I once thought I didn’t want a wife and kids but it was because I hadn’t met the right person. Everything is different now—I’m married to the perfect woman and I can’t wait until she becomes the mother of my children.
I’m glad L asked me why I was anxious to begin our family. I’m not sure I would’ve ever been brave enough to volunteer that information. Fear. It’s not something a man likes to admit but that’s the beauty of my relationship with L. I can tell her anything.
She turns in my arms and kisses me between words. “You. Are. Amazing.”
“I’m glad you think so since it seems you’re stuck with me for the rest of our lives.”
“Happily stuck by choice. There’s a difference.”
I watch the sun dance on her face as the palm tree leaves above move in the breeze. A shorter strand of hair at her temple has escaped her grasp and I tuck it behind her ear. “Are you truly happy?”
“It isn’t possible for me to be happier than I am in this moment.”
I grasp her face and look into her golden-brown eyes. I see her sincerity and know her words are true. She didn’t marry me for any reason other than her love for me, so Laurelyn Paige Prescott McLachlan is a woman to be treasured. “Nor could I.”
I lean down to scoop her from the ground and she squeals. “I think it’s time I carried my bride across the threshold. I want you to see the rest of the house.”
I turn the knob and gently push the door open with my foot. L is like a wide-eyed child. I return her to her feet and her head oscillates slowly as she takes it all in.
The floor plan is open so she’s able to see the living room along with the kitchen and dining room. She says nothing and I can’t tell if she likes it or not. “What are you thinking?”
“How much I love you,” she says, propelling herself into my arms for a kiss. “You take care of me,” she says against my mouth. “No one’s ever done that before.”
It’s a shame. She should’ve been cared for by loving parents. But she wasn’t, and it’s shaped her into the person she is today. I don’t know how she’s not utterly damaged but she’s the complete opposite—the strongest person I know. I wonder who she would’ve been if they’d treated her the way they should have.
I give her a quick kiss and take her hand. “Come. I want to show you the rest.”
I begin with the five smaller bedrooms and work our way toward the master suite. I ask her to close her eyes. I cover them with one hand and use the other to lead her into the center of the room. I like this grown-up game of peekaboo. “No peeping.”
“I’m not. And I don’t have X-ray vision so I can’t see through flesh and bone.”
“True.” I take my hand away once she’s facing the bed. “Okay. Open your eyes.”
She softly gasps as she scans the room—our newly remodeled master suite. “I was only able to have this room and one other remodeled since the purchase was so rushed. Do you like it?”
“I love it. I couldn’t have chosen anything more perfect.” She turns in my arms and slides her hands up to my shoulders. “Or sexier.”
This is my first time seeing it as well and I’m pleased with the results, although it’s very different from our bedroom at Avalon. This is a lot girlier, yet not emasculating.
It’s lighter. The walls are pale beige, almost white. It’s going to reflect the morning sun even with the drapes pulled, so I doubt there’ll be much sleeping late in here. I don’t mind because I’m an early riser, but it could be a problem for L. She loves her sleep.
There’s fabric and upholstery everywhere. Coordinated shades of pale blue, beige, and cream dominate; plenty of candles wait to be lit. It smells heavenly—much like the red currant L loves so much. I don’t have to work hard to imagine what this bedroom suite will look like lit up tonight or how beautiful L will look illuminated by candlelight.
I’m so glad she approves. “I think the designer did a great job. I gave her full control. The only requirement was that she make it romantic.”
“Mission accomplished.” L walks toward the bed and runs her hand down the post. I wonder if she thinks I made a special request for that. I didn’t, but I admit it’s a very nice surprise. “This is absolutely amazing. Makes me want to stay in bed all day—with you.”
“Then I believe I owe Miss Rutledge a bonus for a job well done.” I take her hand and lead her toward the small sitting room currently occupied by a chaise with a side table. It’s not a huge area but it’ll suffice for what I have in mind. “I was thinking this would make a perfect nursery. It isn’t big but I think it’ll hold a crib and changing table. Maybe a rocking chair in the corner.”
She’s quiet as she looks around the room and I fear I may have pushed her too hard, too soon. That’s not my intention at all. I don’t mean to press her. It’s only been an hour since our conversation—and she told me she’d think about trying to have a baby—so I need to back off before I anger her.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t think of how that sounded until I heard myself saying it.” I pull her into my arms and kiss the top of her head. “I’m sure I’ve bombarded you with the baby-making talk but I promise I’m not ignoring your need to think it over.”
