© Copyright 2003 by silli_artie@hotmail.com
This work may not be reposted or redistributed without the prior express written permission of the author.
A work of fiction, meant for adults. Read something else if you are not an adult, or are offended by stories with sexual content. Then
again, if all you’re looking for is in-out, in-out, in-out, you should probably read something else. I welcome constructive comments. Enjoy.
14
Awake in the middle of the night, I felt her eyes burning into my back. I rolled over in the dark and pulled her to me. “What is it?” I asked quietly as she held me, her head on my chest.
It took her a while to answer.
“Roger, do you really want a family?”
Uh oh -- I’d struck a nerve. I held her close. “Barbara, do we want a family?”
She took a deep breath, sighing on its release. I held her.
I whispered to her, “It’s a question for both of us, with no predetermined answer. It doesn’t have to be answered today, tomorrow, or the next day. Whatever the answer, I love you.”
Another sigh. “I need to turn over.”
“Okay.” I kissed her head.
As she turned, though, she held my hand. “But I still need you to hold me.”
“Of course,” I told her, snuggling up to her back, one arm under her neck. I pulled the covers up a little with my other hand before putting it around her waist. She drew it up between her breasts. We snuggled together and I kissed her neck.
I didn’t remember setting the alarm, but I sure remember it going off.
“Happy Monday,” I whispered, snuggling up again. “Shower with me?”
She turned, facing me, another interesting look on her face -- wonder? As in, wondering what I’m going to do next? I pulled her closer, hugging. She pushed me to my back.
“You are full of surprises,” she told me.
“That’s not the only thing I’m full of,” I complained.
She sighed. “Is this what I have to look forward to?”
“For a very long time?” I replied.
I thought I was going to get wobbly chin and tears, but she shook her head again, smiling slightly. “Go!” she told me as she rolled off.
I started the shower, then sat to do my duty. She came into the bathroom and stepped right into the shower.
“Are you going to join me?” she asked, hands covering her breasts in mock modesty.
I stepped in, closing the shower door. “Expected you to go to the bathroom first, that’s all.”
We kissed under the running water. I thought I felt something extra running down my legs. I couldn’t help but start laughing.
She held me. “What’s so funny? Are you surprised?”
I grabbed the shampoo. “I love you,” I told her.
She seemed in a hurry, so we washed quickly and dried with a minimum of fooling around. She sat me on the corner of the bed to brush out my hair, something I really enjoy. When she started her soft singing, I relaxed to the attention, closing my eyes.
Perfume -- a special perfume, and her hands pulling me to a nipple. She held me and carried me to a cloud. We made love on a cloud, but I knew we were on the floor with the strong sensation of her pounding on top of me, and the sound of her pleasure echoing in the room.
“What’s your schedule today?” she asked. We were in the kitchen. She was dressed very business-like, and I was quite professorial.
I shook my head a bit. “Japanese visitors at eleven, faculty club lunch noonish, teach from two to three thirty, go to the dojo. Meet me there?”
She nodded, handing me a glass of juice. “Most likely around six. Not sure where I’ll be going for lunch. I have some breaks though -- could you fly out Thursday night, and back Saturday or Sunday?”
I nodded. “I’ll check with Herb and Abiko, but I don’t see why not. The redeye?”
She nodded grimly. “I could go earlier, but I don’t want to leave you.”
I held her hand. “I really appreciate that. I don’t like sleeping alone.”
“It’s bad for you,” she agreed.
We finished our breakfast, cleaned up the little kitchen, and headed off.
At school I sent an e-mail letting my Mac sprite know I had a new laptop. A gnawing feeling told me to call Angela Richards. Could we talk? Today, my office, three thirty or so? I sighed with relief when she told me she could make it. My Mac sprite appeared in my office about nine twenty -- we walked to the bookstore where I spent a small fortune on software. She walked off with my laptop, telling me she’d have everything installed, updated, and backed up by three.
My Japanese visitors were punctual, as expected. Three of them, two middle-aged, the third older and reeking of tobacco smoke, also expected. We talked in my office, then walked to the Faculty club for lunch, allowing Hamada-san the opportunity for a smoke. I saw Barbara arrive with two other folks; we exchanged glances and that was about it. Conversation continued in my office after a walk back and another coffin nail. We parted company, and after propping open a window to air out my office, I took off to teach my class.
When I returned to my office, Angela Richards was talking with my Mac sprite. My sprite gave me a whirlwind run through what she’d done, which included a loaner wireless card. She pointed me to a detailed e-mail message telling me what I should order and from whom. I thanked her and she took off. I closed the door.
“Doctor Hawthorne, I wouldn’t have thought she was your type,” Angela suggested dryly.
I sat next to her. “She’s a tremendous resource; very helpful,” I replied, ignoring the barb.
She nodded, half-smiling. “What can I do for you?” Then with a wrinkle of her nose, “Smokers?”
I nodded. “Japanese visitors -- that’s why I opened the window. I have some questions, and some concerns, and I hope you can help.”
She nodded, folding her hands in her lap -- attentive neutrality.
“Hammond said you have three or four confirmed, a number of possibles,” I suggested seriously.
That broke her neutrality. “He told you?”
“Yes.” My hunch was paying off -- too bad I didn’t know what I was fishing for.
She shook her head, sighing. “It’s difficult to be positive without interviewing the young ladies in depth, but the circumstances fit, as do the men involved.”
“Who were they?” I asked as I pieced together a better suspicion.
“European, the men were in key positions in companies and governmental organizations. Rossman and his people have been invaluable. The deaths were quite embarrassing as you can imagine, and up to now hadn’t been connected.”
I nodded grimly. Embarrassing indeed. “And traumatic on the poor girls,” I suggested.
“Quite. That’s our avenue to explore ... We were still trying to protect you from certain aspects of what has transpired.”
“That’s okay -- Barbara said Samantha was supposed to kill me, but you protected me. How?”
“In for a penny, in for a pound,” she said softly. The professional switch went on again. “Roger, how much do you know about hypnosis?”
I shook my head. “In one sense, not a lot. In another, quite a bit. I did some reading, but the hypotheses I saw were scattered all over the map. In spite of that, I know it works, and can be very powerful.”
She nodded. “Yes. It can be quite powerful, with the right person, the right circumstances, and the right motivation.”
“I recall reading that all hypnosis is self hypnosis, and that it’s difficult to get someone to do something that’s truly against their nature.”
She smiled. “A good approximation.”
“But what does that mean? Conscious desire? Subconscious desire? Expectation?” I suggested.
Her smile broadened. “Good, very good -- many shades of gray here. Roger, many things go into the effectiveness of hypnotic suggestions. Your desire plays an important part.” She paused, shaking her head. “Before last week, I considered the attraction to breasts and suckling somewhat of a fetish. But now I’m not so sure.”
