World Writer
Chapter 5 — Unlocking
The weekend ed and the new week started in a haze of small miracles.
Greg woke on Monday to find that he’d lost another inch from his waistline. The scale in the bathroom, which had read 195 for the better part of two years, now showed 188. His shoulders looked broader in the mirror. His arms had definition he hadn’t seen since his thirties. And when he lifted his shirt to check, the softness around his stomach had tightened into something approaching a six-pack.
He stood in front of the mirror, turning side to side, and didn’t recognize himself.
Toni walked in while he was still staring, wrapped in her robe, her hair a mess from sleep. She stopped behind him, met his eyes in the mirror, and let her gaze travel down his chest.
“You’re staring. See something you like?” he said, grinning widely and spreading his hands to provide a better view.
“Yes, actually — and I’m not even sorry about it.” she relied, reaching up to touch his shoulder.
Greg went to work feeling like a different person.
He felt better in his clothes. They seemed to change with him giving him more insight into the workings of the pencil. The suit jacket he’d worn for years and always felt tight across the shoulders now fit him like it was tailored. He supposed the power of the pencil had a sort of ripple effect and all of reality bent to its will. What he wrote changes everything in a chain. No one other than Greg really notices a change because it has always been that way. His new-to-him body was what he had always been to everyone else. He would need to be very careful how he used this power.
Greg sat at his desk, pulled out his phone, in addition to his normal banking application was another for a brokerage firm he didn’t have an with. He checked his bank s first. The balance had grown by an amount that made his breath catch — not millions, but enough that he could look at the number and realize he’d never have to worry about a surprise bill again. The mortgage felt light. The college tuition and car payments were nothing. Then he checked the brokerage he didn’t know he had. That number made him do a double take. Retirement, which had always seemed like a distant concept, was suddenly a sure thing.
He closed the app and sat back in his chair, his head spinning with the possibilities.
The pencil was in his jacket pocket, the notebook in his laptop bag. He carried them both everywhere now, the warmth of it a constant presence.
That evening, he came home to find Toni in the kitchen, making their usual Tuesday dinner on a Monday because she’d had a craving. She was wearing a different pair of jeans — tighter ones, the ones she usually saved for date nights they never had. And she’d put on makeup, just a little, just enough that he noticed.
She looked up when he walked in. “You’re early.”
“Left at four. Meetings ended.”
He crossed the room before he could talk himself out of it. He came up behind her, the way he used to, and slid his hands around her waist. She stiffened for just a second — a reflex — and then she relaxed into him, her back pressing against his chest.
“Hi,” she said, soft.
“Hi.”
He pressed his mouth to the back of her neck. She smelled like coconut shampoo and something underneath, something warm and familiar. He kissed her there, once, then again, feeling her pulse under his lips.
“This is nice,” she said.
“It is.”
He turned her around. Her hands settled on his chest, and she looked up at him, and there was something in her eyes that hadn’t been there a week ago. Curiosity. Want.
“Let’s eat early tonight,” she said.
“Okay.”
Dinner was quick. Pasta, salad, a glass of wine each, the conversation easy and charged. She laughed at something he said about Dave’s new haircut, and the sound of it made his chest tighten. When she leaned across the table to grab the salt, the neck of her shirt gaped, and he saw the curve of her breasts, the edge of a black bra he’d never seen before.
She caught him looking. And instead of looking away, she smiled.
They were on the couch by eight. The TV was on, something neither of them was watching, and Toni had her legs draped across his lap. His hand rested on her shin, thumb tracing idle circles on her skin.
He thought about the pencil in his pocket.
He thought about what he wanted to write next.
The changes to himself had worked beyond his expectations. But she was the one he really wanted to reach. She was the one who held herself back, who caught the words before they left her mouth, who stopped her own hands from reaching for what she wanted.
He didn’t want to change who she was. He just wanted to unlock what he suspected was already there.
“You’ve been staring at me all night,” she said, not looking away from the TV.
“Can you blame me?”
She turned her head, her eyebrow raised. “Smooth.”
“I have my moments.”
She shifted, pulling her legs off his lap and turning to face him. Her knee pressed against his thigh. Her hand found his on the cushion, fingers threading through his.
“What are you thinking about?” she asked.
“I’m thinking that I’ve been a coward for ten years. I’m done being a coward.”
He looked at her. The way the lamplight caught her face. The softness in her eyes. The way her thumb traced the back of his hand, slow and deliberate.
Her mouth curved. “It does feel good.”
“I want more of it.”
“Okay.”
