Three Little Words

Chapter 14

Christy made it to her flight on time, but it was a close thing. We had to run to the gate and arrived breathless. I sent her down the jetway with a kiss, a pat on the bottom, and a promise to see her in two days. Then I stuck around until the plane pushed back and taxied away.

I drove home in a happy mood and thought about the past few days.

Christy had come a long way just since Gunny’s funeral. She wasn’t ready to learn about the rest of my lifestyle, but I had a lot more confidence than just a couple of weeks before. Even better, she wasn’t nearly as uptight or guilt-ridden as I’d feared. So Wren had been right all along, although I’d never have told her that.

Back at home I asked my mom if we had any cardboard moving boxes.

She told me where to find them and asked what I was up to. I said I’d been thinking about giving my bedroom to Erin, since it was larger than hers and had a walk-in closet. Besides, I hadn’t really used it for almost two years.

Even when Trip and I had been working in Atlanta over the summer, the room was simply a place to sleep. In spite of all that, I hadn’t made the final decision until I’d realized that the house with Christy, Trip, and Wren felt more like home.

So I spent the afternoon packing away the last of my childhood things and all the knickknacks I didn’t want to throw away but didn’t want to take to Knoxville either. When I finished, I had a stack of boxes and three garbage bags full of things that weren’t worth keeping, even as mementos.

Mom and Erin were out doing some last-minute Christmas shopping, so I hauled the bags out to the trash cans. Then I took the boxes and stored them

in the attic, along with all the other things my family had kept over the years and through all the moves.

Seeing our things made me think of Christy and putting down roots. We were already talking like marriage was a foregone conclusion. I should have been worried, but for some reason I wasn’t. We were compatible in most ways, and becoming more so every day. Still, I had a lot to tell her before I knew for sure.

I woke up disgustingly early on Christmas morning, so I went for a run through what I was starting to think of as “the old neighborhood.” I didn’t have a lot on my mind, but I still ran for almost an hour before I felt the need to head back. In a way, I was saying farewell. Not forever, but to a part of my past.

The house was quiet when I returned, so I took the opportunity to move my clothes and personal things into the guest bedroom. My old room looked sad and empty without my pictures, posters, trophies, and other things, but I wanted to surprise Erin with more than just a promise. Mom came out of her bedroom right as I finished. She stuck her head into my room and looked around.

“So you’re serious,” she said.

“Yep. We’ve crossed the Rubicon. I guess I’m a real grown-up now.”

“Mmm hmm. And I think Erin will be excited.”

“Me too. That’s the biggest reason I’m doing it.”

“Definitely a grown-up thing to say.”

“Thanks. Ready to open presents in a while?”

“Or whenever,” she said.

“Right. Then I think I’ll shower first.”

She nodded. “It’s nice having older children. Especially on Christmas.”

“Oh? Why?”

“You’ll find out.” She grinned and didn’t elaborate. Instead she headed to the kitchen to start the coffee maker for my dad.

We opened presents about an hour later, after everyone had a chance to wake up and get something to eat. My parents gave me the usual assortment of clothes and personal gifts, plus a really nice drafting stool.

“It was Christy’s idea,” Mom said. “She said you’ve been drawing on an old desk and barstool.”

My eyebrows shot up. “You talked to Christy?”

“That’s what I just said.”

“Behind my back?”

“We couldn’t really call it a ‘surprise’ if we talked in front of you, now could we? Close your mouth, dear. You’ll catch flies.”

I closed it.

“Now… have you given Erin her big present?”

“No, I’ve been saving it.” I pulled the envelope from under my thigh.

“Here you go, Er.”

“What is it?”

“Open it and see.”

Mom and Dad shared a grin.

Erin opened the envelope, took out the card, and read it. Then she looked in the envelope to see if she’d missed anything.

“I don’t get it,” she said at last.

“Read the card.”

“I have, you dweeb.”

“What’s it say?”

She held it up and read, “One bedroom, slightly used. Merry Christmas.

Love, Paul.” She lowered it. “What’m I s’posed to do with a bedroom?”

“Live in it?”

“I have a bedroom.” (Okay, maybe she could be slow on the uptake sometimes too.)

“Not like mine,” I said patiently.

“What do you mean, not like—?” The penny finally dropped. “Yours.”

“Mmm hmm. Go see.”

She leapt up and went to my old bedroom. Mom had found a big red bow in her Christmas wrapping supplies, and she’d quietly put it on the door after Erin had come out to the living room.

Erin flung open the door and stared at the mostly empty room. My furniture was still there, but the rest was move-in ready.

She whirled to face me. “Let me get this straight, you’re giving me your bedroom?”

“Yeah, pretty much. I should’ve done it when I moved out, but…” I shrugged. “To be honest, I didn’t think of it till recently.”

“No, it’s totally cool,” she said. “Thanks. Wow. And… thanks.”

I grinned. “You want me to help you move?”

“Would you?”

“Sure. When?”

“Now?”

“My pleasure.”

So Erin and I spent the rest of the morning moving her things into her new room. She didn’t have any special attachment to her furniture, and mine fit the room better. Besides, her old bed was a full, while mine was a queen.

“Does this mean I can have your old room?” Mom asked her.

“Sure. What’re you going to use it for?”

“Oh, I don’t know. But it’d be nice to have a place of my own for a change.”

“The whole house is yours,” Erin said.

Mom just smiled. “You’ll understand when you have kids.”

After dinner we went to celebrate with the Coulters. I’d talked to Christy earlier in the day, so she knew I’d be seeing Gina. It wasn’t a matter of permission, but more of honesty and trust.

“Of course I don’t mind,” she’d said. “Tell her I’d like to meet her sometime.”

“Will do.”

“And say hi to Leah.”

“Of course.”

We’d talked a while longer and then said goodbye with the promise to talk before I left in the morning.

At the Coulters’, Chris greeted us at the door and invited us inside. Leah gave me a hug and then went off with Erin to talk about whatever. My parents disappeared with Chris and Elizabeth toward the den and the bar there. Gina and I found ourselves alone in the foyer.

“So,” she said hesitantly, “Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas. Don’t I at least get a hug?”

“I didn’t know if…”

“I told Christy I’d see you.”

She nodded and stepped forward. We hugged, but without a spark. In fact, we were both a bit awkward about it.

“I don’t know why I’m nervous,” she said.

“Me neither. But I am too.”

“Do you want something to drink?” She led me toward the relative privacy of the kitchen. “Coke? Beer? Wine?”

“Whatever you’re having.”

“Perrier.”

“Very chic,” I laughed. “And totally LA.”

“Yeah, I know. I even slip into Valspeak sometimes. Drives me crazy.”

“It suits you,” I said.

“You really think so? But I’m nothing like most Valley Girls.” She handed me a green bottle of mineral water.

“True,” I said. “You’re smarter, for one. Prettier, too.”

“Now you’re just trying to flatter me.”

I opened the bottle as we slid into chairs at the breakfast table.

“How’ve you been?” she asked.

“Good. You?”

“Enjoying the break. Studying for the MCAT. Relaxing when I can. You know. What about you?”

“The same. Well, not the MCAT. I got my grades from last quarter, though. Dean’s list.”

“Of course.”

“Thanks. I’m hoping to be the top of my class.”

“I’m sure you will,” she said.

We talked about school for several minutes, until we exhausted the subject and she brought up what we’d both been thinking.

“Leah says Christy is really nice. She says you’re good together.”

“I think so too, thanks. No idea if she’ll be comfortable with swinging, though.”

“I don’t know how you do it. I mean, I’d be too scared to tell a guy about that part of our lives.”

“Not if he’s the right guy.”

“Maybe you’re right. But I haven’t found him yet. I mean, most guys would be happy with the sex part, but—”

“They couldn’t handle the emotional side.”

She shook her head.

“You and I were lucky to have each other.”

“Were we? We still couldn’t make it work.”

“Most of that was my fault,” I said.

“Not all of it.”

“Enough.”

“Okay, enough,” she agreed. “But you weren’t alone, that’s for sure. I made my share of bad decisions.”

“We were young.”

“We still are, but…”

“It doesn’t feel like it.”

She silently agreed.

“I gave my old bedroom to Erin this morning,” I said. “Packed the rest of my stuff and stored it in boxes in the attic.”

“It didn’t seem like your room anyway,” she said. “I mean, not like it was in high school.”

“Nothing is like it was in high school.”

She laughed softly, wistfully. “No kidding.”

“Do you ever wish you could go back? I mean, knowing what you know now?”

“Sometimes.” She laughed. “Like those science fiction books you read?”

“Yeah.”

We fell silent and stared at our hands.

“It feels like it’s really over now,” she said after a moment. “I kinda miss it, but…”

“It’s a bit of a relief, isn’t it?”

“I was thinking the same thing,” she said with a soft laugh. “I didn’t want to say it, though.”

“You know you can say anything to me.”

“Yeah. You too.”

“I know.” I smiled, but it felt sad. “And if things don’t work out with Christy…”

“Don’t say that,” she said. “They will. And even if they don’t, I don’t think you and I…”

“Yeah, you’re probably right. We want different things.”

“Yeah. That should make Leah happy, though.”

“Oh?”

“I didn’t realize how… um… close you are. I knew she was annoyed at

the wedding, but I thought it was kids’ stuff, from when we were girls. I always used to get my way, and she hated it. Mostly it was ’cause she wouldn’t do what Mom wanted, so Mom wouldn’t let her do things.” She shook her head at a memory. “She was always stubborn when she was little, not like me and Kara.”

“She’s stubborn now.”

“I know. And don’t tell her I said this, but I kind of envy her. I mean, she’s always had this independent streak that Kara and I didn’t. We did what Mom wanted, period. Sometimes I wonder how my life’d be different if I hadn’t.”

“Do you think it’d be better?”

“Honestly? No. I’m pretty happy right now. I mean, not entirely…” She gestured at me. “But yeah, I’m doing okay. I love my work at the clinic. And I enjoy the sorority, especially now that I’m a little older and don’t feel like I have to go to all the parties and do all the stuff to fit in.” She laughed softly.

“I know you don’t like Regan, but—”

“I don’t dislike her,” I said. “I guess I always saw her as the competition.”

“She was,” Gina said frankly.

“But now I see that she’s a real friend.”