I raised an eyebrow.
“Even without hypnosis, this is a very strong stimulus for you, yes?”
I nodded.
“Very comforting, very relaxing -- I understand that better now. In addition to your natural proclivities, you’ve been conditioned to go into a state of deep relaxation when you’re held in that delicious way. And it’s just as pleasurable for the woman holding you. Simply put, the men, you, were conditioned to relax deeply, to be very responsive to suggestion. The women were conditioned as well. The first level was to repeat the sequence, deepening the conditioning for both. The women get an incredible amount of pleasure from holding their men.”
I nodded; I had an idea where it went from there.
She continued. “Conditioning only remains effective if it is reinforced periodically. That’s why Doctor Flynn and Denise selected and conditioned girls to take care of you.”
That was a stunner.
She nodded grimly. “Yes, Doctor Flynn helped. She didn’t know about Denise’s ulterior motives, what Denise was doing with the girls, or with her for that matter. As far as Doctor Flynn was concerned, she was doing it to insure you’d be responsive to her. Denise was manipulating people right up to their limits.”
“Wait a minute -- now I’m really confused. Christie and Denise set them up?”
She nodded. “Yes -- Doctor Flynn told me that.”
“I don’t understand. Were they working together? Or did it just seem that way?”
Why did that make her smile?
“Roger, think back to that first incident at Boulder -- who was the target?”
“Ash -- no, how can that be if he and Denise were already in cahoots? Me? That doesn’t make sense either.”
She shook her head. “Roger, you were in the wrong place at the wrong time -- an accident.”
I frowned. “That’s certainly a boost for my male ego, but I can accept it. So, who was the target, if I was merely a target of opportunity?”
“Doctor Flynn; your Christie.”
I sat back. “If they had caught Ash, rather than me?”
“Then he and Denise would have worked to bind Doctor Flynn to Ash, or at least that’s what I think Ash would be told. You happened into the trap, though, so you became the overt target, with Doctor Flynn still the covert target.”
“So Christie thought they were working on me, and Denise used both of us to pull the other in deeper and deeper.”
“Yes, but remember Roger -- as you said some weeks ago, building on what was already there. You found Doctor Flynn attractive. She was attracted to you. You’ve been with six young ladies at school, but other than Annie and Samantha, all were one-shot deals.”
I nodded. “So to speak... The chemistry wasn’t there with the others.”
“Something didn’t click,” she agreed. “Some things you can’t force, and it’s much easier if you find people with the natural inclination.”
“The girls kept the pump primed?”
She considered my remark and nodded with a smirk. “Interesting analogy, but not incorrect. That, and Denise needed to deepen things for possible use later.”
“The other morning, when Samantha was binding me again, and I heard the other voices, I heard Christie’s, but I know now I didn’t want to recognize it. Part of me knew, but part didn’t want to acknowledge it.”
“Those realizations can be painful -- but to an extent, the pain is an indication of the significance.”
“Yesterday, the day before, whenever we drove to Portland -- I woke up feeling as if I’d been wearing headphones.”
She nodded. “I prepared a recording to reinforce what we’ve done.”
I thought for a moment, changing to my hypothesis. “Samantha’s ‘something special’ was to wipe me out with sex, make sure I was really relaxed, then suffocate me?”
She nodded. “That simple. We knew Denise wanted her to call when the deed was done. I anesthetized you, as I suspected Denise would direct Samantha to test to see if you were responsive, and that was what happened.”
“What have you done to protect me? I don’t understand.”
She nodded. “Simple and deep, Roger. What would you consider, of all the things you’ve experienced in hypnosis, has been the most profound?”
I thought for a moment. “Pulling my catheter?”
She shook her head, dismissing my remark quickly. “Blocking sensation, pain, is easy, especially for you. You’d already learned to do that in martial arts.”
That got another raised eyebrow. But it made sense. “The attempt to get me to kill Christie and then myself, but that failed.”
“Yes, it did -- showing that there are limits. We should come back to that.”
“Not seeing you in the safehouse? That’s weird.”
She smiled. “Not that difficult with good subjects, and luckily for me, both you and Samantha were very good.”
I puzzled for a moment. “Okay, let’s say we were to do that again. I walk into a classroom at school. I’m not supposed to notice you. You’re standing in front of a whiteboard covered with writing. What do I see on the whiteboard where you’re blocking my view of the writing?”
She beamed. “Roger, that’s a wonderful question! But let’s return to my earlier question to you. I’m thinking about a different kind of conditioning, one which has been built up since you were very young, and something you desire very much.”
“I give up,” I replied after some thought.
“Doctor Flynn and I talked about it. She saw it as indicative of the depth of the bond the two of you had achieved, and I agreed with her. On the flight back from Pittsburgh, she got you to pee in your pants, a number of times.”
I laughed out loud. “I remember the first time she did that -- I was so upset! And she had to work at it the first time; I resisted. That whole thing, wearing the diaper, was upsetting, because that very basic potty training was undermined.” I paused for a moment. “And yet I remember thinking about it at the time, realizing what a dangerous illusion it is for us to feel that we’re ‘in control’ of things.”
Angela was smiling. “Very true.”
“What did you do to protect me?”
“Roger, we were very lucky. Your training has given you very strong connections with your body, with sensation. It’s been a two edged sword for you. What we did was very simple. We trained you to turn your head and breathe when you need to. The tape reinforces your awareness and your ability to throw off trance and suggestion.”
“But I don’t want it to stop,” I whispered.
“Roger, don’t worry -- it won’t.”
I shook my head. “Barbara?”
“Did she hold you well, satisfy you, when you were on the island together?”
I sighed. “Oh God, yes.”
She smiled. “Roger, she did that with nothing more than her feminine charms, intuition, skills, all responding to you. While we have spoken previously, until last Thursday she deliberately did not want to know any of your secrets.”
“She used one this morning, that special perfume...”
“We discussed the need to refresh these things periodically. Roger, she loves you very much.”
“And I love her.” I shook my head. “I threw her a real curve last night.”
“Oh?”
“Remember how enthusiastic she was at dinner about the loft and the Collins house?”
She smiled broadly. “Yes, that’s a wonderful task for her, and she’s so looking forward to it, moving out here and building a new nest, building a nest with you.”
I smiled and nodded -- interesting choice of phrase. I hadn’t seen it that way, yet it fit so well -- building a nest. “And last night I struck a nerve. I’d mentioned I had hesitations about the loft. She asked why, as we were going to bed. I told her I didn’t think it was the right place to raise a family.”
Angela nodded and sat back. “Ah, that would do it. Have you talked about it with her?”
“I woke in the middle of the night, knowing she was awake. I held her and told her it was our decision, and not something that needed to be answered today, tomorrow, or the next day -- and that no matter what the answer, I loved her.”
