Day 8

On the first full Monday of her marriage, Caitlyn Stanford arose in equal parts anticipation and dread.

She was still having pangs of readjustment when she woke up and found herself in an unfamiliar bed, in an unfamiliar place, but there was always the comfort of a very familiar set of arms. Waking up with Jon meant that the day started off right. The only problem was that he had to get up at six every morning—"It's one of the downsides of being a responsible adult," he joked—so 'waking up' was limited to stirring as his arms disengaged, giving him a muzzy kiss, and then wandering back off to sleep. There was never time to share sex, not on that schedule, which also made her sad; morning sex was very pleasant, especially when half-asleep. She had half a mind to wake him up early one day just to do him, but she didn't think he'd appreciate that later in the day.

The end result was that when Caitlyn actually awoke, it was in a cold, still bed that was missing its best feature: her husband.

It was a little after eight in the morning—early, for her, but then they had gone to bed early to make love and then make sure Jon had enough sleep. She'd originally entertained the idea of getting up once he'd drowsed off and continuing her studies, but she'd been far too comfortable. Jon had a way of relaxing her that she'd never experienced before; part of it was just his presence, but part of it was the orgasms too. He once told me that I should learn to masturbate as a form of stress relief. I just rolled my eyes at him at the time, but... If I had known...

It had been a comfortable weekend, to be sure. They'd ended up spending most of it up in Jon's room, studying, practicing, replying to incredulous phonecalls and e-mails from their friends, and trolling Craigslist for job offers and such, coming out only for the necessities of food and church on Sunday. They'd also gotten 'distracted' (as Caitlyn liked to think of it) by each other on a fairly regular basis. She was still rather reticent about the whole thing—there was something fundamentally icky about sex—but it always felt incredibly good, and there was something good about the ickiness as well. Though she tried to resist—and even succeeded at times!—inevitably she would get drawn back to him, to his body and his kiss and that wonderful hardness between his legs, and then something would happen, and there'd be another used condom to dispose of and she would have to try and remember where she'd left off with her work. Good thing the church music had been easy.

The good news was, her first final was tomorrow, on Tuesday, and she had nothing on her schedule for today except for some harp practice. The bad news was, a single day of studying for a final was probably not going to be sufficient.

I think I see why most students get married in the summer.

She had her harp back. She had had him since she was eleven, and his name was Gabriel. Her father had swung by unexpectedly with a car-load of her things—still demanding payment, but at least willing to return them to their true owner. He had been bullish on the check; he was an accountant, it was where Caitlyn had gotten it, and money was serious business to him. Eventually Jon's parents had agreed to pay the sum, with Jon to pay them back the moment their joint-account checks arrived. Caitlyn had a hunch that an extra $5,000 or so might accidentally end up on the repayment check. Ultimately, she was just glad to get her harp back. Gabriel was now set up in the upstairs den next to Jon's bedroom.

It was the first day of finals at Greenfield too, but Jon had managed to convince his singing group to hold a short concert of Christmas music, as a sort of holiday-cheer-cum-distraction-from-finals experience. Caitlyn wasn't sure how he'd managed to do so, but everyone was amenable, even though it meant that some of them would be up late tonight, studying. (Just like I'll be, probably.) Caitlyn was, of course, invited—if not by Jon, then certainly by her friends Zach and Christa Crane—but what made her both excited and worried was that two more people from her graduating class, Brandon and Meredith Chambers, had made arrangements to drive up and attend as well. Christa had also mentioned in passing that some of her other high school friends might come with them, but she had been vague about it and Caitlyn didn't know them in any case.

The Cranes were both at Greenfield's Religious Studies program, chasing the degrees necessary to become music ministers, but Caitlyn went to Shellview State now, and she basically hadn't seen them since they'd all graduated college in June. It was a reunion she welcomed and dreaded in equal measure. She had been fairly close with Meredith and Christa and Brandon, but their lives had simply gone in different directions; the summer between their junior and senior year, the Chamberses married so that little Laurelyn would be born into a wedded family if not conceived by one, and at the reception afterwards Zach proposed to Christa. From then on, those three had been looking forward, worrying not just about studies but nebulous futures that they were now trying to create. Caitlyn had mostly had studies and parental insanity to dwell on, but a ray of light as well: a man named Jonathan Stanford, whom she'd seen around the music department a lot. The revelation of her suicidal nature had gone to him some months before, and he was the only person she knew there, aside from the bride, groom, best man and maid of honor (all of whom were having their own interpersonal escapades). It was at that wedding that Jon drew her quietly aside and told her something about how he felt towards her. Nowadays, they considered it their first date.

Maybe it's no wonder we got married in the rush we did. Heck, maybe it's no wonder we started thinking about marriage in the rush we did. Though, of course, the sheer luck was that we were compatible at all.

Zach and Christa had gotten married over the summer, after a year's engagement. No children were expected, or planned for that matter; Christa had taken The Pill religiously since she was fourteen, and by her and Zach's best estimations it would be years yet before they were financially and personally ready for offspring. Meredith's surprise pregnancy, announced the April of her junior year, had swept over the school like wildfire; after all, everyone knew that The Pill only failed one woman of thirty. It had taken several conversations with Meredith to straighten things out: Meredith's pill pack had expired without her knowing it, and she and Brandon had unknowingly been having unprotected sex for several months before Laurelyn was conceived. It had been human error, not one of the lotto-style failures. Still, the school at large had no real idea what had happened, and even at her graduation Meredith had been accosted by people who thought she was one of the one-in-thirty.

Caitlyn, Christa, Meredith and Brandon had been the stars of the Music department for their graduating year (ironically, only Christa had actually majored in it), and, before Jon, the quartet was the closest Caitlyn had known to friendship. And this was the talk she had been surrounded with: fertility schedules, diapers, breastfeeding, sex and its consequences, receptions, conceptions, apartments, bills, jobs, taxes... Grown-up stuff. Caitlyn had never joined in; she was the odd one out, the one with nothing to contribute. Ironically, she never felt threatened by the fact that her friends had all gone to the same high school, had known each other twice or thrice as long as they had known her; it was the fact that their talk was so far over her head that did her in. There was a part of their lives she could never be involved in, and she knew it.

Now that had changed.

I've been there. I am there. I'm grown up too. I've... Jeez, what a scary thing to say. That I'm grown up. When did this happen? And Meredith skipped a grade too, like me, and she's already a mother. When did growing up become so... Right-now?

But that was all in the future, for her. First she had a lot of studying to get through. A lot of studying to get through.

It was tedious work: reviewing, marking down important tidbits, listing questions she would need to answer. This was relatively easy stuff—it was only the first semester of four before she graduated—but but tiring as well. Every now and then she would glance at the clock: Jon is sitting at his desk, or, Jon is on lunch, or, Maybe Jon is in the bathroom, or, I wish Jon was here. That one a little more frequently than the others. The truth was, she missed him. She needed the reassurance of his body, of his breath in the room, his voice behind her ear, his presence nearby. She needed him.

