David Blake was holding office hours, which meant that any student could speak to him then. When, as usual, none of his students took that opportunity, he could get some work done. This time, he was reading about the changes in Roman marriage laws in the period before Paul wrote. Single women were still, theoretically, some man's ward. But they could -- and did -- choose the man. Now, how that change affected Paul's audience -- and Paul's thought -- was a horse of a different color, but first he had to be clear about the change.

Which was fun, since he was far from certain that the Romans -- much less their subjects from Tarsus -- were clear about the change. Did the legal fiction of wardship satisfy only the necessity of seeing the law as unchanging? Was it the way people looked at the institution, and the actual pattern of actions was seen as an exception? Did some classes see it one way and others see it another?

He was half relieved, half exasperated, when his phone interrupted him. "David Blake."

"Professor Blake, I'm Edward Campbell. I'm Jennifer Saunders' district superintendent. She tells me that the two of you are engaged."

"Yes, Reverend Campbell."

"Congratulations. Now, I'd like to talk with both of you. She suggested that your schedule is more fixed than hers, and that I should make the appointment with you."

They set the tentative appointment for the coming Wednesday at four.

When he'd got off the phone, David called Jen. "Is Wednesday at four possible? Campbell is on his way back from Chicago then."

"You couldn't schedule it during one of my committee meetings?" Jen asked. "Meeting the DS is church business, after all."

He knew just how she felt. "Sorry. Besides, Campbell might see this as your personal time. The DS is your pastor as well as your immediate superior."

"And who isn't my immediate superior? There's Pastor-Parish, the Administrative Board, and the Council of Ministries." He was shocked that Independence had both the latter two, small as it was. "That's beside the Trustees."

He'd been there, done that, got out. "You forget the Worship Committee. And the Board of Trustees is your landlord, not your boss."

"We're too small to have a worship committee. But we do have the United Methodist Women, active in the cold months."

"And they all expect the pastor to do just what they say, even if they say different things." He'd been through that.

"Not in Independence," she said. "They've all lived in each others' laps so long that they agree on almost everything. If they don't, they know who's on which side."

Jen got back to the subject. "Wednesday at four is great."

"Lovely," he said. "I said the parsonage. This is personal business, after all. If you want it in the church, I'll call him back."

"No reason. I thought of this after I spoke with him. I was afraid you were going to have to drive to his office."

"Look, think about this." He wondered how to put it so that she didn't hear it as a demand. "He might well want to perform the wedding."

"Seems reasonable to me."

"If you want to say 'yes,' do so. If you want to say 'no,' don't say anything. Tell me later, and I'll say the 'no.'" After all, he had people mad at him who had one hell of a lot more power over him than Campbell did.

"There is so much we have to decide."

"And not just about the wedding."

"Are you making a list of things we have to decide about the marriage?" Jen asked.

"Started it. Have you?"

"Only mentally."

"Love you."

"Love you, too," she said. "And the next time I'll see you is with my DS watching."

"Well, I'll be there; he'll be there. I'm sure he'll have an appointment afterwards. I won't."

"You do now. When do you want the wedding?"

"I've said it's your choice." He had opinions about almost everything. Where he was indifferent, she'd better decide. Otherwise she'd turn into a wimp. Somehow, that wasn't how he pictured Jen. "The honeymoon has to be after the end of school, though."

"June wedding?" she asked.

"Sounds great."

"I'll be here through Conference. So you need to check out the place you'll be living. Is the bed the proper firmness? That sort of thing."

"I love you, Jen." And he was glad she'd said that. He'd need a Trojan, and he hadn't thought about bringing one to a session with a DS.

He left the seminary just minutes after the end of his last class. Even so, he arrived after Campbell. He checked his watch. Not quite four.

"I'm wearing two hats," Campbell said. "Three, really, I hope I'm your friend, and -- as a friend -- I wish you two all the luck in the world. As your pastor, I'll want to make sure that you understand the step you've decided to take. But I'm also Jen's DS, and I have to see what is good for her and the church in the way of assignments."

"We'd really like something closer to Garrett," Jen said. "This year doesn't matter so much; we aren't planning the wedding 'til June. But the commute from Evanston would be a killer."

"You aren't pregnant?" asked Campbell suddenly.

"No." Jen sounded less offended than he felt.

"Then I'd suggest that you take a second year here. I'll be perfectly honest: this church is a one-year assignment in most cases. But you are starting one major life change; you don't want to start another."

"Jen's a traveling preacher," he said. He didn't want her to start out her career with a rebellion, especially a selfish rebellion. "She goes where she's assigned."

"I know that," Campbell said. "And -- if she insists -- she'll get an assignment with a shorter drive for you. I can't promise that, of course. But, as a practical matter, she can probably depend on it. What I'm suggesting -- as her pastor as well as a member of the Cabinet -- is that she ask for a second year here. I think it would be best for her. The year after, we'll know what you want; we'll know that it is reasonable; it'll be one of our priorities. The year after that, of course, I won't be a DS."

"I can handle the drive for a year," David said. It was worth it for the cabinet to see Jen as cooperative. He'd make damn- well sure that being married to him wasn't going to harm her career.

"We'll talk more," Jen said.

"Good!" Campbell said. "A couple should make their decisions together. Do you want me to perform the service?"

"Would you like to?" Jen asked.

"Very much."

"Then yes."

"That doesn't need a confab?" The DS raised an eyebrow.

"That," David pointed out, "was a question that could be foreseen."

"And is the ceremony going to be here?"

"I've been warned of a mutiny if it isn't." Jen was joking.

