Death by chocolate. Straight from the carton. Ice cream scoop, no spoon. Lots and lots of whipped cream. Amber walked from the freezer with her ice cream. Settling into her papasan chair as she took her first bite, savoring the creamy sinfulness of her Valentines Day treat. As she slid the scoop into the ice cream again, she felt the warm tears sliding slowly down her cheeks. "This isn't how this day was supposed to be," she thought as she set the ice cream down, "I should be doing my hair, and getting ready to wear that slinky red dress Mark loves so much." Instead he had been caught with is dick in the blondes mouth, and now she was home wearing her terry cloth bathrobe and eating ice cream. The tears came fast and hard. She thought she had shed her last tear over him, but apparently Valentines Day found a few more she had yet to spill.
Just a week earlier Mark had called her to see if she would be okay with him spending the night with "the guys". They were planning to go to Louie's Wings-N-Things and watch the basketball game, and then head back to Vic's place to play cards. Their card games had a tendency to go until dawn. She never minded this because Mark was good at poker, and usually came out ahead a couple hundred more than he left with. Amber told him she was fine with it, to go enjoy himself. In actuality she had been horny all morning and had been anticipating a wild evening between the sheets. "I love you Am," he had said before hanging up, "I have quite the weekend planned next week. It'll be a Valentines Day you won't forget."
"I love you too Mark. Make sure you clean them out so we can roll like the big spenders do next weekend," she had told him as they hung up the phone. With a whole day before her like a blank canvas she didn't know where to start. Amber ended up having lunch at Eunie's, and then went to Carol's Deep Massage Spa and treated herself to the works: facial, manicure, pedicure, mud bath, and a deep tissue massage. She left feeling like a million dollars, but no less horny. If anything the cute little redhead that had worked her over had made it worse. She settled for two slices of meat lover's pizza for dinner, and then drove to Mark's place. She parked around the corner so her surprise would be complete. She ate dinner, watched a movie, and then went to bed, planning to let him finder her lying in his bed naked when he got home.
Amber awoke a few hours later, to the sound of stumbling in the living room. "He's hammered," she thought woefully, "well it just means you'll have to work harder to keep him up." After one last loud bump the stumbling stopped, yet Mark didn't enter the bedroom, and he didn't go to the bathroom. Curious she tossed the covers back and slid her bare legs over the edge of the bed. Poised to leave the bed her heart stopped, she could hear Mark moaning. Fearing Mark had fallen and hurt himself she walked quickly towards the living room. As she rounded the corner, she became frozen to the floor as her heart and stomach switched places. Mark's head was leaning back on the couch his eyes closed but looking to the ceiling; his mouth open, a long low moan passing his lips. She wanted the scene before her to be something else, anything else. She wanted him to be sitting before her jacking off but she knew that was only wishful thinking; jacking off didn't sound like a sloppy blowjob.
"Mark," she called, "Mark what's going on." If she had any last scrap of hope that he was pleasuring himself, that scrap was shredded with the way he responded. His eyes snapped open, and his head turned to find her.
"Uh..Amber..I..." he started as he stood, his pants unbuckled, his hard cock glistening with saliva. As if from no where, a blonde woman with her shirt off and her skirt bunched at her waist stood along side him.
"You didn't tell me there was going to three of us," she said to Mark, her eyes roaming over Amber's sensual nude form, "but this is the kind of surprise I like."
Taking Mark by the hand the blonde began to lead him towards Amber. Feeling his arm stiffen as she tried to move him she looked back, and understood. "Oh fuck, she wasn't supposed to be here was she?" Blondie asked him. Amber had seen enough. She dressed and was out the door in two minutes flat, despite Mark's protests and assurances.
A week later, sixty two unreturned messages, emails, and texts, and she still couldn't understand how fourteen months ends like this. They'd had their fights in that time, but that's what had her thinking this could be the one. "Maybe I'll talk to him next week," she thought as she had another scoop of ice cream, "and see if we can work this out." As she was spraying another blast of whipped cream into her mouth, there was a knock on the door. Startled she sprayed a little whipped cream along her cheek and into her hair. Setting it down she laughed as she looked at herself: whipped cream in her hair, wearing a bathrobe, at home alone on Valentine's Day.
"I'm coming," she called as she walked to the door, the knock sounding again. Peering through her peephole she looked to see if it was Mark, making one last ditch effort to salvage the day. She could see the back of someone's head, and it wasn't Marks. Amber wondered who it was, as she hadn't been expecting anyone.
"Who is it?" she queried, her voice curious but tempered with caution.
"My name is Victor. I work for Living Cards, the singing telegram company. I'm looking for Amber Grey," replied a deep masculine voice, "I have a living card for her." Amber peered through the peephole again, and saw a pair of chocolate brown eyes set deep into a finely chiseled face looking back at her.
"I'm not really presentable right now...I was just getting ready to shower," she offered lamely.
"I can wait," he replied. "You're the last card of the day, and we aren't allowed to leave without having the recipient sign for their living card."
"If I sign for it, will you leave?" she asked. She was certain this was from Mark and she wanted no part of it, despite the man on the other door looking as if he'd just stepped from the pages of GQ. "I'm sure you'd rather be home getting ready for tonight," she added.
"I don't have any plans, but if that's what you really want, then sure I'll do it. But you'll be the first person that hasn't let me deliver their card," he answered with a real note of resignation in his voice. Amber opened the door.
"Come on in," she said, "the living room is that way." She followed Victor into the living room, where her death by chocolate was slowly turning into soup. "Excuse me a minute," she said as she cleaned up her treat. Returning to the living room she found Victor as she had left him, standing in the middle of the floor. "Ok, let's hear it," she said.
"Umm...you have some whipped cream in your hair," Victor said, a smile blooming on his lips. Amber blushed then laughed, the charm of his smile infecting her.
