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Message-ID: <61020asstr$1297714203@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: Uther Pendragon <nogardneprethu@gmail.com>
Subject: {ASSM} "Good Advice - M" -- Uther -- MF
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Date: Mon, 14 Feb 2011 15:10:03 -0500
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  If you are under the age of 18, or otherwise
  forbidden by law to read electronically transmitted
  erotic material, please go do something else.

  This material is copyright, 2011, Uther Pendragon.
  All rights reserved. I specifically grant the right
  of downloading and keeping one electronic copy for
  your personal reading so long as this notice is
  included. Reposting requires previous permission.

  If you have any comments or requests, please e-mail
  them to me at nogardneprethu@gmail.com.

  All persons here depicted, except public figures
  depicted as public figures in the background, are
  figments of my imagination and any resemblance to
  persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.



  Good Advice - M
  by Uther Pendragon
  nogardneprethu@gmail.com

  MF


  Bill Pierce made good time on the Evanston Express
  on Wednesday. It was the exception to his rule that
  the CTA had a major breakdown every time you
  depended on it to be on time. It was only a few
  minutes past 6 when he climbed the stairs to his
  apartment. And his fiancee, Carolyn, was there --
  rather than buried in the library. It looked like
  they'd get to their premarital-counseling session
  on time. Her kiss, even if he couldn't feel much of
  her body through his coat, was arousing.

  "Mmm. Everything went well." And everything seemed
  to be going even better here. "We have lots of
  time, really," he continued, "It's not 6:15 yet.
  Still, shouldn't you get your coat on? Better to
  have the extra time to dawdle at the restaurant."

  "We're not going to a restaurant." she replied.
  "Wait two minutes, and I'll have dinner on the
  stove. Wait here." She bustled into the kitchen. He
  waited there, obedient to orders. Still, what sort
  of dinner could be cooked and eaten in a little
  more than an hour?

  "It wasn't even two minutes." He said. Actually, he
  hadn't looked at his watch, but she'd been really
  fast. "You're remarkable, but what can you cook in
  that little time?" Whatever it was, he'd eat it.
  His feelings for the cook would improve he flavor
  of the food.

  "That wasn't the cooking; that was the culmination.
  Now, get your coat off." When he did, the kiss was
  longer. He could feel her melons press against his
  chest and the rest of her sweet body against the
  rest of his. Dinner, when she served it later, was
  quite special. She served lamb chops, rice that
  tasted delicious, and a salad. She also served
  asparagus, but he'd let her eat that.

  "This is delicious," he said. "If I wasn't already
  engaged, I'd propose to the cook."

  "Too late. I'm engaged."

  He smiled. "Two ships that pass in the night." And,
  at the end of dinner, "You cooked. I'll wash."

  "Do you know how to clean off a grill?" She'd
  raised a practical problem. This was the first use
  that grill had seen since he'd rented the
  apartment.

  "No. Maybe you can show me. It looks like that one
  will be used."

  "Let's let it cool down." Which was the first
  lesson in washing it. Carolyn hit the books while
  he washed up. He stayed out of the bedroom until
  practically time to leave for the church.

  Jake ushered them into his office and got down some
  data. Carolyn was 25. Then he sat back and got to
  the serious stuff.

  "Each of you have been telling me about yourselves.
  Now tell me about the other. What would you say is
  your greatest compatibility as a couple?" That was
  a poser. Luckily, he called on Carolyn first. She
  didn't seem to have thought any more about this
  than he had, but by the time Jake turned to him,
  he'd an answer ready, if not a great one.

  "Well... She's a woman, and I'm a man. All the best
  marriages start that way." Jake didn't seem
  impressed.

  "What are your thoughts about children?" Jake was
  looking at him, perhaps having given up on
  Carolyn's answering anything, perhaps lobbing him
  an easy one after the flub on the last. But this
  question wasn't as easy as Jake might think.

  "That will have to depend on Carolyn's schedule."
  She was a grad student, would become a professor.
  She wasn't going to turn into a baby-making machine
  to keep his arms warm. Jake then turned to Carolyn,
  and she began considering the question. When he'd
  given her time to reach a conclusion, and seen that
  she wasn't going to, Jake sat forward again.

  "Look when were you planning to have the wedding?"
  he asked.

  "February 17, that is..." Carolyn began. Jake cut
  her off.

  "And when was the engagement?"

  "Last Saturday." She was still speaking. Those
  questions, she could answer.

  "Well, I've been thinking that you were
  precipitous. Maybe I was, instead. Let's schedule
  this conference for another time. I know your
  schedule is tight, Bill, and I have church meetings
  with other men with the same tight schedule. I like
  to leave Saturdays open, but this is the sort of
  session for which I keep them open. Can we schedule
  Saturday, the 20th?"

  "It would have to be afternoon," she said.

  "Three p.m?" Jake asked. That was okay with him,
  Carolyn looked like it was okay with her, too.

  "Saturday, 3:00," he said.

  "And you know what sort of questions I'll be
  asking. You can't plan out your entire marriage in
  ten days. And, when you do plan it all out, those
  plans will come unglued. But you need to have the
  marriage planned beyond the wedding reception. But
  let me leave you with one thought.

  "Sexual attraction is a fine aspect to a marriage,"
  Jake continued. "It is, though, merely one aspect.
  It is not a solid foundation." Well, he hadn't said
  that he wouldn't perform the service, but he had
  suggested that he wouldn't complain if they
  cancelled out. He and Carolyn were deep in their
  own thoughts as they went home. The kiss when they
  were out of their coats was as sexy as ever, weak
  foundation for a marriage or not. That was really
  his fault, but he couldn't see parting from her,
  either.

  "What do you think of kids?" he asked.

  "I don't really know. I don't have to ask you that,
  do I?" Not really. But he hadn't proposed so as to
  get kids deeper into his life.

  "No. Let's get that grill clean." And they did.
  This time, she took the living room for studying,
  and he went into the bedroom. He'd rather watch
  her, but he could understand that that would
  disturb her. He took off his shoes and lay on top
  of the bed. Jake was both right and wrong. They
  hadn't negotiated what their marriage would be
  like, but it wasn't simply because they hadn't had
  enough time. He didn't want a marriage; he wanted
  Carolyn. He was surrendering to marriage to get
  her.

  That was a lousy basis for a marriage; so what? It
  was the only way to get Carolyn in the 20th
  century. If he had Bluebeard's castle, he'd simply
  lock her up. Probably, that wouldn't work, anyway.
  He'd get her body that way, and a great body it
  was, too. But if he put Carolyn in a cage, he'd
  lose *Carolyn*. Sure she needed somebody to pull
  those jeans down and spank her sexy buns for a few
  hours until he beat some sense into her, but he
  wasn't volunteering. She'd die before giving in.
  These thoughts chased each other around in his head
  without getting any further.

  Finally, she interrupted those thoughts by coming
  in for her robe. She went out and into the
  bathroom. He pictured her stripping and washing.
  When she stayed after the water stopped running, he
  pictured her brushing her hair -- nude. When she
  came in, he hid his hardon while getting out of
  bed. Ready for the night, and shaved again, he came
  back. He got the rubber out, put it where he could
  grab it without floundering around, and got into
  bed. Carolyn, who could be infuriating in some
  things, was never coy about sex. She wanted him, or
  -- at least -- wanted sex, as much as he wanted
  her.

  "Want me to try to get warm before I hug you?" he
  offered. He hid his hands in his armpits.

  "Please." Well, if they couldn't touch, they should
  talk.

  "What did you think?" That brought no response. "Of
  Jake's questions?"

  "Well, he's right," she said at last. "We have been
  planning things, but less a marriage than living
  together." That was half the problem. The other
  half was him. He didn't want a marriage, really,
  except for living together.

  "Well, the next three years are the budget crunch."
  he reminded her. "And we have said we'll get a
  larger apartment. And we've said you'll do what's
  best for your academic career." They hadn't been
  totally remiss in planning. "If we haven't said
  I'll keep working at Andalusia, we've both been
  assuming it. In case you're interested, they're
  more likely to promote me -- though not soon --
  than to fire me." She might well be as ignorant of
  his life as he was of hers -- more so possibly,
  he'd, at least, checked on hers, and he'd been a
  student if not a teacher in college. She'd never
  seen the inside of a drug company.

