[[[-IF6-P15.TXT-]]]


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Island Fever 6: Sanctuary
Written by: JeremyDCP@hotmail.com

M/F, F/F and a whole lot more
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Chapter 15: "Yuletide"
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            -*-  Monday, December 19, 2016  -*-
                 -*-  Sandvika, Norway  -*-


*** Two months after the events of the previous chapter ***


   "Good afternoon, everyone, and happy holidays to all!" I 
announced with overexaggerated vigor, stepping into the 
dining room at our home here in Sandvika.  "I am donning my
ugly Christmas sweater, but it's really not that ugly.  It's
kind of like, I am a present.  Krissy, I am a present to you."
   Kristanna had her back to me, leaning over and tending to
our two-year-old son, Kaden, but could not conceal her giggly 
smile when she turned to face me.  The Christmas sweater I 
had on, to be brutally honest, was hideous.  It had blue 
sleeves, a mixture of brown and green flannel across the 
top, a huge orange bow design in the middle, red flannel and
yellow on the bottom, and a thick white stripe around the
center.  Oh, and a red and white collar.  It was the ugliest
Christmas sweater I had ever seen, bar none.
   "Here is my present to you!" I laughed, moving behind 
Kristanna and snuggling her with both arms.
   "Oh my gosh!" she chuckled in response.
   I frowned.  "Where's your ugly Christmas sweater?"
   Kristanna, who was wearing all black with her blonde hair
done up in a stylish bun, wiped Kaden's face with a wet 
napkin as he was nearly finished eating his lunch.  "I'm not
accepting any presents from you until Christmas Day."
   I grinned and tilted my head back and forth several times
in succession.  "You'll be accepting my present later tonight,
trust me."  The sexual overtones thick and heavy with those 
words, it was obvious that I was in quite the jovial mood.
   Kristanna screeched, then reached back and playfully 
slapped my shoulder.  "Oh Jeremy, you're awful!"
   I focused upon Ariel, our nine-month-old daughter, who was
seated in her high chair next to Kaden at the dining room
table.  "What you got there, sweetie?"  In front of her was a
plate of finely diced grilled cheese and mashed beans.  Ariel
squealed and made happy baby noises.  "That looks yummy!"
   But Kaden actually snatched part of his sister's meal.
"Hey, that's not nice," I scolded him.  "You know better than
that, buddy.  You have your own plate.  Don't take Ariel's."
   "I sowwy," he mumbled, eating the grilled cheese anyway.
   "Kaden, guess what?  Do you know what you're doing later
today, after lunch?  Do you remember?"
   "Heh, my doc appoint..."
   "Yeah, you and I are going to the dentist.  We're going to
make sure that everything is cool with your tooth."
   Unfortunately, one of Kaden's baby teeth had gotten to the
point over the past few weeks where it was a bit discolored.
It was sort of brownish.  We contacted our family dentist, and
he suggested bringing Kaden in for a check-up to find out what
the problem is, and fix it.  Naturally, I was very concerned 
about it.  What if he had a horrible infection?
   "Does your tooth hurt at all?"
   "No," Kaden told me.
   "Are you tough?"
   "Yes!"  He put his finger in his mouth and pointed at the
offending tooth.  "For the innigooddid, for this oww!"
   "You're looking forward to going to the dentist for your
tooth?" I said, deciphering his toddler speech with ease.
   "Yeah!"
   "That's a good boy," I nodded.  "Might even be fun."
   Kristanna was now on her hands and knees underneath the
dining room table, retrieving Ariel's pacifier.
   "Krissy, seriously... you need to go put on your ugly
sweater," I told her.  "Then you could be a gift to ME!"
   "No!" Kristanna laughed, defiant.
   My stomach was rumbling, though, and I heard sizzling
noises emanating from the nearby kitchen.  Someone must be
in there, cooking!  Still in a vibrant mood - actually, I
had not been this amped up in quite a long time - I ventured
off to the kitchen and found another of my wives, Lindsay,
piling ingredients from the refrigerator onto the counter.
   "Happy Monday, Lindsay!" I greeted her.  "You know what
they say?  The best way to start your day is a kiss from
your beautiful wife.  Or, in this case, start your lunch."
I closed the short distance between us and snagged a quick
kiss from Lindsay, who was decked out in a pair of faded
denim jeans, a cardigan sweater and a baseball hat.
   "Hard at work!" Lindsay chimed in response, before going
into lyrical verse, "_Foldiers in your cup_?  Is that what
it is?  What they say?"  She then scoffed and made a face.
"Jeremy... oh my God!  What's that?  That looks... BAD."
   "How can you insult my ugly Christmas sweater?"
   Lindsay made a face again and tried not to laugh, and
then shook her head.  "You in the mood for turkey or ham?"
   "Turkey," I responded.  I watched Lindsay choose a knife
and pull out a cutting board, thinking how nice it was of
her to prepare lunch for me today.  She began chopping some
sort of vegetable.  Off to the side, I noticed that there
was some bacon in a frying pan.  My stomach rumbled again.