She remembered, after one particularly poignant date—the occasion of their first kiss, in fact, which it had taken her months to build up the courage to accept—she had lain in her bed, feeling the gap where (she had a hunch) he ought to be, and thought: It must get easier after you get married. You must not miss them as much.

Well. I know how wrong that was.

It seemed like an eternity before he would arrive, but then she blinked and it was gone, and he was knocking on the door to his own room. "How are ya, babe. Have you been there all day?"

She was sprawled on the floor, books around her every which way. "Yeah. I don't think I remembered to eat."

He scooped her into his arms. "Right. We'd better go out and get you fed before the concert."

"That'll waste money. Let's just not eat and save up."

"That's my silly little girl. Killing herself for grades and money. If I'd've known my girlfriend was such a sadist, I wouldn't've married her."

"Sadist? Doesn't that make me a masochist, someone who enjoys inflicting pain on myself?"

"No, it makes you a sadist, someone who enjoys watching me writhe because my wife isn't feeding herself properly."

"Oh, so, it's all about you, is it?" she said, giggling.

"Of course it is," he said, his voice rumbling in her ear pressed against his chest. "It's all about what I want, and what's important to me. And what I want is for my wife to still be here in thirty years, and not six feet under because she forgot to eat, so that I can go on loving her and holding her and caressing her and even having my way with her in bed every now and then."

"Ha. Like you're going to want to have sex with me when I'm fifty."

"Of course I am. I'll always think you're beautiful."

"Even when my hair is white and my face is wrinkled and my breasts sag down to my knees?"

"Even then. Mmm. In fact, that picture is so sexy—" His lips nibbled at her ear, a sure sign of what he wanted and a sure way to set her heart racing. "—I want to have sex with you right now."

"Mmph." She did too; oh, how she wanted to. But there wasn't time. "We can't. Not if we have to eat first."

His lips departed abruptly. "Oh, I see how it is. A man wants to claim his carnal rights as a husband, and suddenly she's willing to spend all sorts of money. Let me guess, you want to go back to Chadley's."

"They had good steak," said Caitlyn brightly.

"They did," he said. "But I've got something better." He bent his lips to hers.

"Jon," she said, easing away.

He hesitated for a moment, and then stepped back. "Are you turning me down?"

She looked at his face. He seemed surprised... And a little angry, too. But behind that... Was there a hint of hurt?

Her heart went out to him. "Oh, Jon. No. No, of course not. If you really want me... Jon, I love what we do. It's so... I never knew there could be anything like it. But we don't have time. You have to shower, and we do have to eat, and you said your call time is 6:30, and... If we even had five minutes more."

"You're right," he said. "You're always right." He sighed. "But, tonight..."

She smiled up at him. "Tonight? Baby, the instant we get home, you are going into that bed naked. How's that for a plan?"

He gave her a wicked grin. "Sounds good to me."

For the sake of time, and for old times' sake, they ate at the Greenfield cafeteria. The food was just as bad—or, alternately, just as good—as they remembered. Then they headed north to the Music Building. It was the first time Caitlyn had set foot there since graduating. To her surprise, most of the group was already there; musicians, after all, were not known for their punctuality. Maybe Jon and Professor Chapman had found the world's eight exceptions.

To Caitlyn's repeated surprise, Zach and Christa Crane had brought visitors with them: Brandon and Meredith Chambers. "They weren't busy," Brandon explained, "so we got the day off and made an outing of it. Three-day weekend is nice this time of year." He and Meredith both looked a little haggard, but at last report they were holding down three and a half jobs between them to keep their family afloat. And there was a unity about them, a singularity, as if the two were merely halves of the same whole. Man and wife become one flesh, Caitlyn thought, and these two certainly have.

And they had become a united, third flesh as well: they had Laurelyn with them, a little bundle of joy with her father's dark hair but her mother's clear blue eyes. "My God," Jon said. "When did she get so... Gargantuan?"

"She's... Getting close to a year old, right?" Caitlyn said.

"Fifty-one weeks exactly," said Meredith, beaming. "The holidays are going to be frantic, what with Laurelyn's birthday followed by Christmas Eve followed by Christmas Day. But at least we'll be seeing a lot of our friends."

"No one else came," Christa said in clear disappointment.

Brandon shrugged. "We tried. We weren't able to get to Jane in time; she scheduled something today. Sajel's visiting her grandparents in Chicago with her family, Arie's into the third trimester so flying down from Seattle is right out, and Derek... Well. After him and Arie..."

"Yeah, no kidding," Christa agreed. "He goes through the motions, but it's like something died inside him."

"The weird thing is," Zach said. "We always figured Derek was the resilient one. But of the two of them, who's the one who bounced right back and then got knocked up and then got married?"

"No," Brandon said. "She and Ralph surprised us over Thanksgiving. She's too busy to show it, what with the panic wedding and a bun in the oven, but there's a part of her that died too."

"That's two of the eight of us that The Pill failed," Meredith mused. "A quantum leap in medicine, but it seems to have passed us by."

"Okay," said Jon, rubbing his hands. "I hate to break up a party, but we've got a rehearsal to run and sound checks to play with. If I could get everyone in here... Mr. and Mrs. Chambers, we'll have to ask you to wait outside, but I'll leave Mrs. Stanford here to keep you folks company. I hope you find her sufficient." And, with a final wave, he ushered his singers into a practice room and shut the door.

Caitlyn turned back to Meredith and Brandon, only to find them gaping at her. " 'Mrs. Stanford'?" they said in unison.

"When did you get married?" Brandon said.

"When did you get engaged?" Meredith said.

"Aah," said Laurelyn.

"We, um... Jon asked me to marry him on November 18th," said Caitlyn.

"And you didn't tell us??" Meredith exclaimed.

"We didn't tell—! Ugh." Caitlyn tossed her hands. "I should just make a sign. People keep saying that to us."

"What, you didn't tell anybody?" Brandon said.

"No," said Caitlyn, "we didn't want it to get back to my mother."

There was a steady silence.

"You didn't want it to get back to your mother," said Brandon.

"Oh dear," said Meredith. "One of them."

"Goo," said Laurelyn.

Caitlyn remembered some of the things Zach had said during his best-man toast. "That's right, you had similar parents..."

"Well, mine were just absent," said Brandon.

"And we made mine shape up," said Meredith.

"But, yes, we know," said Brandon.

"That rules out the shotgun wedding, though," said Meredith, "which is the usual reason for hasty marriages. You folks have only been engaged for a month, so the wedding must have been recent."

"What she's trying to say, is," Brandon said, "that, if you need a sympathetic ear..."

"And, if not, we can always talk about other things," said Meredith, smiling. "I know parental trauma isn't always the most positive of topics."

"Gibubu," said Laurelyn.

"No," said Caitlyn, "it's fine."