  "What's best for my academic career with the
  restriction that I stay in the Chicago area." And
  that had been a fear of his, that she'd think of
  marriage to him as a drag on her career
  possibilities.

  "Well, yes. I was afraid that you'd look at that
  and refuse me."

  "It isn't that bad. I won't have to choose between
  a junior college here and Harvard. If I have a
  chance at Harvard, and we're talking decades in the
  future, I'll have a chance at Northwestern or -- at
  worst -- Loyola."

  "Or the U of C," he suggested. Why not aim for the
  top?

  "I'll never get a job at Chicago." Well, there was
  no sense in arguing about future possibilities.
  Maybe he should change the subject.

  "I got the take-home figures for next year. That's
  still short-term, but we can work out a budget.
  I'll read real-estate ads in the <i>Trib</i> on the
  El tomorrow, maybe the next day, too. That will
  give us some figures for larger apartments in
  Evanston. Can you estimate your clothing expense?"

  "Look," she replied. "I've been thinking about
  that. Where I teach will influence what I wear,
  travel costs, and lunch costs. But the salary has
  to cover that. Why don't we just say that I'll plan
  on my present clothing expense, If it's more, it'll
  come out of my salary. Nobody will offer a salary
  which doesn't cover that much." That made sense.
  Any budget that they made now would have to accept
  amendments fairly soon, but saying that outgo
  amendments would have to be covered by income
  amendments at least allowed them to see that they
  wouldn't go broke.

  "And total up your other expenses -- lipstick and
  the like." What in hell did she spend money on?
  Tuition, of course, and books, but what else?
  "Anyway, we'll put together a budget. What else do
  we have to decide in these ten days?"

  "Why I like you." He sure couldn't help her there.

  "Well, I didn't know you did."

  "He's right, you know," she didn't respond. "Sexual
  desire is an insufficient basis for a marriage."

  "So just move in." But would she give up her
  opportunities in other areas for that?

  "Too late. I showed everybody the ring." But she
  sounded like she was joking.

  "Well," he said, "if it's a weak foundation, we
  should be sure to give it plenty of exercise to
  strengthen it." His hand felt warm enough to him,
  and he'd communicated all the helpful stuff he'd
  thought out.

  When he reached over, she turned her head. They
  shared a kiss lying down, and he stroked over her
  smoothness. But he wanted more contact. When he got
  up on his side to see and feel and kiss more of
  her, the sheets slid off his shoulders. She was
  sensitive to the cold.

  "Manage the covers, would you," he asked. She
  pulled them back in position. Meanwhile, he kissed
  her sweet face and felt her smooth melons. Then he
  kissed her mouth while stroking down across her
  flat, quivering, belly. She might have brushed her
  head hair for herself, but he got to comb the hair
  on her mound with his fingers.

  Then he held the outside of her snatch in his hand.
  He held one hairy lip with his index and middle
  finger and rubbed the other against it with his
  thumb. The less pressure he used, the better she
  seemed to like it. When he teased those lips apart,
  her groove was nice and juicy. He slid his hand in
  -- index finger in front, but all fingers held
  together. He moved his hand up and down slightly
  while he kissed her ear, down her neck, up her
  melon. As he moved his mouth up the melon to the
  tip, he moved his finger up her groove to her nub.
  He reached both goals at once.

  She stiffened. He sucked the tip once, and then
  licked it while brushing his finger from one side
  to the other over her nub. When she stiffened still
  more, he moved his kiss to the tip of the other
  melon. When he managed to still his finger, she
  responded by moving her pelvis. Still, delightful
  as that was, he moved his hand away from her nub
  and deeper into her groove. He kissed down her
  melon and up her neck.

  "Bill." She wanted him, and she knew who she
  wanted. He kissed her. His tongue explored her
  mouth while his finger explored her groove up to
  her nub. He brushed her nub and licked her tongue
  until she went over. Then he withdrew his tongue
  for fear of her teeth. He kept brushing her nub,
  though, until she'd gone over completely.

  Then he rested his hand on her mound while he
  kissed her face. The delightful girl was ready for
  him. When she'd gone over once, his going over
  without her, always a danger when his dick was
  inside that glorious snatch, would be a minor blip
  rather than a major offense. He held her snatch
  again, moving one hairy lip against the other while
  he kissed down her neck and up her melon. He kissed
  the tip while he reached for the rubber. He moved
  it to his left hand to open it. Then he rolled it
  onto his dick. Once in position, he opened her
  snatch and placed himself. He kissed the tops of
  both melons while adjusting his posture. He slid
  his dick in through the warm smoothness until he
  was as far into her snatch as he could get.

  "Carolyn." She responded by thrusting her pelvis up
  against him. As he stroked in and out of that
  warmth, she matched his motions with her own. He
  watched her face as he felt their matching motions
  move her snatch along his dick. He'd yearned to
  turn her scowls into smiles, but *this* scowl was
  lovelier than any smile. It turned into a grimace
  just before she went over.

  Then, he drove his dick in and out of her clutching
  snatch as long as he could. He drove in as deep as
  he could go and erupted.

  When he got his strength back, he moved off her and
  to his left. They nestled in the spoon again.

  "Love you," he murmured.

  "I checked about the license," he continued after a
  minute. "The major requirement is that each of us
  get a test for venereal diseases. There are fees
  and a brief waiting period after the exam, too, so
  we shouldn't wait too long. Anyway..."

  "Do you ever worry that there's something we're
  forgetting absolutely?" Carolyn asked. Since she
  was facing away from him, she had to use a normal
  voice. He could feel it from his position pressed
  against her back.

  "All the time. We get down in the front of the
  sanctuary, and Jake says: 'Wait a minute, you
  haven't done this. I can't perform the ceremony.'
  Well, we'll ask him next time. It's more likely
  something we haven't thought about which makes it
  damn hard to live together."

  "Someday, you'll have to give me a list of the
  foods you don't eat." She was presumably thinking
  about living together. "And do you mind adding a
  pressure cooker to the shopping list, maybe a
  better pot for cooking rice?"

  "Sure and another wastebasket, I'd think. You
  probably need one on your side." His list was
  getting longer, too.

  "Well, your additions are going to be cheaper than
  mine," she said. So far they were. "I thought of a
  cookbook. I don't know how to cook many things. But
  I want to wait until after the ceremony. Mama is
  likely to give me one." That seemed awfully
  parsimonious.

  "Well, women have more than one cookbook. Have you
  ever seen the shelf in Gladys's kitchen?"

  "You're not marrying Gladys," she said. "Get very
  clear about that. I'm not going to exhaust *one*
  cookbook in my entire life. I just want to add a
  few recipes to my repertoire before you get sick of
  the ones I can cook." He could point out that he
  hadn't asked her to cook once -- well, one
  breakfast, but that was in response to her saying
  that she had to cook something. Instead, he changed
  the subject.

  "I've thought of something earlier, don't think I
  mentioned it. For our weekly food budget, why don't
  you think of how many meals you'll cook in a normal
  week. Then tell me the number, and get a grocery
  budget to supply those. I'll figure out the eating-
  out budget for the other meals, at mid-range
  restaurants. That total is our food budget. When
  exam time or something makes you want to eat less,
  we'll eat out, but more cheaply. For a girl who
  asks for McDonald's and pizza, that shouldn't be
  too great a sacrifice." What he wanted, by now, was
  *some* kind of a budget. They could make amendments
  to that.

  "Yeah, and break-times we can eat in more, but
  fancier meals." She seemed to be accepting a weekly
  food budget.

  "I don't want to eat out mornings." Then he thought
  of birthdays and anniversaries. "Special mornings,
  if you wish -- so any breakfasts you don't cook
  will be my cooking. Four eggs and toast, put that
  in your shopping budget. I think my weekday lunches
  can be a separate budget item. No sense in trying
  to fit that in. Business dinners are another budget
  item, expensive for the food involved, but worth it
  for the show." They seemed to be inching towards a
  budget, although they were talking without paper
  and pencil -- without even a light.

  He snuggled against her back. He was holding a
  melon and breathing in the scent of her skin.

  He cooked breakfast again the next morning. Carolyn
  woke up more slowly than he did. Should she cook
  Sunday breakfasts? Well, maybe, but he might
  persuade her to celebrate those mornings they
  didn't have to rush away with something a lot
  better than a special breakfast.

