Real estate can be one of the best careers around. You get to see the interiors of all the fancy houses in town, you meet fascinating people, you set your own work schedule, and you help families fulfill their dreams of home ownership. On the flipside, at certain times of the year, it can—and will—suck up every moment of time you’ll give it.

Last night, after a weekend of open houses and showings, I arrived home just after 8:30. My husband, bless his heart, greeted me with a glass of wine and a foot massage. Just what I needed.

“How was your day?” he asked, rubbing the burning sole of my foot.

I leaned back in the overstuffed chair, sighing in frustration. “The Bates’ looked at five more houses and still can’t make up their minds. The Warner’s rejected the counter-offer I presented, and the Ziegfried’s decided to stay where they are. For now at least.” Lifting the goblet to my lips, I swallowed more of the soothing liquid.

He gave me one of those knowing looks. It had been a shitty day, and it appeared he was dedicated to turning that around. That was always the way we worked. When one of us had a shitty day, the other would spoil us rotten with massages, wine, a tasty meal, and a re-energizing night of sex. Of course we always had sex no matter what kind of day we’d had, but the bad nights were particularly intense. Somehow, we each felt compelled to make the experience that much more rewarding on the off days.

“Oh, and did I tell you I got skunked at my open house?’ He quirked an eyebrow. “Not a single soul showed up,” I groaned, taking another sip of wine.

“You eat yet?” he asked, switching to the other foot. I shook my head as my stomach growled in confirmation. 

My beloved teddy bear of a husband returned with a heaping plate of fried chicken, mashed potatoes, corn, and a crescent roll. He fell into his favorite recliner, and focused all of his attention on me.

As I nibbled on the chicken, I asked him to give me the rundown on his workday. It wasn’t bad, but it was a long way from being great. I never envisioned myself married to an investment broker. I just assumed they were all stuffy and boring. Not my guy! We had more fun bantering back and forth over instant messaging and making faces over the web cam than any two adults ought to. Of course with our ever-conflicting work schedules, that was the best we could do to communicate sometimes. The rare instances we actually crossed paths at the same time were reserved for making wild, passionate love. It was just who we had become in our full lives together.

We cleared the dishes and headed upstairs to bed as we had done thousands of times before. He slipped out of his clothes and took his place on top of the bed wearing only his briefs, while I brushed my teeth and changed into an emerald satin nightshirt. I smiled contently as I nestled into the crook of his arm. His arms felt so warm and strong around me, and absently, his fingers teased an already puckering nipple.

As he was about to move in for a kiss, the phone rang. One of his clients. Clearly, someone was a bit panicky about his portfolio, in light of something he heard on the evening news given the time of the call. He continued to tweak my nipples through the satin as he discussed stocks, bonds, and other securities.

I grew wet with desire despite my throbbing head and aching feet. As much as I wanted to pluck the phone away from him and have my way with him, I couldn’t bring myself to do it. Not when he had been so understanding about the demands of my career. I yawned, snuggling closer to him, imagining how I’d pull him in my mouth, swirling my tongue and licking his balls until his body trembled. Dreaming of how he’d tickle my fancy until I grew lightheaded from the multiple orgasms. I smiled as I draped my leg over his and wrapped an arm around his waist. Images of what would come next flooded my mind…

The next thing I felt was his soft kiss on my cheek. “Gotta run, honey. Love you!” What could be so urgent that he needed to leave in the middle of the night? My eyes popped open. The room was drenched in sunlight. It wasn’t the middle of the night, it was morning already!

Feeling guilty that I had fallen asleep on my poor husband before our evening ritual, I decided to indulge in a nice hot bubble bath. That would soothe my nerves. I’d make it up to him when he got home, I vowed, crawling into the sudsy tub.

The faint scent of strawberries filled the air as I leaned back and contemplated his touch. The mere thought of it hardened my nipples. Visions of what we had started last night engulfed my head, and I could feel that familiar longing between my legs. God, suddenly 6 o’clock seemed so far away!

My hand drifted down to my sex, a soapy finger reaching for its destination. I rubbed, I pressed, I flickered over my clitoris quickly. With each movement, my desperation for release grew, as I cried out in frustration over the elusive orgasm.

Then it hit me. I knew what I had to do. I hopped out of the tub and patted myself dry with a thick towel. Still naked, I headed for our computer. Before switching on the web cam, I froze. What if someone was with him in his cubicle? Not wanting to make a total ass out of myself or embarrass my husband, I grabbed a blanket from the chair nearby and tossed it around my shoulders.

Satisfied that I was at least semi-presentable, I started the web cam and launched the instant messaging program. “I miss you.” I typed into the text box.

He responded, saying he missed me, too.

“Are you alone?” I typed. I smiled as he looked over each shoulder. When he finally confirmed that he was alone, I threw the blanket off, wearing absolutely nothing.

The look on his face was priceless! I wasn’t sure if it was surprise, shock, or terror. In any case, I liked what I saw. Deciding to torment him a bit more, I slid a finger into my mouth, sucking it suggestively. I giggled as he looked over his shoulders once more.

Suddenly, he picked up his phone. The thought of teasing him while he was speaking to his boss or some important client was too good to resist. I continued sucking my finger and then moving it off camera between my legs. Just seeing him on the web cam was enough to make my touch more satisfying.

But the call went on…and on…and on… While my finger was producing at least some response, I needed more. I reached for my favorite toy, and made quick work of stimulating myself. I was practically gasping for air when he IM’ed, “Amusing yourself :)?”

Reaching for the keyboard with my left hand, I razzed him. I was rewarded with a laugh from the other end. The intensity of my impending orgasm caused me to shudder and toss my head involuntarily.

Seeing his reaction, I smiled evilly and typed when I had calmed down, “Cumming home for lunch?”