She told them the story as concisely as possible, from that first fateful IM to Jon the March before the Chambers' wedding, to the events of this Friday; she was a little surprised at how quickly she could summarize it all up. But then, she'd had a lot of practice over the last week. Brandon and Meredith nodded, making sympathy noises when appropriate, and when she was done Meredith hugged her. "It's not easy, going through all that," Meredith told her. "And then jumping face-first into a marriage... You've been very brave, Caitlyn. None of what you've done is easy."

"I have to ask, though," Brandon said. "Not as a brown-noser, but as a concerned friend. Do you have any regrets about it? About jumping in like this?"

Caitlyn sighed. "Sometimes. Kind of. Maybe."

Brandon shrugged. "Well, that clears it up."

"I don't like what we did to my mother," she said. "We... I said some... I said horrible things."

"Of course you did," Meredith said. "And she probably said horrible things to you. Pain makes people do that. What matters is not that you blurted it out, when you were angry and scared and wanted to hurt her—what matters is that, now, when you're calmer, you regret saying it. Don't give it a second thought."

"Though, also, don't do it again," Brandon added.

"Gah," said Laurelyn.

Caitlyn nodded. "And... Jon and I... We're not ready. Financially, at least. Logistically. We had to run around all last week trying to figure out apartments and finding jobs and pooling our assets and how to get my parents to relinquish my harp, and... It would have been nice to have more time than that, to figure all that out."

"What about with Jon," Meredith asked. "What do you feel about him?"

About Jon?

Caitlyn beamed.

Meredith laughed. "Well, I guess that answers that question."

"No, don't get me wrong, we... Not everything works out." Her cheeks colored, remembering the almost-argument they'd had not an hour ago. "But... Well, when he asked me to marry him, all I could think was, It's about time. And it was different having that ring on my finger, and it's really different having him beside me at all times now, but... In other ways, it's like we've only just finally gotten everything the way we wanted it. I mean, after we started dating, he immediately went out and got a job, because... He just knew. And... I kinda knew, too. And so, yeah, all the changes are weird. But in some ways... The only thing I really regret is not doing it sooner."

"Oh really now," said Brandon, laughing.

Caitlyn colored. "That's not what I meant."

Brandon raised an eyebrow.

Caitlyn colored further. "Okay, that's one of the things I meant."

"We knew you'd like it," said Meredith, smiling. "We could just tell."

"We have a friend back home," Brandon began.

"Friend? You used to date her!" Meredith exclaimed, laughing.

"Right," said Brandon, "as my wife has reminded me, we have a friend, back home, named Jane, who's a lot like you. It took a long time to get her to loosen up, but once she did... Man. She's just a lot happier now, and a lot healthier, and a lot more... Whole."

"What happened," Caitlyn asked, who understood exactly what Brandon was saying. "Did she meet some new guy?"

Meredith shook her head. "The Program."

"The Program?" Caitlyn had heard of it, of course—it was everywhere on the news when it was first approved. But it hadn't come up here to Shellview, where the weather just wasn't warm enough. "She was in The Program?"

"We all were," said Brandon. "That's how most of us met."

Caitlyn stared.

"Googoo," said Laurelyn happily.

Eventually, Caitlyn managed to sputter: "And you didn't tell me??"

Meredith shrugged. "You were always so uncomfortable when we brought up sexual matters. We knew you were a virgin and intended to remain so until marriage. We knew you had never had a boyfriend and didn't have too much experience with physical matters... You were—"

Brandon, who had Laurelyn, looked up. "Hold on, sweetie, I think it's someone's dinner time."

"Let's get one of the practice rooms," Meredith said. She opened the door while Brandon grabbed for the giant tote bag on the floor. "As I was saying. You were inexperienced in both men and sex, and plus we knew you were religious. That made you sound a lot like Jane, honestly—and Jane used to get really offended and kind of self-righteous when these things came up. Obviously you were never like that—you just let us talk about our things, and stayed out of it. But you were still uncomfortable. So how were we going to tell you that we went through a federally-mandated week of being pawed by random members of the student body?"

Meredith had been undoing the fasteners of her shirt as she spoke, and now one breast was bare. Brandon handed the baby over, but Caitlyn got a glimpse of pale, heavy flesh, and a pinkish nipple (quite a bit larger than her own), slightly wet, before the baby's head was in the way, and even after that she could still see some of the delicate network of veins beneath Meredith's skin.

"As you can see," Meredith said, "one of the legacies of The Program is that we don't have all that much modesty."

"I... I don't mind," said Caitlyn, truthfully. She knew Meredith would never do this in front of people she didn't trust, so that was a compliment right there. But on top of that, there was something eternal about the moment: Meredith, her head bent over her charge, Brandon hovering over them both, his hand on Meredith's shoulder. This was family at its most basic: the child focused on the mother, the parents on the child. There was no denying the power in that image, or the love they shared.

Meredith seems to have larger breasts than I remember. Maybe it's the breastfeeding.

"So, anyway," said Brandon, grinning. "Away from the confusion and back towards the salacious details. So you guys are doing it?"

"They're married, of course they're doing it," said Meredith.

"So? If Jane hadn't gone through The Program, you know even her husband would've had some trouble getting at her you-know. Marriage means you're supposed to let the walls down, but not everybody is able to do that all at once."

Caitlyn nodded. "It wasn't... In some ways, letting him be physical with me was a lot easier than... Than opening up to him. I mean, it really started the March before last, when I told him about my life. That was... That was a lot harder."

Brandon nodded. "All friendship really starts with opening yourself. Or, if you're a guy, sticking something out and hoping it doesn't get chopped off."

"That's what Jon says," Caitlyn agreed. "That the only way to really start a friendship is to let yourself be vulnerable to that person."

"Brandon, are you sure that's an appropriate analogy," Meredith asked.

Brandon shrugged. "I dunno. But it seems to me that opening up to someone is just the same as offering them something. Ultimately it's the same: vulnerability. It just depends on whether you wanna think of yourself as opening up or offering up. And, amusingly, there's a physical precedent for that between men and women."

"Yeah, but— There's a philosophy out there that all life is a balance between giving and taking," said Meredith. "And that women are predisposed to give, and men to take."

"'A philosophy,'" Brandon chortled. "You read that in Dune."

"So? You're the one that uses the Litany of Fear."

Brandon shrugged. "It's a good prayer."

"And this one's a good philosophy, so shut up," said Meredith, grinning. "Besides, my point stands. If it's men who take, why are they the ones offering up vulnerability?"

"But that's the physical precedent," Brandon said. "Man sticks it out, woman takes it in. And good thing too, 'cause I have no idea how conception would work if it were the other way around."

"Maybe... When the man has an orgasm, he secretes sperm into his... I dunno, I guess it would be his vagina."

"And how does the woman pick that up?"

"I dunno, maybe she absorbs it through her, what, her penis? Or maybe she excretes the egg to be fertilized and then draws it back in."

"So the emphasis is on male orgasm again. Would anyone ever bother making their women cum?"

"They don't do that now," Meredith retorted, laughing.

"I do that," said Brandon, aggrieved.

"Yes, dear, you do," said Meredith, still laughing, "and that's why the first woman you met with any brains in her head took the first opportunity to marry you."

