[[[-IF4-P14.TXT-]]] ---------------- Island Fever 4: Paradise Written by: JeremyDCP@hotmail.com M/F, F/F and a whole lot more ---------------- Chapter 14: "Quotidian" ------------------------------------------- -*- Tuesday, June 9, 2015 -*- -*- Sandvika, Norway -*- The door to the guest bedroom was cracked open just a tad when I returned and knocked gently. Trish did not answer, so I peeked my head around the corner. She was still fast asleep; out like a light with Shredder (her favorite dog) napping at her feet on top of a blanket. "Hey, sleepy-head." Nothing. "Trish?" With still no response, I went into the room and sat on the bed alongside Trish. I paused for a moment before waking her, utterly entranced by the vision of the woman who slept so peacefully before me. Awake, Trish was gorgeous, but asleep she was undeniably an angel. With her brown hair fanned out across the thick pillow and her lips parsed just slightly, I felt my heart shudder in appreciation. I wanted nothing more right now than to snuggle alongside the curve of Trish's form just as I had throughout the night before waking up myself two hours ago. Instead, I touched her cheek with my thumb and stroked tenderly. "Hey, you." Trish's eyes fluttered a moment. When she stared up at me, a smile took shape on her face in recognition. Trish covered my hand with her own. "Hi," she said softly. "Hi." We stayed like that, gazing at each other for several long seconds, the connection between us alive and real. My eyes drifted downward, and I naturally focused upon her stomach. Shredder roused, then hopped from the bed. I ran my fingers up and down Trish's arm, asking her, "Have you told your mom the news yet?" Trish blinked as if she emerged from a wonderful dream back into reality. She withdrew her hand and glanced at the alarm clock beside her, then pushed herself into a seated position. "Oh, wow. It's eleven o'clock already? I cannot remember the last time I slept so late in the morning!" "You needed it," I told her. "Our bodies are still all out of sorts with that long airline flight from Peru." I took her hand in mine once again, then kissed it. "I actually spoke to my mom and my sisters on the flight home," Trish said. "Mom is really happy. It has been a struggle for her since Dad died nearly three weeks ago, but I think telling her that I - actually you and I, Jeremy - are finally pregnant brought a definite ray of sunshine to her. It really made her day." "You're the pregnant one, honey... not me." "Oh no," she responded, defiant. "You and I are BOTH pregnant, Jeremy. This is OUR baby." Trish glanced all throughout the bedroom several times. "Speaking of babies, where is Lindsay? She spent the night with us, yes?" I chuckled at her statement and the playful reference to our precious 20-year-old bride. "She woke up with me about two hours ago and we went downstairs and had breakfast with the others. We did not want to wake you, so left you here." Trish pouted. "But I'm hungry!" "There is plenty of food in the refrigerator," I advised her. "I also believe that Lindsay is making a pizza run later this afternoon. Which reminds me, I have to go to the grocery store today and stock up the refrigerator even more." "Any volunteers to go with you?" "I have a date with Pamela and Piper." Trish smiled again. "Awwwww, that's awesome! A nice, little father-mother-daughter day out! Piper really seems to enjoy going and being around other people. That will be nice for all three of you to go out like that." "Scarlett volunteered to go too, but then she decided to back out. Said she was too tired from work yesterday." "I know Scarlett had a rough first day back at work, right? What, she wound up working close to 15 hours yesterday? That must have been terrible after the airline trip from Peru." "I don't see why Scarlett insists on continuing to work," I rumbled, still horribly bitter on the whole subject. "Yeah, yeah, yeah... I know being a nurse has always been her life's ambition, and she spent all those years in school working hard and studying for the opportunity to one day make it happen. But there is no reason for Scarlett to work now and have to force herself through those excruciatingly long shifts." "You know what Scarlett told me once?" "What?" Trish sighed contently. "Scarlett once told me that a lot of people hate hospitals. The squeaky floors, the clinical lighting, the smell of disinfectant in the air. But Scarlett said that she loves the hospital and everything about it, though, because she finds peace and solace in a building whose sole purpose is to nurture and take care of others." As