“She is. And she’s done a lot to help me fit in. She totally fits. I mean, she’s in her element at UCLA. Chi O is one of the ‘preppy girl’ sororities, so a lot of our popularity is about clothes and cars and money. It’s really superficial. We both hate it, but…” She shrugged.

“The Pikes are like that at UT. A couple of the other fraternities. At least from what I’ve seen, from the outside.”

“You’re right, they are. My dad makes enough money, but nowhere close to what some of my sorority sisters’ dads do. I used to feel like the charity case. Regan is one of the rich girls in our chapter, especially since she has a trust fund, while the others have to rely on their parents.”

I nodded. I’d always known that Regan had money, more than a million dollars in her own name, inherited from her grandfather.

“She kind of decides what the other girls like,” Gina explained. “It isn’t something she does on purpose—they just copy her. I mean, you remember how it was in high school, with the cool kids.”

A conceited part of me wanted to believe I was better than Regan, but then I thought about how people in the architecture program treated me, just because I had talent. Was I really that different than her? She had money; I

had ability. And people like the sorority girls or Freddie wanted to emulate us because of it.

Still, I didn’t want to let go of the idea that I was better than Regan. After all, I told myself, her influence was because of her grandfather, not anything she’d done. But where had my talent come from? Some quirk of genetics had given me the ability to see buildings in my head and to create art from metal and glass and concrete. I certainly hadn’t done anything to deserve it, no more than Regan had done for her inheritance. That was a sobering little epiphany.

“…so she told them if I went, she would too.”

I realized I hadn’t been paying attention, so I replayed what Gina had just said.

“She threatened to blacklist some of our more… stuck-up sisters,” she continued. “She was serious, too. She’d’ve done it. And two of them are legacies!”

“All for you?” I said.

“All for me.”

“She basically said you’re more important than any sorority.”

“No ‘basically’ about it. So now you know why we’re so close.”

“I never thought I’d say this, but… I’m glad you have Regan. Tell her for me, okay?”

“I will.”

“And tell her I’d like to meet her again, like it’s the first time. Sort of a do-over. I think I might like her when I’m not being a jerk to you.”

“She knows. I told her about our phone call. She said you did the right thing.”

I blinked.

“She doesn’t hate you,” she laughed. “She never did. She just hated the way you ignored me.”

“Then we have something in common.”

“I bet you never thought you’d say that.” We shared a grin and then she sighed. “I love talking to you. I think I’ll miss that most. Yeah, the sex was fun, but…” She shrugged. Then she thought about something and laughed. “I never thought I’d say this, but I’m totally jealous of Leah.”

“Why?”

“Because of what you have together.”

“Oh? And what’s that?”

“Love. And sex without all the complications.”

“You don’t think you and I could have that?”

“No. One of us would want more, and the other would get hurt. Last time it was you. This time was me.”

“I never meant to hurt you. Then or now.”

“I know.” She sniffed and wiped the corner of her eye. She forced a smile. “Look at me. I promised myself I wouldn’t cry!”

“I didn’t see anything,” I lied gallantly.

“You’re a good guy, Paul. You always were, even if I didn’t see it all the time.”

“Well, thanks, but… no, I wasn’t. I was selfish, clueless, and immature.

Sometimes all three at once.”

“Yeah, you were,” she admitted with a teary laugh. She wiped her eyes again and smiled. “Let’s talk about something happier. Tell me about Christy.

She sounds wonderful.”

I paused to let Gina settle her emotions. “She is,” I said. “She’s an art major, a sculptor. She wants to get an MFA, but she isn’t sure what she wants to do then. She’s from a military family, like me, so…”

We talked and eventually laughed as I told her more about Christy. Then Gina told me she’d been talking to a guy she’d met at the clinic. He was another pre-med student and doing volunteer work to help his med school applications. They hadn’t been on a date yet, but she thought he was working up the nerve to ask her.

“I hope he does,” I said. “He sounds like a nice guy.”

“We’ll see,” Gina said cautiously. She was about to say something else when Elizabeth stuck her head into the kitchen.

“We’re about to open presents,” she said. “Would you care to join us?”

“Depends,” I shot back. “Are there presents for me?”

“No. Father Christmas only brought you a lump of coal. Now get in here!” She turned so quickly that her wine sloshed out of her glass. She dabbed her wrist with a napkin, drained the glass, and went in search of more.

“I guess we’d better go,” I said to Gina.

“Probably. They’ll just come looking for us if we don’t.”

We went to join our families.

“I enjoyed talking to you,” Gina said before we reached the living room.

“Me too. I always have. And I’ll always love you.”

“I know. I’ll always love you too. But… it sounds like you’ll have your

hands full with Christy.”

“I hope so.”

“I hope so too,” she said. “I really mean that. Tell her, okay?”

“I will. And tell Regan what I said.”

“I will.”

I gave her a hug and we held each other for a long time.

“We’d better go,” she said at last. “Life goes on.”

“Life goes on,” I agreed.

I called Christy the next morning before I had to leave for the airport. Her father answered.

“Hello, Harold. Sir,” I said. “It’s Paul.”

“You don’t have to call me sir. Really. I mean it.”

“Aye, aye, sir.” I wasn’t sure he heard the grin in my voice, but I definitely heard the frown in his.

“Don’t say that at all, unless it’s for real.”

“No, sir,” I said, suitably chastised. “I mean, Harold.”

“Better. But if you’re joking with me, you must feel fairly confident about your chances with Birdy.”

“I do. I’ve totally fallen for her.”

He harrumphed. “That’s what she said. Although I’m not sure I approve of this ski trip, especially the sleeping arrangements.”

“She’ll have her own bed,” I said. “And the couch folds out to a bed.”

Both of which were technically true, if misleading.

“She told us. But—”

“Harold,” I interrupted, “do you really want to have this conversation?”

“I want to protect my daughter.”

“I do too. I won’t do anything against her wishes.” Again, true but misleading.

“It’s her wishes I’m worried about.”

“Then you’ll have to take it up with her.”

“I tried,” he grumbled, almost under his breath, “but my wife won’t let me.”

“I envy you,” I said. “And I’m being honest, not patronizing. Anne is a

strong, intelligent woman.”

“She is.”

“And I like Christy even more because she’s like her.”

“Son, you have no idea what you’re getting into.”

“Oh, I think I do,” I said with a soft laugh. “I like a challenge.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of.”

“Well, you couldn’t run me off, and Rich couldn’t scare me off, so maybe I’m in it for the long haul.”

He didn’t answer.

“And,” I said, a touch flippantly, “I’m better than the last guy.”

“You can say that again.”

“I’m better than the last guy.”

He sighed. “Let me tell Birdy you’re on the phone. We’ll see you this afternoon.”

“Thanks. I’m looking forward to it.”

“So help me God, I am too.”

Christy came to the phone after a short wait.

“Hello?”

“Hi, it’s me,” I said.

“Hello, Mr. Wonderful.”

“Hello, Miss Fellatio.”

She gasped and covered the receiver. When she spoke again, she cupped her hand around the mouthpiece. “Don’t say that. Someone might hear.”

“Relax,” I chuckled. “But if it’ll make you feel better, I won’t say it again.”

“Please don’t.”

“Unless we’re alone.”

“Right. Then it’s okay.”

I chuckled again. “Sorry. I couldn’t resist.”

“Try harder. Isn’t that what your mother said?”

“Yes, dear.”

She sighed. “I like hearing you say that.”

“Then I’ll have to say it more often.”

“Say the other thing I like.”

“Which one? ‘Pole smoking’ or ‘playing the skin flute’?” I laughed to myself at the muffled sound from the other end of the line. She must’ve pressed the earpiece to her shoulder.

“You’re going to get me in trouble,” she whispered when she returned.

“Be nice.”

“Yes, dear.”

“Better.”

“And I love you.”

“Much better.”

“But I can’t talk long,” I continued. “I need to head to the airport in a few minutes. Get a pen and paper. Here’s my flight information.” I gave it to her.

“The arrival time is Pacific. Make sure you tell your parents.”

“Okay. We’ll meet you at the gate. Oh, and Harry and Marianne and the kids are coming to dinner, if that’s okay. They want to see you before we leave tomorrow.”

“Sounds good. I love you,” I said again. “I’ll see you when I get there.”

“I love you too. See you soon.”

I walked out of the jetway in San Diego and was only mildly surprised to see just Christy and her father. I gave her a hug and kiss and then shook his hand.

“Good to see you again, Harold.”

“You too,” he said, and sounded like he meant it. “Anne would’ve been here too, but she and the girls are baking dessert for tonight.”

“No problem,” I said. “Thanks for picking me up yourself.”

“My pleasure.”

“Your duty, at least.”

“No,” he said, “my pleasure.”

Christy beamed at him. “Thank you, Daddy.”

He gave her an indulgent smile, and I understood why it was his pleasure.

Still, it wouldn’t hurt to be polite.

“Yes,” I added, “thank you very much.”

We made small talk as we walked down to baggage claim and waited for my suitcase, skis, and boot bag. During the drive home, Christy sat between us on the front seat, while Harold and I talked politics over her head (physically, not intellectually). He was about as conservative as I’d imagined, although he didn’t seem bothered that I wasn’t, especially when I mentioned women’s lib.

“Well, I have a wife, a daughter, and four granddaughters,” he said as he turned into the neighborhood. “What did you expect? Genghis Khan? Of course I want Birdy to have a career, if that’s what she wants.”

“What if I want her to stay at home and raise kids?” I asked. She shot me a questioning frown, but I shook it off.

Harold simply chuckled. “Son, I know a trap when I see it. I study politics and war, remember?”

“Yeah, you caught me.”

“Besides,” he added, “I can’t imagine Birdy with any man who’d try to tell her what to do. We raised her to stick up for herself. The boys even taught her to wrestle.” He looked at me sideways. “So no funny business on this trip of yours.”

“Not a chance,” I said with a laugh. “And though she be but little, she is fierce.”

“Don’t you forget it, mister.” He paused and tried to place the quote.

“Shakespeare?”

“Yep. A Midsummer Night’s Dream.”

He pulled into the driveway and waited for the garage door to open.

“I mostly read the histories,” he said. “Henry V and Richard III.”

“I like the St. Crispin’s Day speech.”

“That’s a good one,” he agreed. “We read it when I was at the Naval War College.”