  "Look," she asked, "Can I make some more phone
  calls from here? They sort of involve the
  marriage."

  "Sure. And that doesn't restrict it." That wasn't
  really what he meant. "I mean that you can make
  phone calls, and they don't have to be about the
  marriage. Obviously we can afford only so much on
  our long-distance bill, but you're the person who
  wants to be careful about expenses." He'd asked her
  to move in. His only objection was how little she
  was planning to.

  When he got home that night, he found a note:
  <blockquote>Pick me up at the church at
  8:30.</blockquote> Great. She was gone. At least
  she was planning on coming back; at least, when she
  wrote that note, she had been planning on coming
  back. He fed himself on left-overs, the sloppy-joe
  mix and some of the rice. He zapped it in the
  microwave. He got to watch TV since she wasn't
  studying in the next room, but he would have
  preferred to have her unseen presence. He picked
  her up at the church, along with several others who
  met choir members there.

  "I'm assuming that you ate," he said after their
  greeting kiss but before he started the car. "I had
  some of that sloppy-joe stuff on the rice. Micro-
  waved, it isn't a bad mixture." He was keeping an
  even tone; after all, she was coming back with him.

  "I ate," she responded. "After all, I have a meal
  plan. And I had just committed you to more outgo --
  A tux and my corsage, I think. You've already
  bought the rings. Mama wants a fancy wedding. I
  explained that we expected them to pay next
  semester's tuition instead. She said that they
  would cover both." That was interesting. He hadn't
  considered her tuition for next quarter, not even
  for nest year. He'd have to put that in the budget.

  "Um, when did I expect them to cover next
  semester's tuition?"

  "When I was on the phone to Mama."

  "Well," he conceded, "we're one couple. You can
  commit me -- especially for something like that.
  But what made you leave me so suddenly?"

  "Let's understand one thing," she exploded. So much
  for his soft answer turning away wrath. "I'm not
  leaving you every time I go back to the Residence
  Hall. I have things to do there. I have things
  there. I have different courses Monday, Wednesday,
  and Friday than I have Tuesday, Thursday, and
  Saturday. I have to change course materials, I have
  to change clothes. What I don't have to do is
  explain myself every *fucking* time."

  "You sure you don't dye hour hair."

  "You've seen the hair that women don't dye often
  enough." Well, yes, he'd seen the hair on her
  mound. And, he didn't really suspect that she was
  naturally a redhead, but...

  "Seen it? Yes. Often enough? No. But redheads are
  supposed to be the ones with the temper."

  "Well, you lose," she said. "You got the brunette
  with the temper."

  "Okay." Let's see if she could argue with that?

  "I left you a note. I should have been explicit
  that I was going to eat, maybe. I thought you could
  figure that out from the time. I'm used to being
  around people who can see the obvious." She could
  argue with "okay." She could argue with anything.

  "So I asked. I didn't assume the opposite; I
  checked. Assuming things about you hasn't really
  worked well for me. And we're going to be married.
  You're going to live there all the time. I think
  that's what >really bugs you, not my question." It
  was the only answer.

  "Well, I'll have that as my residence. I won't be
  there all the time; you're not there all the time."
  Fine. She had to go to school, study in the
  library, shop, rehearse for choir. He had to go to
  work. But when he was out of her presence, he
  wanted to be near her. It seemed to him that she
  fled his presence as often as not.

  "But, aside from the days you know I'll be gone, I
  expect to tell you when I won't be."

  "And I told you, if not that I was gone -- I repeat
  that I'm used to people who could have figured that
  out -- at least when you should pick me up."

  "And I did, didn't I. Do you want to go home now?"

  "Yeah." So he started the car and drove toward
  home.

  "Look, I'm an individual. I have to have some space
  in my life."

  "Well," he responded, "we're both individuals. We
  have, however, agreed to join our lives together.
  For the life we've chosen to have together, you
  need to do some things to please your school and
  your future employers. I have to do some things to
  please my present employer. I think I've been
  flexible about that. Then we have to please
  *ourselves*. But it's more than your pleasing your
  own damn self. I don't think I've been pressing in
  on you."

  "You don't?" She was nearly shouting. "Well, wise
  up. You press in on me every time we talk."

  "Then, next time, say, 'This is something your
  pushing me on.' Be real. Be specific. Talk about
  something I've done, not something you think I am."
  If she had an answer to that, she didn't express
  it.

  In the apartment, though, her kiss was warm. Their
  tongues tangled while their hands roamed. It seemed
  to him that they'd get along fine if they didn't do
  all this talking. He suggested sticking to their
  area of agreement.

  "Was dinner long enough ago? Want to go to bed
  now?" She, however, wanted to keep talking.

  "Look, about Jake's question on children. I've
  decided."

  "Yes?"

  "I think I could go with one, but the time has to
  be settled. A permanent employer will have some
  sort of maternity-leave policy. Nobody giving you a
  one-year contract will want you dropping the class
  in the middle of the semester. So, we'll have to
  wait until I'm settled." One was more than he'd
  expected to have of his own before she showed up.
  But didn't this sound like what he'd said to Jake?

  "You didn't say this last night." She could have
  simply by agreeing with him, but he didn't suggest
  that. It would never occur to Carolyn to agree with
  him.

  "I just saw it this morning. I think my questions
  jelled into an answer in my sleep."

  "Last night, what did I say? If he asks me again,
  what should I say differently?" She digested this.
  He didn't wait for her to acknowledge its truth.

  "You know, you know more about your field than I
  do. But you think I don't know anything about it. I
  know that wants are infinite while supply is
  limited. Well, I want Carolyn, lithe, and slender,
  and active, in my bed every night. I want you to be
  a baby machine, turning out a new infant for me to
  play with every year. I want you singing in the
  choir so I can say, 'that sweet tone; that's my
  wife.' I want you sitting beside me, with my arm
  around you down in the pew. But the supply of
  Carolyns is even more limited than most supplies. I
  can't have all of these. I'm not going to abandon
  you, or even scream, because one or the other isn't
  available." As an adult, he didn't scream, although
  she drove him closer than he'd been for years.

  "Now, was that what the earlier fight was about?"
  She should get clear what they were fighting about.
  He didn't mind having fights; he didn't even mind
  losing fights. He sure-as-Hell minded having fights
  when he hadn't the faintest idea what they were
  about.

  "You really think of me in your bed that way?" If
  she wasn't going to deal with his question, he was
  perfectly happy to deal with this one.

  "Sure, and 'every night' is a tiny fraction of what
  I *want*. But Carolyn isn't the only supply which
  is limited."

  "Your desire is limited?" Not quite.

  "My ability to perform is quite limited. My desire
  seems to be limitless. Isn't that what you say
  about wants. Anyway, when we're not making love,
  after we've made love, I can hold you in my arms.
  That's another pleasure." And one, it seemed to
  him, that she had a habit of denying him
  unnecessarily.

  "Oh, Bill, I like to be in your arms, too."

  "Then why aren't we lying like that? And, if
  something more develops, we might just enjoy that,
  too."

  "My bathroom time first?" She switched suddenly to
  practics. Someday, they'd share bathroom time;
  someday, they'd shower together. But, that intimacy
  wasn't something to push yet.

  "Certainly." And, when he'd had his bathroom time -
  - including shaving -- she was waiting for him,
  nude, in his bed, and clearly willing.

  "Do you really think of me that way?" she asked
  while he was trying to warm his hands in his
  armpits. What had he said? Well he certainly
  thought of her as sexy.

  "Oh yes," he answered. "You have to know how
  sexually desirable you are. After all, am I the
  first man who has wanted you? The breasts, sure.
  But also the hair. I may have been the first man to
  ask you to allow me to brush it. Was I the first to
  want to touch it? And your buns. You must have
  noticed how guys look at you when you're walking
  away."

  "And you don't look at any other woman's ass?"
  That wasn't what he'd said.

  "I never said that. You are especially pretty. That
  doesn't mean that all other girls are ugly. I've
  looked at plenty of girls; I've only proposed to
  one.... Warm enough?" He reached out to hold her,
  avoiding the melons at first.

  "Yeah." She reacted so positively to his touch, and
  so negatively to his words, that he sometimes
  thought he should simply touch her and not speak at
  all. Kissing was even more effective than touching.
  When he leaned over to kiss her on the mouth, her
  longue welcomed his. He cupped one melon and palmed
  its smooth sides. When he got to its tip,  that
  firmed under his fingers. He slid his palm down the
  melon and then across her soft belly. He stopped
  before he got to her mound to point out his
  interest in all of her.