“And this morning?”
I smiled. “When we woke up, I could tell she was still, I don’t know, edgy. But after we showered, she brushed out my hair and jumped me, using that special perfume.”
She nodded. “I’d take that as a good sign.”
“What do I do?”
“What do you think you should do?”
I frowned. I’m supposed to find my own answers. “Keep talking, keep listening, and listen with more than my ears -- listen with my eyes, and everything else.”
She nodded.
“So here I am, the warrior, and all it takes is a full breast, a gentle caress, and a soft word, and I’m helpless?”
She smiled. “It’s not that bad, is it?”
I sighed. “It’s wonderful.”
She frowned. “No, Roger -- you are not that exposed. You have examples -- tell me,” she said, quickly and with authority.
I took a breath. “Yes, Denise’s mind-fuck call -- she dropped me, but I shook it off. Then Janice’s ex-partner tried to drop us both. I shook it off and whacked him in the nuts for his trouble.”
“You gave him a severe concussion. Why?”
I frowned and snorted. “I came damn close to killing the bastard! I decided not to kill him -- I was ready to put the end of the jo through the base of his skull -- he would have been dead before he hit the floor.”
“You could have killed him,” she said flatly.
I shook my head. Yes, it would have been justified. “I came within half a breath of killing him.”
She nodded. “Roger, could you kill someone?”
“Technically or psychologically?” I replied. I looked at my hands, extending them a bit. “Technically, yes, in many different ways. Psychologically? The issue never really forced itself with me until the last month or so.” I looked up at Angela. I thought of that time in my house, the pistol range on the island. “But I know the answer now. In the right circumstances, I could and I would.”
Angela nodded and smiled. “And that’s your strength, Roger.”
I sat back, more confused.
She looked at me in wonder. “I’m convinced Denise thought she’d have it easy! She probably thought it would be so easy to get you to cross that line and kill Doctor Flynn that night -- all your training was there, or so she probably thought. But you didn’t. You couldn’t.”
I felt my heart beating fast. “But I came so close.”
“Did you, Roger? I don’t think so. You were far closer to killing Janice’s partner -- you just told me so -- half a breath away. You threw off Denise’s commands.”
My hands were a little cold and shaking. “And I forced Christie to remember how she’d been betrayed.”
She shook her head. “Only a little, Roger -- most of it was buried very deep, and took a lot of work to expose. I’m not sure we exposed it all. After the intimacy you had, Roger, that was devastating to her.”
I sat up straight and closed my eyes, focusing on my breath. What surprises was I still carrying?
“It’s all right, Roger -- you’re safe,” Angela told me.
I consciously relaxed my shoulders, my forehead, my stomach and low back.
“Roger, may I help?”
I opened my eyes, trying to smile.
“What do you need?” she asked softly.
I almost cried. “I need to be held -- I want to be in Barbara’s arms, have her hold me and squeeze me.”
She nodded. “But?”
I took a breath, centering. “But now I’m scared. Those feelings are so strong.”
Angela moved closer, extending her index finger. “Watch my finger, Roger.”
I watched as she brought her finger closer to my face, and to my forehead. Peripherally I could see her moving her other hand behind me. Her finger touched my forehead and at the same time she squeezed the back of my neck. I dropped like a rock.
But I remembered what was happening, watched it happen. She helped me relax. Yes, those feelings were strong -- they came from my core, my strength. And I was protected. I knew I would only go into trance when I felt safe, and with someone I trusted. I could and would throw off any suggestions I chose.
I felt better when I opened my eyes. “Thank you,” I told her.
She nodded. “Can we meet tomorrow morning, for an hour or so?”
“How about here at nine?” I suggested.
“That will be fine. Roger, don’t worry -- what you and Barbara have will continue to grow, if you want it to, if you work together.”
I smiled. “The safest place in the world is in her arms.”
Angela stood up. “And I think she would say the same about you.”
I stood up as well, gathering my things. “Thank you, Doctor.”
“You’re welcome, Roger,” she told me. Then with a frown, she said, “Now I need to clean out more stables.”
“Thank you for caring,” I told her.
She gave me a wistful smile as she left. I remembered Janice’s comment -- sometimes it gets in the way of the job.
I made it to the dojo and got changed, expecting maybe five minutes before people started to arrive. I sat in meditation, focusing on the breath at the tip of the nostril.
I’d been especially sensitive to smell during the day. Hamada-san smoked. His clothing reeked. Yet there was something else, something besides the smells of the dojo -- someone had used a citrus cleaner in the place.
The perfume from this morning -- I thought of it, and breathed in slowly through my nose. Part of me watched another part relax and float away.
Ding-ding -- someone at the door. I took a breath and turned my head.
Patti and Abiko -- we had a few minutes to chat. I asked Abiko if I could have Friday night through Sunday off to go back East with Barbara. She and Patti exchanged eyebrow twitches. Abiko frowned and told me she thought I could! I smiled and bowed to her. Patti smiled.
My Japanese visitors showed up a little after five; they’d inquired about observing me at the dojo, and I welcomed them. I had one of my brown belts get folding chairs for them. Barbara and Ralph arrived a little before six, waving to me and disappearing into my office.
We had a half-hour break from six to six thirty. I went back to my office after saying goodbye to my Japanese visitors. I think Hamada-san needed another smoke.
Barbara and I hugged. “I missed you,” I whispered.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
“Why?”
“You’re frowning,” she told me as I opened the refrigerator for a bottle of juice.
I took a breath and let go of it. “Hamada-san, one of my Japanese visitors, is a smoker. There are cigarette butts outside my dojo.”
“How did it go with them?”
I shrugged as I sat down. “I think it went well, but they’re Japanese. Not my problem. How did your talks go?”
She smiled, holding my hand. “Very well. I told them my publisher wants a second edition of my books -- I’ve been working on that off and on for about a year. The school is interested. I have an appointment with a private foundation tomorrow morning; it seems a number of the faculty are associated with them.” She turned to Ralph. “And we had a very productive day.”
Ralph nodded. “Your security expert picked up more business as well -- she and I met with the building owners. She made some very good suggestions. Hell, she scared the shit out of us, the way she walked through the place. The locksmith took care of your exterior doors already, so...” He pulled out some paperwork, handing it to me. I saw a yellow tag a few pages in. “If you’ll sign...”
I took the stack and started looking it over. Barbara told me, “No charge through the end of June.”
I nodded, not really reading the thing. After June, the rent would be pretty cheap. I signed and handed it back.
“Keys?” I asked Ralph.
Barbara dug into her purse, taking out a garage door opener and a small keyring. I glanced to Ralph, raising an eyebrow. He shrugged.
“This is for parking,” she told me, handing me the opener, then the keys. “This is for the elevator, the front door, and our door,” she told me with a smile. “What time will you be home tonight?”