I listened to the bacon sizzle as Lindsay continued to chop.
   At the circular kitchen table behind us, seated in a high
chair of her own, was Kaylee.  Our 10-month-old daughter
seemed too preoccupied with her juice bottle to even remotely
acknowledge my presence.  Still, I went over and kissed her
forehead.  How could anyone resist a kid this cute?
   Lindsay moved the pan holding the bacon, causing the air
to fill with sizzles and pops.  She then turned and gave me
a playful glare.  "Seriously, Jeremy... you need to ditch
that sweater.  We need to burn that thing in the fireplace."
   "How can it be Christmastime without ugly Christmas
sweaters?" I protested.  Lindsay moved around the kitchen
with a calm serenity that I envied.  When I cooked, it was
as if I was on speed, or my hair was on fire.  "I see that
you have been getting pointers from Amy, hmmmmm?  Going to
be a culinary genius like her one day?"
   "No, I learned this from my mom," Lindsay corrected me.
She swished the pan with bacon in it again before mixing
something in a bowl.  I had no idea what Lindsay was making,
but it sure smelled wonderful.  "Amy may do the majority of
the cooking for us, Jeremy, but I know my way around the
kitchen quite well, thank you very much."  Lindsay tasted
whatever was in the bowl, then added more spices.
   "Have you talked to your mom yesterday or today?"
   "No."  I frowned, that knowledge putting a temporary damper
on my good mood.  Meanwhile, Lindsay sampled the mixture once
again and set it the side, content with whatever was in it.
"Mom still refuses to talk to me even after the whole fiasco
with Alison blew over, and is now settled."
   "That's not right," I grumbled.
   "But it's Christmastime, and I am not going to let anything
get me down this time of year," Lindsay offered, holding her
head high.  "Yesterday was Trish's 34th birthday and we had a 
great party for her last night.  Nope.  Not gonna let anything 
get me down."  Fortunately, Lindsay had finished and came over 
to the kitchen table with her creation in hand.  She seemed 
very pleased with herself, and it made me smile.
   "Here you go, baby," Lindsay said, presenting me with the
most amazing sandwich I had ever seen.  Thick french bread
layered with turkey, bacon, lettuce, tomatoes, avocados,
cheese and some sort of creamy sauce awaited me.
   I sat down in the chair directly across from Kaylee, and
Lindsay waited for me to take the first bite.  I carefully
picked up the loaded sandwich and tried it.
   It was the best sandwich I had ever tasted in my entire
life.  The vegetables were just the right amount of crispy
compared to the bread and meat, and the sauce was some sort
of ranch dressing that made all of the other flavors pop.
It was like Heaven, but in the form of a sandwich.
   "This is amazing," I gasped, stuffing another bite into
my mouth.  Lindsay grinned sweetly, obviously happy as I
thoroughly enjoyed her culinary creation.
   "What time are Pamela and Trish's relatives going to be
here tomorrow, again?"  Lindsay had waited to ask that 
question until I started to slow down my bites.
   "Captain Mike says the plane will touch down in Oslo just
before midnight tomorrow.  I talked to him a little while 
ago.  He is flying Pamela's mom and dad, her two sisters and
their families, up north to Toronto from Baltimore tonight.
Then, in the morning, they will all board the family jet 
with Trish's mom, her two sisters, their families, and they
will make their way across the ocean here to Norway."
   "I'm so glad Pamela and Trish get to spend the holidays
with their families," Lindsay mused.  "I think it's really
awesome, Jeremy, that you're offering to let everyone stay
here on the farm with us.  There will be family everywhere!
And you know what's even better?  Pamela's family will be
here when she gives birth!  Her due date is January 6.  And
of course, Krissy's mom and dad will be here a lot, too, as 
will Amy's.  It's so awesome everyone will be together!"
   "I just wish your mom was on the flight, too."
   "Well, she's not," my young bride deadpanned.  "No worries; 
Mom will get over being angry at us.  Eventually.  Hopefully."
   Lindsay's blue eyes were clear and beautiful in the yellow
light of the kitchen.  They weren't quite as bright as usual,
however, as dark shadows threatened to overtake them and haunt 
her face.  Try as she might to convince me otherwise, but I 
knew for a fact that Lindsay was still very upset that her
mother still refused to talk to her, let alone allow her back
into her life.  Alison's motives for the affair she had with
our family was clear and out in the open now, but Leslie -
Lindsay and Alison's mother - decided it would be best to
wash her hands clean of the whole situation.  Not only had
she shut Alison out of her life, but Lindsay as well.
   "I spoke to Alison yesterday on the telephone."
   "Oh?"  I raised my eyebrows at her.  "How did that go?"
   "Alison is still whining and pining about not being with
us anymore, so I had to make it clear to her - again - that
she will never be welcomed back into our family after what
she did."  Lindsay shook her head.  "Ali found a sugar daddy
on the Internet, though, up near Columbus.  Says she is going
to move in with him and attend college at Ohio State.  This
dude is gonna pay for her tuition and give her free rent in
exchange for," Lindsay hesitated, looking at our daughter,
then chose her words carefully, "...certain favors."