  "See? Sure, I'm interested in the destination, but
  I like it here, too. You're so soft and firm here.
  Yeah," he said when she stiffened her belly muscles
  under his hand. She was firm, and smooth, and soft,
  and -- especially -- sexy.

  "Now look away from me." When she did, it moved an
  ear within kissing range. She reacted to the kiss
  by turning her head back. He kissed all over her
  face while his hand combed through the hair over
  her mound. He stroked the moisture up her groove
  towards her nub as he kissed her face. He kissed a
  line from her chin down her throat -- then, up her
  melon while he brushed over her nub. When he
  reached her tip, she was already tense. Then she
  went over.

  As soon as she relaxed, he kissed a path down her
  melon and up her far one. He continued stroking her
  nub and kissing that nipple again while she tensed
  a second time. That was so arousing to feel, but
  even better to see.

  "Let me watch." He'd lifted his mouth off her melon
  to say this, and he kept his head up to watch her
  face. She was already frowning, and the frown
  turned into a grimace as he stroked her nub and
  watched her face. She looked as if she were in
  agony just before she went over.

  "Oh, Carolyn. Oh darling!" She was so arousing. As
  she settled down and her face relaxed into a smile,
  he got the rubber on and moved into position,
  kneeling between her legs. The darling reached for
  him!

  "Bill," she said as she took his dick in her hand.

  "Yes." She opened herself with one hand as she
  guided into her with the other. "Carolyn," he said
  as he pushed into the warm slickness of her snatch.
  He looked at her face while he balanced himself
  with his hands on her melons. She smiled at him.

  Her warmth totally enclosed him. Then he moved in
  and out of her snatch and back and forth above her.
  He watched her face while he appreciated her
  smoothness below and the firm touch of the tips of
  her melons. He clenched his teeth to hold himself
  back while her face turned to serious, to a frown,
  to a grimace. If she didn't soon, he'd cross over
  alone. Then her grimace turned to agony.

  She clutched his dick in crossing over. He managed
  to hold back while he drove twice more through that
  clasping snatch. Then he drove deep into her and
  poured himself out. He grabbed the rubber and
  rolled to his left. That took the covers, and he
  had to return them before he took care of himself.
  He removed the rubber, chucked it, turned off the
  light, and rolled back against her. She was already
  in a position for the spoon. He was totally
  satisfied, Was she?

  "Mmm." She sounded satisfied.

  "Mmm. Love you. Do I need to develop more
  diversity?" Might as well ask.

  "Hunh?"

  "In love making. I'm enjoying myself, but do you
  need more ways to go over?" He could provide
  variety.

  "You do great."

  "Well, fine. And if you need more later... Hell! If
  you want more later, if you even wonder whether it
  could be better, then tell me then. Okay? I want to
  be the best thing that ever happened to you, the
  best thing that you could imagine happening to
  you." She was the best thing that had ever happened
  to him.

  "Bill. In bed, you are." He had to laugh. Girl
  might be hard to figure out, but it wasn't because
  she hid her opinions.

  "Thanks. And thanks, I guess, for the honesty of
  the qualification.... Still thinking about Jake's
  comment on building a marriage on sex?"

  "Well, he's right. We're walking into a ripsaw."
  Carolyn sure wasn't going into this wearing rose-
  colored glasses. "On the other hand, what choice do
  we have? It's not like we could start over and find
  a better basis for our marriage."

  "That's true."

  "I asked Gladys," she continued, "what she'd think
  if I were to marry Keith while lusting after you?"
  He wasn't happy about her casualness in mentioning
  another possible husband. They *were*, after all,
  engaged.

  "Isn't Keith a little young for you?"

  "Yeah. But I was making it personal for Gladys. One
  of the guys from my seminar would look fine to her.
  She saw my point." Good for Gladys. He wasn't sure
  that he did. Anyway, this was a time for cuddling
  not fighting. He changed the subject.

  "Look... On the budget. Find out --  Hell, you may
  know already -- what we'll be paying for your last
  year. You do have one more year after this one,
  don't you?"

  "More or less. Depends on how long it takes to
  write the dissertation. Which depends, among other
  things, on how complex a problem one looks at. It
  has to be fairly complex. They won't let you get
  away with term-paper stuff. It depends, also, on
  how well you can compartmentalize. You're teaching
  during the day, and you come home to write at
  night. People have gone years before they threw in
  the towel. For all I know, people have finished
  dissertations after years of work." The gal did
  *not* believe in simple answers to simple
  questions. The last sounded something like rumors
  he'd heard when he was down south, though.

  "Especially at the U of C." That wasn't the
  important question, though. "But didn't we say that
  you weren't going to be teaching?"

  "We didn't say it that strongly. I'm not going to
  take a teaching job that either takes me away from
  you or crowds out the dissertation writing." Which
  sounded to him like not teaching. Anyway, a
  surprise extra income from a teaching job wouldn't
  foul up the budget calculations.

  "Okay, your field. My field is the budget, and --
  I'll admit -- I hadn't thought of tuition until you
  told me you'd squeezed another quarter's tuition
  out of your mother. It seems to me that big things,
  especially big things like tuition which only come
  up occasionally, need their own budget line. Rent,
  too, even though it comes up every month. Then
  little things we add together, and each of us gets
  an allowance of pocket money. So we don't put EL
  fare or lipstick into the budget. But add it up
  carefully, so we don't short you." Especially since
  she'd go off like a landmine if he asked about
  Tampax.

  "You're going to put me on an allowance?" Now she
  sounded offended.

  "And me." How did the gal keep solvent right now?
  "And you'll see that my allowance is bigger. I can
  skimp on some things, but not lunches. I eat too
  many of those with my coworkers." Rather than rebel
  against that, she pushed her buns into his lap and
  against his dick. She seemed to go to sleep.

  To make up for Wednesday, the EL was both crowded
  and slow on Friday night. He got back to the
  apartment late, but Carolyn wasn't there even then.
  It didn't look like she had been. He hung up his
  coat and read his mail. She got in half an hour
  after he had.

  "Sorry. I was at the library." Well, an apology, at
  least. And he didn't want her to see him as
  competition for her career.

  "I could have picked you up there." Perhaps he
  could have picked her up there. How long had she
  been on her way home, anyway?

  "Yeah. I should have called and left a message."
  Then they kissed. They did this so much better than
  they set priorities. And her buns were so sweet
  under his hands. They went out to eat.

  "Have you done anything about the budget?" he asked
  when they'd selected their meals.

  "Look, Bill, do we really need that before the
  wedding?"

  "Not, I suppose, really." After all, they were
  getting married whatever the budget was. But they'd
  have to set one, and he didn't want this delay to
  be a precedent. On the other hand, she wasn't a
  spendthrift even without a budget.

  "Well, I woke up. I've been doing fine on my daily
  stuff, but I haven't touched my papers. We're going
  shopping Saturday, but I wish we could postpone
  anything else that's not required before the
  wedding until afterwards. I need more study time."

  "You're the one who said we needed a double bed."
  Was she shifting? How far was she shifting?

  "And so we do. I'm not saying that Bill is wrong.
  I'm saying that I was wrong, and not about
  something you could have known." Well, whatever
  that said for the future of the budget, it boded
  well for the future of getting along.

  "Okay. We still have to see Jake, though. He won't
  perform a service without the counseling. And we
  need the license, which means we need to get the
  blood tests."

  "I've scheduled mine. Can you get yours?" Now, that
  was a surprise.

  "Sure. I just expected to do them together."

  "Well we won't." Then she changed the subject
  entirely. "Do you have a typewriter? At home, I
  mean."

  "Sure." He'd been a student not all that long ago.
  And he'd certainly not use an office typewriter,
  much less bring his own in.

  "Sure."

  "Can I use it?"

  "Sure. Should I get it out when we get home. It's
  not the best."

  "Well, student papers aren't graded on quality of
  typewriter. Could you get it out when we get home
  and show it to me? I don't need it right now." And
  that's what they did. She checked out how to put it
  away, although leaving it out would be fine with
  him.

  "Now," she sad. "I have typewriters in both places
  -- useful."

