Chapter 13
Warren Atwell’s Legal Briefs: Sign all appropriate paperwork before running away to the circus.
I slowly became aware of my surroundings.
The thunderstorm moved on sometime overnight.
The sound of pounding rain was replaced by chirping birds, the chattering of squirrels, and the occasional tap, tap, tap of a woodpecker close by, perhaps against the log cabin.
My muscles were relaxed and warm in the bed, which was soft to the touch.
So soft. So smooth. I wanted to stroke this bed in slow circles forever.
The scent of jasmine brought me fully awake.
I realized my hand was lazily stroking circles not on the bed but on Avery’s ass.
I stilled and attempted to sit up, but my wife was draped over me.
Her head rested on my chest. Her leg hooked over mine, which pressed her core against my thigh.
I tried to slide out of the bed, but she grabbed me closer and rubbed against my leg a little.
My dick was already standing at attention. This sent him to the next level.
I lifted my head. The pillow wall was now a pile of bedding on my side of the room. Someone shoved it away. One of the pillows landed inside the bathroom. And Avery’s T-shirt was bunched up underneath her breasts, exposing her very naked backside and core.
My dick bounced a little with excitement.
I tapped Avery’s shoulder. She snuffled and tightened her leg wrap on me.
Her hair tickled my nose, and like a damn pervert, I pressed my face into the top of her head to breathe her in. Underneath the jasmine, she smelled like rain and sexy promises.
I wanted nothing more than to lay in bed like that forever, but I knew she would eventually wake up and likely be embarrassed that she humped me in her sleep. I would tell her that I did not mind the humping and to please continue, but somehow, I knew this would bother her more.
I cleared my throat. “Avery.”
“Five more minutes, Dad.”
Well, that took the wind out of my hard-on sails. I shifted away from her slightly. “Avery. Wake up,” I said louder.
“Don’t wanna.” She snuggled under my chin.
I gripped her tighter and took another whiff of her hair. I thought about what would get her to pay attention. “Avery. There is breaking news you need to attend to.”
There was no slow awakening for Avery. No.
My wife sat up like a shot, banging her head into the bottom of my chin, which clacked my teeth together so hard, I thought I might have cracked something.
Avery did not stop to apologize or to see what was the matter.
She hopped out of the bed like her ass was on fire.
The T-shirt blessedly fell to cover her lower half.
Avery wildly surveyed the room, then settled on me. “Where’s the breaking news? What’s going on?”
I bit back a smile. “I did not think that would work, but that is good to know.”
She narrowed her gaze at me. “Did you trick me into getting out of bed? Oh, no, you didn’t.”
Avery hopped on the bed, curling her hands into claws, then slowly reaching for my stomach. “You’re getting The Claw!” She shouted before pouncing on me and tickling me in all the spots I was ticklish.
Really ticklish. It sent me into a full-body shudder, knocking me off the bed onto the floor. I was trying to regain my composure when Avery appeared over the side.
“Are you okay? I didn’t expect that to work!”
I held up my palm and clutched my middle with the other arm. “All good. I am fine. That was unexpected, is all.”
She raised an eyebrow to me. “If that’s what you have to tell yourself, My Man.” She disappeared from view.
Her man. Yes. I was her man. And that was the problem.
I sat up and glanced at the alarm clock. “It is 7:30. We have an hour to prepare for the day and arrive at breakfast.” I stood and went to the folder on the kitchenette countertop.
Gerald indicated an itinerary was inside the cabin. However, I frowned when I spied the Camp Quirkus folder on the counter. The entire outside of the folder showcased a photograph of two people attempting a complicated maneuver on a trapeze. I ripped it open and grabbed the Welcome Letter.
My stomach dropped. “Avery. Did you know this was a circus-themed marriage boot camp?”
“What?” She dropped the clothing she had pulled from her suitcase and appeared at my side, yanking the paper from my hands and reading it over.
Welcome to Camp Quirkus. We’re glad you joined us for a four-day marriage counseling retreat.
Licensed therapists Gerald and Zelda Ringle founded the camp after retiring from the Quirkus Circus, which they owned and operated for thirty years.
Join Gerald, a former ringmaster, and Zelda, formerly known as Madame Zelekna, as they help you build a stronger relationship through physical and emotional challenges.
“What physical challenges do you think a circus-themed marriage camp would have?” Avery peered at me underneath her eyelashes.