   "I gave Alison a million dollars when we sent her home,"
I said.  "What does she need a sugar daddy for?"
   Lindsay shrugged her shoulders.  "You got me.  I stopped
trying to understand her after she betrayed us.  I imagine
this guy, who is older, will be rough and tumble with Ali,
treat her harshly.  It's what she wants.  But I worry.  She
is my sister, and I still love her.  I worry about what she
is doing, the situations she is putting herself into."
   "I know you do."
   "Daddy... SNOW!"
   I glanced behind me and found Piper, my two-year-old daughter
with Pamela, staring back at me with big brown eyes, clutching
a teddy bear in her hand.  "Snow?  Do you want to see the snow,
honey?"  Piper nodded her head enthusiastically as I stood and
lifted the toddler into my arms.  I was not quite finished with
my sandwich, but it would be here when I got back.
   I exited the kitchen and went through the dining room, then
into the central room and over to the large picture window
facing the snow-covered front yard, still holding Piper in my
arms.  The sight outside was something I would never tire of -
our front yard was cheery and festive; lit up like Las Vegas,
and it was blanketed with a thick covering of snow.
   Kristanna, Lindsay and Amy were tireless at the start of
December, adding white lights and wreaths to the evergreens,
and a Santa sleigh on the porch.  Every year, Trish insisted
that a giant wreath be hung on the front door.  Pamela even
coerced me into climbing up a ladder in the bitter cold and
adding lights along the roof line.  But I did not complain.
This year, I may even admit that I enjoyed doing it.
   "Look at that, Piper," I said, my voice full of awe.  "Wow!
Do you see that?  Look at all of the snow!"  My little girl
was fascinated with the wintry wonderland outside.  Earlier
this morning, I even took her out sledding in it.
   Pamela approached us at the window, holding her index
finger to her lips.  "Dylan is finally sleeping," she
whispered, snuggling up to my side.  Dylan, of course, was
my youngest child at eight months.  His mother was Scarlett.
   "Dylan sheep too much!" Piper exclaimed, frowning.
   "It just seems that way, honey," Pamela said, tapping
Piper's nose.  "But little babies like Dylan need a lot more
sleep than a big girl like you does."
   I took a step back and was nearly floored at how insanely
gorgeous Pamela appeared to me right now.  She was absolutely,
positively glowing - 36 weeks pregnant and more beautiful to me
now than ever before.  Her blonde hair was full and bouncy,
and she wore a pink top that hugged every subtle curve of her
upper torso.  Those large, overflowing breasts, her bountiful,
blossoming belly; all of it was on luscious display.  She
also wore a pair of white stretch leggings, and red slippers.
   "I love you, Jeremy," Pamela offered with a glittering
smile and a sparkle in her brown eyes, as she pinched my side.
Pamela knew full well that I had been admiring her beauty.
   "Love you too, sweetheart," I returned, placing a kiss on
Pamela's soft mouth.  Kissing Pamela was something I never
grew tired of.  In fact, it was what I intended on spending a
long time doing later tonight.  I wanted to ravish Pamela 
from head to toe in her final few weeks of pregnancy.
   "Where Scarwit?" Piper wondered.
   "Scarlett went with Aunt Devon to go and see the doctor,"
Pamela advised her.  "Oh?  Do you miss Scarlett, sweet P?
Do you miss Devon?  Don't worry... they will be home soon
enough.  Devon had to go and see the doctor."
   "Devon... okay?"
   "Ohhhhh," Pamela fretted, touched by our daughter.  "Devon
is fine, honey.  She is fine.  She will be home soon."  Pamela
leaned in and kissed Piper on the cheek.  "You're so sweet!"
   I agreed, of course, but silently thought that Pamela was 
much sweeter.  I had so much respect and admiration for my 
wife (Pammy!).  The girl left her family behind in Nottingham,
Maryland and devoted herself to our family, our way of life, 
here thousands of miles away in Norway.  Pamela worked hard
to straighten her life out and change her viewpoints on 
certain things and, to top it all off, she even married a 
buffoon like me.  We had a daughter in Piper and, a few weeks 
from now, she and I would welcome our newborn son, Peyton.  I
truly knew what the meaning of unconditional love was now.
   And because of Pamela, as well as the rest of my wives, I
had also learned that holiday miracles do come true.

                           * * *

   "Would you like to help?"
   I shook my head just to be safe.  I had no idea what Amy 
was doing.  I had just gotten home from taking Kaden to the 
dentist and, after leaving him with Kristanna and Lindsay, I
happened upon Amy here in the kitchen.  She looked sexy as 
hell in jeans and a snug-fitting sweater, her red hair up in
a pony-tail and her cheeks rosy from... I had no idea what.
   "I would be glad to help you, sweetheart, if I knew what 
you were doing," I offered, planting a kiss upon her lips.