"Oh, so that's where this baby came from," Brandon declared, trying to look angry and failing miserably. A smile peeked its way out from behind his mask of righteous indignation. "Why, if I'd'a known, I would've..."

"Oh yeah right," Meredith said haughtily, "you would not have." Her regal poise was rather spoiled by the fluster of giggles that escaped midway through the sentence.

"What makes you say that?"

"What would you have gone back to? Your right hand?"

"Excuse me??" exclaimed Brandon. "I'll have you know it's my... It's my left... That..." He was laughing almost too hard to speak now. "I'm not so... So uncivilized as to..."

Caitlyn was in two minds. On the one hand, she didn't really want to think about Brandon... Doing things with himself. (Does he even? Or does Meredith keep him... Satisfied?) She didn't want to think about him doing things with Meredith either. She was sure they must enjoy them, but that wasn't her business and she didn't want it to be. On the other hand, it was fun to see them banter. And it reminded her of the joking that she and Jon had always shared.

"Well," said Meredith, with a grin, "ignoring this uncouth barbarian over here. Who, I think, was going to try and pry exotic details out of you."

"I was not!"

"You're a closet voyeur!"

"So are you, you were in The Program!"

"Any chance of having a serious conversation goes out the window when he's in the room," Meredith told her with a grin. "So why don't we kick him out and have us some girl-talk, just between ourselves?"

"Aww man!" said Brandon. "All right, I'll behave. Girl-talk Mode On."

And he stood composedly and showed no further sign of his previous raucousness.

"Wow," said Caitlyn. "No wonder you married him."

"Yeah," said Meredith, beaming. "He can be uncontrollable sometimes, but he has his compensations."

Brandon stood composedly, showing no reaction but an ostentatious roll of the eyes.

"So, where were we before we got so thoroughly sidetracked," Meredith said. "Umm. You were explaining why you got married to Jon, and we were asking you all sorts of important but possibly-private questions as to the nature of your relationship to him."

"You said you guys had been talking about getting married for...?" said Brandon.

"Over a year," said Caitlyn. "Actually, within the first couple of months." She blushed. "Which, seems kinda fast, you know? And back then I always got a little nervous, and even now I sometimes wonder if we jumped the gun a little bit..."

"You may have," said Meredith, "but I don't think it's the feeling you need to doubt. Brandon and I... We knew... What, within a couple of months, right?"

"I knew by our third date," said Brandon quietly.

Meredith turned to look up at him. "Really?"

Brandon shrugged. "It just... Took me a little while to bring it up."

"Yeah, no kidding. Why didn't you tell before then!"

"Well, I mean... I just did, didn't I?"

"No, I mean, why didn't you tell me you felt that way a lot earlier, so I could've told you I knew by the third date too! The wedding you played at was more of a formality than anything else," she told Caitlyn. "We'd been married in our hearts for... Years."

"Since we were juniors in high school," said Brandon. "About... What, six, seven months after our first date?"

"You have to understand, it helped that Brandon's parents lived not-here," said Meredith. "We probably got a lot more privacy than you did. Gave us room to explore, and learn, and grow in. It was just us."

Caitlyn nodded. Brandon and Meredith, she had noticed many times, had an odd habit of sort of taking over conversations. They had simply had such intense lives, and learned so much from them, and their love for each other was so all-encompassing. It was inspiring to watch, but hard to talk into.

"What made you decide to marry him," Brandon asked. "And I don't mean, What circumstances, we know that you kind of did it to increase the distance between you and your parents. What I mean is, you must have made the decision some time before you actually did marry, there must have been something about him that made the difference. What was it?"

Pastor Pendleton had, indirectly, asked the exact same question. "He... Umm. We were at his house. He had just taught me to play The Sims." She'd made several based on characters from her books. "Oren caught the oven on fire. It was really funny." The Sims had run around, gibbering in their weird ur-language, and Caitlyn had simply sit back and laughed, while Jon alternately giggled and gave her odd looks. "So then we started talking about our lives, and, you know, aspirations, and what we wanted to accomplish with ourselves, and... We found out we wanted the exact same thing."

"Which is?" said Meredith, transferring Laurelyn from one breast to the other.

Caitlyn shrugged. "Family. To... To find someone to make a life with, and raise our children, and, and not make the same mistakes our parents did. Jon says he wants to be the cool uncle everyone wishes was their dad. I'd just be happy if my daughter felt comfortable talking to me about things."

The Chamberses were silent.

"I realize it's such a... I dunno, a simple thing, not like—"

"A simple thing," said Brandon, "but maybe the most important thing of all."

"It's what we want," Meredith said, "it's what Zach and Christa want... It's what Derek wants, and probably Jane too..."

"Ultimately, it's about making sure that the human race survives, because there are people smart enough and kind enough and wise enough to live through all the stupidity we as a race can inflict upon ourselves."

"I think maybe it's why we found each other so early," said Meredith. "We've heard from— Well, what with Derek's situation, having lost the woman he thought he'd spend his life with, he started seeing Jane's therapist, Dr. Katrina Stanton, and she said that it takes people an average of 25 or 26 years to get to where we are—to get to the point where they start thinking, Hey, I'd like to have a family, I'd like to be responsible, I'd like to contribute to the future of the world—to start thinking that, much less actually be carrying it out. And, I mean, Derek, you know, he went through college without ever really dating much, at least not seriously, and now he wants to get back in the game, right? But no one seems to appreciate what he has to offer, and if Dr. Stanton is right, maybe they don't. But they will, in a few years. And then maybe Derek can get back on his feet."

"What does that have to do with finding people early," Brandon asked.

"Oh," said Meredith, "uh. I don't know. I lost my train of thought. Oh. It's that: evidently, until you're about 25, it's rare to find people who actually have family as their first priority. And I know we all of us felt very alone for a long time. So, once we found each other... We just never let go. You know?"

"Like seeks like," Brandon agreed.

"Yeah, but what happened to 'Opposites attract,'" Caitlyn asked, feeling a tad perturbed. That was what she had looked for, basically, until she'd met Jon—and while she'd been asked out a few times, it had never been by anyone she felt comfortable with. One fellow had been fifty.

"It's incorrect," said Brandon. "I mean, yeah, variety is the spice of life, but look at you and Jon. You two are more alike than different; specifically, you have in common that very fundamental goal of being dedicated to family, of just wanting that kind of, of quiet life. You're like— I dunno, you're like two oak trees: sure, you grew up shaped differently, in different circumstances, but the seed, the roots of you, are the same. That's why you fell in love with him and that's why you married him: because in what really matters, you're identical."

"And I, for one, think it's very good to have another family in the world that's actually dedicated to family," said Meredith. "So many selfish reasons for getting married nowadays. I'm glad to see one that's concentrating on the things that matter."

She smiled, and Caitlyn felt emboldened enough to ask her question.

"I was actually wondering..."

"Hmm?"

"About. Um. I was wondering about..."

"About the things a husband and wife do together?"