“Tonight? We’re moved in already? What about furniture? What about ...”
She interrupted my questions with a kiss.
“Don’t worry, darling,” she whispered in my ear as she held me.
“When would you like to entertain bids on the lot?” Ralph asked.
I sat back and took a breath. “Next week at the earliest,” I told him. “I’m still making up my mind.” I looked to Barbara. “Or have I decided?” I asked her.
I could see Ralph smiling and nodding his head. Barbara smiled. “It’s your decision, darling.”
Ralph stood up. I joined him and shook his hand.
“I’ll talk to you later in the week, Roger,” he told me.
“Thanks for your help.” I walked him out to the parking lot, grabbing a paper cup so I could pick up cigarette butts.
Barbara was in the lobby, putting on her shoes. “What time will you be home?”
I held her. “Eight fifteen, eight thirty, I’d guess.”
“Do you want dinner?”
“Something light,” I told her. “You don’t want to stay? A lot of beginners in this class -- it would be good for you.”
She stepped back and chuckled. “No thanks -- I know exactly how I want to get my exercise.”
I hugged her again, and walked her to her car. Students were starting to arrive for the next class. A few seemed surprised to see Sensei necking in the parking lot.
After class, I took a moment to pick out a jo to take to the loft. I’d lost a nice one, and a good practice sword, to the fire. The first thing I had to do in the car was override my auto-pilot, turning right rather than left. The drive was shorter, and much easier.
Parking in “my” spot and walking to the elevator, I looked around. Lighting was adequate, something that concerned me, especially with Barbara. If I was going to be lugging the laptop around with me, I needed a new bag. I didn’t want to walk around with both hands full anymore.
I knocked on “our” door, and as I was starting to put the key in the lock, the door opened. I stepped inside, into Barbara’s arms.
“Welcome home,” she whispered to me after a welcome-home kiss.
“I’m sorry I didn’t get to carry you over the threshold,” I told her.
“You can make it up to me later,” she teased.
As I looked around, I decided I had a lot of room to put things. I put the computer case, my bag, and the jo on the floor, then hung up my coat in the closet by the door.
We had a large expanse of empty floor. Blue tape was on the hardwood floor, demarking areas. Barbara had one arm around my waist. I pointed to the tape with one hand as I squeezed her with the other. “You’ve been busy!”
She walked me to the kitchen area. I heard music playing, and I tensed up.
“Oh, quite -- and it was fun! Have a seat; I’ll heat your dinner. I hope pizza is okay.”
I recognized it when she took it out of the refrigerator -- Pagliacci. “Around the corner from us?” I asked as I sat on one of the stools.
She nodded. “Ralph told me to go there. He was right -- the place smells heavenly.” She poured white wine for both of us.
A clock radio was on the counter, along with a nice looking coffee maker. “Both those ours?” I asked.
She nodded. “Yes -- I’m keeping a list for the insurance company.”
She presented me with slices of pizza on a very random looking plate, and gave me a well-used fork and knife.
“And these?” I asked.
“Thrift shop -- when my things arrive, I’ll donate them back.”
“Good idea,” I agreed as I picked up the pizza.
When an announcer came on the radio, I tensed up again. I came very close to asking her to turn it off; no, to telling her to turn it off, but another song started, and I could tell by the way she moved to the music as she wiped the counter that she enjoyed it. I took a breath and enjoyed looking at her.
“I missed you,” I told her.
She stepped closer, smiling. “I like hearing that. I missed you too.”
“Is there enough lighting in the parking area for you?” I asked.
She shrugged. “It’s fine.”
After I finished the pizza, she showed me what she’d done. The tape was painter’s tape, and safe for the floor. She’d divided it up into proposed areas; living area, entertainment area, dining area, and an office area. When I questioned one placement, she showed me connector panels in the walls and floor; the place had previously been wired for audio/video/whatever. She’d called the company, and they were sending a person out Wednesday. It was the same company I’d visited, what seemed like a long time ago, even though it was only last week. She talked about a large flat-screen on one wall, and her small set in the kitchen.
I felt uncomfortable again. I took her hands. “One rule, though,” I said, looking in her eyes.
“Yes?”
“No television sets in the bedroom,” I told her seriously.
She nodded and smiled. “I agree completely.”
I felt better, especially when we hugged.
“When does the bed arrive?” I asked as I held her.
“The bedroom set and the bedding arrive Wednesday.”
“So we get one night on it before we leave?”
She held me close. “The first of many. Would you like to see where we’re sleeping tonight?”
“Mmm... Sounds like a good idea.”
I secured the door, picking up my jo. I had some ideas for the door, but I expected some disagreement. We’ll see.
I was a little surprised when we went into the bedroom. “Did you move it?” I asked in surprise. I was looking at what looked like the same bed we’d been sleeping on at the safehouse.
Barbara laughed. “I had the boys do it -- they borrowed a truck from somewhere and had it moved and set up in nothing flat. All it cost was pizza.”
I wondered if David knew we’d looted his place, but decided not to ask.
“Clothes and such?”
She led me to the large walk-in closet. She’d taken one side, with things hanging nicely. The other side had my things.
“You’re set up in the drawers here,” she said, opening them slightly to show me socks, shorts, and the like. “We’ll move things to the dresser when it arrives.”
The closet was huge. “Is this going to be big enough for you?” I had to ask. I moved to her sexy velvet dress and touched it.
She chuckled. “Oh, I think I can make it work. Would you like me to wear that for you?”
I turned and held her. “Let’s save that for the new bed.”
“Good idea.”
After another kiss, we went to the bathroom. Some new towels, and the counter was set up.
I felt a sudden wave of sadness.
“What’s wrong, Roger,” Barbara asked.
I shook my head. “I had a great tissue dispenser in the old house. It was white ceramic, shaped like a nose. You pulled fresh tissues out of the nostrils.”
I could tell she was trying very hard not to react.
I smiled. “You’ll be heartbroken to know it was a gift, and I’ve never seen another like it.”
I could tell she was relieved. I started to laugh, and so did she. We hugged again.
“Scared you for a moment, didn’t I?” I asked.
“You’re worth it,” she told me.
“It probably could have dropped accidentally during a move,” I suggested.
She pulled back. “Roger, I would never do such a thing. If I don’t like something, I’ll tell you.” She looked quite serious.
“Thank you, darling,” I replied, and kissed her on the nose.
“What about other furniture?” I asked as we got ready for bed.
“I was thinking of some folding chairs. The rest can wait until my things get here, and we have time to decide on the house.”
“I want a good reading chair,” I told her emphatically. “I really didn’t have room for one in the old place.
She looked to me and nodded. “Whatever you like.”
“What ever?” I asked with a grin.