  "You could just move in."

  "That would be even more work. You're not going to
  see much or me for the next few days." And then,
  before he could respond to that bad news, she
  changed the subject again. "And, now, what space
  can I have to study tonight? There are classes
  tomorrow."

  "What works best? Kitchen table?"

  "Yeah." So she did her homework while he read in
  the bedroom. Well, she *was* a student. Better to
  have her find the apartment a fruitful place to
  study.

  She came in hours later to grab her robe. When she
  came back, he took his own bathroom time. She was
  totally concealed by the covers when he came back,
  but she reached over to turn on the lamp. That let
  him see enough to understand that she was nude.

  "Sorry," she said, apparently about the lamp. Her
  costume was much more important, and precisely what
  he wanted.

  "No problem. I could probably get from here to
  there in the dark, if need be. But I'd just walk
  back and forth turning it on."

  "Same rule?" he asked when he was in bed. "Warm
  hands?" He was already warming his hands in his
  armpits.

  "Yeah, but lie on your back." Then she was kissing
  him.

  "Huh?" He could never predict what she would do.

  "This will keep you quiet," she said before
  starting a full-mouth kiss. Even with his hands
  unavailable, this was lovely, her tongue playing
  with his and her melons pressed against his chest.

  "This is for being so cooperative today, and for
  being more cooperative later when I need you to
  be," she said when she came up for air. That had
  felt much better than it sounded.

  "I'm starting to like what I hear less than what I
  feel."

  "I could not love thee," she misquoted, "dear, so
  much, loved I not economics more."

  "Actually, you could."

  "Actually," she admitted, "I could. Actually, I
  suspect, he could, too. But if you can't get
  excuses from poetry, why do they make you learn so
  much of it?" Carolyn was something between a wit
  and a philosopher -- so many delightful qualities
  aside from the two most obvious ones.

  "I warn you. My hands are getting warm, and when
  they do, I'm going to ravish you." Instead of
  looking worried, she kissed him again. Then she
  raised herself up to present him with one melon tip
  and then the other. His hands, by this time, must
  be warm enough for her buns, if not her now-wet
  melons. He grabbed her and squeezed alternate buns.
  She started tensing the one he was squeezing.

  "Mmmm," he said. She pulled her melon out of his
  mouth.

  "Didn't your Mama teach you not to talk with your
  mouth full?"

  "She tried. I'm unteachable about some things." She
  responded by lying down suddenly. He adjusted the
  covers which that maneuver had totally disarrayed.

  "You know, we're not only going to have to get a
  new bed but new sheets and blanket as well." *Now*
  the girl wanted to discuss budget. But she was
  right -- would an electric blanket be better? But
  this wasn't the time to raise a new issue.

  "Yeah." But he wasn't going to discuss budget.

  He kissed and stroked her, welcoming her response.
  When she seemed about to cross over, he stopped
  kissing the tip of her melon to speak.

  "Yes, Carolyn. Cross over. Let me watch you cross
  over." And he watched as her face turned from worry
  to a grimace of agony. Then he felt her spasms
  under his hand. "Yes. Yes, darling." The sight and
  feel were intensely arousing. When she relaxed, he
  lay beside her.

  "Yeah. You are so beautiful, so erotic." When she
  reached for him, he warned her. "Uh huh, I'm not
  ready. Do you want me now?" At her nod, he grabbed
  the rubber from under his pillow and put it on. He
  was quite aroused. Afraid he might cross over
  before she did this time, he moved his hand where
  he could thumb her nub before he drove into her.
  Then his cock was encased in her. Even through the
  rubber, he could feel the warmth of her welcome. He
  shifted so that he could hold a melon in his right
  hand.

  "Love you." Then he stroked within her in the
  ancient rhythm. He watched her face transform once
  more while the sensations from his cock flooded
  him. He was about to lose it when she crossed over
  first.

  He drove into her. "Carolyn. God!" He let himself
  pour out. When he collapsed, there was only one
  elbow to support him. As soon as his strength
  allowed it, he rolled off. He disposed of the
  rubber and turned off the lamp. He hugged her, and
  she cuddled into his lap. He was about to tell her
  that he loved her when she spoke first.

  "You know, I don't think we'd lose track of each
  other in this bed, even in a double bed, if the
  lamp were off. It would save electricity." Well,
  that wasn't a savings he was looking forward to.

  "But I like to watch you." She didn't pursue her
  suggestion. Whether she had abandoned it or was
  waiting for another opportunity, he couldn't say.
  The Hell with Jake's questions. What they really
  had to establish was which issues the other one had
  accepted as settled.

  A blizzard hit that night. When he looked out, the
  parked cars he could see were buried to their
  bumpers.

  "Can you drive in this?" He asked Carolyn after
  breakfast. If she needed the car that day, he'd
  have her drive him to the EL. The walk wasn't
  usually too bad, but it looked like wading through
  snow drifts this morning.

  "Not very well." Well, that answered the question
  of who should drive.

  "Why don't I drive you and leave you where you
  want. I'll park near the EL." He took her to her
  dorm where she could change footwear. Even she
  didn't think tennis shoes appropriate for this
  weather.

  "Pick me up at the library at nine would you," she
  said as she got out of the car. "I really have to
  study. I'll eat." That was fine. There was no
  problem in Carolyn's doing her job. The problem was
  in her blowing him off.

  The Evanston Express, if not all that express, got
  him to work before nine. Secretaries and clerks
  straggled in for the next hour, but that was only a
  foretaste of the problems the representatives
  presented. They traveled by car, and kept reporting
  that hospitals and doctors' offices were
  unreachable. Bill suspected that patients had
  managed to reach their doctors, and many of them
  had mobility problems. The storm had hit most of
  the region, and the eastern edge, which had got
  little snow in the night, was getting it during the
  day.

  Well, he did what he could. He left only a little
  after five, and took half an hour to dig his car
  out of the parking place which had had snow plowed
  up to the door handle on the drivers side. Even so,
  he had time to watch TV after dinner before going
  for Carolyn at the library. He'd rather have been
  watching her. He left the car running and the
  heater on until she came out.

  "And how was your day?" he asked when she was in
  the car and they had started creeping home.

  "Bastard assigned another paper this late." Not
  100% clear. "And how was yours?" Answer that first.

  "All sorts of holes today. Representatives are used
  to driving to see their doctors." He decided not to
  blame them too much to her. "Look at how we're
  going. Half the day was worse." Now to get back to
  her latest grudge -- luckily this one wasn't
  against him. "And which bastard was this?"

  "Walther. Economic History. I'm going to blow him a
  load of hot air and take the lowered grade. C is
  good enough for Economic History." That sounded
  dangerous. What happened to a PhD candidate who
  failed a course?

  "Don't cut off your nose to spite your face."

  "I'm not, although I'd love to turn in a bomb
  disguised as a paper. Prioritize. Bastard isn't
  even in the department. He definitely won't be on
  the dissertation committee. Look, grammatical,
  well-typed, proper citations properly used -- he
  can't give it an F. And, with my test scores, a D
  paper will average out to a C in the course, maybe
  even a B depending how I do on the final and how he
  weights it." Well, she was thinking now.

  "I don't know anything about your situation. I'm
  only reacting to your temper. Just don't let your
  anger with him do you damage."

  "I'd think you'd be glad to see my temper aimed at
  someone else."

  "Yeah. But I don't want it to harm you."

  Even without the spice of an argument beforehand,
  their lovemaking was delightful.

  She packed sandwiches that they ate in the car
  after her class. Then they took the EL down to
  Carson's. They got loads of stuff, including the
  electric blanket. She took the aprons with her, but
  they had the rest delivered.

  Back at the apartment, he did the laundry,
  including taking his shirts to the cleaner, while
  she did her studying. It was mostly his laundry, as
  she'd taken most of hers back to her dorm. That
  seemed wasteful to him. When he'd got the clothes
  put away, he dawdled in the bedroom for a few
  minutes. Carolyn was typing, and looked annoyed
  when he watched her. It was close enough to dinner
  time that he went out again and got some Chinese
  take-out.

  "When's a good time to break for dinner?" he asked.

  "I can break now."

  "Leave that end. We can eat on this end." Indeed,
  it was a good excuse for closeness. She did a
  little neatening of her stuff, but did not object
  to how close their chairs were placed.