That seemed circumspect enough. "Yes."

"Why, does Jon not know how it works?" asked Brandon with a grin.

"No," said Caitlyn, coloring, "it's not that. It's..."

"Variety," Meredith suggested. "Being the spice of life and all."

"Some things that Jon wants you to try that you're not sure about," Brandon supplied.

"Yeah."

"What, like anal?" said Brandon, whipping away the euphemism entirely.

"What?!" Caitlyn exclaimed.

"Well, I think that gave us an idea of the parameters," said Meredith, smiling faintly.

"No, let's—" Caitlyn could feel her face flaming. She needed to get back on-topic, and fast. "Let's start with... Well. We... I mean. Jon stole me, and then we got married five hours later. We didn't have time to set up... Umm. Precautions."

"Ah," said Meredith. "Are you on The Pill now?"

"Yeah."

"But not only that, I hope," Brandon said, "because it takes a month or so to kick in."

"Yeah, that's what they told us. We're... We're using condoms too. But sometimes..."

"In the heat of the moment," Meredith agreed.

Caitlyn nodded. "Were you on The Pill when you guys started... Doing... You know."

"Yes, I was," said Meredith, "and had been for a while, but keep in mind that we live in a somewhat more liberal place than here—I mean, we had The Program, for heaven's sake. Mom just approached me one day and said, 'Hey, you know, if you need it, come and talk to me,' and so, one day, when a likely boy came along... Which wasn't Brandon, I might add, and good thing, too, 'cause I ended up in his bed within about a week." She paused. "Ironically, the boy I actually got on The Pill for dumped me on the second date."

"What would you have done if you hadn't been on The Pill," Caitlyn asked.

"I don't know," said Meredith. "Probably I would've gotten The Shot—one injection and twelve hours later you're protected for a month. But that got yanked by the FDA three years ago. Something about inducing cancer in fetal pigs."

"Which I never understood," Brandon added, "because we ain't none of us fetal pigs."

"Unfortunately, everything else they can inject you with is pretty much the same as The Pill," Meredith said. "Takes a while to take effect. And everything else needs to be installed, which means you have to remember it, which means it's not exactly conducive to impromptu boinkery."

"And believe me, you have our sympathy," said Brandon. "We tried condoms a few times, 'cause, umm—"

"He doesn't last long enough for me," Meredith said kindly.

"Right," said Brandon, turning a surprising shade of red, "and obviously the condom makes it easier to last longer, but that's because it just doesn't feel as good. For either of us. And eventually she decided she'd rather have a short good experience than a long bad one."

"I like feeling it when he comes," said Meredith matter-of-factly. "There's just something really cool about knowing this thing is going on inside me. Sometimes that sets me off."

There was no part of Caitlyn's face that was not bright red, but she nodded. After all, she felt the same way.

"Any other issues you wanted to bring up," Brandon asked.

"Yeah, um," said Caitlyn, swallowing courage and propriety both from the chill air. One was appropriate here; the other was not. "I, uh. I had some questions about, um... Jon wants me to, um. To put my mouth on his. Um. ...Penis."

"Okay," said Meredith. "What's your question? I mean, it's pretty simple: his thing's here, your mouth's there, you put them together."

Is it really that simple? "I'm not sure I... I'm not sure I can do it well."

"Why not? Just treat it like a popsicle. And talk to him. Use your imagination, try different things, and then ask him if he likes them."

That was what Pastor Pendleton had said—talk, keep an open dialogue—but she hadn't realized he'd meant like that. "Like... Like what kind of things?"

"Well," said Brandon. "The ridge on the underside of the penis—most guys find that area is really sensitive. And the head, way more than the shaft... You know what I'm talking about, right?"

"No," said Caitlyn in a small voice.

Brandon shot her a careful look. "Have you touched it?"

Caitlyn felt her face flame again. "He's mostly been... Sticking it in me."

"Oh, well, I don't see what's so wrong with that," Brandon said.

"Yes, but most people aren't like you, Mr. Prefers Intercourse Almost Exclusively Over Everything Else."

"You are."

"Yes, and you married me, so we're set, but that doesn't help the Stanfords. Caitlyn, honestly. Tell him that you've never done it before, and that you'll need him to give you suggestions and/or encouraging feedback about what you're doing to him. He'll understand."

"Yes, but..." Caitlyn hung her head. "What if I'm unable to... What if it doesn't make him feel good?"

"Oh, that's highly unlikely. Men are very easy to please."

Brandon shrugged. "This is very true. Men are just more sensitive, for whatever reason—or maybe they have shorter fuses. Generally, a man can masturbate himself to orgasm about four times faster than a woman. This is another reason condoms are really useful."

"The good news is, you can work the condom placement into the foreplay," Meredith said. "When you're finished going down on him, you just slip it on and then go into the intercourse. Unless of course you finish him off orally."

"What, you mean... Until he... Comes?"

"Yeah."

"But, but... He squirts."

"I know."

"Most men do," Brandon added.

"What can I... What do I do about that?"

"Well, for one, getting him off will increase his endurance when he actually has sex with you," Meredith said. Caitlyn nodded; Jon had explained such to her. "So, if you are blowing him, it's not a bad idea to bring him all the way to orgasm. When he comes, you can either stand back and let him go off into the air, or you can let him come in your mouth. Men like that."

"Yeah, but... What do I do once his... Stuff is in my mouth?"

Meredith shrugged. "You can spit it out if you want. Most men aren't too offended by that. You could swallow it, too, though. I know Brandon really likes that, and he says most men are the same. It's not harmful, it's mostly just protein."

Caitlyn felt her eyebrows climbing her forehead at uneven rates. "Yeah, but... That's his... His stuff."

"So?" said Brandon. "Jon licks your stuff when he goes down on you."

Caitlyn had been trying to ignore that fact, but it was so. Jon went down on her, almost invariably, unless they were engaging in a quickie in the morning, and he seemed to enjoy it. She certainly enjoyed it. It would only be fair...

Meredith must have seen the expression on her face, because she said, "Caitlyn, no one's making you do anything. If you don't want to, I'm sure Jon will understand. I certainly wouldn't blame you; it's not my favorite thing to do in the world. But it's fun, in its own right, and I really like seeing what it does to Brandon. He says it's not quite the same as having sex with me—worse in some ways, but better in others." She smiled. "But it makes him happy—and that makes it worth it for me."

"Why do you think we do these things?" Brandon said, smiling. "I mean, most of it is fun, but eventually there's always something we do just because we know it'll make our lover happy—or maybe just roll their eyes back in their heads. And that's how we prove that giving is its own reward. Especially when our lover turns around and immediately does the thing they only do because we like it."

"It's about compromise," said Meredith, "and it's about self-sacrifice. I remember the first time I was out at a mall by myself, and suddenly realized I couldn't just go buying things for no other reason but that I wanted to. I had Brandon to think about."

"When was that," Caitlyn asked, with an uncomfortable feeling in her stomach: a lot of her own expenditures could be described in just such a fashion.