He parked the car and we headed inside, where Anne and three of her granddaughters were icing a cake. I set my suitcase and backpack on the kitchen floor and said hello. Anne handed a chocolate-covered spatula to one of the girls and gave me a hug. Then she re-introduced me to Harry’s daughters, Virginia, Amber, and Rose, who all said hello politely.

“Christine, dear, why don’t you show Paul to the guest bedroom,” Anne suggested. She smiled at me. “You can sleep in the house this time.”

“Moving up in the world,” I joked, and she smiled.

“Don’t get used to it,” Harold said.

“Oh, behave,” she told him.

“Thank you very much for letting me stay,” I said to them. “I promise I won’t wear out my welcome.”

“You’re always welcome,” Anne said sincerely.

Christy showed me to the guest bedroom, which was down the hall from hers, with a bathroom and the linen closet in between. She made sure to leave

the door open as I set my things at the foot of the bed. I risked a kiss, and she came willingly into my arms. But then she stepped back and dabbed at the corners of her mouth.

“Is my lipstick okay?” she asked. Then she flinched and yanked a tissue from a box on the dresser. I tried not to grin as she wiped evidence from my lips. “You’re going to get us in trouble,” she half-whispered. “Remember what happened last time.”

“How can I forget? I’ve never had a gun pointed at me before.”

She had the good grace to look embarrassed. “He’s just protective.”

And a psycho, I thought, but kept it to myself. “Speaking of Rich… will he be here tonight?”

“No. He’s… somewhere else.”

“Oh?”

“Deployed. I don’t know where. My dad does, but he can’t tell us.” She shrugged. “That’s how it is with Rich. He goes places and… does things.”

“Kills people, you mean.”

“I don’t know. But if he does, they’re bad people. Communists and insurgents.” She gave my lips a final check and then smoothed my shirt over my chest as an excuse to gather her thoughts. “Rich is a good person. I know he can be… dangerous.” She looked up at me earnestly. “But he protects us.

Our country. And that includes you.”

“You’re right. I’m sorry. I’m glad people like Rich are in the military. My dad and yours too, for that matter.” I took a deep breath. “I guess I’ve just spent the last couple of years learning how not to be violent. Or how to control it, at least. I forget that some people only respond to violence. Or you have to use it to get their attention.”

“That’s what Rich does,” she said. “I don’t always like it, especially when he threatens my boyfriend, but I’m glad he’s the way he is. You know he’d never really hurt you, don’t you? Not for real.”

I quirked an eyebrow— the eyebrow—with a healthy dose of irony.

“Oh, you know what I mean. Besides, you can barely see the scar.”

“Rich would hurt me,” I said, “but only if I hurt you.”

“Then you’re safe.” She looked into my eyes. Hers were so clear and beautiful and blue that I wanted to fall into them and never climb out. “I know you’d never hurt me.”

“No.”

She brandished the lipstick-smudged tissue. “Looks like we’re going to

need this again.”

I bent to kiss her. Then I pulled her close and felt her body mold into mine.

“Ah-ah, none of that,” a voice said from the doorway. “Not till you’re married.” Marianne grinned as we sprang apart. “I’m kidding. But your mother sent me to check on you.”

Christy’s cheeks glowed.

“Don’t worry,” Marianne told her, “your secret’s safe with me. But you’d better fix your lipstick. His too,” she added. Then she smirked at me. “Nice to see you, Paul.”

“Nice to see you too.”

“We’re having cocktails in the living room before dinner. Join us?” She glanced pointedly at her watch, so I did the same. “In a few minutes.”

“Got it,” I said. “A few minutes.”

She left with a flutter of fingers and a sparkling grin.

I laughed in relief and looked down at Christy. “Your mom knows everything that goes on around here, doesn’t she?”

“You can say that again.”

We joined the others a few minutes later, as promised. Marianne officially greeted me with a hug, and Harry stood and shook my hand.

“What can I fix you?” he asked with a gesture toward the drinks trolley.

“Whiskey?”

“Sure. Thanks.”

“Wine okay for you?” he asked Christy.

“Yes, please.”

I scanned the others and realized that the ladies were drinking white wine instead of whiskey. So they’re traditional about drinks as well, I thought.

Then I reminded myself that my family wasn’t any better, just different.

I accepted a glass of whiskey and ice and sat in an armchair. Christy perched beside me and sipped her wine. Harold and his son finished their conversation about squadron politics, so I was ready when they turned their attention to me.

“Have you had a chance to consider what we talked about?” Harold asked.

“Joining the Navy?” I said as a placeholder rather than a genuine question.

“I could take you out to the squadron if you’d like,” Harry offered. “Have

you thought about whether you want to request fighters or attack?”

Christy cleared her throat ever so quietly, and Anne’s eyes tightened a fraction. Marianne deftly covered a smile when she realized that her husband and father-in-law were hopelessly outmatched.

“Thanks,” I said to Harry. “I really appreciate it, but…” I shifted my drink to my left hand and extended my right for Christy to take. She gripped it lightly because of the chill, but her expression never wavered. “I gave it some serious thought,” I said and indicated her with a nod, “and we discussed it.”

Everyone heard the emphasis, and Anne’s lips twitched with a hint of a smile.

“I think I’d make a good pilot—”

“A good officer too,” Harold said.

“Especially with people to help your career,” his son added.

“Thank you. I appreciate it. We appreciate it. But we don’t think the military is right for us, for Christy and me.”

“But what do you want?” Harry insisted.

“A happy Birdy,” I said dryly, and Anne had to cover her mouth to hide a grin. Even Harold couldn’t stop himself from chuckling.

“I think he has us there,” he told his son.

“The Navy needs men like you,” Harry persisted earnestly. “It’s not like it was under Carter. Reagan is building up the military, and we’ll need pilots if we square off against the Soviets.”

Anne cocked an ear and said, “That’s the oven. Are we ready for dinner in fifteen minutes?”

Soft power, gentlemen, I thought at them. It’ll win every time, because you can’t fight it head-on.

Harold must have sensed the direction of my thoughts, because he glanced at his wife and then me. Finally his gaze settled on Christy, who pretended not to notice. He eventually looked at me again and smiled. It wasn’t his usual attitude adjustment, but he’d clearly come to a decision.

I wondered if he was a good commander because he didn’t pick fights he couldn’t win. Instead, he dealt with reality. I looked at Christy with a new appreciation. She’d adjusted to being a nudist with surprising ease. She’d wanted something— me, and a relationship—and she hadn’t let a little thing like taking off her clothes stand in her way.

Harold watched me with a wry expression. He probably didn’t know what

I was thinking, but he knew the gist of it. After all, he hadn’t become an admiral by being slow on the uptake. And I could almost hear his thoughts: Son, you have no idea what you’re getting into.

No, sir, I don’t. But I’ll have fun learning.

Anne stood and gathered Marianne and Christy with a glance. Virginia appeared a moment later.

“The timer’s going off, Grandma,” she said. “Do you want us to take it out?”

“Just take the foil off the top, dear. Let it brown for a few minutes.”

The girl nodded and dashed off, followed by the women.

“Are you sure you won’t reconsider?” Harry said after they’d gone.

I started to speak, but Harold beat me to it.

“He’s sure.” He sipped his drink. “You probably don’t remember,” he said to his son. “You were off at the Academy already. But Birdy hated every time we changed station and had to move. I hated making her do it, too. New house, new school, new friends. Every three or four years.”

“What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger,” Harry said.

“Yes,” his father agreed. “Strong enough to put your foot down—”

I smiled at Christy’s defiant habit.

“—and decide you don’t want to be a Navy wife.”

“But—”

“Leave it,” Harold said automatically, the voice of command. Then he remembered who he was talking to. He added in a kinder tone, “Birdy has a good head on her shoulders, and Paul seems to appreciate that.”

I nodded.

Harold continued to his son, “Would you do something if Marianne didn’t approve?”

“No, I guess you’re right. Still, America needs more fighting men.”

“It needs infrastructure too,” his father said. “We’re the tip of the spear, son. We need power behind us. That means security and stability at home.

Men like Paul will help provide it.”

“I will.”

“I hope you do,” Harry said sincerely, “for all our sake.”

Dinner with the Carmichael clan was never a laid-back affair. They didn’t do small, quiet, or intimate. We sat around the big dining room table, even the kids, and the conversations were all over the place.

Christy sat across from me, next to five-year-old Hal on a booster seat.

She and Harry talked about a new mall near their house. Harold and his granddaughters talked about Inspector Gadget, and the girls explained how Gadget’s niece and her dog really solved all the cases. Marianne and I covered everything from Romantic poets to Star Wars. Anne switched between Penny and Brain on one side, and Keats, Shelley, and Skywalker on the other.

“Is there anything you don’t talk about at dinner?” I finally asked.

“The Navy,” Anne and Marianne said together, with such finality that the other conversations stopped.

“What’s that?” Harry asked. “Does someone need to put a quarter in the jar?”

“No, dear,” his mother said. “Paul just asked if there’s anything we don’t talk about at the table.”

“Ah, right.” He looked at me. “No shop talk during dinner.”

“My mother’s rule,” Anne said, “and it’s a good one.”

“No argument from me,” her husband said. “But… I just thought of something.” He gripped his knife and fork and held them upright in his fists.

“How’s this work? Go Go Gadget Dessert!”

The girls giggled.

“No, Granddad,” Rose said with a seven-year-old eye-roll. “We have to do it for you.”

The older girls nodded.

Anne’s eyes sparkled as she looked at the girls. “Come on, let’s show him how it’s done.”

They disappeared into the kitchen.

“Let’s clear the table, Birdy,” Marianne suggested. She put her hand on mine before I could move and quietly added, “We’ll do it. But thank you.”

I nodded and let her take my plate.

Christy set Hal on his feet, and he ran into the kitchen after his sisters.

She flashed me a pretty smile before she started gathering the plates at the other end of the table.

“We ready for the good stuff?” Harry asked his father. He went to the sideboard without waiting for an answer and poured six glasses of whiskey.

The girls and Anne returned with a chocolate cake on a festive Christmas pedestal. She helped Virginia cut, and the younger girls served. After a minute Christy and Marianne rejoined us and slid into their seats.

We lingered over the dessert and drinks until Harry and Marianne’s daughters took Hal and went to watch TV in the day room, a converted bedroom next to mine. The ladies cleared the remains of the cake and said they’d join us in the living room. Before we went in, Harry topped off my drink over my feeble objections.