“It’s okay. You’re being honest with me about what you want and the reason why. I could never be upset with you about yearning to start a family with me.” She twists in my arms so we’re facing one another. “The baby-making part doesn’t scare me. We’ve had a lot of fun practicing, but I worry about the after part. We’ve had so little time together.”
An hour isn’t even close to long enough. She needs way more time to sort this out. “I think it’s a good idea to put the baby talk on the back burner for now.”
“Agreed.”
I kiss the side of her face. “I have something else to show you.”
We walk the hall toward the other remodeled room. “This is a vacation home and it often houses two families, so it has two master suites.”
“Another romantic getaway?”
I laugh inwardly. “Not exactly.” I grasp the knob. “Close your eyes.”
“This is becoming a habit for you.” She does as I tell her so I open the door and lead her into the second master suite. “You can open your eyes now.”
Her eyes are wide as she assesses her surroundings. Mirrored walls. Overhead lights. A stage. A pole.
She’s grinning so I take that as a good sign. She walks up the steps onto the stage and runs her hand up the golden brass. “Wow. This room is a little presumptuous on your part, Mr. McLachlan. One might assume you have an obsession with pole dancers.”
She has no idea.
I join her on the stage and place my hands on her hips, pushing her backward until she’s pressed against the brass extending from floor to ceiling. “I have an obsession with one.”
She reaches for the button of my jeans and pulls it free. She looks down—and so do I—to watch her skillful fingers push the zipper of my pants down. Then her hands are inside the waistband of my boxer briefs, shoving them down. “I may have my own obsession.” And like a scene worthy of any man’s sexual fantasy, L drops to her knees before me.
Oh God. My wife is so smokin’ hot. How did I get so lucky?
She looks up at me from her knees, the same way she’s done countless times before, and it couldn’t be sexier. Until I see her tongue stroke me from base to tip. I want to close my eyes and become totally lost but I can’t stop watching her mouth on me. It’s too f*cking hot.
She goes through a series of motions. Fast. Slow. Soft. Hard. I can’t predict what’s coming next and I f*cking love it.
She’s at it no more than a minute and I’m almost ready to come because she’s too damn good at this, but her mouth isn’t where I want to come. I tap the top of her head. “Stop, L.”
She does and I help my wife to her feet. My hands go fishing beneath her dress where I grasp her almost nonexistent knickers and drag them down her legs. She steps out one foot at a time and kicks the two white lacy triangles aside. She sheds her cardigan and pulls her dress over her head before chucking it across the stage. She’s left wearing only her bra and heels, though not for long. The bra is going, but not the heels. Those stay.
I step back and behold the lovely sight of my bride. Laurelyn is absolutely the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. I can’t believe I get to call her mine forever. I’m a fortunate man.
She gives me a come-hither motion with her finger and I obey. I have no choice because I’m hers to do with as she pleases. This woman owns me completely. “Inside me. Now.”
She reaches over her head and grasps the pole tightly. She lifts her lower body to wrap her legs around me and I understand the position she has in mind. My girl is strong. Most women don’t possess the physical strength it takes to do the things she’s capable of on a pole. “This is new. I like it.”
She frees one hand and pulls my face to hers for an urgent kiss, and I’m again made aware of the physical power she possesses. “Wrong. You’re gonna love it,” she whispers as she sinks down, pushing me deep inside her.
I groan with pleasure and grasp her bum so I can move with her in perfect rhythm. I thrust hard and she matches me evenly. My girl does me f*cking proud but it doesn’t last near as long as I’d like. She brought me close to the edge using her mouth so I’m ahead of her. I know I am. She gave me a huge head start so I slow down—I’m not crossing the finish line without her.
I bring my fingers around to her most sensitive spot. I rub it in no particular order, the way she did when she went down on me. Fast. Slow. Soft. Hard. And I know when her breathing picks up that she’s close. And then it’s over for me as I explode inside her. “I. Love. You. L.”
I’m buried deep inside her and she has no reply for me, but I know why. I feel the ripple of her body tightening around my cock and know she’s too preoccupied with her own climax to respond.