those words sunk into my consciousness and began to register, I could easily envision Scarlett saying something like that. It was precisely her nature, and fit her to a tee. "You're never going to get Scarlett to quit her job," Trish informed me after a short pause. "Stop worrying about it, Jeremy, and just let her do it. She loves being a nurse." * * * There were suitcases strewn across every available surface of the floor in the master bedroom. The place looked like a suitcase convention, as far as I was concerned, and they seemed to be multiplying and making little suitcase children. Ahh yes, it was finally _unpacking day_ from our trip to not only the island, but Canada before it. The ladies had put this daunting task off for the past two days. The collective workload for them as a group was quite massive. I brought one suitcase with me during our vacation, whereas many of the ladies took along four or five. Lindsay had a staggering total of seven bags to sift through and unpack, although she was the only one not present at the moment. "Okay Pamela, I think it's time we face facts here," Kristanna nodded, examining the contents of one of her bags as they sat next to each other upon the floor. Pamela glanced downward and peered into her oversized pink suitcase. "What are we facing, exactly?" "You're a bit of a hoarder," Kristanna told her with a grin. "And I only throw in the words A BIT to soften the blow because there's really no A BIT about it. You need some sort of program with steps." Pamela gasped. "I am not a hoarder." Devon looked across at them from the nearby wall where she was going through her own belongings and raised an eyebrow at Kristanna. "You got this?" "I do." "I'm here if you need me for backup," Devon mused. Kristanna pressed onward. "You have, let's see... seven vented hairbrushes in this suitcase alone. Two of which are missing most of their bristles. Now let's take a moment and really think about this, okay? Was it necessary that all seven vented hairbrushes, which happen to fulfill the exact same function, go along with you for our trip?" Pamela stared at the brushes resolutely. "Yes." Kristanna pondered this for a moment. "Why?" "Because I need them all. They're my brushes. You're my bitches and they're my brushes. Just how things go." Kristanna giggled merrily. "That's good. Bitches and brushes... I get it. That sounds like something I would say! But let's stay on track, shall we? You don't need all seven of those vented hairbrushes." Kristanna patted Pamela on the hand and gently told her, "You just need one." "Lose five of the brushes, Pamela," Scarlett suggested from the other side of the bed. Pamela turned to Scarlett, wounded. "Really?" "I have to raise my hand on this as well," Trish said. "Overkill on the one specific type of hairbrush." "When was the last time you used this one?" Kristanna asked Pamela, holding up the biggest offender. Old and battered, it had been to hair war and lost long ago. "It doesn't matter," Pamela countered, holding steadfast. "I'm not getting rid of it." "Look over here. There are..." Kristanna paused to count. "Twelve pairs of manicuring scissors in here. TWELVE! We could write a Christmas carol and give each of them their very own verse if we wanted." Pamela shrugged her shoulders. "Manicuring scissors are important. I take good care of my nails." She held up her hand with extended fingers as proof. "See? Neatly trimmed." "Perhaps a compromise could work?" Trish wondered. "Keep two brushes and four pairs of manicuring scissors?" Kristanna suggested, hopeful. "No compromise!" Pamela insisted, defiant. The bedroom door swung open and Lindsay strolled into the suite with three piping-hot pizzas in hand from _Peppes_ on the other side of town. That was good news, because I was hungry. And who in Sandvika didn't love _Peppes_? They made the most delicious pizza I have ever tasted. "You're here. Hi baby," Trish said and promptly greeted Lindsay with a friendly hello kiss. "Speaking of hoarders..." Pamela mumbled, eyeing Lindsay. "Huh?" she shot back at her. Several of the ladies descended upon Lindsay all at once with paper plates and snagged slices of pizza from her. We already had an end table set up with napkins, utensils and a wide selection of beverages. Unpacking suitcases was quickly moved to the back-burner in favor of our newly arrived lunch. "Was looking on the Internet this morning at some new cars," Lindsay said, shrugging out of her light jacket and letting her hair down from the twist she had secured it in. She had a serious knack of transforming herself from demure