   "Excellent!" Amy chirped, thrusting an apron in my 
direction.  "I'm BAKING, Jeremy.  We have plenty of company 
arriving here tomorrow night - Pamela's family, Trish's 
family - and we don't have any treats in this house."  She 
sidestepped me and took out a tray of cookies from the oven.
   "Is Dani Grace sleeping?"  It was a good assumption that
she was, because Amy rarely let our 16-month-old daughter
out of her sight if she was awake at all.
   Amy nodded.  "Yep, but she should be waking up from her
nap pretty soon.  How was Kaden's dentist appointment?"
   "Things actually went really, really great," I responded.
The dentist took an X-ray and found out that the pulp inside 
of Kaden's tooth looked really good, but there is just some 
blood... his tooth, it kind of has a bruise.  Yeah, a bruise.
So Kaden's tooth isn't dead, the root looks good, and the 
dentist said there may be some more browning, but more than 
likely it will lighten back up.  We have to keep an eye on 
whether there is any pain or swelling, or bleeding, over the 
next few months, but the dentist said he doesn't think we 
should worry about it.  He says Kaden should be fine."
   Amy nodded again, and smiled.  "That's awesome.  Sounds
like the best case scenario.  I bet Krissy is happy."
   My stomach growled as I made a beeline for the tray filled
with cookies.  Amy laughed and held up a hand, however, 
effectively blocking me from savoring any of the delights.
   "No way.  You have to help me.  And besides, these have 
not even been decorated yet."  I watched as Amy carefully 
placed each cookie, one by one, on a cooling rack.
   "What about these?"  I picked up a box filled with 
chocolate chip cookies that featured red and green sparkles.
I flipped open the lid and was ready to indulge, but...
   Amy had to pry the box from my hands.  "These are for 
Captain Mike.  You can give them to him tomorrow night at
the airport when you go to pick up Pamela and Trish's family."
Amy placed the lid back on the box.
   "Why are you making Captain Mike cookies?"
   Amy sighed and adjusted her apron.  Man, that was sure
distracting.  I rather just Amy take her apron off, as well
as the remainder of her clothing.
   "Because when he called earlier and I spoke with him, I 
told him I was going to make Christmas cookies, and he asked 
if I could make some for him and his two wives."
   "Mike?  Our family pilot?"  I did not think I had ever
seen Mike eat a cookie.  Did he... really need cookies?
   Amy nodded, hands on her hips.  "Apparently he likes red
and green sparkles on his cookies."
   "Red and green sparkles?"
   Amy nodded, this time a smile breaking.  "Yes."
   "He doesn't need cookies.  Mike has been married to
Carolyn and Barbara for 28 years, and I am certain they
fix him whatever his little heart desires.  I, on the other
hand, was a lonely, neglected soul who spent 16 years alone
on an island, so the cookies are mine."  I was trying to be
funny, laughing it up, and Amy shook her head.  "I did not
have anyone to make me cookies for 16... LONG... YEARS."
   "All right, Sensitive Sally, roll up your sleeves and
help me make these cookies.  Time to man up!"
   I stared at her, trying not to grin.  "Did you just call
me Sensitive Sally?"
   "I did!" Amy confirmed, giggling.  "Krissy was right about
you.  Whenever you become overly emotional and deflated, and
want to cry, you're Sensitive Sally.  That's your new name."
   "I don't like the sound of that," I chuckled.
   "I don't like the sound of that," Amy repeated, but in a
deep, baritone voice.  A grumpy voice.  She was imitating me.
   "Hmmmmm," I rumbled at her, already plotting my revenge.
"So, you want me to help you?  I don't know anything about
cookies, except eating them."
   "You afraid?" she taunted me, pouting for emphasis.
   Amy's hands were in the bowl, and the batter looked quite
thick and doughy.  I was never one to back down from a
challenge.  "You're the one who should be afraid, missy," I
countered, smiling as she laughed.  I took off my long coat
and rolled up my sleeves.  "So, what do I do?"
   "We're going to roll this out and then make different
Christmas shapes.  Since Krissy let her mom borrow my cookie
cutters a few days ago, we have to make them by hand."
   I frowned.  "Christmas shapes?"
   I watched as Amy rolled the dough until it was thin and
smooth.  Then, she sighed at me.  "Christmas trees, bells,
angels... you know, anything that has to do with Christmas!"
   "Right," I said with a decisive nod.  I grabbed a piece
of the dough and concentrated on making a tree, while the
sound of Christmas carols floated through the kitchen.  Amy
had a small radio and was listening to some holiday tunes.
   She took a moment to scoff at me.  "Jeremy, that sweater
you have on... it needs to go.  It's REALLY ugly."  Then,
Amy broke out into a shriek of hysterical laughter.  "OH MY
GOD!  WHAT _IS_ THAT?  It looks like some sort of alien!"
   I glanced downward at the cookie I was making.  It did
resemble an alien!  Defeated, I frowned and looked over at
her cookie.  Sure enough, Amy made a perfectly shaped tree.
There was only one course of action for me to take...