When it’s over for her, she lets go of the pole and wraps both arms around my shoulders. “I love you too,” she says, kissing my mouth. She holds on tightly, trembling. I’m guessing it’s overuse of her muscles since she hasn’t had a workout like that in a while. “I think I’m a wee bit out of practice. I’ll be feeling the results of that little trick all week.”
I don’t want her sore on our honeymoon. There’s way too much I want to do with her.
“You should take a soak in the tub. It’ll help relax your muscles and then I’ll give you a massage when you’re out.”
She looks up at me so adoringly and stretches on her toes to nuzzle my nose. She isn’t tall enough so I lean down and meet her halfway. “Mmm. I was right. You’re definitely the best husband ever.”
“I’m just getting started, babe. You haven’t seen anything yet.”
I carry her to the bath—not because I don’t trust her legs—but because I want to. I set her down and make her sit on the vanity stool. She laughs and says I’m being ridiculous but I don’t care. I can never overdo it when it comes to her comfort.
I turn on the water and the room quickly becomes a sauna. “Check the water to be sure it’s not too hot for you.”
She gets up and walks over to the tub to dip her fingers under the stream. “Perfect.” She slips off her heels, which managed to stay on during the transport here, and she’s instantly at least three inches shorter. “Will you soak with me? I wasn’t the only one exerting my body.”
I had planned on checking in at the vineyards while she soaked but how could I possibly decline an invitation like that? “Absolutely, but let me get your body wash and shampoo first.”
I return with her bath supplies and shed my pants, which somehow didn’t manage to get removed during our sexual escapade. We step into the tub together. I sit first, per our routine, and then L lowers herself gracefully as ever into her usual spot between my legs so she can lean back against my chest. I revel in the simple feel of my beloved’s skin against mine.
This is how life should be. No more emptiness in three-month affairs with women I don’t care to know. I can’t believe I once found—whatever the right word is—in what I used to do. It certainly wasn’t happiness or fulfillment. I don’t have a label for it. L is my everything and there’s no going back. I wouldn’t have it any other way.
I run my hands along her hips, massaging them under the water. I feel something stuck to one of them. It feels like a sticker and the corner pulls up more and more as I rub so I give it a yank.
She gasps and I immediately know I’ve done wrong. “Jack Henry!”
Oh hell. I think I’m in trouble. “Should I have not done that?”
“No. You shouldn’t have.”
“I’m sorry, L.” I hold up the flesh-colored square and she goes pale. “I thought it was some kind of sticker accidentally stuck on your bum. What is this?”
“It was my birth control patch.”
“Oh.” She’s going to think I took it off on purpose because of the baby talk. She’s probably going to be pissed off at me the rest of our honeymoon—or cut me off so she won’t get pregnant. Shit. “I didn’t know. I swear. Do you have another one to put on?” I move to get out of the tub. “I’ll get it for you right now.”
She stops me by grabbing my hand. “I have one left but it’s for next week. I’ll be short one week of hormones so that’s probably as good as not wearing one at all.”
“Please don’t be mad. It was a stupid move but I didn’t know.”
She relaxes against me again and I breathe a sigh of relief. “It’s okay. I told you I started new birth control so I’m sure you assumed it was the pill. I guess I should’ve told you what kind so we’d be on the same page.”
I didn’t know the ramifications of my actions but it doesn’t stop me from feeling as though I’ve wronged her. “I told you I refused to wear condoms on our honeymoon but I will. I deserve that for being stupid enough to yank off that patch without asking what it was first.”
“Baby, it’s okay. You don’t have to do that. Rubbers aren’t fun for you or me. I used a spermicide as backup last night. We’ll just use that the next couple of weeks and I’ll restart the patch next month. I hadn’t been on it long anyway.”
I’m lucky. She could seriously be giving me shit right now. “Thank you for not being angry with me.”
“There’s nothing to be angry about, McLachlan.”
“You say that now but what will your feelings be if you end up with a bun in the oven because I ripped that thing off your arse?”
She leans her head back and tilts her face to kiss my chin. “I would think it takes two to tango and it’s meant to be.”
I’m confused. I’ve always associated dark sand with unattractiveness but this isn’t. It’s … breathtaking. “Black sand.” I hear the surprise in my own voice. “This isn’t at all what I expected to see on a Hawaiian beach.”
Jack Henry laughs at me, apparently entertained by my astonishment. “It’s another reason I love this place so much. It’s different from the beach at my Auckland house. Polar opposites.”