She nodded. “Yes dear, whatever you want -- we can always put it in here where most people won’t see it.”
“I’ll show you first, don’t worry. And there are some other pieces I’d like to show you.”
“That’s fine, dear. I’m sure I’ll be showing you quite a bit of furniture,” she told me with a grin.
I raised my eyebrows. “Let’s not get nasty...”
She raised an eyebrow in return. “I’ll be waiting for you...” She let a hand drift down my side and across my genitals as she left the bathroom.
The bedroom was dark. She stepped closer to me. “Do you mind being on your back again,” she asked softly as she stroked me.
“Not at all -- on the floor, or on the bed?” I asked, teasing her nipples.
“On the bed, I think,” she said, pulling me by my handle.
On the bed it was. She held me first, doing something that sent me spinning, getting me even hotter for her and holding me off for so long. I was amazed at how long she pounded on me, coming, coming, and coming again as I held her breasts, until she leaned forward and finished us both off, shaking, moaning, and collapsing into a heap.
The next morning we visited the bathroom quickly, and I leaned her over the bed, slipping into her from behind. We both enjoyed it immensely. I hoped the floors were solid, or the downstairs neighbors understanding!
“We need a toaster,” I told her as we had microwave-warmed bagels with our coffee.
“One will appear,” she told me.
“You look so delicious,” I growled at her. “You need to hold me tonight, for a long time.”
She sighed, giving me a feral smile. “Oh, I will. You didn’t mind?”
I shook my head. “Not at all.”
“I get so ... horny right before my period. I should get my period Thursday; I hope you don’t mind.”
I put down my cup and held her. “I’ll live; don’t worry.”
With a big grin she asked, “Want to show me furniture this afternoon? Are you still free after four?”
I nodded. “My class is over at three thirty. Where would you like to meet?”
“Your office? I’m downtown this morning and back at school this afternoon. I might be able to join you for lunch, if you’re not busy.”
I answered her smirk with one of my own. “You know where I usually sit. And I’ll miss you.”
“I’ll miss you, too,” she whispered.
With another hug, we parted.
Doctor Richards was punctual, waiting outside my office when I arrived. We spent about three quarters of an hour together, but about all I remembered was sitting next to her, watching her index finger approach. I know we went through a number of things. I realized I was still shaking loose from things my step-father had done. Hugging her and bidding her farewell I felt more centered, more self-assured.
But that didn’t mean I was out of questions. I had a bunch. I looked at the phone on my desk, and thought of my recent batch of visitors. I pulled the cell phone from my pocket. It should be a little more secure.
I called my favorite help line.
“Good morning, Doctor Hawthorne, how may we be of service?” a cheery voice answered.
“I’d like to speak to someone about mortars,” I said. See how they handle that.
After a brief pause, during which I overheard the sound of keyboard clicking, the voice replied, “One moment, please, and I’ll connect you.”
After not quite a minute I heard, “Doctor Hawthorne, a pleasure, sir -- how may I be of assistance?”
He sounded British. I posed my question. “I was curious about mortars, particularly with respect to a recent incident. I wondered if you could shed some light on the subject, as it’s a weapon I know very little about.”
“Ah, yes. I’m still waiting for the videotape, but I’ve reached a number of preliminary conclusions. Where should I start?”
“Thank you; I hope I’m not keeping you up late,” I apologized, assuming he was in the U.K.
“Oh, not at all, sir -- it’s a pleasure to speak with you.”
“Then perhaps start with the weapon, its use, then to who and why?” I suggested.
“Very good. We can be reasonably accurate with respect to the former, and not so with the latter.”
“As I would expect.”
“Well then. I expect the weapon used was a 60mm mortar, possibly an 81. Range of, um, one hundred meters to perhaps two or three kilometers, and depending on the skill of the team, delivering up to thirty rounds per minute. The team most likely comprised three members, two operating the mortar, and a forward observer feeding them corrections.”
“Did this require preplanning, or is this is an impromptu system, quick to deploy?”
“Small mortars are prototypical guerilla weapons, very rapid deployment. A good team can deliver the first round in under a minute, a corrected round after another twenty seconds, and from then on, maintain fire at the desired rate.”
“At what accuracy?” I asked.
“Ah, more interesting. With the advent of portable computers, digitized maps, and GPS, the first round should be within, um, twenty meters of target at a range of a kilometer. This corresponds to what our people reported -- the first round landed in the swimming pool, greatly disturbing its occupants. The observer quickly communicates corrections to the firing team. The second round was square on the main house, followed by a sweep over the property, mixing high explosive and incendiary rounds, returning to the main house.”
“Sounds very professional.”
“Quite -- first team. After the first salvo, which lasted perhaps a minute and a half, and amounted to, um, twenty to thirty rounds, they paused about three minutes -- then dropped in another twenty to thirty rounds for good measure.”
“That sounds like a lot of ammo -- how big a vehicle would be needed?”
“For the 60, you figure twenty five kilos per twelve rounds packaged. Call it, um, under three hundred kilos for the mortar and all the ammo -- a midsized sedan or small panel van would suffice.
“In and out in five minutes?”
“Most likely -- I’d use a panel van and have one team member fuse and sequence the rounds whilst driving to the site. This preparation allows the firing team to simply pull, hang, and fire. The observer works a laptop computer, making educated guesses at target coordinates, also picking routes. Drop the forward observer, drive to the firing site, call in GPS coordinates of the firing site to the observer. While the firing team is setting the mortar and arranging ammo, the observer computes initial targeting and provides that information to the firing team. First round goes in, corrections made, and on with the show. Abandon the site, pick up the observer, and as you chaps say, it’s Miller time.”
I chuckled. “Never touch the stuff -- I prefer real beer.”
“Then my respect for you has increased, sir!” he agreed, laughing.
“Which leaves us the interesting question -- who?”
“Yes, who indeed. The list of those interested is a long one. Take a number, you might say. It’s more a question of who could have a team on target with, um, two to three hours notice.”
“Were our communications compromised?”
“Oh heavens no. It’s practically a dead cert the Italians sold out. We had difficulty establishing contact with the French, but once we did, they moved, very quickly. The Italians, on the other hand, seemed to have been stalling, or at least taking their bloody time.”
“Do we have Italians on the list?”
“Oh yes! Our friends recently interrupted a business transaction between, um, an Italian organization and an Afghani group involving the private importation of a metric ton of a fine white powder. You could say they left both parties peeved, quite peeved indeed.”
“How nice. Who else could field a team in the time available?”
“Well, can’t count out Mossad. Perhaps half a dozen groups could have a team in action. Other serious government interests would be, um, Jordan, Syria, Libya, various East-bloc factions, then the various privately-held groups such as the Italians, the Afghani growers and processors, and so on. It all gets fuzzy. A number of our chaps felt it was only a matter of time.”