He pulled her closer. She came willingly, settling into his side, her head on his shoulder. He could feel the heat of her through his shirt, the weight of her against him. His hand found her waist, and he let it rest there, thumb stroking the fabric of her shirt.
“Can I ask you something?” he said.
“Sure.”
“Are you happy? With us?”
She was quiet for a moment. Then she lifted her head and looked at him, really looked, her eyes searching his face. “Mostly. I mean — I love you. You know that.”
“I know.”
“There are things I wish were different. Things I wish I could —” She stopped, shook her head. “It’s stupid.”
“It’s not stupid.”
She looked away. “You know how I was raised. I was taught that certain things were — wrong. Or dirty. Or something only bad girls did.” She laughed, but it had no humor in it. “My mom would have a heart attack if she knew half the things I’ve actually done.”
“What kinds of things?”
She looked at him sideways. “Are you trying to get me to confess my darkest fantasies?”
“Yes. Absolutely.”
She laughed, and this time it was real. She shoved his shoulder, and he caught her hand, held it, brought it to his mouth and kissed her knuckles.
“I like that you want me,” she said, quiet. “I like that you looked at me tonight like I was something you wanted to eat.”
“I do want to eat you.”
Her breath caught. The words hung in the air between them, heavier than he’d intended, and he watched the flush spread up her neck.
“Greg.”
“What?”
“You can’t just say things like that.”
“Why not?”
She shook her head, but she was smiling. “Because I’ll start thinking about them. And then I won’t be able to stop.”
“Good.”
He kissed her. Slow, deep, his hand sliding into her hair, tilting her head back. She opened for him immediately, her tongue meeting his, and he felt that familiar heat build in his chest. His other hand found her hip, pulled her closer until she was half in his lap.
“I want to hear you say it,” he said against her mouth.
“Say what?”
“What you want.”
She pulled back, breathless. Her eyes were dark, her lips swollen. “I —”
“Just try. Say one thing. Anything.”
She stared at him, her chest rising and falling. He could see the war in her eyes — the part that wanted to speak, and the part that had been trained for thirty years to stay quiet.
“I want —” She stopped. Swallowed. “I want your mouth on me again.”
“Where?”
“Everywhere.”
“Specific.”
She laughed, nervous. “You’re pushing.”
“I know.”
She bit her lip. Then, so quiet he almost missed it: “I want you to take me from behind.”
“Take you, how?”
“I want you to...um., I want”
“Go on.”
“Greg.”
“Just tell me in plain what you want.”
“I want you to fuck me from behind.”
The words hit him like a punch. He felt his cock harden instantly, pressing against his jeans, and he saw her notice — saw her eyes drop to his lap and then back up, her flush deepening.
“That’s one,” he said. “What else?”
She shook her head. “That’s enough for tonight.”
“Toni —”
“I mean it.” Her voice was firmer now. “I told you something I’ve never told anyone in a way that I never could. That’s — that’s a lot for me, Greg. Please.”
He heard her. He stopped pushing. He pulled her close instead, wrapped his arms around her, and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “Okay. Thank you for telling me.”
She nodded against his chest.
He had started taking a few minutes each day to contemplate things he could use the pencil for. That night, he went to his office, he wrote a few sentences in the notebook with the pencil.
Toni feels safe expressing her desires to Greg in blunt language. She no longer feels shame about the things she wants. She is in the best physical shape in her life. Her libido will increase to match Gregs. This will happen gradually.
He read them three times, then set the pencil down.
The physical changes to Greg continued over the next week. He couldn’t believe the results and how he felt about himself now. Toni’s alterations were more subtle. She hadn’t let herself slide as much as he had. Nevertheless, she was well on her way to looking like she did when they met. The other changes were also working within her, keeping pace with those on the outside.
Tuesday morning she woke him with her mouth on his chest. Her tongue traced down his stomach, past—his navel, and when she took him in her mouth—first thing. without a word, without hesitation—he knew the pencil had worked.
He tangled his hand in her hair, and she looked up at him, and there was no shame in her eyes. Just hunger.
“Good morning,” she said, her lips still wet.
“Good morning.”
She lowered her head again, and he let himself feel it. The warmth of her mouth. The flick of her tongue. The way she took him deeper than she ever had before, her hand cupping his balls, more at ease with what she was doing.
And when he came, hard and fast, she swallowed every drop without flinching, then crawled up his body and kissed him, letting him taste himself on her tongue.
“How was that?” she asked.
“Fucking incredible.”
She smiled, feral and pleased. “I want to try that thing I told you about. Tonight.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
And for the first time in their marriage, Greg didn’t have to guess what she wanted. She told him. And he listened.