"You've both done counseling?" Campbell asked. "Had courses in counseling?" Jen and he both nodded their heads.

"There are two ways of handling that," Campbell continued. "I could do a nominal counseling session -- 'You know what the questions are; what's your response?' I'd rather go the extra mile. What do you think?"

"Probably," David said, "that's for the best. There's lots here that isn't in the sort of wedding Jen is likely to perform in Independence."

Campbell smiled. "Where do you see the problems?"

"In each of us," David said. "Internally, I'm quite an opinionated guy. Externally, Jen's a preacher. That lays all sorts of demands on her time and her attention which the traditional wife doesn't have. And it doesn't help that it's a role where my opinions happen to be strong. Of course, my career ain't a bed of roses, either. What happens if I publish something that Jen disagrees with? What happens if it causes a controversy with her peers -- or with you? Anyway, these aren't quite the problems I counseled on, nor -- I suspect -- Jen. You've probably had more experience, if not lots."

"A clear-headed analysis," Campbell said.

"The word on Professor Blake at Garrett," Jen said, "was that he is always clear-headed, even when he is wrong-headed."

That was a kind way of putting it. "The word on Blake at Garrett is that he is always wrong-headed."

"We'll need more sessions, then," Campbell said. "Here?"

"Okay by me." He was used to commuting every Sunday. He'd have to do it every weekday next year. A few more commutes wouldn't kill him. Anyway, he'd need more time with Jen checking out the bedroom.

"Many of them," Jen said. "You're in Chicago often, Reverend Campbell. Maybe we could schedule one -- or even two -- there. I'll have to go in sometimes. That would be more convenient for you than meeting here."

"If you have to go in," Campbell said. "Driving is part of a DS's job description, otherwise. It would be more convenient for David as well."

"I thought of that," Jen said.

"I'll send you some thoughts," Campbell said. "Some questions for you each to answer. Some things we have to discuss; others don't need my presence. There's a lot to marriage which has to be decided. It doesn't matter whether you go one way or the other; you have to both go the same way. If the wife expects the husband to take out the garbage and the husband expects the wife to, you'll get a huge pile of garbage in the kitchen before that question is resolved." They both smiled at that.

Jen ushered him out. They watched him drive away. "That wasn't so bad," David said. "Funny, I've been on the other side dozens of times, and I was always amazed that the couple was nervous. What was I going to do, after all? Now, the shoe's on the other foot, and I find that I was nervous. What was he going to do, after all?"

"He might ask if I was pregnant."

Oops! And he'd thought that was wrong when it happened. "Darling, I'm sorry. That must have made you feel rotten."

"Not actually," she said. "He had to know. It's something you suspect, these days, whenever you see an engaged couple. He doesn't need to know whether we've gone to bed together, and he didn't ask. My mother asked the pregnancy thing."

"Mothers always do. It's one of the things they worry about."

"Y'know, it would get me a new assignment." Well, that answered his question about kids. She certainly wasn't totally opposed.

On the other hand, they shouldn't have a kid out of spite. "And it would spoil your record for the rest of your career, to say nothing of how he'd suspect the reason. It's not as if you hadn't answered already. Let's play this straight." How could he express this properly? "The cabinet can decide many things about our marriage. There's no reason to allow them to decide about when we have children."

"You've thought about that?"

"It's on my list of questions," he said. Not yet on his list of answers. He wanted kids, Jen's kids. He didn't want to share her just yet. "We'll each write our answer separately."

"You're uncompromising," Jen said.

"I'm trying to compromise fairly."

"You're uncompromising about compromises."

"And you are silly." He grinned at her.

"There is nothing sloppy about true paradox, as my favorite professor said." She was grinning back.

"I thought I was the only person who said that."

"Now," she told him, "you're fishing for compliments."

"Fishers of compliments," he sang, "fishers of compliments, I will make you fishers of compliments if you follow me."

She took up the song. "If you follow me, if you follow me, I will make you fisher in women if you follow me." She started up the stairs, which gave him a delightful view of her bottom.

He followed. He would follow that swaying bottom anywhere. But his imagination was on the fissure she was singing about, the fissure of woman, the fissure which was, so to speak, that bottom's bottom line.

He got his hands on her bottom when she stopped in the upstairs hallway for a kiss. His tongue explored her mouth, and her tongue welcomed it. He drew his head back to catch his breath.

"This is fun," Jen said. "But don't you want to see the rest of where you're going to live?"

"Lead on."

"That's my room." She pointed at a closed door. "We'll look at that last. This is my office," she only made a gesture. "This room" -- she opened the door and gestured within -- "could be your office, your gym, or both. That one is identical, and I didn't bother to unlock it. You could have both. Pardon the temperature, I keep the vents closed. The furnace works hard enough as it is."

"Then I don't need both," he said. This parsonage was a little ramshackle, but incredibly roomy. Ministers had been expected to have large families back when it was built. "I can put my exercycle and my desk in the same space. I put my bed in with it, now."

"Fond as my memories of that bed are," Jen said, "no, you can't. This place has gobs of space for exercise; you could read in one room and write in another. What it lacks is sleeping room. You'll have to share mine."

"I'll make that sacrifice." He hoped she heard the irony of the last word.

"Speaking of sacrifices, this is the bathroom. No shower. Thank your stars there is indoor plumbing."

"It looks like there has been for a while," he said. Indeed, the claw-foot tub looked like it had been there for centuries.

"The church as an institution has existed longer than the town. Which was founded in 1876 -- when else? When the church building burned down it was rebuilt where water mains had reached already. The parsonage was saved."