Lindsay to laid-back Lindsay in just a few, simple moves. "Uh oh," Amy giggled, her eyebrow raised. "Sounds like you're getting closer and closer to making a huge dent in Jeremy's wallet again." "Oh, hush up Amy," Lindsay admonished her. "Jeremy said he would buy me whatever car I wanted." "Jeremy spent a truckload of money on your last car - your _Porsche_ - and that was barely a year-and-a-half ago," Amy reminded her. "And you want another car already?" "I bet whatever vehicle Lindsay wants costs twice as much as the _Porsche_ did," Devon nodded. "I like the 2016 _Ferrari 458 Spider_," Lindsay confessed. Kristanna laughed. "Twice as much, indeed!" She playfully tossed a breadstick in Lindsay's direction for emphasis, which of course she caught and then took a healthy bite out of. "Whichever car Lindsay decides that she wants will be hers," I told the group, gnawing down a scrumptious slice of pepperoni. "I've done the same for all of you... so there really is no room for any of you to talk or make comments." "When you spend over a million Norwegian kroner on a single vehicle," Kristanna chimed in, "you should at least keep it for a good six, seven years. Right?" "Lindsay's _Porsche_ was a birthday present," I reminded Kristanna. "It was given to her without her input. The rest of you got to hand-pick whichever vehicle you wanted. I am allowing Lindsay to choose whichever ride she wants now." Devon giggled and held out her hand, looking at me. "I think you should just buy Lindsay a _Ford Pinto_ and be done with it. That would be the perfect car for her." Lindsay made a face and sneered at Devon. "I don't even know what a _Ford Pinto_ is, but it doesn't sound good!" Trish stifled a laugh and shook her head at their playful exchange. "They stopped making those 15 years before you were even born, honey. I don't think Jeremy will buy you one." Kristanna stole a tortilla chip from Pamela's plate. "Why is everyone always screwing with Lindsay?" "Because it's fun!" Devon chirped. Pamela elbowed Kristanna and snatched one of her jalapeno chips in retaliation. "You ALWAYS screw with me..." Kristanna beamed at her. "Oh, you're too easy. Pammy." "Pamela!" she fired back in correction. Amy's eyes widened. "I think Pamela dies a little inside every time you call her Pammy, Krissy." She laughed in response. "A bit over-dramatic there, Amy?" "You're quite an impudent little girl sometimes, Krissy." "Big word," Kristanna congratulated Pamela. "Impudent? Wow. I bet Jeremy would like it. Don't you, Jeremy? I bet he ate up the word _impudent_ and the way you pronounced it. Please, Pammy... say it again. Say it again!" Pamela stared at her, her mouth agape. "You are so mean and hateful sometimes." Kristanna smiled sweetly. "But you love it when I tease you. Remember when you poured coffee on your pancakes instead of syrup at that restaurant over in Lysaker a month or two ago? And then ate them anyway because you were way too embarrassed to ask for new pancakes?" "No. I don't remember that." "Don't lie! I made you maple coffee every day for a week." Pamela shook her head nostalgically. "You went to a lot of effort on that one." "I did. And you laughed secretly. I know it. Just like you're laughing inside now. Just look. The edge of your mouth is pulling and you want to smile so badly, it's killing you. Come on, Pammy... admit it." Unable to stand it any further, Pamela gave in, breaking into the smile she could no longer hold back. "Fine. I think you're funny. But only once in a great blue moon." * * * "You're making dinner?" "Yes?" Pamela told me later that afternoon as she and I, fresh from our trip to the grocery store, walked together along the stone path which led to the estate's main entrance. "I mean, it's just stir-fry, but I'm pretty good at it." "What about Amy?" I inquired, holding two full bags of groceries in my arms. "She's actually letting you cook?" "Amy has the night off," Pamela responded, cradling a groggy Piper to her loving, trusting shoulder. "I told her so. Amy is seven months pregnant now; she needs to start to slow down a bit and relax. Others can help her." "This should be interesting tonight," I grinned. "We all get to sample Pamela's Chicken Surprise." "Jeremy!" Pamela squealed, smacking me lightly across the chest. "You make it sound like it's gonna be bad!" Piper actually had her eyes locked on me and was making _baby noises_ as Pamela and I entered the estate. We did not see another soul in sight, but figured everyone was around here... somewhere. Perhaps a few of the ladies were still unpacking their suitcases? Trish and Lindsay, I could