"Oh, about two months after we started dating," said Meredith.

"'Compromise' and 'self-sacrifice' are very pretty words," said Brandon, "and obviously it's very easy to just sling them around beforehand. But when you get on the spot and it's time to actually put your money where your mouth is... Well, it's not easy. Don't feel bad. I'm sure Jon's having to make the same adjustments himself."

"It's not easy to just suddenly be half of an entity, when you once were a whole person by yourself," Meredith said.

"Though there are benefits," Caitlyn said.

"Though there are benefits," Meredith agreed. She gave Laurelyn one final pat and the infant gave a tiny belch.

There was a knocking on the door; then Christa stuck her head in. "We're heading down for the sound checks. If you guys wanna come along..."

Sound checks were an involved process, because there were eight singers in Octapella, and each one needed their own microphones. This was not an idle requirement; several of their songs, Caitlyn knew from Jon, broke into eight-part harmony, and balancing the voices would be impossible without one mike per singer. Under the dual guidance of Jon and Rod, the singers ran through several numbers, giving the harried sound engineer time to figure out the microphones. This venue, The Vault, was more of a bar or lounge than a concert venue; on the rare occasions when musical acts did take up residence, they were rock bands that rarely involved more than three or four separate sound feeds. Fortunately, the sound manager (actually named Harry) had served Octapella before, and was fairly used to their vocal characteristics.

"So, these goobers," said Brandon, gesturing at the eight on stage with his head. "Are they any good? Or did we come all the way from Mount Hill for nothing?"

"Brandon," said Meredith, reproving.

"No, seriously," said Brandon. "Remember that group that was here when we were freshmen? Something like, what, Choral, Choral..."

"Choral Pleasure."

"Choral Pleasure, right. It wasn't anything of the sort. There were a couple times when they were so out of tune— More like Choral Sandpaper, if you ask me."

"Such a kind man I've married," Meredith murmured. "Yes, Laurelyn," she said, reaching over to the babe in Brandon's arms. "A very kind daddy. Don't you think?"

Laurelyn gave a sleepy burble.

"Honestly, it's kind of too bad we couldn't be involved in something like this," said Brandon. "It looks fun."

"Yeah," said Caitlyn. She would've loved to get involved too, but she couldn't sing. Jon said that was ridiculous, that she could actually follow a tune and hold a pitch—but he also agreed that a group like Octapella needed a bit more vocal facility than that. Still, it would've been nice.

"Who's doing the arrangements," Brandon asked.

"Jon is, and Rod," said Caitlyn. "And I think Christa's working on some too, though both she and Jon say she's not quite the same level. They bought some online too."

Caitlyn had been working on something too, actually, in the very few spare moments she had. It was a little harder to do something in secret now that she was married, and it didn't help that her own ability at arranging were far below Jon's or even Christa's. She didn't even have the benefit of working with her native instruments; she had constantly had to ring up Nathan, and once even Meredith, with questions on vocal ranges and how to use each singer and what sort of things she shouldn't ask them to do because it wasn't physically possible. If Meredith had put two and two together, she gave no outward sign of it.

"There are any online?" Brandon said, surprised.

"Yeah," said Caitlyn. "There's jazz stuff lying around, and barbershop, and some of the other college groups are willing to sell copies of their arrangements. And you can always do, you know, 'real choir' stuff."

"What, like, Ode to Joy," Brandon asked.

"Well, maybe not that level," said Caitlyn.

"Though you could probably make that work," Meredith said.

"Jon said something about Moses Hogan," Caitlyn said, "and some Gershwin."

"Right, Professor Chapman gave us some of those," Meredith agreed. "In the 'real choir'." She added quotes with her hand.

"So what are they singing tonight," Brandon asked.

"Christmas music, probably," Meredith said.

"I mean, what specifically," Brandon said.

Caitlyn shrugged. "Jon's been keeping it a secret." That wasn't actually true; she was pretty sure she knew the set list forwards and backwards. But she wanted it to be a surprise for the Chamberses.

Once the sound checks were done, Jon came down to sit with them, along with Zach and Christa, who immediately gravitated to Laurelyn. "Hellooo. Hellooo my widdle snoogy-woogy bear! Yes you is. Yes you is!"

Laurelyn cooed happily.

"Christa's getting her baby fix for the day," said Zach shamelessly.

"Zach," said Christa.

"I swear, she's been thinking about ditching The Pill and just getting one of her own," Zach said.

"Zach," said Christa. "My two best friends had a baby. Your two best friends had a baby. Don't tell me that doesn't affect you."

Zach turned to Brandon, utterly casual. "Sodja catch the game last night?"

"Naw," said Brandon. "I was in bed with my girl."

"Doing what?"

"Sleeping."

Caitlyn couldn't help herself. She said, "Is, um. Is that what they're calling it nowadays?"

Everyone looked at her.

"Okay," said Jon, "who are you, and what have you done with my wife?"

"Hee," said Caitlyn, pleased with herself.

"So you folks ready?" Brandon asked Jon.

"As ready as we're gonna be," said Jon, "considering we're doing twice as much music as last year. 'course, we had a little more time to prepare."

"If you guys were planning to start at eight on the dot," Meredith said, "you started three minutes ago."

Jon glanced at his watch surprised. "Ahh... Give it a couple more minutes. Let some more people filter in."

"Are you guys still charging for attendance?" Meredith asked.

"Not today," said Jon.

"That never struck me as the smartest idea," Brandon said.

"Professor Chapman said to do that for a while, when we were starting out," Jon said. "People believe in the power of money as a determiner of quality."

"Not necessarily," said Meredith. "I mean, a fraud can charge just as much as the genuine article, but that doesn't make it any less fake."

"Yes necessarily," said Jon. "There was a brand of whiskey called Chivas Regal. It wasn't doing very well, so they changed just one thing about it and sales went up by 100%. Do you know what they changed?"

"No," said Meredith.

"The price tag," Jon said. "They doubled it. And that caused twice as many sales. People trust things that cost more."

"That's crazy," said Meredith. "Are you sure?"

"I didn't make that up," said Jon, "it was from my psychology major. Cialdini. Six Weapons of Influence."

"Then why aren't you charging now, if that was likely to raise attendance," Brandon said.

"Well, we never liked the idea of charging either," said Christa. "We only did it to gain attention. Necessary evil. Now we're more established, people know who we are, and we're kind of counting on our reputation to draw people in. This is the first performance we've ever done that we haven't charged."

"It's a calculated risk," said Jon. "It may work or it may not. I've actually been keeping track of our attendance rates, so we'll see what happens. Half of psychology is statistics anyway."

Rod came up. "We ready?"

"We ready," Jon agreed. He kissed Caitlyn on the cheek and went to his work.

