My new favorite holiday.

So it was actually yesterday, but it kind of needs to rewind to the start of the week, as to why this now my favorite holiday.

It all started with a text from my husband, asking me if I knew what day this weekend was. I was like "yeah, it's the day we do this, do that, and that, and blah blah blah." And then he comes in with the "Yes... but it's also Steak and 'ahem-ahem' day too."

I had to read that a couple of times, and if I could do them, I'd be somersaulting up and down the office. Like I said before, in our entire relationship, he has rarely, if EVER, asked for head. He likes it as a part of foreplay, but if we could skip it, he would, and it is only because I want it, does any blowjobs happen. So any excuse he will give for me to blow him, I will take.

But I had to play it cool right? Didn't want to scare him off, so I sent back to him a thumbs up, and a "No worries babe. I gotchu boo". And I took care of things that week.

Got a few high end dry-aged pricey cuts, vac-packed them in my secret marinate blend, and let them chill out in the fridge for a couple of days. Before S&B day I put them on the counter to come up to temp overnight, and day of, put them in the sous vide thing for a few hours, while I got on with the veggies, and compound butter recipe that I found online. Since the day he sent that text, I made sure my husband had a bottle of water on one hip and a bottle of pineapple juice on the other every day, and he had to finish them both by the end of the day, or I would be very cross with him. And to his credit, he did.

Day of, I waited on that man, hand and foot. Got him in his sweats and slippers, recliner set all the way back, the "Kids need distracting" playlist on the TV already going, (I don't want to hear it. It's just for one day, and I am a woman on a mission. They'll be fine!) his one coffee that he's allowed to have, hot in his thermos with his "special" milk already mixed in, all his immediate chores either taken care of or pushed to today. He was to do nothing yesterday, except relax and be well hydrated for me.

Kinda wish he wasn't being a dick about it.

Every single chance he could, he'd whisper or growl or smirk or whatever at me something like, "Your lips are particularly soft today" when I kissed his cheek or "Hey, cool it a bit. We don't want to strain your throat today do we?" when the kids were getting a little annoying. He knew exactly how much it irritated me that he knew that I knew that he knew exactly what he was doing, and how much it amused him. God, he can be such a little shit sometimes.

Come dinner time though, he changed his tune. He put his utensils down and declared in front of the whole family, "I hope you wrote down the recipe, because this is the best steak I've ever had. I don't want to eat any other steak, prepared any other way, other than this." The kids nodded along enthusiastically too. That is a bold statement that has yet to be put to the test, but I'm not going to lie and say that I wasn't insanely proud of myself hearing him say that. (I did write it down, and you'll have to pry it from my cold, dead, chubby fingers to get it from me)

When I was doing the washing up though, was when I realized that my husband is a sick, twisted, and evil man. Coming up from behind me, he took hold of my chin and ran his thumb over my bottom lip and snarled, low and almost ferally, into my ear, that once the kids had been tucked in and deep asleep, he'd like his 'dessert' in his office, and that 'it' should just be in 'it's' robe, before leaving me, trying not to flood my panties, with a smack on my butt.

And do you know what was waiting for 'it', when 'it' opened his office door?

This son of a bitch had moved his chair and side table to the middle of the room, facing the door. He was sitting in it, butt ass naked, with a pillow on the floor in front of him, his bourbon in one hand, looking at me with an eyebrow raised like, "what took you so long, woman?", and I don't know if I would be more or less mad that he didn't even have a half-chub waiting for me.

In the time it took me to go from locking the door behind me to standing in front of his stupid smug face, I realized that this motherfucker didn't just want a blow job. He wanted the whole goddamn fellatio career.