  If the food he provided wasn't as delicious as the
  meals she had cooked, that didn't diminish her
  appetite. She ate her share and went back to work.
  He washed up. Done before she was, he sat watching
  her. That didn't last long. She took her papers
  into the living room.

  He went into the bedroom. He lay on top of her side
  of the bed and read for a while. Then he just lay
  there and thought about Carolyn and marriage. The
  sleeping together part looked great. Being ignored,
  indeed rejected, when she was studying didn't. On
  the other hand, he went away to work; if this was
  going to be her work area, she needed to have some
  freedom in it. A larger apartment looked more and
  more necessary.

  "I'm keeping your place warm," he said when she
  finally came in.

  "Thanks, but you might move into the center." She
  got her stuff together. "Can I borrow your robe?" A
  strange request, but she was welcome to it. He got
  ready for bed in the room -- necessarily leaving
  his contacts in -- while she was in the bath. He
  got back in the middle of the bed and covered up.

  "Could you move down 'til your feet are just at the
  edge of the bed?" she asked after she returned
  wearing his robe. Well, she had something in mind,
  and it was almost certainly something sexual. He
  followed directions.

  "It's time to put your contraceptive on," she
  continued.

  "But..." He could do many things for her, but not
  delay orgasm more than a minute -- if that. On the
  other hand, she was running this. If it left her
  frustrated, he could deal with that later. She
  reached over to hold his dick, and he rolled the
  rubber on.

  It started to be clear that she intended to be on
  top. She moved over him and wriggled around to get
  the right position. When she pulled the covers over
  her shoulders, she seemed unsatisfied with the
  result, and justifiably so.

  "Could you help get these over me?" she asked.
  Fine. His hands were free, and the task was in
  front of him. When he adjusted the covers on her
  shoulders, she opened her robe -- actually, his
  robe. His view of her melons was delightful, and it
  soon got better. She leaned over until one tip was
  just above his mouth. When he kissed it, she leaned
  forwards a bit to allow him to relax his head on
  the pillow without losing contact. She shifted back
  and forth to give him access to both.

  "Can I use my hands?" He was perfectly willing to
  play by her rules. If her rules involved kissing
  her melons, he'd play all night. But it would be
  nice to know what her rules were.

  "Sure." So, he started on the smoothness of the
  melons. She was only offering him the tips. Then he
  stroked down to more critical ground. Soon he had
  her smooth thigh in one hand while the other
  explored her groove. She let him enjoy himself for
  a long time before pushing his hands away.

  "Keep the covers over me." She said. While he did,
  she got into position to get more serious. Opening
  herself with one hand, and inserting his dick with
  the other, she smoothly impaled herself. He watched
  her snatch enclose his dick, then reached back up
  to pull the covers tighter around her.

  "Support them," she said while pulling his hands to
  her melons. That was a weight he'd carry for her as
  long as she wanted under any circumstance. Her
  moving up and down his cock encouraged hem yet
  more. He held a melon in each hand, stroked the
  peaks with his fingers, and gloried in the
  sensations of his dick being rubbed and surrounded
  by her snatch.

  When she went over, she took him with her. Before
  he was finished, though, she'd fallen forward
  against his chest. The feel of her on him
  compensated for the lack of anything around the
  rubber as he poured into it. He hugged her and
  moved his mouth close to her ear.

  "Are you all right?"

  "Yeah. Are you?" He was better than all right. He
  had an armful of Carolyn after having watched her
  go over -- and watched her while her face and
  entire upper body were in focus, for once.

  "I'm great."

  "Should I move?" No, she shouldn't. He planned to
  spend a few years of his future like this. But,
  maybe that idea would be less attractive to her.

  "Not for me. Are you okay? If you want to go to
  sleep like this, I'm willing." Although, really,
  he'd have to go to the bathroom in the next two
  hours. He didn't have to worry. She got up and went
  back to the bathroom. When she got back, he took
  his own bathroom time.

  "Sorry," she said when he came back. "I didn't need
  to keep your robe. I figured it was warmer for
  that." Well, she might be bothered by his
  nakedness, but he wasn't. She, on the other hand,
  was wearing her nightgown in bed.

  "For what you did, no apologies are necessary....
  Have any more positions we haven't tried yet?"

  "No. I just thought that we'd complained of a
  narrow bed, but we hadn't used the vertical
  dimension enough. I wanted to do it while we still
  had the bed."

  "I don't want to discourage you," he said while
  doing the last chores, "but it will be days before
  they deliver the bed."

  "Thing is," she said when he was in bed and she'd
  snuggled back against him, "I'm about to start my
  period."

  "Well, that's probably not the position to try
  during your period. Still, I'd get most of the
  outflow, and I'd consider an extra shower a low
  price to pay for another of those." Then the penny
  dropped. "That's why you're wearing your
  nightgown?"

  "Yeah."

  "So what are the rules?" She always had rules.
  Above the waist? Through the cloth only?

  "Well, I figure that we go to church together and
  you drive me back to the residence hall. I'll spend
  the next several days there. I'll be in touch. I
  really have lots of studying to do." Those were
  extreme rules. Hadn't they just proven that she
  could study here?

  "Look, that we can't have sex is reasonable, if not
  pleasant. That I can't see you is unreasonable."
  But she didn't seem to be in the mood to negotiate.

  "Well, as I said, I'll be in touch. Don't make me
  dread those calls." If he didn't like her rules,
  she could make it worse.

  "Can I touch you now?"

  "Above the waist and through the nightgown." So, he
  held her melon through the nightgown.

  "You came didn't you?" she asked suddenly. She must
  be feeling his dick against her buns. Would she
  rule that this wasn't above the waist?

  "Yeah. Explosively. It's just that this is a sexy
  position." She didn't have any more complaints, and
  they were soon asleep.

  In the morning, he cooked breakfast. They had lots
  of time. He tried to schedule when they could meet
  over the next week, but she was having none of
  that. She studied until it was time to drive her to
  church. The choir needed to get there a bit
  earlier, and he met that schedule. During the
  service, Lily Bell brought Beatrice over to him. He
  had heard her fussing earlier.

  "I give up, Bill. She's teething." Well, it was
  about time, although he'd do better if he and the
  baby had known each other earlier. He dropped his
  suit coat in the pew while he rose. Then he took
  Beatrice back behind the wall. She wasn't happy
  being carried, which was ridiculous; she was much
  too young to walk. He tried the Ferris-wheel game,
  lifting her up high and back down slowly. Three
  times with that, and he brought her back into his
  arms. She was happy enough with the game, but
  fussed as soon as she was sitting on his arm. He
  finally spent the sermon time pacing across the
  back lifting and lowering her the entire time.

  Somehow, Beatrice reminded him of Carolyn. Neither
  wanted to be in his arms, and both were troubled by
  internal problems that weren't his fault. He gave
  her back to Lily as soon as the service was over.
  He retrieved his suit coat, put on his outerwear,
  and met Carolyn when the choir came back upstairs
  from the robing room. They got in the car and
  shared a kiss. Then she told her news -- except it
  wasn't really news to him.

  "The choir saw a baby bobbing up and down over that
  wall in back. What's its name?"

  "Beatrice. She's as bad as you are. Sheesh! One's
  teething and one's bleeding, and neither one wants
  to be held."

  "No! The wall." How was he supposed to know that?
  He had a few more years in the church than she had,
  but the wall had been around longer than he had,
  probably longer than he had been alive. Jake had
  called it something, but that wasn't the sort of
  thing he tried to remember.

  "It has a Latinate ecclesiastical name -- one I've
  heard and forgotten."

  "And Beatrice has a last name?" That's right. She
  didn't pay attention to babies like he did.

  "Bell."

  "So Ray and Lily gave you what you wanted?" That
  was one way of putting it. Ray and Lily had taken
  up his offer when Beatrice was much less pleasant
  company than she would have been when the offer had
  been made.

  "Sort of. The Ferris wheel game tired me, though."

  "Ferris wheel?" Well, she couldn't be expected to
  know his names for the games.

  "You get a good grip on the kid -- usually under
  the shoulders. You raise it up high close to you
  and let it down further away. At the best of times,
  the path is a fairly narrow oval. You do three or
  four cycles, and then you hold it mostly sitting on
  one arm for a while. Except Beatrice didn't want to
  sit on one arm; Beatrice wanted to go up again. It
  very soon looked less like a Ferris wheel than like
  an elevator. Even so, it was exhausting." If
  Carolyn didn't express any sympathy, she didn't
  razz him. She even gave him a nice kiss when she
  got out of the car at her dorm, but she got out. He
  ate a large. but not particularly fancy, Sunday
  dinner before going home.