"Lots of history here."

"Lots of history. This is the bedroom. And that," she said, pointing to it, "is the bed."

He wanted her, had wanted her long before it had seemed possible. It was nice that she wanted him in return. When he took her in his arms, she turned up her face for the kiss. While his tongue explored her mouth, he could feel her breasts press against his chest, her warm belly against his firmness.

She pushed back to unbutton his shirt. He reached around for the snap of her dress. He couldn't seem to get it, but the position was fun.

Then she turned around. He could reach the snap and zipper that way. She started walking still wearing the dress. She took it off to hang it in the closet. Jen next locked the bedroom door. While she was doing those things, he took off his shirt, undershirt, shoes and socks.

When she returned, he kissed her deeply and removed her slip. He tossed it over his shirt on the chair, and kissed her again while he was unsnapping her bra. They parted long enough for him to toss that onto the same chair. She swept the bedclothes to the floor. She attacked his belt while he kissed the top of her head and caressed her back. She lay down on the bed while he stepped out of the trousers and stripped down his shorts.

"Sweet Jen," he said. He lay down beside her and began to kiss her breasts. After a while, he stroked the inside of her thighs while still sucking at one nipple. His arousal was almost painful, but he wanted hers to match it.

Jen's arousal came along nicely, by all evidence. She ran her hands through his hair, then hugged his head to her breast. She stroked his back. When she reached for his cock, it was time for the Trojan. This, unfortunately, was in his shirt pocket. He had to leave her to dig in his pile of clothes for it.

When he looked back at her, it almost took his breath away. She was lying on the bed turned towards him. Her nipples stood out on her breasts, shiny from all the saliva he'd left there. When he returned to the bed to put his hands on the elastic of her panties, she raised herself to allow him to pull then down. Again he reached for her waist; again she raised herself. This time, removing the pantyhose revealed the hair on her mound -- mussed and crushed, but lovely.

He reached out to stroke her thighs. The packet in his hand interfered. Well, that problem had an easy solution. He tore open the packet and carefully applied the condom. Now, with both hands free, he could stroke her legs. Soon, he lifted one with both hands and kissed up the inside from the ankle to above the knee. He repeated that on the other leg before dropping it to the bed wide-spread from the other one.

He continued his kisses up the inside of her thigh to the point it met the other. After kissing the sweet creases on the outside of her outer lips, he parted these with his fingers to give his tongue access to her inner ones.

He licked the juices from the edges for a moment. Then he parted them with his tongue. First a lick along the left side, then a lick along the right, finally a lick going upward along the center, stopping just short of her nubbin. It was impossible to lap up all her juices, since Jen kept producing more. He could hear her responses and feel her tensing around him.

He was interrupted in this pursuit by Jen's grabbing his hair. She tugged him towards the head of the bed. The lady, he thought, knows what she wants. And being wanted was as heady as her taste had been. His pause to kiss her breasts didn't give these delights the attention they deserved; his kiss on her mouth was inattentive as all his attention was on his fingers parting her lips below. Then he was in, gloriously sliding within her warm clasp. "Oh, Jen," he said, "Jennifer."

She held him and moved against him. Under that stimulus, with all that had gone before, his arousal grew. He was struggling to hold his orgasm back when she spasmed around him. "Darling," he said. He drove in as hard as his legs could push him and throbbed. And throbbed.

His orgasm seemed to go on for hours, days, but she was still clasping him rhythmically when he was done. Then she collapsed as if she'd been shot. "Oh my darling," he gasped. He managed to gather enough energy to roll off her, leaving one arm draped across her ribcage just touching those delightful breasts.

That was delightful, but it was short. Jen stirred. "I've got things to do," she said. She kissed him lightly and got up.

A little bit later, he got up himself. He took off the Trojan but couldn't figure out where to put it. When Jen got back, he asked her, "Who empties your garbage?"

"I do."

"Good." He tossed the Trojan in the wastebasket. And that line was good in other ways, too. "And keep rehearsing that line," he said. He picked up his clothes and dressed in bathroom.

He put on his shoes in the bedroom. He did not want to leave her. "'Parting is such sweet sorrow,'" he quoted. "I don't know about sweet, but it is a sorrow. Come June, I won't have to leave you."

"But June is months away," she reminded him.

"Yeah. It felt so close when we set the date." He kissed her, caressing her naked back. Then he waited while she dressed before going downstairs. They had another kiss before he opened the door.

His drive back was spent recalling the evening. He wouldn't have skipped the later part, not skipped it for the world, but she tasted so sexy.

When he called that Friday, Jen mentioned an invitation for dinner that coming Sunday. She hadn't mentioned it earlier. "Seems I had other things on my mind."

"Reasonable," he said. "You had a visit from your DS and some premarital counseling."

"Must have been one of those. And a trustees' meeting in the evening. Other than that, there wasn't anything to take my attention." There was a smile in her voice; can one have a smile in one's voice? Well, Jen did.

"Anyway," he said, "I can come on Sunday. You'll have to give me directions."

"Why don't I give you a ride, instead? You can park by the church or the parsonage."

In the event, he was the one who gave her a ride. It was raining heavily, and she'd left her car at the parsonage.

When Jen had told him how to get to the Baxters' he raised a question. "Do you usually say the grace at your parishioners' meals?"

"Always," she said. "There is no such thing as 'usually' in Independence."

"In that case, I should defer to you if I'm invited to say it." There was no such thing as women's lib in Independence, either. He'd already learned that.