I was already feeling the effects of so much alcohol, but Christy quietly rescued me a few minutes later. She sat on the arm of my chair, took my nearly full glass, and sipped it without giving it back. Marianne saw and winked at me. Her own drink looked to be more water and ice than whiskey.

We talked about who-knows-what for thirty minutes. Then Harry, bless his 80-proof heart, brought me a fresh drink when he refilled his. I took a polite taste and forced a smile. Marianne came to my rescue that time.

“I think I’d like to take a walk.”

“Me too,” I said so quickly that Christy nearly jumped.

“We’ll stay and watch the kids,” Anne said. She and Marianne exchanged a look, and I realized that Something Was Up.

Still, I donned my jacket and helped Christy into her sweater. It was fuzzy white cashmere, and it made her look like a bunny more than ever.

Outside, the cold air did wonders for my concentration. I closed the door behind us, and Marianne unobtrusively lingered between Christy and me.

“Let’s go, Birdy-bird,” Harry said without missing a beat. “Walk with your big brother.”

“Sure.” She glanced at me—she also realized we were being separated—

before she added, “I’d be delighted.”

We strolled toward the entrance to the neighborhood, but Marianne deliberately walked a little slower, until we were safely out of earshot. I didn’t mind, since she clasped my arm and half-leaned into me as we walked.

She was soft and warm, with just a hint of expensive perfume, and if she hadn’t been my girlfriend’s sister-in-law, I would’ve wondered if she had more in mind than just conversation.

“You’re not really that drunk,” she said at last.

“No, but I don’t want to be either.”

She nodded and mulled that over.

“Christy gets a little flirty,” I explained. “And one of us needs to be sober

if we want to… um… wait till the wedding, so to speak.”

“Funny you should mention that,” Marianne said.

I wasn’t sure where the conversation was headed, so I didn’t reply, which made her smile. We walked in silence for a while.

Then she said, “When Danny told us about you, he said you were a cool customer.”

“And what do you think?”

She studied me a moment before she said, “He’s always been a good judge of character.”

“Ah.”

“He also said you care about Birdy.”

“I do.”

“I can tell. And you’re getting serious.”

“We are.”

“Three-little-words serious,” she added.

“That too.”

“And, naturally, she’s been talking to me.”

“Naturally.”

She smiled again. “You are a cool one.”

“It’s better to remain silent and be thought a fool than to open your mouth and remove all doubt.”

She laughed, bright and musical and genuine. She could’ve been a younger version of Susan, albeit blonde and with even more polish, if that were possible.

“You’re wondering whose side I’m on,” she said matter-of-factly. “Well, put your mind at ease. I’m on yours. And Birdy’s.”

“And Anne’s.”

“Yes.” Her perfectly colored lips pursed with a grin. “She said you’re quick.”

“I see who’s really running the show in the Carmichael clan.”

“I wouldn’t say ‘running the show,’” she said. “Just… offering opinions here and there.”

“Does Harry realize he married a younger version of his mother?”

“I think he does now. But we’re a good team. We want the same things.”

She glanced at me sideways. “You and Birdy do too.”

“I think so.”

“Then let’s talk about this ski trip of yours.” She went on before I could

tense up. “This isn’t going to be a conversation about your intentions.”

I nodded with more than a bit of relief.

“We both know what they are,” she laughed. “Birdy’s too, for that matter.” We walked in silence while she decided what to say next, until she nodded at the couple ahead of us. “Harry and his father and brothers think she’s led a sheltered life.”

“She hasn’t?”

“Oh, please. We both know better. No girl is ever as innocent as her father thinks.”

I shrugged noncommittally.

“But Birdy doesn’t really have a lot of experience in the… um… How should I put this?”

“In the bedroom department?”

“No, not exactly. She knows plenty about certain bedroom activities. But not as much about… the marital one.”

“Ah. Right.”

“You have a lot more experience in that department, don’t you?” It wasn’t really a question. She looked over and waited for me to boast or deny it or something. She’d have to wait a long time, she realized, which made her smile. Again.

“What makes you say that?” I said at last.

She chuckled, low and throaty and suggestive.

I waited.

“Most guys your age would be flustered, especially walking arm-in-arm like this, with my body pressed against them. Or they wouldn’t be able to walk at all.” She smiled up at me. “I know the effect I have on men. But not you. I felt that as soon as I took your arm.”

“Oh? You did?”

“Mmm hmm. You reacted, but like a grown man—an experienced man—

not a horny teenager.”

“So you’re flirting with me on purpose?”

“Sort of,” she admitted. “I like you. And I’m fairly sure you know the difference between harmless flirting and the serious kind.”

“So you’re harmless?”

“Yes. As far as you’re concerned, at least.”

“Too bad. Maybe in another life…”

She laughed. “I’m… what? Ten years older than you?”

More like thirteen, I thought, but decided to flatter instead of insult her.

“Sexy never gets old.”

“What about married?”

“Married women have affairs all the time, especially with younger men.”

She laughed when she realized I was bantering instead of serious. “Now who’s flirting with whom?”

“Hey, I’m harmless,” I said. “As far as you’re concerned. Besides, you started it.”

“Oh, dear. Birdy’s in real trouble. It’s a good thing you seem to understand her.”

“I do,” I admitted. “And I’m not looking for a notch on my bedpost.”

“No, that’s not—”

“I know it wasn’t. You and Anne seem to have a pretty good idea what I’m about.”

“We hope so.”

“But tonight—this conversation—is about making sure.”

“Are we that obvious?”

“To anyone who’s paying attention.”

She nodded.

“Or anyone who grew up with strong women. And who wants the same thing himself.”

“Mmm, I see.”

We walked in silence for a minute or so. Ahead of us, Christy and Harry were looking at the night sky as he pointed out constellations.

“So,” I said eventually, “what’re you going to tell Christy?”

“About her ‘marital’ questions?” She studied me for a moment. “I think she made the right decision.”

“In me? Or to wait.”

“In you. As far as the other… if she thinks she’s ready, she shouldn’t feel guilty about anything she does.” She looked up at me. “Besides, you don’t seem like the type to pressure her into something.”

“No,” I said firmly. “Definitely not.”

“Because the wedding might be a long way off”—she grinned—“but things are going to happen long before then.”

“Ha! She told you?”

“She did. She’s excited. Nervous too. So take your time.”

“I will. I am.”

“That’s what she said.”

I nodded.

Christy and Harry turned around and started back toward us.

Marianne shifted conversational gears without a pause. “How do you know so much about Keats and Shelley?”

“My mother has an English degree. She wanted to get her Master’s and teach, but I came along. So she taught me and my sister instead. How about you?”

“The benefits of private school,” she said with a touch of embarrassment.

“My father’s idea of what a ‘proper young lady’ should be.”

I heard the quotes.

“So now you understand why Birdy and I get along well. We have a lot in common.”

“Right. Protective father and Catholic school for her…”

“Protective father and private school for me.”

I turned us to join the other couple as they drew near.

Marianne continued, “I never saw much of the real world until I went to college. Then I met Harry here, who thoroughly opened my eyes.”

“You were peeking before I met you,” he said. He glanced at me. “You mind if I have my wife back?”

“Not at all. If I can have my girlfriend.”

“She’s all yours. If you can keep her, that is.”

“I have a nefarious plan,” I said blandly, which earned a squeak from Christy. “I’m going to lock her in a tower.”

“Good luck with that,” Harry laughed. “She can be a handful.”

“True. But she’s smart, talented, and beautiful too. So it balances out.”

“Oh, he’s good,” Harry said to his wife.

“I told you,” she said.

Christy ducked under my arm and smiled up at me for a kiss, which I gave her.

“Don’t let Dad see you doing that,” Harry warned.

“I think he knows what’s going on,” Marianne told him. “Your mom certainly does. Why do you think we’re on chaperone duty?”

“Is that what this is?” he asked mildly. “I thought it was just a nice walk with my wife and sister.”

“Mmm hmm. Of course you did.”

Christy and I behaved when we went to bed, and neither of us tried to sneak into the other’s room. I slept like a log, although I still woke up ridiculously early. I had a mild hangover, so I went for a run through the beachfront park and then nursed a glass of orange juice back at the house.

Christy started packing to leave after breakfast, but she still took almost two hours. We didn’t have a schedule, per se, but we were supposed to call the cabin when we arrived at the airport in Truckee. As it turned out, the delay actually saved us some frustration.

Trip called while Christy was still getting ready. His father had gone to the hospital with chest pains, so he and Wren were watching the boys while his stepmother stayed with his father. They said they’d meet us in Squaw Valley as soon as they could. In the meantime, he gave me the address for the cabin and told me where to find the spare key.

“Got it. Thanks,” I said. “What’s the prognosis for your dad?”

“The doctors say it was just a mild heart attack,” he said, “but they still wanna run a few tests and maybe keep him overnight.”

“I hope that’s all it was.”

“They’re pretty sure. He’s ready to go home now, but the doctors are being cautious. We’re gonna take Dale and Josh to see him later this afternoon if they keep him overnight. We’ll be okay. Just here another day, maybe two.”

“Okay. Call the cabin and let us know how he is.”

“Sure thing. Tonight. In the meantime, have fun for us, dude.”

“Will do,” I said.

We said goodbye and hung up, and I explained to my concerned audience.

“I hope he’s all right,” Anne said.

“Do you need to stay here another day?” Harold asked. “Or fly to Nashville instead?”

Anne said, “It sounds like they’re taking good care of him.”

“Taking care of who?” Christy asked when she entered the kitchen with her overnight bag. Her eyes went round when I told her. “Oh my gosh. I hope he’s okay.”

“Sounds like he’s fine,” I said. “They’re just running some tests to be sure.”

“You should probably stay here,” Harold said, “close to the phone.”

I didn’t glare at him, but only through concerted willpower.

“They have a phone in the cabin,” Anne said. “You heard him say so, dear.”

“I know. But the lines might be down. We know they can reach him here.”

“They’ll be able to reach him there, too. Christine, dear, finish bringing your things and we’ll take you to the airport.”

Christy looked from her mother to her father.

“I’ll help,” I said. “How much more do you have?”

She winced guiltily. “Another suitcase and two more bags. But the extras are my skis and boots!”

“You’re a little thing,” I chuckled, “but you don’t travel like it.”

I’d rented a Comanche 260 from one of the big San Diego flying clubs, which was a huge eye-opener compared to mine in Knoxville. Earl Walker ran a sleepy little FBO, but the one at Montgomery Field was a major operation, a bustle of people, planes, and activity.