“Could it have been a ruse? A diversion or deliberate sacrifice of a few to create the impression they’d been taken out?”
“We don’t believe so. Our chaps feel your witchdoctor committed a serious breach of communications security. While it has been posed this may have been deliberate, as you yourself suggest, the information we have suggests that is not the case. It was just the break we were looking for, and it would seem there were others looking for just this sort of break as well. That’s what happens when ego takes over.”
I pondered that remark. “A very good point to remember -- it’s when we take things personally that we start to get sloppy.”
“Precisely -- and with serious consequences, as we’ve seen.”
“Do you think we will find out who was responsible?”
“That’s quite hard to say, unless, of course, we’re meant to, and then there’s the problem of verification. If I were given the task, I’d have purchased an Austrian piece and Finnish ammo from any number of sources, and as I said, left the lot at the site. One of my colleagues has already approached the, um, goldfish, appraising them of the situation and asking for any information they may have. I feel whatever information they give us will be accurate; we’ll wait and see. The French took over the site; they are sweeping the area, as well as trying to identify remains. We can expect a straight story from them. If anything this should improve our relationship with the French, as they had a keen interest due to the involvement in the drugs trade.”
I nodded. I had about as much information as I could use. “Thank you very much, sir, for the briefing. If you wouldn’t mind, what is your name?”
“Oh, sorry about that -- Draycott, Charles Draycott. It’s been a pleasure, Doctor Hawthorne. I hope we can meet some day.”
“Yes, under pleasant circumstances, I would hope.”
“Quite, yes.”
“Thank you again, sir. Good night.”
“You’re quite welcome. Thank you for taking an interest!”
I pocketed my phone and spent a few minutes preparing for class.
Class went well. I reflected on that as I walked back to the office -- when I taught, at the University or at the dojo, I was totally present in the moment, putting everything I had into what I was doing.
A surprise was waiting for me when I returned to my office. “Anthony, to what do I owe this pleasant surprise?” I asked the head of our department. He didn’t look to be in a pleasant frame of mind.
He shook his head. I sat down.
“Roger, the Chancellor called me this morning -- he doesn’t know what to make of this. Possibly you can explain it.” He handed me a folder.
Opening it, I saw an 8 by 10 color print of Barbara and I kissing along the walkway to the cafeteria. Had to have been taken last week.
“And he received reports of you and this woman snogging quite openly in the student cafeteria,” Anthony added.
There were three pictures of us. Long-range telephoto lens, I’d guess taken from the edge of the faculty parking lot. I wasn’t sure what to make of it, or why these had been sent to the head of the University.
“Anthony,” I replied with somewhat of a frown, “I’m not sure what to make of these, either. I do prefer this picture.” I pointed out the one of Barbara and I in the D.C. restaurant.
That gave me an avenue. I smiled. “As to the woman in question, I met Barbara about two years ago, and she has recently agreed to be my wife.” I didn’t feel comfortable telling him she was also interviewing -- have to check with Barbara about that.
Anthony pondered that one -- I’d thrown him a curve. Good; he didn’t know what to make of it, either.
“Getting married, eh?” he posed.
I nodded. “Yes. We’ve decided, but we still have the ceremonial meeting-the-parents, which will take place over the Christmas break, as they are in Switzerland. We’ll set a date then.”
Anthony smiled. “Well, that does change things. There have been rumors...”
I frowned again. “And we’re held to a higher standard than, say, Environmental Studies?”
He boggled at that, color appearing in his face. “Ah, that’s not the issue. But I can tell the Chancellor that you’re getting married.”
I nodded. “Yes. She’s in the process of moving here from the East Coast -- given the separation, we may be somewhat exuberant when we get together after being apart for a while. Please let the Chancellor know that I’ll be more reserved in the future.”
He smiled again. “Yes, that would be quite good.”
“I’m glad it was a camera and not a rifle,” I added as I returned the folder.
He blanched.
I smiled tightly. He clearly hadn’t considered that aspect. It turned out they were also concerned about the visit by the FBI. I had the feeling the Feds had run roughshod through campus. I’d be happy to meet with the Chancellor, with school security, or anyone else to discuss the matter -- the local police were also upset with the FBI’s handling of matters. Luckily, other than the perpetrators, nobody had been injured. I think I found that more comforting than he did.
I drew him out, talking about possibly taking a sabbatical next year to work at CERN in Geneva, about working with Chem and Comp Sci departments to put up a Beowulf cluster for CFD work, and other matters. Put his feet on solid, familiar ground, that was the key. He left smiling.
I walked to lunch, pausing along the way. Three hundred yards or so? That was my guess. How hard a shot would that be? I wasn’t sure. Probably not too hard.
I picked out my lunch and paid for it. Ah, there they were -- Barbara, Samantha, Annie, and a guy! Interesting!
“Room for one more?” I asked. Barbara was already up out of her seat. I couldn’t help but notice that Annie and the guy looked well and recently laid -- good for them!
I put my tray down and received an enthusiastic hug from Barbara. “I missed you,” we told each other. Samantha gave me a hug.
Annie said, “Roger, this is Doctor Stuart LaPorta. I’ve been talking to him about the cluster. He’s interested in weather modeling.”
I held out a hand. “Pleased to meet you, Doctor.”
“A pleasure,” he said.
The others had a head start on lunch. Barbara’s interview off-campus had been interesting. I could tell she wanted to tell me more. While she was talking, I saw Annie put a hand behind Stuart’s head. He smiled and went dreamy -- good for them! I drew folks back on point by asking questions about a hypothetical cluster -- where would it be housed, how many nodes, who would assemble and maintain it, that kind of thing. Stuart told us he was working with some of the computer science folks; hijacking a graduate colloquium to do the design work. They definitely wanted my help with partitioning and algorithm design. With funding, they could throw it together over the Christmas break, and have it doing useful work by the end of January. Oh? How much funding? In the neighborhood of thirty grand for a reasonable start. I pondered that while finishing my soup.
“Do you have time to walk back with me?” I asked Barbara. “Or should I walk with you?”
“Walk with me?” she asked with a smile.
We parted with the crowd and took care of our trays. Hand in hand we walked out of the cafeteria.
On the way to the “soft” side of campus, I told her of the conversation I had with Anthony, the pictures, telling him we were engaged. When she asked who else I’d told about the pictures, I said she was the first, but I was going to call Hammond. She thought that made sense. I asked her how the morning had gone. She smiled and hugged me. She’d tell me later, but things were moving quickly. With that I could agree!
I dropped her off; we’d meet again at my office.
I popped out my phone and called Hammond. I told him about the pictures, and asked if he thought I should be concerned. He’d think about it and get back to me. He told me Richards wanted to speak with me.
“Roger, are you sitting down?” was her first question.