  Sunday afternoon was not the best time for watching
  TV. Monday evening was better, but he'd have traded
  the entire evening for an hour watching Carolyn
  study. Somehow, despite her promise to call,
  despite all that they were going through preparing
  for the wedding, he felt that she was reconsidering
  the whole thing.

  Tuesday afternoon, Denise buzzed him.

  "A Carolyn Nolan is on the phone." He couldn't
  remember ever turning down a phone call, but his
  position meant that he always got the opportunity.
  This one, he wasn't going to turn down.

  "Put her through."

  "Yes, Miss Nolan," he said when she was on the
  line. She didn't play the business-call game
  though.

  "Come straight home, tonight. I'll leave you some
  food. And eat that apple!"

  "I was scared to. Wouldn't it prevent you from
  getting your doctorate?" Didn't an apple a day keep
  the doctorate away?

  "Nope. Goodbye." Well, that was short and sweet, or
  -- at least -- short. On the other hand, she wasn't
  reconsidering the wedding. She, for that matter,
  sounded as if they were already married -- ordering
  him around as to diet. He knew, from the couples
  he'd seen interacting, that this would get damn
  annoying in time. Right now, it felt reassuring.

  She'd ben there, which the call had implied. Her
  bookcase was plastic, and looked flimsy to him. The
  food was a meatloaf with directions for cooking it.
  He followed the directions, left the apple for
  dessert, and hauled out the last of the Chinese-
  restaurant rice to go with it. He'd eaten up the
  rice Carolyn had cooked. It was both older and
  tastier. When the meatloaf was done, he a slice
  over some rice and added catsup. The meatloaf was
  tasty enough, however. He left the catsup alone for
  the rest of the meal. He topped it off with the
  last apple. Apparently, she'd had one herself.

  He watched one TV program and drank one beer.
  Neither really satisfied. He decided to call her --
  he had something to report, after all. After the
  usual intermediaries, she came on the phone.

  "Carolyn Nolan speaking."

  "Carolyn! How good to hear your voice. Have I ever
  complimented you on your telephone technique? The
  meat loaf was delicious. And I ate the apple."

  "Did you have any more of the lettuce?"

  "Um." Well, she hadn't said to.

  "I'm glad you eat out so much. Restaurants will, at
  least, serve you veggies and salad."

  "Anyway, I saw the bookcase. Plastic?"

  "If you load it evenly," she replied, "it works
  fine."

  "And you brought it all the way here?"

  "Pick it up. It's not that heavy."

  "Well, the books will be. I'll move them."

  He ate out Wednesday night, but had some more of
  the meatloaf -- with lettuce, since she was so
  insistent -- for dinner Thursday. Then he called
  Carolyn again.

  "Carolyn Nolan speaking."

  "Bill Pierce here. Why don't you pack some books to
  move? I'll pick you up, drive you to choir
  practice, get upstairs any books you bring along,
  and drive you back." After a minute, she agreed.
  With the books in the trunk, they had a kiss before
  he started the car. Then he had his chance at
  getting some things straight.

  "Look..."

  "No," she said immediately. "You look. I'm grateful
  for the help, but I'm not up for an argument before
  I'm obliged to have a relaxed tone." Well, that
  ended his chance before it started. One thing,
  though, had to be confirmed.

  "Very well, but do I have you for Saturday?"

  "After lunch on Saturday." Why she was insistent on
  eating lunch at the dorm, he couldn't figure. She
  still hadn't tasted the meatloaf. When he picked
  her up after choir practice, she found him useful,
  if not conversation-worthy.

  "I'll bring down another load of books, if you
  want," she said.

  "Fine, I just stacked those up."

  "Quite the best way. I'll have to arrange them."
  But, this time, she was accompanied by her
  roommates, each with a load of books. They were
  nice girls, eager to see their friend's fiance. He
  tried to seem worthy of marrying Carolyn. When he
  had the books upstairs, more of the books in the
  apartment were hers than his.

  Saturday, he dressed casually and drove to pick her
  up in front of the building in which she had
  classes.

  "I'm going back to the residence hall for lunch,"
  was her cool greeting.

  "Fine. I'll drive you. What time should I pick you
  up?"

  "The appointment is at three."

  "Don't you think we should talk first?"

  "One thirty?"

  "1:30 it is." They had an hour and a half to settle
  any differences they might have about their
  marriage. When he got to the dorm at 1:26, he found
  that they had even less time. Carolyn's roommates
  were waiting with more books. It was 1:34 before
  they were on their way.

  "You've made three conquests," she said when they
  were finally rolling towards the apartment.

  "They merely want to meet your fiance. They
  wouldn't have given me a glance it you hadn't been
  wearing that ring. So what do we tell Jake?"

  "That we aren't planning for the ideal married
  couple. We're planning for what's best for Bill and
  Carolyn. If you were planning on a great start for
  a marriage, you wouldn't start with Bill and
  Carolyn. But, when you start with Bill and Carolyn,
  marriage looks like the best option." Well, she had
  thought about this much.

  "Doesn't sound like you're exactly starry-eyed," he
  commented.

  "Look," she said, "don't get me started."

  "You never finished your list of my faults."

  "Every time I start to set them down in order, I
  discover a new one for the top of the list. Well,
  anyway, the next time we fight we'll qualify for
  marriage counseling." She had a point.

  "Is that a promise?... Well, children? Sometime,
  but when you're more settled in a career."

  "One child when I'm settled in a career. Whether
  we'll have more depends both on our experience with
  that child and on the career." Well, that was fair,
  and -- after all -- he wasn't going into this
  marriage to get children.

  "Okay. And we'll live on a balanced budget as soon
  as you have any real teaching job."

  "You're not counting teaching assistant as real?"
  She sounded defensive.

  "Not as far as salary is concerned. I'm sure the
  work is real, but, after all, it's not like you
  were lazing around now." She nodded. They off-
  loaded the books at the apartment. She took one
  load up, but let him get the other loads while she
  arranged the ones that were there. They had too
  many to fit in that bookcase. When they drove to
  the church, Jake was waiting for them.

  "Well," he asked, "have you thought about things?"

  "Thought about plenty," Carolyn answered. "Got
  decisions on fewer. Y'know, you tell us that sex is
  a bad foundation for a marriage. Well, we aren't
  looking for the ideal couple to form a married
  pair. We're looking at 'What should we do with Bill
  and Carolyn?' Take my own case, for instance. If
  marriage to Bill based mostly on sex is risky, how
  risky would it be to marry John Doe when I'm much
  more strongly attracted to Bill, sexually?" She got
  to the point, and drilled it in.

  "Well, millions of married women think Clark Gable
  is the sexiest man in the country." Jake was
  dealing with her, for now.

  "Yeah. And they have absolutely no access to Clark
  Gable, and they see him up on the silver screen and
  get their sexual charge. Then they go home and work
  it off with their lawful husband. It's a little
  different when you're talking about a man who you
  see every day." As if she saw him every day, but
  that -- at least -- would change. Well, it seemed
  to be his turn.

  "And, on the issue of planning for Bill and
  Carolyn, that covers chores as well. I'm sure that
  Dan has some things he does and Gladys has some
  things she does. What our planning for chores is
  that Carolyn will do them in her slack periods and
  I'll do them in her crush periods. That will take
  re-planning when she gets her degree, but it
  doesn't make sense to plan for that time in the
  abstract. When I can't handle the chores -- I'm
  thinking of cooking dinner -- then I'm in charge of
  getting take-out."

  "Well," Jake said, "I'm more interested in whether
  you've thought things through than what your
  answers are. And it sounds like you've thought
  things through." He'd made it sound, indeed, like a
  lot more planning than what they'd actually done.
  "Budget?"

  "That's not complete. I know that everybody says
  that they'll have more in the sweet bye and bye.
  But we will owe tuition next year, next academic
  year, and we'll have a second salary a year or two
  after that. We're agreed on hanging tough until she
  gets a teaching job."