   "Amy," I said, grabbing her by the waist, not caring that
both of our hands were plastered with cookie dough as she
willingly stepped into my arms.  Oh, my beloved Christmas 
sweater... I would need to change into something else!  "I'm 
sorry about those poor cookies."  I leaned down and captured 
her warm, soft lips.  Amy kissed me back easily and lovingly.
   "You've been sampling cookies yourself," I said inbetween
kisses, tasting their remnants on her lips and in her mouth.
Amy pulled me even closer, tugging at the back of my neck,
and soon enough I was debating whether or not she would
become upset if I swept all the cookie dough off of the
kitchen counter and made love to her right then and there.
But, there was a more important topic at hand.
   "Can I ask you something?"
   "You're actually asking my permission?" she returned with
a teasing smile.
   "Of course," I said, making a subtle attempt at snatching
a cookie.  "I try to be a gentleman... at times."
   But Amy swatted my hand away.  "No cookie!"
   "How's your dad doing?"
   My wife frowned.  "He's fine.  They're running tests at 
the doctor's office.  I started looking up what each test is 
for, but I stopped when each one scared me more than the 
prior one."  She busied herself with plucking apart the gobs 
of dough I had grouped together on the cookie pan.
   "I'm sorry, honey."
   "I just cannot imagine life without Dad anymore."  Amy's
breath caught.  "I mean, I know I'll have to eventually, but I
always imagined it when I'm old, and Dani Grace is all grown
up.  This has been the best year of my life, with our family
getting more and more settled, and growing, and Mom and Dad 
moving here to Norway and coming back into my life for the 
first time in years.  I want everything to continue!"
   "It will," I promised her.  "For a long time, it will.  
The doctors seem to think that your father is in good shape.
All of these tests he is getting, they are just routine."
   Two weeks ago to the day, in fact, Robert - Amy's father -
suffered a mild heart attack that was brought on by an 
arrhythmia.  Amy and her mother, Kathleen, saw to it that
Robert was rushed to the hospital here in Sandvika via an
ambulance and given immediate care.  The fine doctors and
staff at the medical facility were able to stabilize his 
heart and return it to a sustainable rhythm without too much
damage being done.  He was in the hospital for three days
and got a pacemaker installed during a surgical procedure
this past Friday.  Everything went well, and his prognosis
is excellent.  Still, his little girl is scared.
   "Hi, Daddy," Amy whispered two weeks ago, kneeling at 
Robert's bedside in the hospital several hours after he 
suffered the heart attack.  He had wires and monitoring 
equipment attached to him, but Amy took solace in the fact 
that her father had on the same pajamas she had bought for 
him as a birthday present.  Robert was also fast asleep.
   I watched as Amy first stifled a sob, then kissed his hand
and held it to her cheek.  She closed her eyes at the steady
pulse of his heart through her wrist.  "Don't leave me, Daddy,"
she begged.  "I don't know what I'd do if I lost you."
   But that was two weeks ago, and all seemed fine now.  And
I had total faith that Robert was going to be fine.
   "How come your parents haven't used any of the money I 
gave them?  Medical costs are really high."
   "They haven't needed it."  She shrugged her shoulders.
   "They haven't needed it?"  I was trying to be patient.
Amy shook her head, tossing her hair over her shoulder, and
I had to stifle a pang of arousal at the scent of her shampoo.
   She averted her eyes.  "I charged all of the bills to one 
of my cards."
   "It's ridiculous for you to charge the medical costs to 
your credit card when I flat-out gave them more than enough
money to cover any expenses.  That makes no sense whatsoever."
   Amy lifted her chin.  "You know how Dad is, Jeremy.  He
does not want any hand-outs from you.  But from me?  I talked 
him into it.  I suppose it is the principal of the whole thing
for him.  Besides, Dad gave me all of the money you gave him
back.  I put it back in your bank, where it belongs."
   "Why would you charge it to your credit card, though?"
   Amy smiled.  "To get Air Miles, Jeremy.  Duh..."
   Air Miles.  I took a deep breath.  Amy was teasing me.
Still, I needed to count to ten.  "Planning on a trip?"
   She shook her head, a smile tugging at her lips.  "Not
really.  But I'll bring you along if I go somewhere."
   "That's good to know," I conceded.
   My cell phone rang.  It took me a moment to register what
the interruption was.  I leaned down to give Amy one more
kiss, absolutely loving how disheveled she looked.
   "Who is that?" Amy asked, trying to straighten out her
clothes as she glanced at the caller ID.
   I put the telephone back in my pocket.  "Just a business
associate of mine.  I can talk to him later."  Amy stood there
and beamed at me, looking happy and content.
   "Want to go Christmas shopping?"
   Amy's green eyes narrowed.  "I'm sorry.  I could have sworn
that you just asked me to go Christmas shopping.  I thought
you did all of your holiday shopping online, or overnight when
there are no crowds?  You hate big groups of people."
   I stole a cookie from the box and promptly bit into it.