Sure as shooting, Fred Baxter asked him to say grace. "Maybe your pastor should," he replied. Jen did, a rather long formal grace. The meal was good, the visit pleasant; and the weather had cleared up when he and Jen left.

"You think ahead," Jen said in the car. Was that a compliment or a direction? Was she saying that he had or that he should be careful to.

"Hmm?"

"About the grace. How did you know you'd be asked?"

"I didn't know," he said. "It was a possibility. You're their pastor, and we have to remember that. They're still likely to see a man, a preaching man to boot, as a more real pastor. And, of course, we don't know but that they'd ask any guest to say the grace. If they think you're one of their own, then I'm -- so to speak -- more of the guest. So we have to be careful of that. So, we're very polite about it. But we make sure that I don't usurp the pastoral role. Inadvertently, or any other way." That was important. It was important for Independence, and it was important for their future.

"You ever turn off that mind of yours?"

"Eight hours a night." And, though he preferred not to remember those occasions, it sometimes turned itself off in the middle of delivering a lecture, too.

He followed her into the parsonage. With the door closed, he kissed her. Tongue met tongue, and his hands fondled her bottom.

"Now that's out of the way, stand there," Jen said. Had he done something wrong? But when he stood still, she kissed him. 'Stand there' seemed to preclude fondling her, but she did rub up against him. "That's for looking out for my role."

"All the time," he answered.

"Then it's for being the person you are."

Which was a nice thought to carry away with him on his drive back.

The next time he saw Jen was at her parents'. She had been shopping with her mom. Her mom was a nice woman, as one would expect from such a nice daughter. After a pleasant -- if superficial -- conversation, he and Jen headed for the Conference offices in his car. That might not be the smartest way into the Loop. They arrived a few minutes early. This didn't seem to be the place for holding hands, much less anything more serious. When the cabinet meeting broke up, all the departing members congratulated Jen and him. He was really the person who should be congratulated; maybe Jen deserved commiseration. Still, it boded well to receive wellwishes from people who could do them good or ill every year in the future.

"Now then," Campbell said when he'd ushered them into a conference room and shut the door, "the service. What sort of vows do you want?" He hadn't thought about that. Would a DS perform some off-the-wall service?

"What's wrong with the traditional ones?" he asked.

"How traditional?" Jen asked.

"What's in your service book." He took a deep breath. Some weddings at which he'd officiated hadn't struck him as particularly Christian. "Let me tell you, I do have the emotions we call 'love' towards you. And I'm quite willing to tell the world. Want me to take out an ad in the Tribune? But I won't say the present tense in the service. The promise to love is a promise to seek your good -- seek it in the future. It isn't a feeling."

"Let's use the standard form," Jen said.

"This is looking easier and easier," Campbell said.

"Two rings," he put in. "I'm not dictating to her, this has already been discussed. The rings are already picked out."

Campbell asked a dozen more questions before he got to "Music?"

That was Jen's department. "The Independence organist, Mrs. Dixon, will play. She's not very good, I fear. I'll have her send you the playlist. That will be very traditional. No soloists...." she trailed off and looked at him.

"Unless you would be willing to," she finally continued.

"You want a song from me?" he asked.

"Very much."

That hadn't been discussed. She'd get what she was asking for unless it was sickly sweet. But Jen wasn't the type for sickly sweet. "Something particular, something you won't know until the event, something you approve beforehand?"

"I wouldn't say 'approve,'" she answered.

"You can pick it out later," Campbell said.

But he'd had time to think. "Know 'As Men and Women We Were Made'?" They were talking about a worship service, after all. "Composer named Wren." Couldn't think of his first name, but one thing he knew. "Not Christopher. Fairly new."

Jen shook her head, Campbell nodded his.

"Not in the hymnal," he admitted.

"Yet," Campbell said. "It's only about a decade old. Should I pencil it in?"

"Oh yes," Jen said, She sounded pleased.

When Campbell got to the questions he'd sent, they handed him their negotiated answers. In his case, at least, they were a Xerox of the negotiated answers. Campbell went through the answers with them.

"You know the part of the ceremony," Campbell finally asked, "where the officiating minister says, 'Whom God has joined together let no man put asunder'?"

"Well," he continued, "it sometimes seems to me that we concentrate on the wrong part of that. What would it mean to treat your spouse as the person God has put you together with?"

"Well," he responded to their silence, "I'll leave you with that. It's something to think about, not only now, but during the marriage as well."

They walked out with Campbell and, when he turned off towards the bus stop, went to get the car. When he stopped at a red light, he asked Jen, "Honeymoon?"

"Sounds like a good idea," she said. Good answer, but not the question.

"Sounds like a great idea. But specifically. Do you already have something planned? Do you want to plan it together? Do you want me to surprise you?"

"You have something in mind."

"I'm considering something." He'd been considering it for some time, not wanting to suggest it to her until he was certain that this would work out.

"Why don't you run it by me?" Jen asked. "We're not like you men, you know. Women have to know where we're going before we can pack for the trip." That was fair.

"Do you swim?" he asked.

"Some."

"Only pools?"

"Lake."

"Ever been in the ocean?"

"No," she said "Is that what you want?" It was what he thought might be good for her. She needed to be far away from Independence.

"That's what I've been thinking of. A small inn by the Atlantic. It doesn't get as warm by June as Lake Michigan does, but you float better in salt water."

"Sounds good." Then she changed the subject. "Do you want my questions for our marriage now?" Apparently the plan for the honeymoon was accepted.

"I was thinking when I took you back. You sure you want to go back by train?"

"I'm sure."

Well, she could change her mind. "Pizza?" he asked.

