Author - Nina Cordoba
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9/9/2013 8:46:11 AM

Always Dreaming Outtake-Mark and Kiki Love

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When you're writing a novel, each scene is supposed to advance the story in some way and/or the reader should learn something she doesn't learn in other scenes. In this case, I realized the couple of bits of information were established elsewhere, so, as much as I love a fun Mark and Kiki scene, this one had to get cut.

(This is unedited, by the way.)

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“Ay dio—oh, my Go—madre de--!” Kiki cried out, her brain unable to complete a sentence in either language. The antique bed creaked, the headboard slamming into the wall.

Mark was outdoing himself this time. He was a caveman, driving into her fast and hard. Kissing her, pressing his tongue into her mouth forcefully, possessively.
Of course, Kiki had teased him into this, with the French lace bustier. Lately, he’d been a little too sweet in his lovemaking. She’d wanted to bring out the animal in him again. And she knew he was a sucker for slutty lingerie.

She threw her legs around him and squeezed, grinding her hips into his.
He groaned and his thrusts accelerated, sending waves of pleasure throughout her body.

When she shuddered, he recaptured her mouth for a final kiss as they orgasmed together. He collapsed on top of her, panting into her ear. Kiki felt completely satiated, and pretty proud that she could still elicit such raw sexual desire from her husband. He moved off of her and settled himself on his pillow, facing her.

“Damn,” he said.

“You like the French whores?” Kiki smiled mischievously.

“Obviously, I prefer the Argentinian whores.”

Kiki laughed and whacked him on his upper arm.

“Or maybe,” he smoothed a strand of hair from her face. “I just like you.”

Her heart melted at his worshipful gaze. She knew her husband didn’t look at anyone else in the world the way he looked at her.

Mark didn’t have the open, passionate speech of other people in her life. But over the years, she’d learned to listen closely, and   how much he said with the slightest inflection in his voice or a meaningful glance.

He relaxed onto his back. Scooting closer, she put her head on his shoulder.

Her eyes caught on the framed “artwork” on the wall. When Chris was six, he’d painted a picture of himself and Kiki and given it to his mom for mother’s day. They were little more than stick figure, except Kiki had long hair and a red dress, while Chris had given himself a pair of blue shorts, no shirt. It had hung proudly in his parents’ guest room for over twenty years.

Kiki hadn’t been able to bring herself to sleep in the master bedroom. To her, it was still her aunt and uncle’s room. Chris hadn’t been back to Buenos Aires since the funeral. He needed something good to happen in his life. She couldn’t stand to see him sad any longer.

“I have an idea for Chris,” she said.

Mark expelled an exasperated breath. “While I was doing my best to curl your toes, you were thinking about Chris?”

“No, not then. I just saw the picture.” She gestured toward the painting. “Anyway, I think we should take Alejandra’s cousin Carolina to visit him.”

“Has he ever met her?”

“I don’t think so.”

Mark flipped his hands up questioningly and shook his head. “Then why would we do that?”

“Well, she’s fun and low maintenance—you know how he hates it when I take a long time to get ready—and she really wants kids. Oh, and her features are kind of Mexican-looking and that’s what he’s usually attracted to.”

Mark rolled his eyes. “He’s in Southern California, Kiki. There are plenty of actual Mexicans there. We don’t need to bring him an Argentinean who looks like one. Besides, he loves Mexican food and this Carolina girl isn’t going to want to eat it with him.”

Kiki sighed. She hated it when Mark played the logic card. “I’m just worried about him. He doesn’t do anything of his own accord, anymore. I have to make him take me places, or one of his friends has to show up to drag him out to go surfing or to a party. He used to be on the go all the time.

“And remember Marty? He told me Chris has been skipping band practice. Before his parents died, he was the first one there. I think he needs a wife and family to help him think about the future instead of the past.”

“And you want him to have a family for you, too.”

This time when liquid gathered in Kiki’s eyes, she couldn’t contain it. “We made a pact years ago that we’d share our kids like our parents shared us.”

Mark wiped an escaping tear from her cheek with his thumb.

“Okay,” he said. “Here’s the plan. We’re going to keep trying to have our own baby. It’s a sacrifice for me, but I’m willing to do it for you.”

Kiki tried to whack him on his naked stomach, but he intercepted her, wrapping his fingers around her hand and resting it on his chest.

“But if that doesn’t work out, we’ll be the best aunt and uncle ever, babysitting Chris’s kids, taking them to the zoo… Then once you pick out your favorite, we’ll gradually lure the kid over more and more until he or she is ours. Possession is nine-tenths of the law.”

“That sounds more like stealing than sharing,” Kiki pointed out.

“You know my family isn’t good at sharing.”

“Smacks of socialism?”

Mark chuckled, but his smile faded quickly. “You know I’d do anything it took to make you happy, including becoming a socialist, right?”

“I know,” Kiki said. “And that’s why you already do make me happy.” She grabbed the phone. “Now let’s call your parents and tell them about your new political leanings.”

Mark didn’t wrestle her for it. He simply ran his finger up her inner thigh—her favorite erogenous zone—and the receiver dropped from her hand.

“Mmmm…” she moaned.

“Time to make you scream in two languages again.”

“Already?”

“All…ready.” Mark pulled her hand under the sheet so she could feel that he meant business.


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