"Don't know why, but I feel like shopping today.  You, me,
Dani Grace."  I looked down at the cookie.  "These are pretty
good, actually.  I really don't think Captain Mike needs six
of them.  Two is more than enough - one for Carolyn, one for
Barbara.  Mike can have the alien cookie.  Give it to him."
   "Jeremy!" Amy protested, laughing.

                           * * *

   "Hi, this is Kristanna [Last Name]," my wife said into her
cell phone several hours later that very same afternoon.  "I
just received my _Carter's and Oshkosh_ order in the mail
today and when I opened it up, on the sheet of what I ordered,
none of that is actually in the box.  There are a lot of girl
clothes in the box, but unfortunately, I had ordered nothing
but boy clothes for my two-year-old son."
   "I'm sorry about that," came a friendly voice from the 
other end of the speakerphone.  "Let me transfer you to our
customer service department, and they will take care of you."
   "Thank you," Kristanna responded, and then she was on hold.
   Nirvana.  That was the frame of mind that I generally found
myself in whenever I was with Kristanna.  Even listening to 
her as she attempted to straighten out a delivery mistake by a
children's clothing company from the United States over the 
telephone was mesmerizing to me.  I simply loved being in this
woman's mere presence, hearing the soothing sound of her voice.
Kristanna was, without a doubt, my greatest form of therapy.
Whenever we were together, everything was fine.
   Kristanna's touch was pure magic and her kisses tasted like
sweet nectar, whisking away whatever worries I had.  I did not
understand why, nor did I care to.  All I knew was that my
life changed so much when I first met Kristanna nearly eight
years ago.  Had it really been that long?  Eight years?  Wow.
Kristanna made me feel different.  Better.  Right.  Happy.
   Nothing ever seemed to stick with me when I was younger.
Not women, certainly not my family.  Hell, I lived in total
isolation on my very own island for 16 years.  I was restless
and lonely, but then I met Kristanna in January 2009.  To this
day, kissing Kristanna consumes my body and soul like nothing
else can.  I want to kiss Kristanna, hold her, protect her,
but it is not always so important that I actually have sex
with her.  I am easily content to simply hold her hand and
tell her how incredibly special she is to me.
   This had probably been one of the best days of my life.  I
went Christmas shopping earlier with a gorgeous woman at my
side in Amy, decked out in a red coat and jeans, holding her
giant cup of coffee, with Dani Grace contentedly sitting and
behaving in her stroller.  Thick, heavy snowflakes tumbled
down all around us as we walked along downtown Sandvika and
bought countless presents for Pamela and Trish's families.
   "Hi, this is Kristanna [Last Name] from Sandvika, Norway,
and I just received my _Carter's and Oshkosh_ shipment today
in the mail, and none of the stuff in it is what I ordered.
I was wondering if we could... work this out."
   "We sure can, and I do apologize about that ma'am."
   "Dani Grace," I said to my 16-month-old daughter, whom I
had hitched up in one arm.  "Can you sing _Jingle Bells_?"
   Dani Grace went into a sweet, little verse of toddler 
babble that was downright adorable.
   "Jingle bells, jingle bells, jingle all the way..." I
tried coaching her.
   "Sing it," Kristanna encouraged, still on the telephone.
   Dani Grace gave it her best shot again, but of course her
words came out mostly incoherent.  She was just too young,
but still loved to sing and babble regardless.
   Kaden, playing next to us on the floor, went into some 
babbling of his own, but ended it with, "Vader!"
   I smiled at him.  "What?"
   "Mogefee Vader," he said.
   "Vader?" I gasped at him.  "DARTH VADER?"
   "I think SOMEONE is still excited over that movie he saw
yesterday," Amy commented, sitting with us as well.  She
leaned over and pecked Kaden's cheek with a kiss.
   "Shredder want this one," Kaden cooed, putting a stuffed
chew toy at the front paws of the family dog.  Shredder picked
up the toy with his mouth, circled around a few times, and
then rolled back onto the floor in happy dog bliss.
   Speaking of movies, Pamela - displaying some humor - sent
me a text last evening that I found... unique.  I would expect
such a text from Kristanna (considering her off-the-wall
personality), but not Pamela.  I was out with Scarlett, and
received this precious gem from Pamela via my cell phone:
"Piper and I just watched a movie where a man's wife is
brutally murdered by a serial killer and his son is left
physically disabled.  In a twisted turn of events, his son is
kidnapped and he has to chase the kidnapper for thousands of
miles with the help of a mentally disabled woman."
   "Uhhhhh," was my initial response for her.  Why was my
two-year-old daughter watching such a movie?
   "What is the movie called?" was my follow-up text.
   "_Finding Nemo_," Pamela responded. which made me laugh
and shake my head.  And thus, all was right again...
   Amy reached out and tickled Dani Grace's stomach with her
fingers.  "Hi, honey!  Look at you!  Is that belly ticklish?"
