Love Among the Wrinkly…and Wrinkled

"Yes, Joseph, what is it?" Queen Clarisse answered, without looking up. Her hand stilled over the paper before her and she closed her eyes. "I am so sorry, dear."

Clarisse sat back in her chair and gazed apologetically at her husband of four months as he sauntered across the room, hands in his pockets of his black pants. Though retired, he still wore black. She didn't mind a bit.

"Still at work, my dear?" Joseph asked mildly.

"Yes, I'm afraid so." Outside, it was dark. She'd lost track of time yet again.

"Can it wait until tomorrow?" He came around behind her and gently massaged the muscles of her shoulders, his thumbs brushing against her neck. She felt herself relaxing. The trade agreement Mia asked her to oversee could wait.

"Sweden doesn't need those additional pears for a while yet," she said, closing the folder.

Joseph leaned close to her ear. "Come with me, my lady," he whispered, his voice low and inviting.

He took her hand as she stood, then led her from the room.

"Where are we going?" Clarisse asked as they walked unhurriedly along the palace hallways. He just smiled.

Her ladies maids greeted her as they entered their apartment, but before she could answer, Joseph bid them goodnight in a polite tone that permitted no delays. The two young women left quickly, giggling.

"Really, Joseph," Clarisse said playfully. "One would think you are…eager to get me alone."

"I am. I want you all to myself." He pulled her close and kissed her in that way that made coherent thought difficult. She used to wonder how he did that, how he so easily turned her willpower and world upside down. Now, she simply reveled in it.

She felt his lips move gently over hers, felt the roughness of his beard on her tender skin. It was a full two minutes before she realized he was undressing her at the same time. Her embroidered floraljacket cast aside and blouse undone, he broke their kiss and regarded her.

"You are so lovely," he murmured, tucking away a stray strand of hair. "He kissed her again, lingering for a moment, before taking her by the hand and leading her across the room.

"Oh my!" she exclaimed. Candles burned here and there about the bath, filling the warm, moist air with the scent of sandalwood. A bottle of champagne sat chilling beside the oversized tub covered with frothy bubbles. "For me?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Who else, my dear?"

She laughed and he eased her arms from the silk blouse then helped her out of her skirt.

He led her to a wicker chair and bid her sit. He knelt carefully before her, mindful of his bad knee. "Allow me, my queen."

Carefully, he began to remove her hosiery, trailing his fingers over her skin. His fingers were warm and felt rough on her skin, the result of years of hard work and training. Once her legs were bare, he rose, pulling her to her feet. She stood there, in her undies, her heart fluttering at his touch as he reverently removed the lacy garments.

His eyes swept over her appreciatively and he gestured to the tub. "Your bubbles await, madam."

Holding tightly to his hand, Clarisse stepped up and over, into the tub then sank into the warm water.

"Mmm. This feels wonderful," she groaned. He handed her a flute filled with champagne then watched, pleased. "I needed to relax."

"Yes, you did." He slid his hands into his pockets and leaned nonchalantly against the glass tiles that made up the wall surrounding the tub, one foot on the raised step.

Clarisse sipped the champagne, letting the bubbles fizz on her tongue. Resting her head back against the curved edge of the tub, she contemplated the figure of her husband as the flickering candlelight played across his black shirt, across his face and the smile that touched the corners of his mouth and smiled at the memory of how those lips felt on her most sensitive places.

"Thank you, dear," she said, taking a deep breath. This was perfect. She couldn't imagine anything more pleasant.

Then Joseph began to loosen his tie.

Clarisse had seen him undress nearly every night since they married. But never could she recall watching, wholly transfixed by the sight.

Still leaning against the wall, he slipped the pearl gray tie from around his neck, his movements unhurried and deliberate, and tossed it onto the wicker seat. Without taking his gaze off her, one by one he undid the buttons of his shirt. The shirt followed the tie. Standing straight, he tugged the black undershirt from his pants then pulled it slowly over his head.

Clarisse followed the hollows, dark in shadowed contrast to the curves of muscle on his arms and chest to where they disappeared under his belt. He bent, pulling off his shoes and socks then stood. Hands on his belt, he paused.

A moment later, Clarisse caught her breath.

"May I join you, my dear?"

"Oh, please do!"

He stepped into the tub, sitting at her feet. She felt his hand on her foot and he lifted it from the water and kissed one toe then another.

"I…I don't think I've ever had anyone kiss my toe before," she said as he made a trail of kisses to her knees then thighs.

"Protocol frowns upon the practice at formal receptions." He lifted her hand to his lips. "It's only allowed in the bath, my queen, with your most devoted subject."

"Then you may carry on, sir," she declared loftily then giggled.

"With pleasure."

"I will even let you have a sip of champagne."

"You are too kind, my queen." He took the glass and held it to her lips then kissed her. Moving away only a fraction, he traced her lips with his tongue.

"Good champagne," he said softly. He offered her another sip.

"Drinking champagne at a formal reception was never this much fun," she declared as he sat beside her, putting an arm around her shoulders. She leaned back as he began touching her, caressing her gently. Images and sensations drifted in and out of her thoughts as he stroked her wet skin, his palm coming to rest on the full curves of her body, his thumb skimming a particularly responsive area.

"Mmm, shouldn't we be getting out...to continue this elsewhere?" she murmured hopefully.

In answer, he pulled her up, onto his lap. She squirmed, turning so that she could see him.

"I like the way you squirm, my queen."

"I can tell!" She wiggled her bottom again, laughing.

"Maybe we should retire elsewhere," he said, placing a hand on her bottom.

She moved to get up, but he held her.

"Joseph, dear, I'm getting all wrinkly!"

"I love your wrinkles," he said, lifting her hand out of the water to kiss her fingers.

"Most won't go away when I get out," she said, sadly.

He kissed her temple, her cheek. "I love those wrinkles best of all, my dear."

"There's quite a number for you to love," she sighed.

He moved her off his lap then stood, pulling her up with him.

"Well, in that case, perhaps I should get started," he said, reaching for a towel to wrap her in. "I don't want to miss a single one!"

Love only gets better with age.....