easily envision, playing video games in the recreation room? Amy resting, maybe getting a massage from Devon or Scarlett? And Kristanna... well, up to no good like usual? When I set the two grocery bags down upon the kitchen counter, Pamela passed Piper off to me and I bounced her gently in my arms. "She seems really tired," I observed. "Pretty, pretty princess there slept for at least 16 hours yesterday," Pamela mused, washing her hands in the sink. "I don't think Piper and Kaden are over our long trip from Peru, either." Pamela reached into one of the grocery bags and took fresh chicken breasts out of it, removed them from their package and then began chopping them into small strips as if she was an expert chef. "I'm impressed." "Shut up," Pamela retorted, but in a good-natured way, without taking her eyes off the chicken on the cutting board. I could not have found Pamela any more adorable than she was right now, yet I could not possibly fathom why. Simply watching her do something so incredibly mundane and normal like preparing a recipe for dinner had me in a definite state of appreciation and adoration for my beloved wife. But, this was certainly not the first time I had found great pleasure and joy out of viewing Pamela - or any of the other ladies, for that matter - in a routine moment. How many times had I stayed awake at night and simply watched one (or more) of my brides as they slept? Scarlett too, for that matter (she was not a wife (yet)). How often would I just idly sit there in the middle of a family discussion and listen to these ladies coo and cavort about whatever, and feel captivated and enthralled? A prime example of that would be Kristanna teasing Pamela about being a hoarder earlier. I simply ate stuff like that up. "Bring my sweet, little Piper to me," Pamela requested, scraping the chicken off the cutting board and into a bowl. When I did, Pamela stole four quick kisses from our daughter and smiled brightly at her. "What'chya doin' there, honey? You gettin' all warm and cozy in Daddy's arms? You gettin' all sleepy? Hmmmmm... I think you are." Pamela focused her gaze on me. "Why don't you lay her down in her crib while I marinate the chicken breasts?" I smiled. "Pamela's Chicken Surprise for dinner..." "Hey, I did manage to feed myself quite nicely for 11 years before entering into this relationship," she reminded me. This time, Pamela barraged kisses all over Piper. "Bye-bye, honey! Get some sleep! Mommy love, love, loves you!" Indeed, Piper dozed off quick after I laid her down in the dual nursery that was adjacent to the master bedroom. I stayed there for a few moments and admired the sight of my beautiful baby daughter sleeping, while glancing around the room that she shared with her big brother, Kaden. I have to admit, Devon and Lindsay did an excellent job designing and then decorating this nursery almost a year ago. In one corner of the nursery was Piper's crib. A wide collection of dolls were situated around the crib, each propped up in little, miniature chairs. Colored blocks and numbers were on the wall, with the design of a pumpkin, caterpillar and eagle around them. A heavy quilt hung off the side of the crib, with Piper's name monogrammed on it. Floor-to-ceiling windows gave the nursery an open feel, especially as it overlooked the sprawling garden outside. Devon hand-painted a tree on the wall herself, then Lindsay fastened leaves, toy birds and tiny wooden birdhouses to the branches to create a three-dimensional mural. A large stuffed giraffe oversaw Kaden's crib and seemed to be his protector whenever he was napping inside of it. Kaden loved the thing; he was always willing to hug and dote on its long, furry neck. There was a mantle high on the wall, but away from his crib a bit - it held a football, basketball and a catcher's glove with a baseball in it. Would my son actually be a star athlete one day? With Amy being seven months pregnant and Trish now four weeks along herself, we knew that there were going to be more additions to our family. And soon, very soon. Thus, Devon and Lindsay had slowly been working on a nearby room over the past two months, transforming it into a nursery for the next two little ones who came along. They were not quite finished yet, but Amy seemed ecstatic at the progress Devon and Lindsay had made in the new room. * * * Following a healthy and delicious breakfast in the morning, I held my glass of orange juice close and strolled toward the open sliding glass door in the master bedroom. An arid breeze laced with the sharp aroma of blooming apple trees and freshly mown grass ruffled