Amy laughed and added, "Is it TICKLISH?  Dani Grace, are you
looking forward to watching _Mickey's Once Upon a Christmas_
later tonight?"  Amy suddenly gasped.  "MICKEY MOUSE will be
in it!  You love Mickey Mouse, don't you?  Yeah, you do.  We
are going to watch that later, sweetie.  Mommy and Daddy, all
of your brothers and sisters, Krissy, Pamela, Devon, Trish,
Lindsay and Scarlett too.  Even Grandma and Grandpa will be
here!  Do you love Grandma and Grandpa?"
   "Yes!" she blurted out.  "Love Linny!"
   "Awwwww," Amy sighed, grinning.  "Lindsay loves you too!"
   I showered Dani Grace's face with kisses.  "I love you
too, honey.  Don't forget about me!"
   Kaden crawled forward and even kissed Dani Grace's forehead.
   "Awwwww," Amy repeated.  "Kaden!  That was so nice!  Do you
love Dani Grace?  Your little sister?"
   Kaden got all red-faced, yet nodded his head regardless.
   "KADEN was just in trouble a bit ago," I told Amy, but then
turning to my son.  "Do you know why you were in trouble?"
   "Why?" he countered.
   "Do you know what you did?"
   "Why?"
   "What did you do to make Mommy and Daddy upset with you?"
   "Hmmmmm... not eat the cookie."
   "Yes, you ate the cookies without asking, and we already
told you no.  We told you no before."
   "It's kind of a cute story, though," Kristanna chimed in,
still on the telephone.  Apparently, she was back on hold.
   "It was," I agreed, glancing at Amy.  "Kaden and I already
had our talk about it, though.  So I went downstairs with
Kaden, and we were talking about it for a bit, and I said..."
   "Kaden got put in the corner for a minute," Kristanna mused.
   "And I said... do you know why we were upset with you?  And
Kaden says... why?  So I tell him, because you did not listen
to Mommy and Daddy, and you STILL ate the cookie when we told
you not to.  And once we resolved everything, I told Kaden, I
love you.  I want you to listen to Mommy and Daddy from now 
on, and he gave me a big hug, and says... YOU HAPPY NOW?"  I 
broke out into a round of laughter.  "You happy now?"
   "Yeah!" Kaden chirped.  "You happy now, Daddy?"
   "That's his biggest concern, and it's so cute," Kristanna
told Amy.  "When we get after Kaden and he has a time out, or
we raise our voice, or we're stern or whatever... when we get
upset with Kaden, the first thing he says is... you happy now?
And most of the time, I say yes.  But then he wants to know is
Daddy happy?  Is Ariel happy?  Is Piper happy?  And sometimes,
if I am really not happy, I am like no, I am STILL not happy...
you did not listen to me.  WELL, DADDY HAPPY?"  Kristanna
laughed.  "Kaden wants to make sure that we are happy.  And
we are, wild man.  You're a good boy."
   "But you're just a little toddler, like Shredder was once
a little puppy," I said to Kaden.  "Sometimes, you just can't
help but to chew and gnaw at certain things."
   "Jeremy!" Kristanna scoffed.
   "And eat cookies when you're not supposed to," I added.
   "Wow."  Amy seemed amused.  "But I really cannot blame Kaden
here, Krissy.  I just can't.  He was just taking after his
father.  Everyone knows that Jeremy is the cookie monster!"
   I shot Amy an evil eye, but it was still in good fun.
   "He hijacked almost an entire batch that I made earlier!"

                           * * *

   Devon gasped and sat up in bed the following morning when
I opened the door without warning.  Entering the master
bedroom in nothing more than a light-colored pair of pajama
pants, I carried a breakfast tray with coffee, fruit and
pastries, and smiled at my wife as she was finally awake.
   "Hi?" Devon said groggily.  "I just woke up."
   I chuckled and put the tray down on the bedside table.  "I
can see that.  And it's about time."  I poured Devon a cup of
hot coffee, which she accepted gratefully.  Then I stood by
the bed with my own coffee and gazed down at her, trying my
best to control my expression.  I had emotions of love and
admiration swirling about because Devon was so special and 
precious to me, but amusement threatened to overtake them.  My
lips twitched visibly as my eyes scanned her face and body.
It was all I could do to keep from laughing.
   Devon frowned.  "Is something wrong?"
   "Of course not."  I got into bed beside her and propped
myself up on the pillows.
   Reclining beside me, Devon peered at my expression.  "You
were laughing at me."
   "I was doing nothing of the sort."
   "You were too!  You still are."  Devon seemed to quickly
contemplate the various possibilities as to what prompted my
teasing amusement.  "Did I snore or something?"
   Laughing, I draped an arm around Devon and pulled her
tight against my side.  "Both you and I know, sweetheart,
that if you snored... the other girls would never let you
hear the end of it.  So no... you didn't snore."
   Devon snuggled in even closer and sipped her coffee.  The
mood between us was light and easy, which was always the best
way to start the day with Devon.  These past few months had
been especially difficult for the family as a whole as Devon
sorted through the demons from her past and how they interacted
with her life (and still haunted it) in the current day.
   "I didn't sleep in THAT late," Devon remarked, glancing at
the digital alarm clock.  9:56am.  "When did you wake up?"