Harold and Anne walked out to the plane with us, and I could almost feel him working up to an objection. I did my best to ignore him as I loaded everything into the baggage compartment and then stowed our ski bags in the rear seat.

I forgot about Harold completely as I went through the plane’s familiar preflight routine. It was longer and slightly faster than the one I was used to, but not so much that I needed a check ride, which was why I’d chosen it.

“I’m impressed,” he said when I finished.

“Thank you. But… what did you expect?”

“I’ve never flown general aviation,” he admitted. “The boys did, but… I wasn’t around for most of it.” He glanced guiltily at his wife, who smiled and let him off the hook.

“It’s slower and less complicated than a fighter jet,” I said, “but just as serious.”

“I can see that.”

“He’s a very good pilot, Daddy. I told you.”

“They’ll be fine, dear,” Anne said. “They’ll call us when they arrive, to let us know they made it safely.”

“We will,” I promised. “Our flight should take about four hours. We’ll have light winds and twenty miles visibility the whole way. Traffic’ll be heavy until we leave the San Diego airspace, but you know that.”

He nodded. Even if he didn’t fly himself anymore, he was Commander of Naval Air Forces in the Pacific, so I was pretty sure he had a good idea of the volume of air traffic in the area.

I watched his expression as he assessed his options to stop us from going to Tahoe alone together. He realized he couldn’t, so he gave in gracefully and told us to have fun, but not too much fun. Anne covered a smile at the last part.

“All right,” he said to her, “let’s get off the flight line. We can watch from back there.”

“The FBO’s the best place,” I said. “You can listen to the radio and hear when we taxi and get our takeoff clearance.”

“Roger that,” he said. He glanced at the plane’s call letters so he’d know what to listen for.

They headed back toward the building, while I helped Christy onto the plane’s wing and then climbed after her. Startup and taxi were mostly routine, although the airport was a lot busier than I was used to. We were sixth in line for takeoff, and I actually chuckled at having to wait.

Eventually it was our turn, and the plane accelerated smoothly when I pushed the throttle forward. We lifted into the air and the gear retracted with a soft whine and thump. I waggled the wings to Christy’s parents and then turned onto our departure vector. We were on our way.

The Olympic Valley taxi pulled to a stop in front of an A-frame cabin with steps leading up to the entryway. Several cords of firewood were stacked under a tarp nearby, and the patio furniture was an irregular snow-covered mound next to the house. The keys were supposed to be in a magnetic box under one of the chairs. I asked the driver to wait while I pulled back the tarp, found them, and opened the door. Then I paid him and carried our things inside.

The house was dark and cold and smelled slightly damp, but the lights came on when I flipped the switch, and the telephone had a dial tone. The decor looked like it hadn’t been updated in a couple of decades, but beggars couldn’t be choosers.

“Well,” I said to Christy, “what do you think?”

“I think it’s cozy. And definitely private.”

I grinned. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

“No, Mr. Horndog. Later. We have all night.”

“Mmm, all night.”

“Oh, behave.”

“Right. Then if we’re going to be all practical and everything, let’s take a quick tour, see what we have in the way of supplies, and walk to the grocery store before it gets dark.”

She checked the kitchen while I went in search of the thermostat. The place had an old furnace that didn’t look too reliable, but also a wood-burning stove in the living room. The main level boasted a full bathroom, a dining area, and a ladder-like set of stairs that led up to the second floor.

The master bedroom was nice but small, although it had the only upstairs bathroom, a cubbyhole with a sink and toilet. The guest bedroom was quite a bit bigger, with a cozy little window nook on one side and an extra sleeping alcove on the other. The window over the bed overlooked a small patio with the snow-covered hot tub.

Downstairs I found Christy in the kitchen making a grocery list. While she finished, I took my backpack upstairs, emptied its contents on the guest bed, and returned to the main level.

“You about ready?” I said.

“I don’t know how Wren or my mom or Marianne do it every week. I can barely feed myself, let alone a whole group of people.”

“Well, they’ve had a lot more practice than you have. Here, let me see.” I scanned the list and added several things.

“See? I can’t even think of basics like coffee and sugar.”

“That’s because you don’t drink coffee. But Trip does, and I’ve lived with him longer than you. Don’t worry about it.”

She didn’t seem convinced, but she put on her gloves and followed me out. I looked at the sky and then my watch and figured we had about an hour of daylight left. We started down the road toward the village and said hello to a neighbor out walking his dog. A few minutes later I chuckled when I saw

the name of the street we were on.

“Christy Lane,” I said, and pointed at the sign.

“Oh, cool! I’m famous.”

My forehead wrinkled. “I thought you’d been here before.”

“Not up here. We usually stay down at the lodge.”

We kept walking and she began to recognize landmarks. We asked directions from another local and eventually found a little market, where we loaded our cart with enough food to last a couple of days. Christy added two bottles of wine and a bottle of Jameson. The clerk checked us out at the single register, while I loaded the heaviest things in my backpack and then double-bagged the rest.

The sun set before we made it back to the house, but we had enough light to see. Christy started unloading groceries and putting them away, while I hauled in firewood for the wood-burning stove. I soon had a nice little blaze going, so I took off my coat and gloves. Christy joined me a few minutes later and I put my arm around her.

“Mmm, you’re warm,” she said as she pressed her face to my chest.

“I have made fire,” I said in my best caveman voice. “Now I take woman to bed.”

She swatted me playfully.

“Are you really okay being alone with me tonight?”

She nodded. “I’m a little worried about Trip’s father, though.”

“Oh, crap! We forgot to call your parents.”

So we took a few minutes and called them collect. Then we called Trip’s house, also collect, and Christy spoke to Wren for a few minutes. She started blushing furiously before she said goodbye and hung up. I grinned and gave her time to collect herself.

“His father’s fine,” she said at last. “They’re keeping him overnight. His stepmother’s going to spend the night with him, so it’s a good thing they stayed to watch the boys.”

I nodded. Trip’s little brothers were barely school-aged.

“Wren’s pretty sure they’ll release him tomorrow, but they want to get him settled before they leave. So it’ll probably be the day after tomorrow.”

I nodded.

“I told her we’ll have everything ready for when they do.”

“What did she say at the end?”

“What?”

I repeated the question.

“None of your business.”

“I bet I know what it was,” I said with a grin.

“It doesn’t matter, ’cause it isn’t going to happen.”

“What isn’t going to happen?”

“What Wren said.”

“Which was…?”

“I told you, none of your business.”

I backed her into the kitchen counter and then lifted her onto it.

“You know, sometimes I really hate being small,” she said faux-petulantly.

“I kinda like it. Besides, not everything about you is small.”

“Oh? Like what?”

“Your eyes, for one.” She closed them when I went to kiss her eyelids.

“Oh, boy,” she sighed.

“And your lips.”

“I was afraid you were gonna say that.”

I kissed them too.

“Here we go.”

“Where?” I teased.

“You know where.”

“Uh-uh. Tell me.” I kissed her again, soft and lingering.

“You’re going to make me say it?”

“Mmm hmm.”

“You never make things easy, do you?”

“It’s only ’cause you make them, ahem, so hard.”

“I was afraid of that.”

“You were? Why?”

“’Cause once I start…”

I kissed her and waited.

“…I can’t stop.”

“Can’t stop what?” I hovered with my lips so close to hers that I could feel her soft breathing.

“You know.”

“No, tell me.”

She cupped my face and kissed me tenderly. Then she sighed and began sucking as I thrust my tongue into her mouth.

I picked her up and she wrapped her legs around me. I had to crack an eyelid to see where I was going, but I made it to the stairs. Then I almost killed us when I misjudged how steep they were. I grabbed the railing just in time, but Christy bit the tip of my tongue in surprise.

“Oh my gosh! I’m so sorry!”

“Ith okay.” I tasted blood, but couldn’t help laughing. “I’m fine.”

“Is it bleeding? Let me see.”

I nodded but then lisped, “It hurth, but I’ll be okay.”

“Are you sure?”

“Mmm hmm.” I found my balance and continued up the stairs.

“Are you really okay?” Christy asked when we reached the guest bedroom.

“Yeah. I’m a little dithappointed, though.”

“I know! I never should’ve—”

“No, not that.” I decided to have fun, so I exaggerated my lisp. “I like kithing you. Thucking your nipples too. And I really like licking your puthy.”

She rolled her eyes.

“Thorry— I mean, sorry, I couldn’t resist.”

“I almost bit your tongue off…”

“So? You didn’t. It still works. See?”

“I love you,” she said affectionately.

“I love you too.”

“Will you let me make it up to you?”

“That depenth,” I teased.

“I promise not to bite.”

I chuckled. “Right.”

“No teeth, I swear.” She looked at me from under her lashes. “Unless…

you wanna use them on me. You know, as payback.”

My eyebrows rose.

“Never mind,” she said immediately. “It’s a dumb idea.”

“Now, hold on,” I said. “Let’s talk about this. Do you want me to bite you?”

“No, of course not. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

Mr. Skeptic gazed back at her.

“It isn’t fair,” she grumped. “I can’t lie to you.”

“Don’t try. So, you want me to bite you.”

“Now you’re just making fun of me.”

“Uh-uh. I told you, I’ll never make you uncomfortable about sex. Never, as in ‘not ever.’ So tell me if you really wanna try something. I might like it too.”

“No. Just forget I said it.”

“I can’t.”

“Please?”

“No.”

She buried her face in my shoulder. “It’s nothing. Forget it.”

I stroked her hair and then kissed her neck. She took a deep breath but didn’t lift her head, so I turned and sat on the edge of the bed. “Tell me,” I said quietly. “You want me to bite you?”

After a long pause she nodded.

“Your nipples?”

Another nod.

“Where else?”

She shook her head.

“Nowhere else? Or you don’t know?”

“I… don’t know.”

“Maybe your lips?”

She hesitated and then nodded.

“And your neck?”

“Yes, please.”

“How about your cute little bottom?”

“Mmm, there too.”

“Hard enough to leave a mark? Or just nibble?”

She thought about it. “Hard enough to hurt.”

“Okay. Now look at me.”

She did, and her expression was more embarrassment than excitement.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” I said. “There’s nothing wrong with what you want.”

“But it’s so… weird.”