I rake my toes through it. “Had I known it was black, I wouldn’t have expected much so I’m glad you didn’t mention it.”
He prepares my lounger, spreading a towel across the cushion. “The lava of an erupting volcano rushes into the ocean and it cools when it hits the water. The waves force it back onto the beach and that’s why the sand is black.”
I sit on the chair. “My husband, the environmental scientist. Who knew?”
Jack Henry repeats the same process on the second lounger and then joins me. He’s wearing my favorite sunglasses and I can see my reflection when he looks my way. “So this little piece of heaven is your private beach?”
“It’s our private beach, Laurelyn. Everything of mine is now yours. You’re going to need to get used to that.”
I unfasten the back of my bikini top and allow it to drop. “Then it’s okay for me to do this?”
“Damn, L,” he laughs while scanning the property for prying eyes. “It’s ours, and it’s private, but that doesn’t stop the occasional beachgoer from stumbling across here.”
“Well, I guess they’ll think they’ve happened upon a topless beach.” I toss my bright red top over and it lands on Jack Henry’s chest. “Because I’m not putting it back on.”
“Damn rebel.”
“Damn right.”
I lie on the lounger, basking in the sun. I love the outdoors; it’s still the only place where I feel completely free. As a child, going outside was my only escape from her. My mom was always hungover—except when she was high—so the house was forever dark, dreary, and cold. I wasn’t allowed to open the curtains for sunlight. The brightness hurt her eyes and prevented her from sleeping all day so she could party all night. Lifting a window for fresh air was out of the question since it allowed her precious, frigid air conditioning to escape.
Those were bad days. Bad years. I don’t want to think about those times and ruin this perfect moment. The weather is beautiful and I’m soaking in the sunshine. I have my man by my side; therefore, I want for nothing. Everything in the world is right.
“You’re doing some serious thinking over there.”
How can he possibly tell? I turn to look at him. “How do you know?”
He points toward my thigh. “You’re tracing the infinity symbol on your leg with your fingertip. It gives you away every time. ”
I didn’t realize I was doing that, but he did. He always does.
“What’s on your mind, babe?”
Do I brush the thoughts of my childhood away, keeping it to myself so I don’t ruin this perfection? Or do I put it out there so Jack Henry can know a little more about the wretched past that makes me who I am today?
He already dislikes my mom. I’m certain this will only add fuel to his contempt—but he’s straight up asking, so it doesn’t feel right to keep it from him. “When I was a kid, the outdoors was one of my only escapes from my mom when she was high or hungover. I feel my freest when I’m in the sun.” He doesn’t reply and I’m pretty sure it’s because he’s fuming. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything. I’ve ruined this beautiful moment.”
Our loungers are side by side, close enough that my hand is within his reach. “You haven’t ruined anything.” He strokes his thumb across the top of my hand and it finds its way to my wedding ring. “I’m your husband so I want to know everything. The good and the bad.”
Most of the good has happened since I met him but what about the ugly? Is he really ready to hear that stuff?
“I want to ask you a question about the wedding.”
Sounds like he’s preparing me for something bad. He never tells me he’s going to ask a question. “Okay.”
“Why did you let your dad walk you down the aisle? He’s never been a father to you so I don’t understand how you felt like he deserved that honor.” His voice is oozing with contempt for the sperm donor.
I didn’t wimp out, if that’s what Jack Henry thinks. I’m done with flaking. There’s only one reason I allowed Jake to do it. Irony. “Think about it. He claims me as his daughter and his first official act as my father is to give me over to you—a strong, honorable man who will always take care of me. I thought it was quite fitting.”
“Huh,” he says. “I was worried your mother guilted you into doing it but I should’ve known better. That’s not who you are.”
“She thinks she convinced me. I choose to let her believe that but I have the pleasure of knowing otherwise.”
“My wife, the satirist. I’ll know better than to ever cross you.”
“You will if you know what’s good for you.”
“I’m not mistaken about what’s good for me. It’s you, L. Always you.”
Oh, sheez. Hearing him say that almost makes my bikini bottom melt away.
I get up and take his hands. “You think I’m good for you, huh?” I pull so he knows I want him to slide to the foot of the lounger.
“I know so. No doubts.”
I grin as I push my thumbs inside the band of my swimsuit and shimmy out of it. “I know something else that’s good for you.”