"Sounds great."

"Decide the toppings now, and come in with me to order it." Aside from the cheese, she chose a different assortment than the last time.

After the kiss and starting the coffee, he laid out the table. When his tie threatened to drag over the pizza, he took it off. It wasn't as if he had planned to wear it throughout the evening.

When he came back Jen was looking much more tasty than the pizza had. During their a long kiss, she flowed into his hug. "Sure you want pizza?" he asked. Then they went into the kitchen and ate.

She was wearing a suit. He didn't want to get pizza sauce on it, but he did want to get his hands on it. Well, he wanted to get his hands on her, and she'd be wearing the suit for the next few minutes. For that matter, he wanted to take it especially slow tonight. If that ran past the train schedule, then he'd drive her back. He washed his hands when Jen was clearly on her last piece.

They had a nice kiss before they adjourned to the bedroom. There, he kissed her gently and unbuttoned one button. Then he kissed her again and unbuttoned another. When he had draped the blouse over a chair, he took a long kiss. With her still in his arms, he reached behind her to undo her brassiere. He stepped back and moved his hands around her sides. Then he had a breast in each hand, gently brushing the nipples with his thumb. He took the brassiere off and placed it over the blouse. Then he kissed her again.

But those sweet, responsive, nipples were calling. He kissed a line down her neck and shoulder 'til he reached one. When he kissed it, she encouraged him by pulling his head into the kiss.

He sucked there, bent over awkwardly and with his hands stroking her back and bottom, until she pushed him back. He worried that she'd grown tired of his kisses, but her next move was to lie down. That would be much better -- easier access and even more access.

He kissed her before lying down beside her, though, and he needed to remove her skirt. He made separate trips for the skirt and the panties. There was so much of Jen he hadn't kissed yet, and he'd intended to make this a slow session, too.

Not lying down yet, he began to remedy the lack. He kissed her breasts again, giving them each equal attention. He kissed her sweet abdomen, her navel and sides. When he got low enough that the pantyhose interfered, he tugged them down with her cooperation. That revealed her hair which needed kisses as much as her breasts had. When he'd kissed there, her thighs called.

Jen looked bound with her pantyhose around her knees. Suddenly, that was a turn-on. It wasn't a turn-on he wanted to pursue, however. He removed them and put them with her panties. Now Jen was revealed in all her glory, wearing nothing but a watch and a ring -- his ring.

He should kiss the whole of that glory, from the neck to the toes. Before he could, though, Jen started unbuttoning his shirt. "You're wearing too much," she said. The sweet girl wanted him.

He kissed her for that. He could have managed the shirt faster than she did, but 'faster' wasn't a value tonight. It became less of a value when she'd opened his trousers. She gripped him.

Afraid that he would come right there, he moved away. Jen seemed to see the danger, but she had a demand. "Well, lose those." He lost them, as well as the shoes and socks. He knelt over her and resumed the kissing. He started on the valley between her breasts and passed on to her belly. Leaving her hair for the return trip, he kissed the inside of her thighs. That brought his nose right where Jen smelled most arousing. And he could just barely taste her, too. He licked a thigh and anticipated the taste of her center.

But that was not to be. Jen pulled him up in the bed by his hair. "Damn it," she said. She wanted him!

Well, he wanted her. He wanted her right then, but somewhere in his mind there was a corner still lucid. "The Trojan," he reminded her.

"Get it." Woman knew what she wanted, and -- since what she wanted was him -- that was delightful. He got it.

He stopped at the entrance to paradise. "Oh, Jen. Oh, Jennifer." Then he slid into that sweet embrace. The lovely smoothness, the warmth -- despite the Trojan, enclosed him. As he began his motions, he felt her hands clasping his bottom.

Soon, he felt an even more intimate clasp. Jen was pulsing around him. He drove in and out of that pulsing warmth ever more rapidly as his tension built. "Oh Jen," he said as it peaked. He emptied himself into her and collapsed. The last thing he could control his muscles for was to roll to her side. He was still conscious of Jen's warmth beside him and her hand holding his.

Too soon, though, Jen got up. Instead of coming back where she belonged after a bathroom break, she started to dress. "I'll get a cab," she said.

"No, I'll take you." He put on the same underwear, but slacks not good enough for school and the shirt he'd planned on. His set of questions was already in the pocket.

They got in the car, and he started on his way. Before they got to the turn-off for the expressway, he said, "I could take you the whole way. I'm going to be making the trip every day next year, after all." And he felt fully awake, now.

"The car's parked at the station." Then he could drive her to the station. "For the rest of my life, I'd feel two-faced every time I talked about stewardship of natural resources."

"There is that," he admitted.

Jen put a sheaf of papers on the dashboard. "My questions. You seem to have forgotten yours. Maybe distracted."

"I have them," he said. "I planned to wear this shirt." But that reminded him. "What I did forget was the pizza. I wanted to give you the leftovers."

"Anything you don't eat, refrigerate and bring on Sunday."

They kissed goodbye just at the beginning of the platform. He waited until the train started moving, then shook himself. He went back to the car and drove back to his apartment, an apartment which was beginning to feel strangely lonely.

He had meant to save Jen's questions for the next day, but the temptation was too great. He read them in bed. She'd been less structured than he had, giving only one layer of questions.

One of her questions was "sex." He was tempted to answer that "yes." Serve her right for her answer to his honeymoon question. But he did have ideas about sex, ideas he should express before the marriage.