“No, it isn’t. Remember, I told you I’ll never make you feel bad or dirty about sex. Besides, some things about me might seem weird at first.”

“Like… being a nudist.”

“Mmm hmm.”

“And… wanting me to shave.”

“See? You’re catching on.”

“But those are normal compared to this!”

“‘Normal’ is whatever makes you happy,” I said firmly, “as long as it doesn’t hurt anyone else.”

“But… this is hurting someone else.”

“Ah, but not against your will. That’s the key. If you want me to hurt you, I’ll hurt you. As long as it makes you happy.”

“I don’t want you to hurt me-hurt me. Not, like, for real. Just… maybe…

spank me and bite a little.”

“Spank you too? All right. You know,” I added with a chuckle, “this is so normal there’s even a word for it.”

“I know, but… I don’t wanna say it.”

“Masochism.”

“It sounds so… normal… when you say it.”

“It is normal,” I said.

She looked into my eyes and studied me.

I gazed back calmly.

“You really mean that.”

“I really do.”

Her expression softened and she caressed my face. “What did I ever do to deserve you?”

“You were a bad girl,” I teased.

“And you’re my punishment?”

“What do you think?”

“I think… maybe God knew what He was doing when He made us late to that Art History class.” She was testing me.

“So you think God brought us together?”

“It doesn’t bother you? That I think that?”

“No. I’ve told you all along, you’re changing me as much as I’m changing you.”

She squeezed my neck and pulled my cheek down to hers. “Oh, Paul, I love you so much.”

“And I love you.”

“And now I really want…”

“What?” I asked with a grin.

“To suck your cock.”

“I was hoping you’d say that.”

“And… maybe you could spank me?”

“While you’re sucking me?”

“Yes, please.”

Later, we dined on an international feast: Italian bread, French cheese, English jam, and American wine. We opened the second bottle afterward and took it upstairs. Christy wasn’t anywhere close to drunk, but flirty girl had come out.

“I don’t know what you said to Marianne,” she said as she climbed onto the rumpled bed, “but you sure convinced her.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. When I first talked to her about us, she thought we should wait.”

“And now?”

She sipped her wine and grinned. “She thinks we should do it when we’re ready.”

“Good news, I’m ready now!” I pushed open her unbuttoned shirt and reached for her bare thigh.

She laughed and batted me away. “Not so fast, Mr. Roman Hands.”

“Hmm. I was afraid you’d say that. I’ll have to get Wren to work on you too.”

“Nuh-uh. She said I should spread my legs for you.”

“So that’s what made you blush?”

“You know me so well.”

“I do. But not as well as I’d like.”

“You said you were patient.”

“I am, but…”

“Besides, I take care of you other ways.”

“You do, but…” I tried another tack. “How long did you wait before you had sex with Simon?”

She gave me a coy look. “Till we were engaged.”

“Don’t do that,” I said flatly. “One of the religious girlfriends pulled that crap. Said she was ‘saving herself for marriage,’ but that was girl-code for

‘give me something I want, and I’ll give you what you want.’ I stopped seeing her.”

Christy gulped.

“I’m not going to break up with you over something like that, but still… I don’t like it.”

She nodded.

“I don’t mind waiting till you’re ready, but I’ll tell you flat out that we aren’t getting engaged until I know you’re The One. Yeah, we joke about

‘not till we’re married,’ but I’m pretty serious about this. We’re going to have sex before then. If you aren’t comfortable with that, maybe we aren’t right for each other after all.”

Her eyes went wide with alarm.

“Sorry,” I said in a softer tone, “I didn’t mean to get all serious and everything, but you touched a nerve.”

“Note to self,” she said in a shaky imitation of my usual lighthearted tone,

“don’t mention marriage until we’ve gone all the way.”

“No, it isn’t that. It’s just… I don’t like bargaining for sex.”

“I’m sorry. I was trying to be funny, but it came out wrong.”

“Yeah, I know. And I’m sorry too. Like I said, you touched a nerve.”

She nodded, satisfied but still a little rattled.

I let the tension dissipate a bit more before I said, “You didn’t answer my question, though. How long did you wait with Simon?”

She took another sip of wine to cover her nervousness. “A long time.”

She cringed but then rushed ahead, “I’m ready to do it with you, though. I swear. Right now, if you want.”

She set her wineglass on the nightstand and lay back against the pillows. I watched with a detached sort of curiosity as she opened the shirt and bared her body. She spread her legs, and her smooth labia parted to expose her inner lips, pink and completely dry.

Some twisted part of me decided to play along. I rolled to my knees and scooted between her legs. My dick was still soft, so I swung it like a hose and slapped her bare pussy. She flinched but forced herself not to move, even when I rubbed my soft glans against her clit.

I sat back on my heels. “Relax. We aren’t going to have sex.”

“But—? I thought—? I mean, you want to, don’t you?”

“Yes, but not till you’re ready.”

“But… I am.”

“No, you’re scared. And you’re saying what you want to be true.”

“But…?”

“You’re dry, and I’m soft. Trust me, we aren’t having sex.”

“But I really want to.” She reached down and began massaging my limp manhood.

“It won’t work,” I said after a moment. “Sex is mental as much as physical.”

“But… he’s always ready.”

“That’s because you’re always ready. This time you’re faking it, and he knows better. I know better. So we still won’t have sex even if you fool him into getting hard.”

She released me and pushed herself upright. Then she pulled her legs in.

She wrapped her arms around them and set her chin on her knees.

“I hate that you can read me so easily,” she complained. “No one else can.”

“Maybe it’s because I’m using more than just my eyes and ears.”

“Marianne warned me about you.”

I quirked an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“She said you aren’t playing games.”

“No, I’m serious. And I’m willing to wait, if that’s what it takes.”

“Thank you,” she said softly.

“I still want to know how long you waited with Simon, though.”

She buried her face. “I hoped you’d forgotten that.”

“Nope. Sorry.” Except I wasn’t.

“Promise you won’t be upset?”

“I promise. How long, in months?”

“Um… maybe six?” She peeked at me with one eye and then slowly raised her head. “You aren’t angry?”

“Angry? No. Frustrated? Yeah, a little.” I crossed my legs and got comfortable. “I want to have sex with you. I want to make love to you. And I want to fuck you. Several times a day, as a matter of fact.”

“Oh my gosh.”

“Mmm hmm. I love you, so I’m willing to wait—”

“Thank you.”

“—but I’ll be honest, six months is a long time. Too long.”

“I know. I want to do it with you, but… I’m scared.”

“Physically or emotionally?”

“Maybe… both?”

“Okay,” I said slowly.

“I didn’t really enjoy it with Simon. It… hurt. And you… um… have

more to offer a girl. In the penis department.”

“That doesn’t really matter, though.”

“It matters to me,” she bleated.

“Did it ever feel good with him?”

She nodded quickly. “After the first couple of times, but…”

“But what?”

“We didn’t really know what we were doing, so…”

“Sex is a skill. The physical part, at least. You have to practice to be good at it, like anything else.”

“No you don’t. You just… do it.”

I laughed and shook my head. “No, it’s a skill. You can be bad at it.”

“How? You just put one thing into another.”

“How is diving a skill? You just jump into the water, right? Any idiot can fall off a diving board.”

“What? No you can’t! It takes lots of— Oh. Now I get it. That’s what you mean about sex. To be good takes practice.”

“Mmm hmm. Any idiot can slide a dick into a pussy. But there’s a lot more going on than just Slot A and Tab B.”

“And you know all that stuff, I suppose.”

“Yeah, I do. I’m not the world’s best lover, but I’m pretty good, if I do say so myself. Like you are at giving head.”

She blushed and lowered her eyes.

“You may not be the best in the world, but you’re the best I’ve ever had.”

“Thank you. I like doing it.”

“I can tell. Speaking of which… I was hoping for round two.”

“Three. You came twice earlier.”

“Well, yeah, but I only counted that as round one, ’cause we didn’t really pause in between.”

“How do you do that, by the way?” she said. “Most guys nee—” She clapped a hand over her mouth.

I chuckled. “Slipped, didn’t you?”

“I… don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Liar.”

“Please don’t call me that.”

I looked at her earnestly instead of arguing. “I know you’ve been with more guys than you let on.”

“I have not!”

I did the skeptic thing with my eyebrows.

“I haven’t. Just Simon.”

“Look, I don’t care. I don’t think you’re a tramp or anything. Far from it.

Besides, I’m the beneficiary of all your experience.”

“All my what!”

“Experience. Giving head. You didn’t learn that from a couple of times with Simon. You had boyfriends before him, and—”

“But I never did anything with them. I was a good girl!”

“You’re still a good girl,” I said calmly. “That’s kinda my point. You can be good at sex and still be a good person. Besides, I’ve had other women in my past. Why should I get upset that you’ve had other men? What kind of hypocrite do you think I am?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she lied doggedly.

“Seriously? Why do you even try? You know you can’t lie to me.”

“Sometimes I really don’t like you.”

“Especially when I call you on your little white lies.”

“They aren’t lies!” She pulled her knees tighter to her chest.

I reached out, but she swatted me away.

“Don’t touch me!”

I felt a surge of anger but clenched my jaw and controlled it.

“I’m sorry,” she said immediately. “I didn’t mean it.”

I took a deep breath through my nose and exhaled slowly. “It’s okay.

Listen, I don’t want to argue. I don’t care if you’ve been with one guy or ten.

The—”

“Ten! What kind of girl do you think I am?”

I took another deep breath and tried to find my inner balance. “I apologize,” I said after a long moment. “The number doesn’t matter. One guy, two, or… more. I don’t care. Same with the women in my past. The number doesn’t matter.”

“It does to me,” she muttered.

“Which? Your number or mine?”

“Both!”

“Why? It bothers you that I’ve slept with so many women?”

“Of course it does.”

“But… why?”

“I don’t know. It just… does. What if you don’t like something about me?

You can go back to any of them. But I’ll be alone.”

“Not really. I can’t go back. Trust me. I burned some of those bridges pretty thoroughly. And I don’t want to go back to most of them.”

“Most?”

“Okay, any of them. Gina was the only one, and you know who I chose.”

I reached out tentatively and touched her chin. When she didn’t brush me off, I coaxed her to look at me. “I chose you. I love you. I want to spend my life with you.”

“I know,” she said glumly. “I just get scared. Like tonight. I know you want to go all the way, but I’m not ready.”