I kick out of the red fabric at my ankles and step closer to Jack Henry. He grabs my ass and I squeal as he pulls me closer. He watches my face as he slides his hand between my legs. “And I also know what’s good for you.”
He rubs his hand up and down, back and forth, in an exquisite torture, before gliding his fingers through my slick center. Yet I know what he’s doing when he avoids my most sensitive area, the spot where I crave his touch most. It’s purposeful on his part because he wants to feel me ride his hand. And I give in because I have no choice.
I grab his wrist and guide his hand upward while rocking my hips against it. I’m worse than any petted cat. And I’m pretty sure he loves it. “More,” I plead.
He crooks his thumb and rewards me by stroking my *. “My girl is greedy.”
He has no idea.
My head is spinning because I want him so much. “I want you inside me when I come,” I tell him while reaching for his swim trunks. He makes no haste in helping me get them down and then I crawl over him. I sink down hard so he’s deep inside me and he returns his hand to its previous task. “Is this what you want?”
He knows it is. “Yes!”
I move up and down, sliding him in and out, gaining unrestrained pleasure as his hand rubs my *. I arch my back and thrust my breasts forward as I hold his shoulders. “I want to feel you come all around me, L.”
And I do.
I feel those familiar quivers squeezing Jack Henry while he’s inside me. Seconds later, I recognize the telltale rhythmic quivering and know he’s met his undoing before I ever hear him groan my name.
Nothing beats both of us coming at the same time.
He grabs my face and kisses me hard. When he finishes, he presses his forehead against mine. I think he loves doing that. I know I do because it makes me feel so adored. “You and I are going to have an amazing life together. I’m going to make certain of it.”
“I know.” And I do. There’s not a bit of doubt in my mind. “Wanna go skinny-dippin’?”
“With you?” He sucks my bottom lip into his mouth and then lets it go. “Absolutely.”
I lean closer to the mirror as I apply eyeliner. Jack Henry slinks up behind me to sneak his hand up my sundress and down my panties. I stop lining my eyes and look at his reflection. I’d like to be irritated with him but I can’t be when I see his crooked grin. “You must know this is a good way for your wife to lose an eye.”
“What?”
“Sneaking up to put your hand down my panties while I have a stick near my cornea is never a good idea.”
He palms my bare cheek. “We’ve been here twelve hours and haven’t christened our honeymoon bed yet.”
Good grief, I married a horny bastard. “We consummated our marriage in the sky. We did it up against a pole as soon as we got here. And then got naked at the beach and did it again. We managed all of that in less than twenty-four hours. The bed will have to wait until we get back from dinner.”
“I love the way you say we did it instead of saying we had sex or we f*cked.” He slides his hands around to my belly and sucks my earlobe into his mouth. “It makes you sound so sweet and innocent.”
I’m sweet because I’m not going to let him get a raging hard-on when I already know we’re not christening that bed right now. “No.” I swat his hands away. “We have reservations in forty-five minutes and we’re not going to be late because you messed up my hair and makeup wallowing me around in that bed.”
He sighs but knows I’m right. “Okay.” He leans around and watches my face in the mirror as he presses his partial erection against my bottom. “But I’m only backing down because I plan on f*cking you like a champion as soon as we get back.”
“All right, McLachlan.” I rub my bottom against him since he wants to play like that. “I look forward to being f*cked like a champion.”
He grinds against me. “Mmm … I love hearing you say things like that. Turns me on.”
I could say a lot more but I won’t because it would just end up with us in that bed and I need to finish getting ready. “I love you but you’ve gotta go away so I can finish.”
He holds his hands up in surrender. “I get it. I’m leaving you alone.” He kisses the side of my neck and growls. “But only for now.”
“I’ll hold you to that promise later.”
We arrive at the restaurant and a hostess escorts us down a path lined with lit tiki torches through a garden with waterfalls and tropical foliage. I realize we’ll be seeing a dinner show—a luau—when we’re led to a table with a stage and stunning oceanfront backdrop. I’m not at all surprised to be seated on the first row, obviously the best seats available. My man doesn’t do second rate.
The sun dances just above the water’s surface. We’re seated at the perfect time to watch it set.
I reach under the table for Jack Henry’s hand. “Nothing could be more romantic than this.”