The next day, between classes, he sorted out the two pairs of questions. He numbered the two copies. After work, he typed them up again, both sets conflated into one. He couldn't see how to express his assurance that he wasn't about to run her pastorate. He sure-as-hell shouldn't phrase that as a question: "Is Jen in charge of her church or is David?"

He'd Xerox the questions the next day at the seminary. They'd have a postage scale there, too. He did type out the envelope to Jen.

He had thought out two points that needed more space, he put them on separate sheets. "D1. Jen is the assigned pastor. She decides -- subject to the usual committees and The Discipline -- what goes on in the church. David has the same right to opinions as any other parishioner, but Jen decides. Similarly, David is the professor. Jen has the same right to opinions as any other alumna, but David decides -- subject to the seminary's policies, of course," ran the first.

The second said, "D2. Paul writes, as you know, about each spouse giving the other his/her due. Pretty generally, this is taken to mean that one is to engage in the intercourse one's spouse needs/wants. I take it so myself. Now, not as an interpretation of that, but as one way to fulfill that advice, here's what I suggest: In any relationship at any particular time, there will be one who wants more and another who wants less. I suggest that we have intercourse to fully satisfy the one who wants less. After that, it will be the task of that person to satisfy the other. Manually, or through cunnilingus as seems appropriate at the time. Now this won't solve every problem/conflict. What happens if I seriously want you at ten thirty on a Sunday morning? But I do offer it as a guideline."

Saturday, he called up Jen's mother. "Hello?"

"Mrs. Saunders? This is David Blake. I visited you the other day. I have a question, and I'd appreciate it if you don't tell Jen."

"I don't like keeping secrets from my daughter."

"Use your own judgment on this one. A wise man once said that a man only needs to remember four dates, 1492, 1776, his anniversary and his wife's birthday. And, he said, you can get by without the first two in a pinch."

She chuckled. "So you want to know Jen's birthday?"

"Yes, and I might want to surprise my wife. So, I'd appreciate it if you don't tell her I asked."

"It's April twenty-fifth."

"Thanks much. I'll never surprise her that I know my wife's birthday, but I might surprise my fiancee. I'm glad I asked."

"You're quite welcome. I don't mind keeping that sort of secret."

"And keep it for a few days afterwards, will you? I'll have to look at a calendar, but I suspect I won't be able to get together with her on the twenty-fifth."

She agreed, and they got off the phone soon thereafter.

He remembered the pizza, and brought it to her before church. She put it in the 'fridge, but -- despite his getting there early -- she had things to do to prepare for the service. Her kiss was light and more dutiful than passionate. He drove her to the parishioners' again after the service. It was a nice visit, marred only by what they were being deprived of.

Back at the parsonage, Jen turned on the downstairs lights on her way to the upstairs. They didn't really need light, but it signified to any passersby later on that he was in her living room and not her bedroom. When they were in the bedroom, they shared a deep kiss. She responded to his unbuttoning her blouse by trying to unbutton his shirt. That didn't work.

They both laughed. "Faster if we do ourselves," Jen said, stepping away. He started on his clothes and walked around the bed to reach a chair which would take them. When he was stripped, he got the Trojans out of his briefcase. "Would it cause problems if I left these here?" he asked. He neither wanted to invade her space nor to leave evidence where it might be found.

"Good idea."

He put them on the nightstand on his way to kiss Jen. The kiss was delightful. She was nice and warm against him, firm nipples pressing his chest, firm belly against his erection, firm buttocks under his hand.

After her mouth, he kissed her ears and her throat. He had to break the hug before his kisses reached her breast, but he could caress her front like that. When he stopped kissing to catch his breath, Jen went to bed. "Join me," she said.

When he did, he lay on his right side and caressed her with his left hand. He kissed her near breast while his hand was on her far one. Then he smoothed his hand down that lovely belly to the hair at its base. Jen spread her legs, improving his access. He cupped her mound in his hand, fingers playing with her labia. He kissed over to her far breast. When his lips got to the nipple, his finger got to her nubbin.

"Now," said Jen. It was so nice to be wanted, to have her express her desires for him. Unfortunately, he couldn't respond to those desires just yet.

He had to get the Trojan and put it on first. Then he knelt between her legs, in the position. "Jennifer," he said as he felt her enclose him. He felt the clasp of her walls around him; he felt the warmth; he even felt the slickness. He pushed all the way within her. Her arms held him in a delightful hug, if not so delightful as the one below.

Then he had to move. Side to side first, then out. The friction felt exquisite, but he missed the clasp already. So he moved back in. He was moving faster and harder on each stroke, and she was holding his bottom and squeezing the cheeks.

He knew he couldn't last much longer. Then he didn't have to. She spasmed. He drove with increasing speed through that clutching. Then his lust slammed him forward and poured out of him.

With his last strength, he rolled over. Then he had to manage somehow to pull the sheet and blanket up over them. She was sweating in his arms, and the furnace didn't quite manage to overcome the late-winter chill.

"Jen," he murmured, and hugged her tight. "Jennifer!"

"David, David" she said after some time. How much time? He looked at the clock. "Ten o'clock." Actually, it was a few minutes after. "Damn."

"I don't want you to go either," Jen said.

"June. After June, I sleep in your arms every night." But it wasn't June yet. It wasn't even April yet.

They got dressed in the doubtful light shining up the stairs from the living room. He put the box of Trojans in the drawer of the nightstand. He checked that he wasn't leaving anything. He kissed her once more downstairs before donning his coat and giving her his set of answers. He replaced them in his briefcase with her set, kissed her lightly on the forehead. and went out to his car.

It was a long, lonely drive home.