the curtains as I stared out at the expanse green of our farm on this bright, clear morning. Cows grazed in the distance. Three pigs rumbled around their fenced-in area with their fluffy ears flapping as if they were flying. Ducks frolicked and played in the large center lake. Trees swayed in the wind while a lone eagle tottered overhead. A young man and woman were in the pick-your-own-fruit area with two full baskets of product. I stepped through the doorway and slid into a comfortable chair at the table on the deck which was attached to our third-story bedroom. The drone of the approaching mower muffled out any melodies that a group of birds were singing nearby. I still smiled and waved at the laborer, a trusted employee here for eight years, as he made one last pass on the riding lawnmower, smoothing that sloping green carpet next to our mansion, putting the final touches on the grid pattern he had so effortlessly created. Off to the left side, in the distance, my smile became even wider once I noticed Trish and Lindsay were working in their own private garden. A very small strawberry and vegetable garden tucked away in the corner of the yard, near the picket fence, Trish and Lindsay grew tomatoes, peppers, beans, zucchini, cucumbers, squash and broccoli there. It had quickly become one of their little sanctuaries. Trish would surely never get over losing her father, or perhaps even the shock of his death since it was so sudden and completely unexpected (a massive accident involving multiple vehicles). Trish had been feeling pretty down and out for well more than two weeks, so the news that she was pregnant could not have come at a better time. Although I still knew that she was hurting inside because her father was no longer alive, Trish came across as her usual happy and vibrant self in recent days. Perhaps the sheer joy of impending motherhood outweighed the utter pain of losing a loved one for her? For now, at least. But as was often the case whenever I had her in my sights, I focused on Lindsay as she and Trish tended to their garden. Lindsay wore a pair of denim cut-off shorts and a little white tank-top, her torso glistening with sweat as she exerted herself in the garden. She had even tamed her free-flowing, long blonde hair with a red bandana tied around her head - a look that did not fit her at all, yet I found it appealing nonetheless. Lindsay talked and giggled merrily with Trish, although I had no idea what was being said between them. Even now, just watching Lindsay from afar, she stirred my desire and libido like no other woman possibly could. She took my breath away and kept me in a constant state of arousal. One look at that sweet, innocent face, one sense of that angelic aura that surrounded her, and I got lost. I groaned as I thought about Lindsay and her quest to become pregnant. It was not a hope or a journey for Lindsay; it was a quest. It was a quest that needed completion. Over the past seven days alone, I had deposited my sperm in her 17 times. I was running on fumes! I thought yesterday was going to be a rare off day, but Pamela coaxed an erection out of me last night with her mouth and then promptly inserted it into Lindsay's pussy the very instant she showed up in our bedroom. Everyone in the family wanted Lindsay to become pregnant! Although Lindsay was only 20 years of age, she was more than ready to become a mother herself. Lindsay was wise beyond her years, due in large part to four of the six women in her daily life (Pamela, Trish, Amy and Scarlett) were 31 or older, and a fifth (Devon) was 29. Hell, I was 41 myself. Lindsay had been surrounded by a very mature and level-headed group of people who loved and cared for her since the time that she was 18. That maturity seemed to rub off on her. Propping my feet up, I set the glass of orange juice aside and sighed contently, closing my eyes with a massive grin and imagining sweet, little Lindsay with a nine month baby bump. In my mind's eye, I envisioned Lindsay and I out and about, perhaps at the shopping center. She was absolutely radiant, just glowing, wearing a red top and figure-hugging leather pants. I lovingly wrapped my arms around Lindsay's waist and told her words which could not have been more possibly true. "You look hotter than ever." "What's that big smile doing on your face?" Those words startled me, and quickly brought me out of my mental reverie. I found Kristanna standing before me, with Kaden in her arms. When she glanced off in the distance, Kristanna nodded her head knowingly. "You're out here watching Lindsay... aren't you?" "Guilty as charged," I