’d done that a long time ago.”

“Just when I think you’ve surprised me every way a man can possible be surprised, you go and top yourself twice over.”

“I like to keep you guessing.”

“You do,” he says with a laugh that lights up his handsome face.

At times like this, I still can’t believe that I get to spend the rest of my life with this magnificent man, that I get to sleep with him and laugh with him and make crazy wild love with him. Forever.

I reach up to caress that face that has become the most important thing in my life. Nick and Scotty are everything to me. “Happy anniversary.”

“Same to you, my love.” He kisses me softly. “Here’s to many more.”

“To many, many, many more.”

 

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