The next morning, though, his memories of the pleasures of the evening far outweighed those of the displeasures of the drive back. He sang in the shower, his habit when he was especially happy. "A Mighty Fortress" was his selection for today. His first class all looked especially glum, not unusual for nine o'clock Monday morning. This fueled his good humor, as such contrasts sometimes did.

When he got back to his apartment, he dug out Jen's answers with a smile on his face. His question of "furniture" was met, one could hardly say answered, by a string of question marks. Didn't the woman have an opinion on the bed the two of them would be sharing? She wanted separate budgets. Damn! He wanted to be married. And that meant shared property. It wasn't as if he wanted to live off her; he could bring a quite respectable paycheck to the marriage.

But she wanted children. At least one child, and she would consider more after that. She was right; some people found the idea of kids much more attractive than they found the baby whose diaper needed to be changed.

And then there was: "We need to agree that we'll never use sex to manipulate the other. What we honestly want, when we honestly want it, subject to the demands of our jobs." Had he used sex to manipulate Jen? Not quite. He hadn't wanted to have her take the train back, and he'd dawdled until she'd threatened to take a cab. He'd worried about bullying her into submission; she worried about his tricking her into submission. Well, that wasn't a marriage. He'd promise to reform.

It also, when he thought about it with a clear head, was a bad basis for sex. He didn't want her wondering about his ulterior motives when he seduced her. Her profession gave her enough worries which could create distractions.

He'd give her honesty, at least the promise of honesty. Maybe he could ask for honesty of a different sort in return. He was pretty sure that Jen's orgasms these days were actual. Would she promise that she would never fake one? He'd ask, but he'd promise honesty whatever her answer. Marriage was the exchange of two absolute vows, not the trading of conditional ones.

This was about as far as they could go in writing. He needed to talk with her. Well, he wanted to do other things as well; but they definitely should talk.

He called Jen on Tuesday. "We have to talk."

"Did some of my answers jar you?" she asked.

"Not jar, but some of these have to be talked about face to face."

"Sunday, after dinner?" That would do in a pinch. After all, they still had months before the wedding. But he wanted to see her, and he had other plans for Sunday.

"Do you have a meeting Wednesday?" he asked. "I could drive out and pick you up, and we could meet here -- with the lights on."

"Let me check.... I can come. Why don't I take the train?"

"I can drive out."

"But you can arrive at the train station earlier than you can arrive here," she said. "That gives me more time with you. For that matter, while I enjoy the drives back to Chicago, I don't have your full attention then."

He grinned. "'A man who can drive a car around a curve while kissing a girl isn't paying enough attention to the kiss.'"

"Something like that."

"It's a date."

"I'll meet you at your office. That's the earliest we can get together."

"I love you."

"And," she said, "I love you, too." Which was nice to hear, though the calculation of when they could meet earliest said it more convincingly.

Jen was at his office door when he got there. When they were inside, he shut the door and kissed her. He tasted her tongue, but he couldn't feel much of her body when they were both wrapped in coats. They held hands on the walk to his apartment.

"Are we going to shock your students?" Jen asked.

He could hope; many of them needed a shock. But it was unlikely. She should have met him at the end of class and kissed him in greeting. "I fear we won't. If anyone asks, I'll introduce you. 'Hi Joe; I want you to meet the pastor of my church.' Should satisfy anyone."

"You're evil." But her tone was warm. This wonderful woman actually liked him. It was inexplicable, but quite enjoyable.

Inside his building, he rested his bare hand on her flexing bottom while they climbed the stairs. No-one could see, and she made no objection. With the coffee on and the impedimenta out of the way, they had a short kiss and a long hug.

He set them up with cups and saucers, also with copies of both sets of answers. He had an extra set of questions to mark down their compromises. He began in the middle, though.

"Speaking of furniture, what of this stuff will we want to keep? I'll bring my bookshelves. Hell! I'll bring more than enough books to fill them."

"Can't have too many bookshelves," Jen answered.

"Can, on the other hand, have too many books. You know the stories which surface every once in a while? Somebody is found dead -- buried in collapsed stacks of books. Every time I read one of those, I see my future."

"Do you have to know now?"

"Not in the least. Something to think about. I'll rent a truck and empty the place out sometime in July." He'd been thinking this through. "My lease runs through September first, and I can't see getting a sublease in the summer. This is a college town, not one hell of a lot of demand for apartments when classes are out. Anyway.... Anyway, you've seen my answers, where do we need to adjust our differences?"

"One place we don't need to adjust immediately," Jen said, "concerns children. We're agreed upon having one, at least. We're agreed upon not starting right away. Until we have one and seen what that means, I think we'd be stupid to make some determination."

"I think you're right. And, of course, your body would have to bear the burden. One place we do need immediate agreement," he continued, "is budget. Are you really committed to having separate budgets?"

"Yes."

"That's how we'll do it, then." Damn! He wanted a real marriage. On the other hand, he wanted the marriage to be with Jen. "Now, you'll be providing the housing; it's only fair that I be responsible for the food. I assume we'll both handle our own clothes and transportation. During the school year, I won't be able to do the shopping. So, I propose that I do the shopping this coming summer and work out a food budget based on that experience. Then I'll write a check for that amount every two weeks, but you'll do the actual shopping. Is that fair?"

"I think so. I can pledge absolute fidelity," she changed the subject. "Can you pledge that you'll never use sex to manipulate me?"

"What do you mean?"

"I keep suspecting that you took so long during my last visit here because you wanted me to miss the last train."

"I would have driven you back." He hadn't really intended her to miss her train. He certainly hadn't made any effort to avoid that prospect, though.