confessed. Although my physical attraction for Lindsay was unmatched, the mental (and overall) connection I had with Kristanna could never be approached or duplicated. Kristanna and I were right for each other on so many different levels. When I first met Kristanna six years ago, she held my hand when I was about to cave in and crumble, and somehow pulled me back together. I loved Kristanna because whenever I was with her, I felt whole. She could always put a big smile on my face without even trying. She meant the world to me and I would not trade our love, or our relationship, for anything. No words or actions could accurately describe just how much I was actually in love with this woman. Kristanna was the most amazing person I had ever met. I loved her with everything that I was worth; my heart, my soul, my body and my mind. Of course, Kristanna was off-the-charts attractive in her own right. Even standing before me now in the most casual of attire (a striped tank-top, green cargo pants and heavy black boots), she still looked outstanding. Her gold-spun hair flowed in waves and adorned her glowing, porcelain-like skin. Her eyes, framed by long lashes, were a sparkling, baby blue and seemed to brighten the world. A straight nose, full, lush lips - Kristanna seemed the picture of perfection. Had she smiled, the world would sigh with contentment. Had Kristanna laughed, the world would laugh with her. And had she cried, the whole world would want to comfort her. "Would you like to hold him?" "You bet," I answered, taking our 10 month old son from her and snuggling him gently in my arms. Actually, Kaden would be 11 months old very soon. He was growing so very fast! Kaden looked up at me and tried to fetch my eyeglasses while gurgling and babbling his own special language. When I took my eyeglasses off and placed them on the nearby ledge - well out of his reach - Kaden flailed both his little arms about and threw a massive temper tantrum. "Oooooh, he's an angry elf!" Kristanna chuckled, sitting down next to me and tickling his face with a single finger. "Oh sweetheart, there are much worse things in life than not getting to play with Daddy's glasses!" She leaned down and kissed him, saying, "Oh, you're okay, honey. You're okay." Kaden was still upset, making _scrunchy_ faces at me. In return, Kristanna told him in a goofy, comical tone of voice, "That's enough of that nonsense!" "It's so tough to be you," I chimed in, looking directly into his eyes. "So tough being 10 months old, isn't it? Why the sad face? Don't be angry, Daddy loves you." "You know the deal, happy meal," Kristanna said to Kaden, her voice again highly exaggerated and unique. "You cannot play with Daddy's glasses." She shook her head at him. "Uh uh, no-no. Daddy would be blind as a bat if you played with his glasses and accidentally broke them!" Kristanna took him from me and cooed, "We may have to call the WAHHHHH-bulance." She rocked Kaden about and stared into his eyes. "You don't want to go for a ride in the WAHHHHH-bulance, do you?" Despite his mother's efforts, Kaden became increasingly angry and still had his sights set on my eyeglasses. Thus, Kristanna decided to break out the heavy artillery, holding his head to her neck and clearing her throat twice. "Puff, the magic dragon lived by the sea," Kristanna sang to a Kaden in tender, sweet voice. "And frolicked in the autumn mist in a land called Honalee. Little Jackie Paper loved that rascal Puff. And brought him strings and sealing wax and other fancy stuff..." The very moment Kristanna broke out into chorus of this classic children's song, circa 1963, Kaden stopped fussing and actually became quite docile in her arms. Kristanna seemed to have a golden voice in the eyes of our infant son, because singing was usually the cure for whatever ailed him. I sat there, transfixed, as Kristanna went through the entire song. Halfway through it, Kaden was all happy and engaged, but his eyelids seemed to be getting quite heavy. At the end of Kristanna's three minute long rendition, Kaden was fast asleep in his mother's embrace. "Never fails," Kristanna told me with a grin when it was over, swaddling Kaden into a blue blanket. "Wild man LOVES it when I sing to him." * * * Hours later, I flipped my sunglasses onto my face from where they had been perched upon my head. It was warm out. Summer was fast approaching and wanted everyone to know it. I was with Scarlett, seated at a table near the center of town. We had picked up one of Scarlett's new favorites - American cheeseburgers and french fries, and watched as the world passed us by in