I began my yoga breathing to remain calm. “I can think of a few, none of which sound appealing.”
She swatted me with the paper. “It might be fun to find out, right? It’s not like we’re going anywhere.”
I took the paper from her and returned it to the folder. “Wrong. That does not sound fun. Nor does it sound like something we shall be doing because we will be back in our own homes by this evening.”
Her face shuttered. “Right. Gotcha. I’m going to clean up before breakfast.” She turned away and headed into the bathroom without a second glance.
In Star Trek 2: The Wrath of Khan, Ricardo Montalbán, who played the titular villain, would torture his enemies by placing an eel in their ear canal. That person would be under Khan's spell when the earwig or earworm settled in. He could make them do anything.
I would do anything for an earworm right about now. It had to be better than the feeling of wrongness that crawled under my skin. I shook my head, closed the folder, and calmed my breathing. By the end of the day, we would be long gone from this place. So, why did that feel like failure?
Forty-five minutes later, we strolled into the main lodge, following the scents of eggs and bacon.
It was more of a two-story multi-purpose room with a big table set for breakfast. In the other corner of the room was a circle of chairs.
I shuddered. That was likely where they performed the group therapy mentioned in the welcome packet.
“There they are!” Gerald cried out as we entered the area. “Our newlyweds! Good morning and welcome, Warren and Avery!”
Seven people standing next to the long dining table clapped as we approached.
“Welcome, lovebirds,” a woman in her 60s wearing a bejeweled turban said as she hugged Avery and me. “I’m Zelda. Welcome. Welcome. I can tell you’ve had a long journey to get here. Please, let’s all sit down and have breakfast and do the introductions. Shall we?”
Avery and I slid into two chairs next to Gerald’s wife at the foot of the table.
A middle-aged couple sat across the table, closer to Gerald.
Two young men claimed the seats beside me.
And the remaining couple, a 30-something man and woman, stood beside the chairs opposite us, glaring at each other.
“Please take your seats.” Gerald pulled out his chair at the head of the table. “We eat family-style at this camp, so please pick out what you want from the serving dish before you, then pass it to the right.”
A bowl of seasoned potatoes sat in front of my place.
“Do you want potatoes?” I asked Avery, scooping up a serving spoon.
She nodded and held her plate toward me.
I dropped the spoonful on the plate and scooped another serving, hovering over her plate, asking if she wanted more.
She shook her head. I served that spoonful to my plate and passed the bowl to the young, redheaded man on my right.
“That is so romantic,” he sighed, dishing out his potatoes before handing them to the blond man beside him. “Remember when we were in love like that, honey?”
The husband snort-laughed. “Why do you say it like it was past tense? I still love you like that.” He kissed his husband and turned back to the potatoes, passing them to Gerald.
The man across the table from me grunted as he passed a plate of bacon to his wife. She wouldn’t even look at him as she accepted the dish and placed two strips on her plate.
“As you all finish filling your breakfast plates, I’ll start the program,” Gerald said. “We will go around the table and introduce ourselves. Tell us how long you’ve been married and what you hope to get out of this camp. We’ll start with you, Mr. Coffman.”
A fifty-something man with graying hair and sharp blue eyes cleared his throat and placed his napkin in his lap.
“Good morning. My name is Irving Coffman, but you can call me Irv. I’m a jeweler.
My sweet Eula and I have been married for 30 years.
Every five years, we attend a different marriage retreat.
We consider it ‘preventative maintenance’ for things to come. ”
Everyone politely laughed except the middle-aged couple across from us. A muscle twitched in his jaw. The woman stared at her plate.
“Good morning, everyone. I’m Eula, and as Irv told you, we’ve been married for 30 years.
I was a stay-at-home mom until everyone grew up and got married.
Now, I care for my grandkids and sometimes help Irv at the store.
” Eula was a petite woman with silver hair and warm green eyes that reminded me of my dad.
“And what Irv didn’t say is that we like to spice things up in the bedroom. ”
I spat out the coffee I had been drinking. Avery chuckled, then handed me her napkin to dab the black liquid out of my borrowed red jeans. “Sorry about that. Went down the wrong way.”
“That can happen, dear,” Eula admitted. “That’s why Irv and I did that week with the Sex Club Marriage Camp. Safe, sane, and consensual.” Irv clutched her hand and kissed her knuckles with love shining in his eyes.