“I will be in a moment,” I told her as I walked along the path. I stopped at a bench and had a seat. “I’m sitting on a bench in the middle of the campus.”
“Roger, remember that you’re safe, but you need to be on your guard. Did Denise have a tattoo of a rose on her inner right thigh?”
As I visualized that, I felt myself responding, dropping deep into trance -- a rose on the inside of a thigh. But I knew I was safe, and with a deep breath, brought myself up, like coming up from very deep water.
“Roger?”
“I’m okay -- God, that was one hell of a trigger! I’m okay, I’m awake again. Next one of those I see gets a surprise!”
“Good -- I suspected as much. That’s why I wanted you sitting down.”
I took a breath, looking around. “Thank you Angela. As far as the tattoo goes, she didn’t have one when we met. That’s inconclusive, of course, as she could have gotten one in the last two years.”
“Quite true. Do you recall any identifying marks on the lower half of her body?”
I thought, and remembered, but didn’t remember the proper terms. “Yes, but I’m struggling for nomenclature. She had a small scar on the lower left side of her, ummm.... I believe it’s called Bartholin’s cyst. I had a girlfriend with that problem. Denise had a scar in that area.”
Angela chuckled. “Can you give me a better description of the scar itself?”
I closed my eyes for a moment. God, I could still bring back her scent, and her taste -- but then that metallic taste intruded, popping me out of it again.
“Small, oval, a few millimeters across. Very white, as compared to the ruddy color of the surrounding tissue -- at least when I observed it.”
“I’m sure that was the case,” Angela remarked dryly.
“She also had a small mole below her right armpit.”
“I’m afraid we only have a lower torso at this time, but I’ll pass on the information. How are you feeling now?”
“Like I touched a live wire, but I’m safe now. Either Denise or Christie also had a small mole on the inside of the ankle, between the ankle and heel, not sure right or left -- Denise’s voice is in there.”
“That’s quite helpful -- we’ll check. Take care, Roger -- call if you need me.”
“I will; thanks again.”
I sat for a minute, regrouping before I resumed my walk to the office. I had time to order my computer upgrade goodies before I took off for class.
A mob was outside my office when I returned -- Anthony, Barbara, a man and a woman I didn’t recognize. Barbara looked amused, as did the pair I didn’t know. Anthony looked confused -- but then he usually does.
Anthony saw me and turned -- I could tell I was his escape on this one. “Doctor Hawthorne! We were just talking about you,” he said.
Barbara hugged me and gave me a quick peck on the cheek. She introduced me to Bryn, Chairman of the School for the Arts. Eugene was head of Art History. We shook hands. Barbara told me she’d just accepted the position of Visiting Professor. I smiled and gave her another hug.
She turned to Anthony and said, “And I’ve promised Doctor Hovey that I’m going to thoroughly domesticate you -- your wild days are over, I’m afraid.”
I took her hand. “Whatever you say, my dear.” I raised her hand to my mouth and while seeming to kiss it, I gently bit her.
She said to Anthony, “I’m not promising miracles -- I don’t know if I can get him to wear something other than black or white socks. But we’re making progress. We’re off to look at furniture, aren’t we, dear?”
The others chuckled.
“Yes we are.” I turned to Anthony. “Unless you need something, Doctor Hovey?” I asked him.
“Ah, no, not really,” he flustered.
The Arts folks were amused. We said our good-byes; Barbara and I went into my office. I checked my mail, shut off the computer, and left, locking up the office.
“Your car, mine, both?” I asked Barbara.
“Oh dear -- where are your stores?”
“Near here -- we can take mine and swing back for yours. What are we doing for dinner?”
She smiled and held my arm in hers. “I’m cooking. It’s part of my plan to domesticate you.”
I chuckled. “Whose wild days are over?” I asked. We were out of the building, but still, I looked around. “What was that crap all about?”
“Oh, I mentioned the matter of the pictures to Eugene and Bryn -- they were amused. The common opinion, at least on our side of campus, is that your department is run by fossils who are scared of their shadows. They offered to walk me over and make introductions. I must say, dear, that if you represent the wild side of the department, the department is in a very sad state!”
I laughed and held her. “We’re the Physics department, darling. Wildlife is somewhere else.”
“Environmental Sciences?” she asked with a raised eyebrow.
I grinned. “They told you that story?”
“Only the outlines -- not the juicy bits. I hoped I could get those from you.”
I smiled. “I don’t know if I should be spreading such salacious stories -- especially if I’m supposed to be domesticated.”
As she shook her head, a thought entered mine. “Oh shit,” I said.
“What’s wrong?” Barbara asked.
“The E S escapade prompted a nasty thought -- I certainly hope Samantha was using some kind of birth control.”
Barbara took my arm and started us moving to the parking lot again. “Don’t worry, darling. I take it Angela didn’t tell you?”
“Tell me what?” I said sourly. “It seems she hasn’t told me quite a bit.”
Barbara sighed. “Maybe we should get together with her Saturday and air things out. You know that Doctor Flynn helped select and condition the girls, including Annie and Samantha?”
“Yes. Angela and I talked about that.”
“Angela was concerned about such repercussions. Remember the physical when you returned from Chicago and Pittsburgh?”
“Yeah, some of it,” I said, not too much happier about the state of things.
“It’s okay, darling, really. As a stopgap, you were given an injection which rendered you temporarily sterile. The effects last about 45 days. If Samantha wasn’t pregnant before, you certainly didn’t knock her up.”
I sighed and shook my head. “I’ll try to interpret that as good news.”
We were standing by the passenger door to my car. She turned us so she was leaning against the car, and my hips were pressed to hers.
She smiled; a slight smile, but a deep one. “Would you want me bloated and swollen, not able to move, not able to sleep, complaining all the time, not even able to hold you the way we both love?”
I looked in her eyes. “It’s your decision, but you’d be the most beautiful woman in the world.”
She held me close. “I love you,” she whispered.
I whispered the same to her.
As we drove off campus, I asked, “I take it you’ve accepted a job?”
She chuckled and put a hand on my shoulder. “At least one -- we’ll know about the other tomorrow.”
“The other one?”
“They’re trying me as a visiting prof next semester. Unless I’m a colossal failure, they’ll invite me to stay. Bryn is also one of the ones who put me in touch with the foundation -- I’m expecting them to make me an offer as well.”
“Doing what?”
“They’re an interesting operation. They’re acquiring digital rights to artworks, building catalogs of works, of images, indexing them, making them available on the net.”
“And you’d be doing what?”
“Suggesting areas and works, indexing and cataloging -- having a zillion high-quality images isn’t useful unless you’ve a way to organize, search, and access them.”
“Sounds interesting,” I agreed.
“Oh, very! It will involve field work -- some short trips during the year, longer ones during the summer.”