the small park. Scarlett gestured with her chin to a random guy whizzing past us on roller-blades. "You think he woke up and thought to himself, 'totally wearing pink biker shorts today'?" I shrugged my shoulders and popped a french fry. "I don't know. Perhaps pink is his favorite color?" "I bet you he high-fived his mirror," Scarlett grinned, "and moon-walked away from it." "It's what you do every morning," I teased her. "Only when no one else is looking!" "What's been going on with you lately, Scarlett Noella?" I asked, using her first and middle name for emphasis. I sat back and waited for her response. "You have to work the next two days, right? Two 12 hour shifts, seven in the morning until seven at night? You'll be late for dinner." "I know you're not happy that I want to keep working at the hospital," Scarlett mewed. "Pshhhhh. I love you working." Scarlett shot me a suspicious glance. "No, you don't." "Have you been in contact with your family since we came back from the island? Talked to them at all in recent days about our upcoming marriage and wedding?" To better see her face, I took my sunglasses off because this discussion was suddenly important. Scarlett was important. "I spoke with my mom at length just yesterday," Scarlett confided. "She is still getting used to the idea that her daughter is going to marry a man who already has six wives. It is still a little tough for her to digest. Good news, though... my sister, Vanessa, is going to come to the city at the end of the month for a weekend. That should be fun." "It will take time, Scarlett, but your mother will come to realize just what my mother did, and Lindsay's mother before her, and Trish's mother and even her father, as it pertains to this marriage and relationship." "What's that?" "You're home now. You're happy." Scarlett glanced down at the table. The emotion of that particular statement really seemed to strike a nerve within her. Her eyes glistened when she raised her gaze to me. "I hope my mom and the rest of my family will understand that one day. You're ri-right. I... I'm finally home." I nodded my head at her in total agreement. Scarlett had a nice, close-knit family whose traditional values were not too keen with the open-ended nature of the relationship she found herself in. With time, though, I had faith that they would accept and embrace the personal decisions Scarlett had made. She was happier than ever before, and it showed. And despite what others may have thought, I was under the firm assumption that our own family led a very healthy lifestyle. I reached across the table and grasped Scarlett's right hand with my own. "As far as you and your nursing job, sweetheart, I may not fully understand the need for you to do it, and I may not agree with you working those crazy-long shifts you do on a strictly selfish level." "However, I support you and your desire to continue working," I went on. "You're my fiancee, Scarlett, and I love you. You'll be my wife one day very, very soon. I support whatever decisions you make, even if I do not personally or selfishly agree with them. Please, I want you to understand that, and not listen to any of the gossip that goes on in our family about how I feel concerning your job." Scarlett sighed and blew the hair off of her face. "Thank you, Jeremy. I know you would like me to quit so all eight of us could spend our days and nights together for the rest of eternity. I know it would be so much easier for our family too; we could hop on the plane on a whim and go wherever we wanted in the world for an extended vacation. Two weeks? Three weeks? Four weeks? Time would not be a constraint." She paused, then frowned. "On the island, I felt so guilty." "I know you did." "I know everyone wanted to stay there another week or two," she murmured, her lips twitching with regret. "_I_ did not want to leave, ever. But we had to return to Norway because I had to go back to my job on Monday. I felt guilty because everyone's vacation to the one place you and the other girls hold nearest to your hearts - the island, where you all met - was cut short on account of me." "We've had this discussion, honey," I reminded her. "No one is blaming you, no one is angry at you. We all support you and your desire to work. Most more than I do, you know. There will be more trips to the island in the future, I am certain. You have vacation time coming up in December, yes?" I smiled and added, "I say we do the trifecta then for holiday visits - Canada, Ohio, then Maryland." "That would be nice for Trish, Lindsay, Amy and you, and then Pamela so all of you could re-connect