“Don’t worry about that.” I gently urged her toward me. She unfolded and came into my arms. “I told your dad I’m in it for the long haul, and I mean it.”

“Marianne said the same thing.”

“Because it’s true.”

She rested her cheek against my chest and let out a deep, shuddering breath of released tension.

“And I don’t care how many guys you’ve been with.”

“I know,” she said softly. “Thank you.”

“Just like you shouldn’t care how many women I’ve been with.”

“I can’t count that high anyway,” she said with a feeble laugh. “More than ten.”

“Probably.”

She sat back. “More than fifteen?”

“I don’t really know for sure.”

“Twenty?”

“I’ve never counted.”

“Twenty-five?” Her eyes had grown wider with each new number.

“Maybe. Probably.”

“Thirty?”

I hedged. “Thereabouts, I think.”

“Thereabouts-more or -less?”

“More. But like I said, I haven’t counted. I mean, it isn’t a game where you keep score.” I chuckled at a random thought. “It’s real people with real lives and real emotions.”

“Yeah, but that’s a lot of real people.”

“So? Am I tainted by any of them? Do I smell like pussy or something?”

“Now you’re just being vulgar.”

“Well, yes, but the question still stands. Do I smell like other women?”

“You know you don’t.”

“Do I look any different because I’ve been with them?”

“No, but—”

“Sound different? Taste funny? Feel weird?”

“Now you’re being ridiculous.”

“I am. But how am I any different if I’ve been with one woman or thirty?”

“I don’t know. You just… are.”

“I am different one way: the experience thing we talked about.”

“You can say that again.”

I leveled my eyes at her. “And who benefits from that?”

“I do.”

“Anyone else?”

“No,” she said reluctantly.

“So let me see if I understand,” I said. “I don’t look, sound, smell, taste, or feel different. The only thing different about me is I’m pretty good at sex.

And you’re the only one who gets to benefit.”

“It doesn’t sound so bad when you put it that way.”

“What way does it sound bad?”

“When you say you’ve been with thirty women!”

“Okay,” I said, a touch pedantically, “let’s go over this again. I don’t look, sound, smell—”

“All right, I get it! You’re the same. Fine!”

“And who benefits?”

“I do! Dammit! Sometimes you’re infuriating.”

I actually laughed.

“This isn’t funny,” she muttered darkly.

“No, you’re right. But you’re really cute when you swear. That’s… what?

The second time I’ve ever heard you do it?”

“So I’m human. So sue me.”

“Can I use you instead?”

She rolled her eyes. “Why can’t you be serious?”

“Because this is sort of a ridiculous fight.”

“It’s not ridiculous to me. I’m serious. I’m really scared! What if you don’t like something about me and decide to go back to Gina? Or Kendall?

Or any of the other twenty-eight! What if you get tired of waiting for me?

What if you find out how many guys I’ve been with? What if—?”

“What if you shut up and kiss me?”

“What if—? Huh? What?”

“Shut up and kiss me.”

She frowned and tried to figure out my angle.

I leaned forward and brought my lips close to hers without actually touching her.

“What’re you doing?” she asked softly.

“Kiss me and see.”

She touched her lips to mine, tentatively at first, but she didn’t resist as I pulled her toward me. I cupped her ass and urged her closer still, so she spread her legs and knelt with her shins on my thighs. Our kiss deepened until I felt her relax and surrender to it.

“There,” I said at last, softly. “Does it feel like I want to go back to Gina?”

“No.”

“Kendall?”

“No.”

“Any of the other twenty-eight?”

“No. I get it. Shut up and kiss me again.”

I did.

She had to stifle a laugh when Mr. Big nudged her insistently.

“See?” I said. “I told you, sex is mental. He’s in the mood because you are.”

“I am.”

“And… does it feel like I care how many guys you’ve been with?”

“No. I can tell.” She dithered and then looked at me. “Even if it’s… six?”

“Even if it’s twenty-six.”

“Oh my gosh, no! What kind of—?”

“I think you’re the kind of girl who likes sex,” I said evenly. “And especially giving head.” I held her eyes until she calmed down. “Now, do you know anyone who likes getting head?”

She rolled her eyes. “Duh. You.”

“Ding, ding, ding!”

She grew quiet and gathered her courage. “Can I… um… ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“Remember, you said I could ask you anything. You might like it, you said. Remember?”

“I remember.”

“I know it sounds weird, but not any weirder than what you like.”

“Fair enough,” I said. “What is it?”

“Will you… shave?”

“Is my face scratching you? I shaved this morn—”

“No, not your face. Um… down there. You know, like I do. For you.” My eyebrows must have tried to do a backflip, because she immediately said,

“Never mind. It’s dumb. Forget I said anything.” She buried her face in my shoulder. “Oh my gosh. You must think I’m so weird. First biting and spanking, and now this.”

I chuckled and kissed the side of her head gently. “No, I don’t think you’re weird. Sexy as hell and wilder than I ever imagined, but that’s a good thing.” I waited until she peeked through a curtain of blonde hair. “So,” I asked, “you want me to shave my pubic hair?”

She hesitated and then nodded.

“More than I do already?”

Another nod.

“All of it?”

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to. It was only a dumb idea.”

“No, it sounds kinda cool.”

“You mean it? Really? None of the—” She shot me a nervous look.

“You can say it,” I prompted. “None of the other guys…”

“Only, I don’t really know. I never asked. I didn’t think they would.”

“But you think I will?”

“Well, you want me to shave,” she said reasonably. “What kind of hypocrite are you?”

“Ha! You got me there.”

“Thank you.” She looked hopeful. “So you’ll do it?”

“All of it? Every last bit?”

“All of it,” she said. “Every last bit. As smooth as me.”

“Sounds like fun.”

She clapped and bounced.

“Happy Birdy?”

“Oh my gosh, yes! I’ve always wanted to try this. But I couldn’t imagine a guy who’d actually want to. I’d always heard about ones who did,

especially swimmers, but never any of the ones… um… I ever… I mean…”

“None of the ones you ever… saw?”

“Not in person, no. But I saw one in a magazine once. Oh my gosh, Paul!

Brooke’s mother had it, and we used to sneak—”

“Hold on, who’s Brooke?”

“My best friend in high school,” she said, as if I should’ve known. “In San Diego. I thought I told you about her?”

“Oh, yeah! Right. Sorry. It’s hard to keep track sometimes. I mean, you have so many things about your past that you haven’t told me. But I like learning about you, especially your girlfriends.”

“It’s a little weird. I’ve always had to keep so much secret with other guys.”

“It’s kinda nice, isn’t it? To be able to tell me anything and know I won’t make you feel guilty about it.”

“You can say that again. No, don’t! I get it. And yes, you’re right, it’s kinda nice. So this guy, in the magazine,” she continued. “He looked sort of like Mark Spitz, and he was completely shaved. We must’ve looked at that magazine a million times.”

“A million?” I teased.

“At least,” she said seriously. “I still think about it when I… you know…

sometimes.”

“When you play with yourself?”

“You’re always so matter-of-fact about everything.”

“It’s natural. Masturbation, I mean. Everyone does it. Some of us a lot.”

“I know.” She rolled her eyes. “I try to stop myself, but— Oh, wait. You were talking about you, weren’t you?”

“I was,” I laughed. “But it’s good to know that you do it a lot too.”

“All the time, Paul. I feel so guilty sometimes.”

“Don’t.”

“I know. You’ve told me. But still… What would Sister Prune say?”

I did my best spinster voice: “Let your boyfriend do that!”

“Or your girlfriend!”

“Yep, either works for you.”

“I know, right?”

We shared a grin.

Hers faded and she grew thoughtful. “You know,” she said at last, “back when I had a crush on you, and then when we first started getting serious, I

had this romantic idea about what it’d be like to be with you. It was silly and childish, I guess.” She gazed at my chest and rubbed it slowly, as if testing that I was real and really there.

“I had this fantasy of you sweeping me off my feet and taking me to bed.

The scene faded to black, like it does in the movies.” She glanced up. “You know what I’m talking about. And then mysterious, erotic things happened in the dark. But… it isn’t really like that, is it?”

“No.”

“It’s like this. Talking and sometimes arguing and hurt feelings and making up and explaining and getting to know someone. Like, the real person, not just the picture they paint for everyone to see.”

“That’s exactly what it is.”

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but it’s almost like you’re a girl, like I don’t have to hide anything from you.”

“You don’t.”

“And I don’t have to worry about my dad or Rich scaring you away.”

“Um… no. They tried, but I’m still here.”

“Alone with me, in a cabin, in the mountains, naked, in bed.”

“Pretty cool, huh? Almost like we’re grown-ups.”

She swatted my chest playfully. “You know what I mean.”

“Yeah, I do.”

“And if you must know, Mr. Sophisticated Grown-up, it is pretty cool. I like being with you. You drive me crazy, make me furious, and question all my beliefs. But you’re also patient, make me feel super-loved, and help me see things in new ways.”

“So, yin and yang,” I said.

“Exactly.” She grew thoughtful again, and I let her ruminate. “I don’t know when I’ll be ready,” she said at last. “But I know I want it to be you. I want you to do all those things you said.”

“Which things?”

“Have sex with me, make love to me, and… fuck me.” She didn’t need to look up. She read my body language instead. “Yes, I know the word,” she said softly. “And I say it sometimes.”

“I’m glad. And when you’re ready, we’ll do it.”

“We will. But in the meantime…?”

“Yes?”

“Can we do the other things?” She sighed when I let the question hang

there. “Really? You’re going to make me ask?”

“’Fraid so.”

“Fine.” She took a deep breath. “Will you shave your penis?”

“Of course.”

“And then, maybe…?” She gulped and finished in a rush, “Twist my nipples and spank me a little? Oh my gosh, I said it!” She flinched in surprise and turned pink. “Ooh! Someone approves.”

“Both of us.”

“Yes! Happy Birdy.”

I grinned and kissed her. “Okay, I have a date with a razor, and you need a spanking.”

“And a penis,” she said cheerfully. “Don’t forget him!”

“He’s the star of the show.”

“A big star.”

“He needs lots of personal attention.”

“Very personal,” she agreed.

“Come on, Little Bit,” I laughed. “Let’s go.”

We rolled off the bed, and I made a grab for her as she took off her shirt.

My hand closed on empty fabric when she leapt away with a shriek. I ran after her, but she was too quick, too nimble. She flew down the stairs and ran toward the bathroom, where I finally caught her. I pulled her against me and kissed her, but then she pushed me away.