"Fine. Argue with my choice, just don't use my passion to get your way. Do you see what that does?"

"Put that way. Can you pledge honesty in sex?"

"Didn't I just?"

"That you'll never fake an orgasm, that you'll never fake an interest you don't have, that you'll never fake an indifference you don't have."

"I'll promise the first two." Jen said. "You'll pardon hiding interest when we're in public?"

"Oh sure. All I mean is that you won't hide it from me."

"And you won't manipulate me?"

"I won't," he said. "And I won't hide anything from you either. I don't think men fake orgasms."

"Then, we're agreed. I was a little surprised that you didn't mention sex on your first set of questions."

"And I was surprised that you didn't have any opinions about the bed."

"I have opinions about beds," she responded. "'Furniture' was not the clearest question to find them out."

The lady had a point. "I can see that. Let's hear your opinion about beds."

"Double is fine. Mine is more than a little too soft. Yours is, perhaps, a little too firm. I'm flexible; I've slept on the bed I have now for more than two years. My old one was a real wreck. So, I can go with a double bed which is that firm."

"It doesn't have to be that firm. How about one firmness, however mattress companies measure that, less than I have now?"

"Sounds good."

They went on like that, each bringing up a point. When neither of them could think of another disagreement, he got out the copy of the questions and restated the agreement on each question. Then he wrote it down. Nothing glaring came up.

He ended with his second separate sheet of paper, the one about sex.

"I think," Jen said, "that's a beginning. I really think we established a lot of common ground with respect to sex before we started negotiating about it."

"Right! That's what started this whole thing. I wanted you. So...." This seemed to be both the time to ask and the opening for the question. "Bed first, then dinner? Or the other way around?"

"Well..., we're already here. Don't want to need to come back to your apartment." So much for never faking indifference. Still, she wasn't trying to fool him. He decided teasing was within the guidelines.

He pushed back his chair and held out his arms for her. She filled them. He began to unbutton her blouse while he kissed her. Maybe, with her sitting on his lap, she was kissing him. Either way, it was quite a pleasant experience.

Soon, though, his position bound his erection. When she drew back a little from the kiss, he said, "This is lovely, but I'm getting uncomfortable."

Jen got up to let him make adjustments, but she said, "That problem has a better solution."

"Sure. But I have a place to hang the clothes in the bedroom, and you're wearing too much, too." After one kiss in his room, they took off their own clothes. It was faster that way, if less fun.

He lay down, and Jen joined him on the bed. He tried to avoid rushing to the main event. He caressed her while they kissed. He held her breast and played with the nipple. He kissed a path from her mouth to the nipple. When he reached it, he moved his hand to her center. When his mouth followed it there, he could smell the evidence of her arousal.

He licked up some of that evidence. He licked all over those lips. When she pulled his head more firmly against her, he concentrated on the magic button. That pushed her over.

He had difficulty breathing as she pulled him into her center, but the psychic charge of being right there, of knowing he'd caused this explosion, of knowing she desired his attentions, was worth any amount of physical discomfort.

When she relaxed, he moved up in bed beside her. He draped an arm across her heaving ribcage. "Jen," he said, fondly, "sweet Jennifer." Jen looked at him. "Not asking anything. Just marveling. This is sweet Jennifer I have in my arms."

She smiled at this. Later, she moved his hand to her far breast. The implicit invitation thrilled him, aroused him as much as the feel of that warm softness. He kissed up her near arm. When he reached the shoulder, he continued on to her breast.

With his lips on her nipple, he could move his hand towards her center. When he did, she spread her legs. Delightful girl; desired girl; desirous woman! He played with her secret hair before stroking her lower lips. These were juicy and inviting, but he teased himself by delaying answering that invitation.

Apparently, he wasn't the only one being teased. "David," Jen said. Summoned, he turned to get the Trojan. Once it was on, he got into position. "Jennifer," he said again before beginning his entry. Partly this name expressed love, partly it expressed triumph. Lovely Jennifer had chosen him.

He felt her surround his phallus. Even through the latex, her warmth, her silken smoothness, were delightful. As he began to move within that smooth warmth, she caressed his back. His need drove him faster and faster. Suddenly, she pressed against his groin and pulled him against her by his seat.

Feeling her clutch around him, he drove in and out more rapidly. Deep within her, he erupted. When he was done, he could only gather enough energy to roll off her. "Jen!" he gasped.

He cuddled her lightly. Before his strength returned, she got the sheet and blankets. She tucked the two of them in and cuddled in the spoon position. Lovely feeling, almost as good as what had gone before. Damn the necessity of going out in public!

Then, he realized that this necessity could be delayed, if not avoided. "Come June," he said, "we'll spend every night lying like this."

"But," Jen said, "It's not June yet. How long do I have before we have to go out to eat?"

"Depends. I still have some chili in the freezer. You'll still have to go out to catch the train, though."

"Pauline chili?" she asked. "From the potluck?"

"Another batch, a trifle more picante. I can cook some rice, though."

"Not without getting up."

"Not without getting up," he admitted. "Stay here, though. I shall return." He grabbed his robe on the way to the kitchen.

There, he prepared the rice and heated a pot for the chili. When the rice was ready to be left, he took the chili out of the freezer. He dumped it in the proper pot, but turned off the flames. He held his hands in a stream of hot water for a minute; no sense in going back to Jen with hands that had been in the freezer.

He dropped his robe on a chair and climbed into bed with Jen. He set the alarm for twenty minutes later. "This will tell me when the rice is ready," he explained. He lay there with Jen in his arms until the alarm rang.