with family. Do you think Amy's baby will be old enough by then to go on such a long flight? That might be cutting things a bit close." "We'll cross that bridge when we come to it." "We need a photo," Scarlett suggested, producing her phone from her purse. She framed us expertly with the natural daylight accentuating our features to an even greater extent. At the last second, Scarlett kissed my cheek and the ensuing image was, quite simply, stunning. Staring down at it, I felt a chill shoot throughout my entire body at just how perfect she and I looked together, how right everything felt. "Wanna walk?" "I would love to go on a walk with you," I told her. Obviously, she was done with her cheeseburger and fries. It was a quiet, mid-afternoon day on the streets of Sandvika, so each bar, restaurant or club we passed by did not have a lot of, if any, activity yet. Still, Scarlett held firmly to my hand as we walked. The togetherness was extra nice. We paused in front of a club that had an emblem of a nude female striking a suggestive pose. Obviously, it was a strip club. "You could dance on top of a bar in there," I offered, again teasing her. "Think how much fun that would be for you. Probably make a lot more money there than being a nurse, too." Scarlett peered up at me. "No, thank you." We walked a bit further, sharing simple, idle chatter, until Scarlett's eyes suddenly lit up as if a light bulb had popped on over her head. "That's it! We need ice cream." "Ice cream?" "Yes, ice cream," she reiterated, stepping ahead and tugging at my arm. Just ahead of us was a small parlor. "Ice cream is the perfect punctuation mark for our little afternoon out together. And this time, Jeremy, I'm buying." After purchasing our ice cream - vanilla and strawberry for Scarlett and chocolate chip for me - we took the long way back to the car, snagging an extra block here or there as we spoke about nearly everything, not ready for our afternoon to be over just quite yet. "I had no idea that kids in Norway are basically required to stay in high school until they are 19," I stated, trying to wrap my mind around the concept. "In the United States, everyone usually graduates high school by the time they are 18. Some even early... 17." "In Norway it is not called high school," Scarlett informed me. "It is called _videregående skole_, or upper secondary school in English. We rarely use the term _high school_ here. Only when referring to you silly Americans, really." "Did you play any sports while you were growing up?" "I was on the girls' cross country and tennis teams," she answered. "In my final year of school, not enough girls tried out for the tennis squad, so I had to compete for a spot on the boys' team. I got it; it felt great." "Kristanna was big into basketball when she was growing up here, I am told," were my words. "Krissy was already 5-foot-9 by the time she was 13 years old. Her mom and dad thought she would never stop growing, but Krissy only grew another two inches and topped out at 5-foot-11. She said there was never a boy taller than her in her grade until she was 16." Scarlett giggled. "5-foot-9 by the time she was 13? I am 31 and 5-foot-3, and always feel like a midget next to her." "She's generally taller than me when she has heels on." Scarlett chuckled. "Her come-fuck-me pumps?" I stopped, then tilted my head and smiled at her. "Do you know what I find so incredibly cute right now?" "What is that?" "The ice cream on your face." Scarlett balked. "There is no ice cream on my face." "Umm, yes... there is," I laughed. "Because I'm such a good fiance and don't want you to embarrass yourself any further, I will take care of it for you." With those words, I leaned down and gently kissed the tiny smidgen of ice cream from Scarlett's mouth, using my tongue ever so gently to aid in the endeavor. I took in the sweet scent of Scarlett's perfume and shampoo, and the silkiness of her lips. Lust curled slowly within me, gaining strength and adding momentum with every tenth of a second that went by. Apparently, I was not alone. "What's that look?" "I think it's time we go home," Scarlett said. "Now." I could tell by the erotic gleam in her eyes exactly where Scarlett's mind was at in the current moment. Fortunately, I was on the exact, same wavelength, right there with her. The hungry lioness was on the prowl, and wanted to lay claim to me! "Lead the way," I told her. <<<- End of Chapter 14 ->>> ==---- -- -- -- - --- -- -- - - --- -- -- --- - -- - - - - --- -- ----== "Island Fever 4: Paradise" (c) 2015 JeremyDCP - JeremyDCP@hotmail.com Feedback is always appreciated!