“Stop,” she panted. “We’ll make out later. Hurry and shave! I wanna see.”

I turned on the water and grinned at her enthusiasm. Then I searched the drawers until I found a small pair of scissors. I carefully trimmed off most of my pubic hair while Christy watched with a mixture of fascination and impatience. I stepped into the tub near the spigot, and she knelt to watch.

I coated my cock and balls with shaving cream and then trimmed the remaining stubble from the surrounding area. I lathered up a second time and went back for a closer shave. Christy was vibrating with eagerness by the time I rinsed off and checked my handiwork.

My pubic area was surprisingly pale, especially in contrast with the darker skin of my penis and testicles. I thought I looked a little silly, but Christy’s expression changed my opinion completely. She held up a towel to dry me, but her eyes never left my pride and joy.

“What do you think?” I asked.

“I love it. I love him. I love you!” She dried my legs when I stepped onto the rug. Then she gently patted the rest of me dry.

My penis was already growing, and it swelled even more as she held it out of the way. She kissed my balls and inhaled the clean scent. Then she closed her eyes and pressed her cheek to my smooth skin. She rubbed her face over my shaft and planted soft kisses on my testicles.

She explored every inch of me with her lips, cheeks, and nose. I felt a little self-conscious, but she never noticed. She never even opened her eyes.

She simply rubbed her face all over my manhood and the newly hairless skin.

“Is it like you remember?” I finally asked. “From the magazine?”

“What magazine?” she said blissfully.

I chuckled and stroked her hair.

She looked up at me, and her blue eyes glowed with affection. “Thank you.”

“My pleasure.”

She lowered her gaze to my erection and added, “And thank you, Mr.

Penis, for being so hard and soft at the same time. Thank you for being so patient with me. Thank you especially for spending so much time in my mouth. I know you’d rather be somewhere else.”

I did my best not to laugh. “Don’t worry, he’s pretty happy in your mouth.”

“Mmm, I know.” She kissed the tip and then sucked gently.

I ran my fingers through her hair and grabbed the back of her head. She braced her hands on my thighs as I guided her mouth onto my cock. She closed her lips with a soft moan when it touched the back of her throat.

I directed her with my hand as she began bobbing. Her mouth was hot and wet and smooth, and she sucked eagerly. I lasted barely five minutes before I felt the familiar tingle behind my balls. She sensed it too, and she slid her hands around to my ass. Her fingers gripped my cheeks and pulled me toward her.

The pressure built until I couldn’t stand it. I arched my back and erupted with a jolt that felt like half-pain, half-pleasure. Warm gouts of semen spewed over her tongue, and she held me in place with her hands on my butt.

I stiffened in the grips of the orgasm and then staggered when it tailed off.

Christy never relinquished her lip-lock as she swallowed. Then she kept her eyes closed and breathed through her nose. I panted to catch my own breath and had to brace myself as another shiver of pleasure hit me when she

slowly withdrew her lips.

My shaft glistened with saliva, although she immediately returned it to her mouth and sucked gently. She swallowed the last drops of come as my cock twitched with aftershocks. I felt drained, my muscles weak, but Christy didn’t show any signs of stopping. I finally had to push her away gently.

“Unh,” she complained, “I wasn’t done yet.”

“Keep going upstairs.” I lifted her to her feet. Her stiff nipples brushed my abdomen and sent a shiver up my spine. “I promised you a spanking, remember?”

“You really mean it? You’ll do it?”

“Mmm hmm. You’ll have to tell me if I hurt you, though.”

“But… I want you to hurt me.”

“Okay, then you need a safe word.” I ushered her out of the bathroom and toward the stairs.

“Why?”

“In case I really hurt you,” I explained. “It’s so you can beg and plead and cry out, but I won’t stop unless you say the safe word. It needs to be something you don’t normally say.”

“You’ve done this before.”

“Experience, remember? Kendall had some pretty wild fantasies.”

“You can say that again.”

“No wilder than yours.”

She turned and shot me a grin. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

My eyes flashed.

She bounded away from me, up the stairs like a shot. I chased after her and caught up as she flopped on the bed. She looked up at me, her eyes alight with mischief.

I lunged for her again but she rolled away. She was impossibly quick, and I silently cursed her brothers for ever teaching her how to play tag. She circled the bed and then leapt onto it. She scampered toward the door. I cut her off and caught her around the middle. She squirmed and struggled, but I held her tight. Then I sat on the edge of the bed and forced her over my knees. She stopped struggling.

Smack!

I left a red handprint on the white skin of her ass.

Smack!

And then on her other cheek.

Smack!

Again on the right.

Smack!

And the left.

She panted from the shock of it, but her body almost hummed with arousal. I rubbed her ass gently and then probed between her legs. Her pussy was soaked, and she gasped as I parted her lips and buried my two middle fingers. I finger-fucked her for several seconds before I abruptly pulled out and spanked her again.

I swatted each cheek several times, until they were both red from the attention. Then I thrust my fingers into her and felt her shudder. I spanked her several more times, and she writhed and gasped each time my hand struck her ass.

Finally, I rammed my fingers into her and fucked her as fast as I could.

She cried out and came with a rush of heat and moisture. I buried my fingers to the last knuckle as the climax took hold of her and didn’t let go.

Her orgasm went on so long that I was surprised she didn’t pass out.

When it finally subsided, she went limp and gasped from the force of it. Her ass was red where I’d spanked her, and her thighs were wet with moisture.

She was so drained that she didn’t even react when I slowly withdrew my fingers.

I held her gently and rubbed her back as she recovered.

“I… had no… idea,” she said weakly.

I chuckled. “So you liked it?”

“Oh my gosh. I’ve never…” She struggled to push herself up. “I’ve never come like that.”

“It’s fun being a bad girl, isn’t it.”

“‘Fun’ isn’t quite the word. My entire body is still buzzing.”

I helped her stand, and she winced when I accidentally touched her bottom.

She twisted to look at herself. “Wow, it’s really red.”

“I spanked you pretty hard.”

“But it felt so good.”

“For real? I mean, I could tell you enjoyed it, but… did it really feel good?”

“Well… no, it hurt. But…” She shrugged. “I can’t explain it. I just…

liked it.”

“It’s okay. You don’t have to explain.”

“It isn’t that I don’t want to. I just… can’t. I have no idea what’s going on in my messed-up head. But… I’ve always been like this.”

I held her hips and gazed up at her. “You aren’t messed-up. You’re normal.”

“Yeah, right,” she scoffed.

“Okay, then maybe we’re both messed-up, but we’re messed-up in the same way, so we go together.”

“Like yin and yang.”

“Exactly.”

She caressed my face. “You make me feel so special. I’ve never met anyone like you.”

“And I hope you never do! One of me is more than enough.”

“You can say that again,” she said with a grin.

“Then again, you might like two guys at once.”

Her eyes flew open. “Two? I can barely handle one, you!”

“Eh, you never know.” I stood before she could think of a reply. “Come on, Little Bit. Let’s get a snack.”

“And a drink.” She took my hand. “I need something to settle my nerves or I’ll never get to sleep.”

We went downstairs. She fixed more bread and cheese in the kitchen, while I added logs to the wood-burning stove and closed the vents to keep it going all night. I returned to the kitchen and slid behind her. She sighed when I cupped her breasts.

“Mmm, someone’s interested,” she said.

“He’s always interested where you’re concerned.”

“I think I like being a nudist,” she mused. “Less to get in the way when I want to feel you against me.”

“Less to get in the way when you’re ready to feel me inside you.”

“Mmm, that too.”

“In the meantime, are you ready to feel me in your mouth?”

“I thought you’d never ask.” She turned and sank to her knees. She wrapped her fingers around the base of my cock and began stroking gently.

“He looks so much bigger without all that hair.” A thought occurred to her and she frowned. “Do I look bigger without hair?”

“Not really,” I said. “You’re prettier. And neater. Like Leah said.”

“What do you think she’d say if she saw you like this?”

“I think she’d like it.”

“For real?”

“Uh-huh.”

She stroked me in silence and then said, “What’s she like?”

“Who? Leah?”

“Yeah. What’s she like in bed?”

My eyes snapped open and I looked down at her in surprise.

“I don’t want specifics or anything. I just wanna know what I need to live up to. I mean, you still haven’t told me the whole story, but it’s more than just ‘you slept with her a few times.’ I saw how she looked at you.” She was still playing with my cock, so she couldn’t have been too upset.

“And I also heard what you said,” she continued, “when Mark was showing me how to make B-52s.”

I did my best to keep my eyebrows firmly in place, but my sudden tension betrayed me.

“Mmm hmm. Something about a ‘group secret’? You thought I couldn’t hear, but I was paying attention.”

“She was probably just talking about Mark and Erin and her.”

“Now who’s the liar?” Christy said. “Uh-oh! You’re starting to worry.”

Sure enough, my erection had flagged.

“Can’t have that, can we, Mr. Big? Do you think it’d help if I put you in my mouth? You do? All right, let’s give it a try!”

I started to laugh, but then she suited actions to words. She sucked gently for a minute or so before she released me.

“Much better.” She kissed my swollen glans and smiled up at me. “I’m sure you’ll tell me when you’re ready.”

I swallowed once and nodded.

She began stroking me again to make sure I stayed hard. “And I know you said you don’t like bargaining for sex—”

“No.”

“—but maybe we can bargain with other things.”

“Oh? Like what?”

“I dunno. Maybe… stories. You tell me about this group secret, and I’ll tell you about… something.”

“The first time you gave head,” I said immediately.

She laughed, and her breath felt hot on the underside of my straining cock.

“What’s so funny?”

“That’s a group secret too.”

I couldn’t stop my eyebrows.

She laughed again at my reaction. Then she engulfed my shaft and began sucking.

“Wait! You aren’t going to tell me?”

She shook her head without releasing me.

“Seriously?”

She nodded.

“You’re such a tease!”

“Sorry,” she said, her mouth still full of cock, “can’t talk now. Need to suck.”

I blinked in disbelief. “Oh my God,” I said at last, “I’ve created a monster.”

She stopped sucking long enough to grin up at me. “A penis monster!

Now… do you mind? I’m trying to concentrate here.”

“Then by all means,” I laughed.

“Thank you. Now, where was I? Oh, yes… penis!”