Afterwards, Caitlyn could not say how well things went; she wasn't a chorister, she didn't know what to look for in terms of perfection. She knew it sounded good from where she was sitting, and the audience loved it. Zach had ever been a showman, and he took front and center, but he was able to draw out Jon and Roderick and Beth and create an energetic and relaxed environment onstage. Sometimes they almost forgot to sing for having too much fun chattering. But remember they did, and when they sang they were in their element. They did some sing-alongs of easy Christmas carols—those were always fun, especially since Zach or Jon would drop spur-of-the-moment lyric changes just to make people laugh—and for performance pieces they had several of Jon's arrangements, a couple of Rod's, a rocking arrangement of Go Tell It On The Mountain by a defunct barbershop quartet called the Gas House Gang, a write-up of The Carpenters' Merry Christmas, Darling (which had ridiculous lyrics but an almost orgasmic ending chord), and more besides. And when they took their final bows and the audience exploded, Caitlyn knew Jon would be pleased with the night's work.

And he was. "I mean, the whole point was, Let's give them something to think about besides finals, right," he told the group as they gathered together for the last time this calendar year. "Let's get some people in a room and have some fun." It was a bit cramped, with not only the eight members of Octapella in the practice room, but Caitlyn, the Chambers family, Serena's boyfriend Kenton and Rod's girlfriend Candi. No one seemed to mind, though. "Let's make some music, let's have fun, and let's end the year out right. And we did."

"I just want to add," Roderick spoke up from the corner, where he was standing with his arms around Candi. She was the tallest woman Caitlyn had ever seen, but Rod was the tallest man she had ever seen, so she supposed it all worked out. "What is the point of music, if not to take people away from their lives and cares and problems for a little while? To let them step back and think about something else for a change. And if that was our goal, we kicked so much ass."

"I'll be in contact with Harry over getting a few quick CDs burned, for those who want them," Jon said, "and, I think we were going to talk starting in January about maybe putting an album together. But, for the moment... That's it. We're done. Thank you all so much, have a wonderful Christmas, and we'll see you folks bright and early on Sunday the 6th of January."

"Wait, at 11:30?" said Christa.

"Oh, cripes, good point, uh— Shall we say— 4 PM? We'll toss some e-mails around over the break if we have to—"

Caitlyn saw Brandon and Meredith joining their friends, but this was only for a split second, before Jon grabbed her in a ferocious hug. "My God, we did it, we did it. I can't believe we did it."

"You did it before," Caitlyn said. Their previous outings had been successful as well, though nothing quite to this level.

"I was so glad you were there," he said.

"I've been at all of them," she said, nonplussed.

"I love you," he murmured, and bent to kiss her. It was then that she noticed something in his pants which was very happy to see her.

"Mmmm," she said, "I can see that."

"What say we head on home and... Engage in a bit of celebration of our own?"

"Hmm, celebrating. Is that the new word for it now?"

"You're not allowed to joke about that until you've done it doggie-style," he said.

"Mmm-hmm," she said. She was a little reticent on that particular position, and he knew it. That comment had not been entirely innocent.

But what had Brandon and Meredith said? Because we know it will please them...

"You've got a deal," she said, forcing a smile that (to her surprise) wasn't all that hard to maintain.

"Hmmmm," he said, with a truly wicked grin.

The miles they drove seemed to fly by—partially because his hand was resting high on her thigh, which would have caused her mother to swallow her tongue had she known. Yet this was pitted against the heavy feeling in her stomach—for where, in the end, did her boundaries lie? She wasn't sure how far she was willing to let herself be pushed... But if the Chamberses were right, she should let Jon have his way with her, and throw her own discomfort out the window. Their words on the difficulty of compromise and self-sacrifice rang true to her, but this seemed excessive, and maybe even dangerous.

I don't have to give him everything all at once, she realized. I can let myself get comfortable, and stretch myself slowly, and... They'd been doing that for the entirety of their physical relationship; there had been times when even being held too tightly was enough to send her into a dizzying panic, and it had taken almost a year before she was okay with the idea of tongue while kissing. He's used to it. I don't have to push myself any— Well, I guess I should. It would be polite. But I don't have to.

So it was that when they arrived at the Stantons' house, Jon raced up the stairs to their room, while Caitlyn tried to follow at a slightly more sedate pace. No matter how she tried to counsel herself, she was still uncomfortable with the idea of giving any more than she already had. And, I mean, it's not unrealistic to be uncomfortable in a new situation... I'm sure even Jon felt nervous the first time we had sex. Though obviously he hid it very well.

"What's wrong, baby," Jon said from inside the room, and Caitlyn realized she had been standing at the threshold, staring at the floor.

"I..." she said. "I just..."

Because, ultimately, what it came down to was this: I'm not sure I want to be the kind of woman who does these things.

"Do you love me," she asked.

Something changed in Jon's eyes, and he gathered her into his arms. "Of course."

"Even if... Even if I don't... Satisfy you... Sexually?"

He drew her to arm's length. "Now, where did you get that idea? Baby, I am totally satisfied with you sexually. I love what we do."

So did she, but this was contradictory signaling. "But... You... You want me to do... Other things."

He blinked. "Well... Yes," he said.

"So, doesn't that mean..."

"No, it doesn't. Yes, baby, there are things I want you to try. Because I want you to try them. I think you might like them. And, yes, I hope that you'll keep an open mind and be willing to experiment a little. But for one, we've only been married for a week. And for two, even if you aren't... Well, I'll be disappointed. But that's still okay, because we have so much more together that is so much more important than whether we have sex well. Finding sex is easy. Both of us could have done it a long time ago, if we wanted. Finding love... That's hard. And that's what we've found."

...Because, ultimately, she wasn't sure she wanted to be the kind of woman who did those things. But, at the same time, she wasn't sure she wanted to be the kind of woman who wasn't willing to inconvenience herself for her husband. She wasn't sure she wanted to be that... Selfish.

"Okay," she whispered. "I'll try it."

It was only after the words left her mouth that she realized she hadn't specified what it was she would try; but Jon didn't press the comment, simply drew her face up to hers for a kiss.

Soon she found herself on the bed, naked, with him beside her; he lay on his back, and she sprawled atop him, kissing him. She had realized quickly that he liked to have her on top; certainly he didn't have to work as much, and it let him sink deeper inside her, which she liked too. She could control the angle and depth of his penetration, bringing him inside her just the way she liked. Just thinking about it, she realized, was making her wetten.

She pulled back to look at him.

Jon blinked up at her. "You okay?" Her beloved. Her life. The father of her children, eventually. Her husband. Her love.

"I love you," she whispered, and bent down to kiss at his neck.

She had only done this once or twice before, discomfort and insecurity (of course) holding her back. She knew he was disappointed when she would not reciprocate his attentions, but he was patient; he was always patient. That alone made her love him; that alone gave her courage to try. And she tried now, reconstructing what he must have done a hundred times before: kissing down his neck and around the side, under his ears, around the back. (This must be a lot harder for him because of all my hair.) His eyes were closed, his breathing becoming sharper as her lips whispered their way over his flesh. She had only see that expression on his face a handful of times before, and always during their sex play. And, if I looked anything like that, I understand why he always liked doing this to me.