He leans over and kisses the side of my neck just below my ear. “I thought our first night in Maui should be a traditional one.” He gestures toward the empty seats next to us. “Which means we’ll share this table with strangers. It’s the way it’s done, I’m afraid.”
“It’ll be fun.”
“Maybe. But if they know what’s good for them, they won’t put wife swappers at this table.”
“Definitely not.” I remember the way Jack Henry put swinger Chris on his ass when he expressed interest in f*cking me. Those were such different times for us. “I don’t need my husband punching anyone in the face tonight.”
“I might not mind an indecent proposal from some swingers.” He moves his hand to my leg and strokes it. “I seem to remember a mighty fine reward for coming to your defense.”
“The compensation is the same if you don’t get into a fight. You’d just be making extra work for yourself.” I grab his hand from my leg and bring it to my mouth for a kiss. “And busted knuckles.”
“Oh. Well, in that case, no sucker punches tonight.”
“Thank you.”
Our tablemates—a husband and very pregnant wife with three young boys and a toddler girl—fill our table to capacity. I have spent much less time around children than Jack Henry but even I know this is going to be entertaining.
His eyes immediately hone in on this picture-perfect family and he slips his arm around me. He gives my arm a slight squeeze and I’m pretty sure I can accurately guess what he’s thinking—that’ll be us one day. And it will be. It’s not a question of if, but when.
“Hello,” the couple says in unison as they assist their children into their seats.
“Hello.” We mimic their greeting.
The wife settles the baby girl into a high chair. “We didn’t realize we’d be seated with anyone but we’ll try to keep the circus to a minimum. Won’t we, boys?”
The boys do a fair job of ignoring their mother so I take that as a bad sign and a likely indicator of the free show to come.
“It’s okay. We’re used to kids.” Jack Henry looks at me and shrugs. It’s a half-truth because he’s very used to children. Me … not so much.
“You must have left yours at home?” the husband asks.
“No. We don’t have children yet. We’re here on our honeymoon.”
“Then congratulations are in order.”
“Thank you.”
We continue the small talk with the couple briefly before the server brings our first round of mai tais. “Wow. That’s beautiful.” It’s a tall, stemmed glass curved in the center, the dark rum collecting in the bottom. Each is garnished with a tiny umbrella, pineapple slices, and cherries with a lovely purple orchid next to a sprig of mint leaf. I can smell the liquor as soon as it’s placed in front of me. I’ll need to show restraint so I don’t get wasted.
“I must admit I don’t feel very masculine with such a pretty drink in my hand.” Jack Henry holds his glass toward mine for a toast. “Here’s to us and a very long and happy life together.”
I touch my glass to his. “Thank you for making me your wife.” I lean over and a place a kiss against his lips.
“Yuck! That’s so gross. I may throw up.” I hear gagging noises from one of the boys across the table, followed by a chastisement and apology from his mother.
I silently pray this isn’t what we have to look forward to during the entire dinner but I soon discover it’s only the beginning. The boys’ antics alternate between booger picking, booger eating, making fart sounds—some, I question the authenticity of—a stunning display of controlled chaos.
Jack Henry squeezes my hand as he leans over to whisper in my ear. “They’re little boys trying to get the attention of my pretty girl. Ignore them or it’ll get worse. Trust me.”
He knows children. I don’t so I take his advice. The night seems to take a turn for the better once I no longer appear preoccupied by the mischievous boys. And the fire-knife show holds their attention, preventing any further performance out of them.
I’m in the midst of clapping for the fire-breather when one of the performers comes into the audience and grabs my hand to take me on stage. I’m surprised because I didn’t see it coming but I should’ve known. Shows like these always select people from the crowd to participate in the performance.
I turn to look back at Jack Henry and see him grinning and clapping as I walk away from the table. He probably volunteered me and paid them to put me in a string bikini so I could dance on stage for him. Horny bastard. I’ll get him for this if I find out he’s behind it.
I’m quickly given directions about my performance while shoved behind a divider to change into an orange bandeau top and green hula skirt. I come out and costume designers surround me—and the others pulled from the audience—to place flowers around our heads and ankles. I’m handed two feathered rattles. “The girls will demonstrate the motions. There will be a series of hand, hip, and foot motions. They’ll introduce them slowly, one at a time—nothing complicated. All you have to do is mimic what they show you.”
My man is so gonna love this.