“Am I included?”
She laughed. “Of course you are! I’ll need you for your language skills, as well as other things...” She moved her hand to squeeze my thigh.
“Glad I’m appreciated.” I thought for a moment. “What if I get the mediation thing?”
She sighed and patted my leg. “We’ll work something out, but I made the commitment to teach next semester. I could visit on weekends.”
I shook my head. “That would be hell if it’s in Europe.”
“Nonsense. I’d fly in, we’d shag like bunnies, and you’d pour me back on the plane.”
I laughed and squeezed her hand. “If you’re up for it...”
“You’re the one who needs to be up for it, darling,” she reminded me with a chuckle.
“I’ll do my best,” I told her, kissing her hand.
“Oh, you do extremely well,” she growled, and kissed my hand.
Our first stop was a store specializing in stuff for the back. I showed her the chair, a Swedish recliner. I had her sit in it, and leaned it back.
“This is nice,” she told me. Then with a smirk, “But impractical for some things.”
“Our next stop,” I told her, leaning over to give her a kiss.
A salesgal came over to talk to us. We talked about finishes, widths, sizes. I wasn’t enamored with the electrical recline, but they had a special on a package including that and heated cushions. That I liked.
She showed us a little wider model. Barbara tried that one and thought it was better. She had me try it.
I reclined it back. Barbara stepped behind me and asked, “Is that comfortable?”
I looked at her. “Very -- a good place to relax and nap.”
She leaned over, whispering, and I felt a hand go to the back of my head. My eyes closed and I dropped down, down, down.
“Ready to go?”
Barbara helped me to my feet. I hugged her close.
“I wish I could take naps like that,” the salesgal said.
“Me too,” Barbara said wistfully.
I hugged her again. “Talk to Angela -- I’m sure she could help.”
Barbara raised an eyebrow, smiling. She turned to the salesgal. “Thanks again for all your help.”
The gal nodded. “We’ll call you to set up delivery.”
I looked at Barbara, who took me by the arm and started walking me to the door.
“Yes, we bought one,” she told me. “Three weeks or so. Now, what were you going to show me?”
“Was that fair?” I asked as we got in the car again.
She turned so we were facing and put her hands on my hips. “Yes, it was. You looked wound up. Feeling better now?”
I hugged her. “Yes, very much so.” I rolled my shoulders. “My upper back is a mess.”
She put a hand on my back. “We’ll have to do something about that.”
“I called Elsie, and I’m back on her calendar starting next week.”
“I’d like to meet her as well. I think I can arrange something before then. Where to next?”
“Same place as before,” I said, rolling my shoulders again.
“Poor baby,” Barbara said, rubbing a shoulder.
“Don’t know about those pictures,” I told her.
“Oh? Someone trying to stir up trouble?”
“That’s not it -- Like I told Anthony -- I’m glad it was a camera and not a rifle.”
“Oh dear,” she whispered.
“Yeah -- I haven’t done much with rifles, but I don’t think I’d have much trouble at that distance with a little practice.”
“That’s encouraging!”
“I know.” I found a parking spot. “Let’s look at some furniture.”
We were acknowledged by the Guardian of the Gate, the gal just inside the store. I led Barbara through the displays to the piece I liked.
We came to a bedroom chaise lounge, an overstuffed piece perhaps seven feet long, four feet wide, and at least three and a half feet high.
“This is what I consider a multifunction piece of furniture,” I told her.
“Oh my, this is nice,” she said, walking around it.
“Perfect size and height for a number of things,” I told her. I sat down on it and pulled her to me -- perfect height.
“Oh, I see,” she said, pulling my head to her bosom, that delicious hand behind my head holding me in place.
She stepped away, leaving me dreamy. I managed to stand, and sat her on the end of it.
“Good height for other things -- on your back, on your stomach,” I suggested.
“Or riding you,” she added with a lascivious grin.
“That, too,” I agreed.
“Should I come back?” the salesgal who’d helped us previously asked.
“No,” I replied. “Do you have any questions on this one?” I asked Barbara.
Barbara, bless her soul, wanted to know about fabrics and delivery. “I love you,” I whispered in her ear as we walked to a sales desk.
They happened to have another in quite similar fabric which could be delivered next week. Barbara gave me a big smile. “We’ll take it,” I said. Barbara insisted on their top-of-the-line fabric protection, undoubtedly a good idea. Did I see a raised eyebrow and more of a smile from our sales gal?
I paid for it, and set tentative delivery. Were we interested in looking at anything else? Nope, thanks for your help.
“That wasn’t so bad now, was it?” I asked Barbara as we made our way back to the car.
She stopped and turned so we were facing. “I’m quite impressed.”
“I think it’s a very practical piece of furniture.”
“Oh you do?”
“I’m sure we’ll get a lot of use out of it.”
“That’s why I wanted the fabric protection, dear.”
“Did I disagree?”
We picked up her car and returned to the loft.
I sat on a stool while she prepared our dinner.
I found myself clenching my jaw as a commercial came on the radio. I closed my eyes and tried to follow the feeling. What was going on?
A touch on my shoulder, startling me.
“Roger, is something wrong?” Barbara asked.
I looked at her. “Hold me, please.”
She smiled and wrapped me in her arms, pulling me to her. I took a breath and let go.
My step-father -- he always had a radio blaring, or the TV, or both. Sports, loud music, talk radio -- if he was home, that’s what we heard. I remember my mom, about a week after he died, taking the portable radio he propped on his belly when he vegetated on the couch, and throwing it violently in the trash.
I opened my eyes, giving Barbara a squeeze. “Thank you,” I whispered. “I love you.”
She gave me a questioning look. I told her of the demon I’d exorcised, or at least fingered.
She smiled and kissed me on the forehead.
“See what you’re getting into?” I asked her.
She smiled. “You’re worth it, darling.”
I was exposed to a more or less continuous barrage of words as she fixed dinner. I tried to take it all in, being receptive and supportive. She asked my opinion on some things, and if I had one, I told her. She was concerned about what I wanted. I could tell she was looking forward to building our nest.
We sat together for dinner. As we raised our wineglasses, I told her, “I’m looking forward to building a nest with you.”
She glanced upwards momentarily, then smiled.
Her torrent of ideas and potential plans continued during and after dinner -- wanting to walk through the house with me, wondering if she could find old pictures of the place. I finally grabbed her and kissed her in self-defense.
She laughed and hugged me. “Oh darling, I’m sorry -- I’m so looking forward to it, that’s all.”
“And I’m looking forward to being in bed, with you.”
“That’s the best offer I’ve had all day,” she told me with a sigh.
“I’m glad to hear that!”
Work in Progress
Rev 2010/02/09
Read Part 15
Hand
By silli_artie@hotmail.com
http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/artie/www