Presently she began to trail kisses down his body, over the planes of his chest and his slatted ribs and the faint ripples of his abs. He was proudly erect, his skin flushed pink and the head a darker red. She could see the small slit where semen and urine must come out. The faint scarring where he had been circumcised as a child, the tracery of veins under the skin... She could feel its warmth, and when she touched it, the skin was softer than anything she had ever felt before.

Jon breathed: "Oh..."

Treat it like a popsicle, Meredith had told her, but this was like no popsicle she had ever experienced. It wasn't smelly, which was against expectations, and when she put its head in her mouth it didn't taste like much either—a little salty from sweat, mostly. But, oddly, with a pulsing red taste beneath that she realized was Jon's flesh.

Treat it like a popsicle. All right.

She began to lick up and down his shaft, starting from the top surface and working her way around. She stopped at the rim where the bulbous head began, going no further, but working over every inch of the shaft. It was slightly curved downward, a shape she followed with her tongue, and rigid beneath the softness of the outer skin.

The underside ridge, she remembered, and paid special attention to that when she got there. It was her first look at his scrotum, too—somewhat wrinkled now and looking a little bit small; was it always like that?—and she though his skin there might be soft too. Maybe I should come back to that later. Right now, though...

It was to the head she returned, which Brandon had said was the most sensitive part. Popsicle, she thought, and wondered if she could suck on it.

"Oh!" said Jon, so sharply she thought she might have hurt him, but then his hand was on her head, and after a moment she realized he was trying to get her to go on.

She had no idea what else to do, so she sucked on him again, using her tongue to rub over the glans and especially the bottom. He was enjoying it, to judge by his hand and his whispered encouragements and occasional moans and the way his body rose to meet her, and it didn't seem long before he whispered: "Oh, God, Caitlyn, Caitlyn I'm gonna come, Caitlyn, Cait—"

What should she do? She could back off and not bring him off, but the thought immediately occurred to her about how she would feel if he did the same. But I don't spray things when I come. How was she going to handle that? She had just made the decision to disengage once the shooting started when the shooting did start, and the first burst hit the roof of her mouth.

Suddenly she tasted salt, and there was something goopy filling her up. It was a good thing she had started to pull back, or she might have choked on it (later in life that exact thing would happen, leading to a coughing spasm and a great deal of panic on his part); as it was, she was a bit too stunned to do anything but hang there as he groaned and his cock spasmed in her mouth, filling her with cloying, sticky seed. It was more salty than she'd anticipated, and the texture was horrible; the only thing she could think to do was swallow it before she gagged. And even then the taste and feel of it clung to her mouth, cloying. It was foul.

"Oh God, baby," he said. "Oh God. That was... That was so..."

"I'm glad you liked it," she said, her eyes watering. She felt kind of violated.

"You..." He sat up and reached for her, his lips coming to hers.

"Don't kiss me," she said.

"Baby, if you're willing to—"

"Don't kiss me," she said, and got up. "I need to go rinse."

While she was swishing her mouth out with water, he came up behind her; she felt his arms around her, and his fading erection at the small of her back. "Baby... I just wanted to tell you how... God, I dunno. That was... That was the bravest thing I've ever seen anyone do, and... I'm so proud of you, and I love you so much."

"Okay," she said.

"And I— You— If... You don't ever have to do anything you don't want to. You know that."

"I know." I guess I wanted to. ...And, I guess, I'm kind of proud too that I did it. Conquering fear is a serious business. But... Never again. At least, not for a long time.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah. ...Yeah. I, just... I wasn't expecting..."

"Yeah." He chuckled. "And it didn't help that you were so good, baby. I came really hard."

Somehow, that didn't reassure her.

"Now, can I kiss you," he said.

"Is that all you think of," she lashed out. "Is that all that's important to you?"

"No," he said. "I want to kiss you to show you how much I love you. I can't explain it. I've been trying, and I can tell it's not working. So let me show you that you have just given me the greatest gift of my life, by being willing to put my happiness far above your own, and that I love you for it and thank you for it, and let me show you as best as I can. Because it's the only way I know how."

"I'm not done rinsing."

He threw up his hands in exasperation, but when she looked he was smiling. And he bent his lips to her ear and whispered, "I love you," and then kissed it, and then she was gone again.

She felt his lips around her earlobe, kissing and sucking, and then his tongue tickling around the back of her ear, just the way she liked it. His hand clasped her breast, the warm pressure of his palm sending tingles through her, and he held her to him as his mouth began to descend down around the back of her neck.

When he was done, he began to trail down her back, tracing the line of her spine, curling around her buttocks until she could feel his breath rustling between her thighs. At his touch, she bent over, revealing her inner secrets, and then felt the first brush of his lips against her pussy and almost fell.

His lips were down there, and then his tongue, nuzzling her pussy, perusing that most intimate area. Great shocks of pleasure coursed through her as his lips fastened around her clit and sucked, and then (of all things) she thought she felt his tongue entering her, sliding between her pussy lips and then into her passage. It was not very long, and the penetration rather shallow, but the feeling of his squirming, quivering tongue inside her was enough to make her melt.

Suddenly he was gone, and she opened eyes she didn't remember closing and found herself bent over the toilet, of all places, kneeling, her hands supporting her on the closed and lidded bowl. Jon was somewhere behind her, scrabbling around; and then she heard the sound of the condom packet being ripped open.

And what occurred to her, absurdly, was, Hurry up.

He was kneeling behind her, entering her, the shrouded length of his cock sliding into her pussy; she felt exposed, and primal, and sensual, like a lioness in heat. His cock inside her seemed huge, and it slid in deeper than she had ever felt before. She gave a shuddering cry when he bottomed out inside her, and then heard his husky laugh and the whispered comment: "Thought you'd like it."

She couldn't see anything but the toilet tank, but that left her free to enjoy the sensations of him inside her. He began slowly at first, but with increasing speed, sliding in and out of her, penetrating her, taking her, and her body moved in time with his, feeling each thrust and withdrawal. His hands found her breasts, cupping them as they swung beneath her, fondling her nipples; his testicles brushed her clit on every thrust; and she threw her head back and gloried in the sheer wantonness of it all. This is so dirty. This is so dirty. And I like it so, so much.

When her orgasm came it surprised even her; she had only a moment's build-up to realize what was about to happen, and then it burst over her like rain, and she shuddered and clenched in her climax as he (My God!) kept moving on inside her. She was glad she was kneeling, or she might have fallen at the sheer ecstasy. And when she was done, he yet wasn't, and he kept on, his cock pounding into her, and she regaining her energy and moving back against him, until finally he gave a final grunted exhalation and shoved in deeply, and she felt his cock twitching inside her, spending itself into the condom.

"Oh my God," he breathed.

"Yes," she whispered.

"So," he gasped. "All I'm gonna say is: when I have ideas, they're because I'm thinking of what you would like. Okay?"

"Okay," she agreed.

And if he keeps having ideas like these... Maybe he'll turn me into 'that kind of woman' yet.

They slept curled around each other, their breathing united in the dark.