  "And children?" Well, for once, they'd actually
  discussed that, if it had been more Carolyn's
  decision than their's. On the other hand, she'd be
  the one carrying the child.

  "That's also dependent on her schedule. One child
  when she's settled enough to get maternity leave."

  "Yeah," Carolyn said when Jake looked her way. "We
  figure that any plans for a second child need to be
  made after we learn what living with a child is
  like. Also, of course, there is a question as to
  how much maternity leave the unknown employer will
  be happy about giving me at an unknown time."

  They got through Jake's other questions, partly by
  saying that everything beyond Carolyn's time of
  getting her degree would have to be decided when
  they saw what her situation was then.

  "And we have one," he said when Jake had asked his
  last question. "We know you won't perform the
  service without a license, and that is in process.
  We both have a nightmare of getting to the church
  in front of all those guests and then you stop the
  service because something is missing."

  "The nightmare is understandable," Jake answered
  with a laugh, "but not based on reality. I'd
  perform the service for you dressed as you are
  now."

  "Not if my mother has a thing to say about it," she
  put in. "She wants the whole nine yards."

  "Fine. I was going to say I wouldn't perform the
  service with either of you naked or something like
  that. Really, I've known ministers who performed a
  wedding service in a hospital where one of the
  party was scheduled for desperate surgery. If you
  want an elaborate service, we'll want payment for
  the church, for myself, and for Miss Armbruster.
  You need her permission for another organist."

  "That's no problem," Carolyn assured Jake. "My
  mother isn't going to import an organist I don't
  know."

  "And," he said, "although her parents are planning
  to pay for the wedding, I'm good for any
  deficiency. I don't think here will be one, but
  mistakes happen."

  "And I don't stop the service to ask for my check.
  Do you want to have the reception in the fellowship
  area?" They were now off planning the marriage to
  planning the wedding.

  "I'll ask Mama," Carolyn said, "but I'd bet against
  it. You don't allow Champagne in the church."

  "Nor betting. Do you want to invite the entire
  congregation?"

  "Sure," she said. "Probably some will get written
  invitations and some won't. But this is our church
  home, whatever Mama thinks, and we're not planning
  to shut anyone out of their home. Closer to the
  time, we'll say so -- or you can -- in church."

  "Want to finish stacking the bookcase now?" he
  asked. Carolyn didn't respond, and he went on to
  another issue. "Look, tomorrow is coffee hour. Sure
  Jake can issue the invitation in service closer to
  the time. Do you want me to -- would you object if
  I -- issued a general invitation then?"

  "Go ahead." Then, after a long pause, "What would
  going back to the apartment mean?"

  "You'd get to set the rules, but I can look at
  you." She was always sexy, but she'd be sexier
  moving around to get books and arrange them.

  "Okay. Let's go by the residence hall. I don't have
  the right books." She took a longer time than he
  was used to, but she came down carrying stuff.

  "Maybe," he suggested when they were together in
  the car, "you'll call your mother during a break in
  the library work. We need to know precisely what
  she expects from us. I don't want off the top of
  her head on the phone, but can she write us. I have
  visions of her showing up Saturday morning asking
  'Who is the photographer?' Y'know I said I would
  follow your decisions as to the wedding, but I do
  need a portrait-style photo of you for my desk."

  "Yeah," she responded. "You talk about
  accommodating me all the time, but I think you'll
  be expecting me to accommodate you."

  "Maybe so. After all, I'm not talking about
  accommodating you so much as accommodating your
  profession. And there are accommodations you'll
  have to make to my profession. You'll have to
  entertain, some times, and when entertaining,
  you'll have to play a role. Everybody does. Don't
  tell me academics don't." She didn't rise to that
  challenge.

  "So, I'm to be the contented hausfrau?" That wasn't
  quite what he meant.

  "No. I won't expect you to lie. But you'll serve
  something closer to the lamb chops than to the
  sloppy joes. And, while you won't tell them that
  Richard Nixon was the best president since Herbert
  Hoover, you won't argue when they say that,
  either." And, before starting on the books instead
  of on a break, she called her mother and made the
  request. Then he got to see her bend and flex and
  move. Those French artists who painted dancers
  changing clothes had known what made a woman
  sexiest.

  "Study time, now," she said when the books were
  arranged as well as she could with only one and a
  fraction bookcases. That meant that he would have
  to stop watching, but it also meant that she was
  staying in the apartment for the night.

  "All right, but let me brush your hair before you
  come to bed." When she didn't say him no, he did
  his bed preparations and went into the bedroom. He
  turned on the heater and lay down under the sheet
  on her side of the bed. He played over her
  flexings, imagining them without the interference
  of clothes, until he fell asleep. She came in
  wearing a nightgown, but was happy to have him
  brush her lovely locks. With the heater off and the
  electric blanket turned on for her side only, they
  fell asleep.

  After taking Carolyn to church for the choir
  robing, he went to the narthex. Dan was there,
  Sylvia being in the choir, too. They got the doors
  open and stood holding bulletins until the official
  greeters would get there. Mostly, they talked.

  "Y'know, Dan," he said, "this is going to be a
  formal wedding. I'd like you to be my best man.
  They're going to put me in a monkey suit, but I
  think the best man simply wears a suit."

  "Well, I'm a professor. I have suits."

  "Yeah, you're a professor, but *one* of your suits
  must be presentable."

  "Seriously, though, Bill... There is more to
  marriage than sex." Sure, but how to answer this?
  "I've seen fewer fights than you guys have had lead
  to divorce." Well, not fewer. He'd only witnessed
  one of their fights -- it had lasted more than a
  year, though.

  "Well, one of the privileges of marriage is that
  your fights don't have to be public.... Anyway...
  Look, there is more to being a professor than
  standing in front of the class -- you've told me
  some of them. But, if you want to stand in front of
  a class, you have to go through the rest."

  "And if you want to have sex with Carolyn, you have
  to marry her? Sounds quite traditional, and doesn't
  explain why you drove her here."

  "If I want to have sex with Carolyn next year --
  not '74, starting in June -- it means marriage.
  Anyway, do your doubts mean that you don't want to
  be part of the wedding party?"

  "No, I'll stand up with you."

  "Thanks." And then the official greeter, Ingrid,
  came out and they took their pews. After service
  was coffee hour. He got up and made his
  announcement.

  "Most of you know that Carolyn and I are getting
  married. The date is February 17th, in the
  afternoon. Every one within sound of my voice is
  invited." Carolyn topped him.

  "I'd like to notify parents of small children that,
  although they are certainly included in the
  invitation, the Bill Pierce baby-sitting service
  will not be available. He'll be otherwise
  occupied." One of the students topped her.

  "Mommy, what is that strange woman doing up there
  with *my* Bill?" The voice was supposed to be that
  of a kid. So, everyone got the news, and they got
  some entertainment out of it, too.

  As previously arranged, he drove Carolyn back to
  her dorm.

  "And when," he asked, "will I see you again?"

  "How about nine o'clock tomorrow. Call before,
  okay? And finish up the salad." The kiss on parting
  was as passionate as decency permitted in public.
  He drove off frustrated but certain of the
  engagement. He went from her dorm to a restaurant
  for Sunday dinner. He hadn't been back in the
  apartment for half an hour when Dan called.

  "Look, Carolyn asked Sylvia to be her matron of
  honor. You guys didn't cook this up between you,
  did you?"

  "No.... But, when you think about it, it makes
  sense. Carolyn has friends, and I have friends. We
  don't have many friends in common. You two are
  certainly on the top of the list. Anyway, I'm
  grateful to both of you." And the conversation
  ended on a friendly note. He had thirty hours to go
  without Carolyn, but half of that would be office
  and sleep. He went to the kitchen to finish up the
  salad before he forgot.

  The end
  Good Advice - M
  by Uther Pendragon
  nogardneprethu@gmail.com
  2011/02/10


  These same events from Carolyn's perspective, can
  be read in:
  http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Uther_Pendragon/www/Gjt/pie_03f.h
  tm
  Carolyn's experience

  The first adventures of Bill with Carolyn:
  http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Uther_Pendragon/www/Gjt/pie_01m.h
  tm
  "Get a Room - M"

  Another story about another couple preparing for
  marriage:
  http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Uther_Pendragon/www/Gjt/bla_02m.htm
  "Prelude - M"

  The index to almost all my stories:
  http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Uther_Pendragon/www/index.htm
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