   "Hours ago," I answered.
   "Anything new and exciting going on this morning?  What
have you been up to?"
   "Pamela and I took a walk earlier.  Made my rounds with
all of the kids and helped them wake up."  I handed Devon the
basket of pastries, and she picked out a truly decadent one.
"Been checking on you for the past hour-and-a-half.  Finally,
this time, I was going to wake you up if you weren't already.
I wanted the doughnuts Amy made to still be fresh for you."
   "I never have been a morning person," Devon admitted after
she had swallowed her first bite.  "Hmmmmm... thank you."
   "How was your visit with the psychiatrist yesterday?  Did
Scarlett sit in during your session again?"
   "I always feel good and reassured about everything in life
after I go to see Dr. Jensen every week.  And yes, Scarlett
was there for my therapy session.  She was a big help."
   Things had simply not been the same for our family since
the end of September, when we learned that Devon had been
sexually molested as a child by her father from the ages of
four through 18.  She had done a remarkable job repressing
and sealing those horrific memories away for the past 12
years, but they were brought back to the immediate forefront
when Devon and I went back to her hometown in Pennsylvania
after a medical scare involving her mother.  Many of us,
myself included, were totally ignorant on the mere concept
of childhood sexual abuse and had no clue what to say to
Devon, or how best to comfort and console her.
   I seemed to have taken on the label as protector of the
family over the years.  Kristanna may be the matriarch, but
perhaps I was the protector.  After all, it was my mindset.
I shielded Pamela and reeled her back in to us in the past.
I saw to it that Amy got the help that she so desperately
needed.  I was always there for Lindsay whenever she needed
guidance.  Trish, Scarlett, even Kristanna.
   I did not realize it at the time, but my actions following
Devon's admittance of the demons from her past actually did
more harm than good.  I went about my standard route of
protecting and shielding her, but it ultimately blew up in my
face.  On October 16, back when our family was vacationing on
the island, I triggered something awful within Devon when I
was somewhat angry at her for refusing to have sex with me
the night before.  During that same conversation, I insinuated
that it was high time that she held true to her promise from
weeks earlier, and begin work on having a baby with me.
   Devon apparently cycled through several emotions that day
and on into the evening, a series of dramatic high and lows,
ups and downs, that left her feeling both mentally and
physically sick.  The powder keg eventually exploded in the
overnight hours when another demon from Devon's past made its
return.  Distraught and confused, Devon cut her right arm with
a butcher knife and bled so much that she had to be rushed to
the hospital, and nearly _died_.  She lost that much blood.
   Even though Devon survived, our vacation was over, and
the family was flying back home to Norway two days later.
   We had since learned, through medical intervention and
therapy, that Devon battled a disorder known as nonsuicidal
self injury (NSSI) while she was growing up.  When she was
younger, Devon would actually cut herself with a knife or
sharp object and use the wound as a coping mechanism to help
relieve the emotional and physical pain she felt after her
father had violated her.  Devon never had any true intentions
of seriously injuring herself and/or committing suicide, yet
the behavior was very disruptive, and quite concerning.
   Devon had not cut herself since her teen years and escaping
the evil clutches of her father, but then came that fateful
night on the island.  The psychiatrist and others believe it
was brought on by everything - her past, her memories, dealing
with the emotions of her suddenly sick mother - caving in all
around her at once, causing Devon to panic and find comfort
with her old way of coping.  Me?  I felt as if was my fault.
If I handled the situation differently, was more lenient and
tolerant with my feelings, my expectations for Devon, she
would have never harmed herself.  It's as simple as that.
   Devon cut into the brachial artery on her right forearm
and lost three pints of blood before we could get her to the
hospital 130 miles away on the mainland.  As a result, Devon
went into hypovolemic shock and needed an immediate blood
transfusion which ultimately saved her life.  She did not
intend for the wound to be that serious, but must have sliced
into the affected artery at just the right (or wrong) angle.
Whatever the case, we had taken steps since then as a family 
to ensure that Devon would never harm herself again.  Ever.
   Devon really seemed to hit it off and found a level of
trust and comfort with her psychiatrist, Dr. Jensen, once we
returned to the homefront here in Norway.  I had yet to meet
Dr. Jensen, unfortunately, as Devon preferred that Scarlett
be the lone spouse who accompanies her to most, if not all,
of the therapy sessions.  It was fine, actually.  Devon and
Scarlett had always been quite close, and all that really
mattered to me was that Devon was happy and content again,
and felt safe.  Basically, her old self.  She was making great
strides toward it.  No one was ever going to hurt her again.
I was not going to allow it.
   Lost in my thoughts, I looked at Devon.  "What were we
talking about, again?"
   "You were asking about my trip to see Dr. Jensen yesterday,"
Devon chuckled.  "The visit was good and productive."
   "Oh, I am glad about that."
   "Me too."
   Devon and I relaxed and lounged around in comfortable
silence until she asked, "Why did you bring me breakfast in
bed?  Usually, Amy is the one who does this."
   My eyes had since drifted from Devon's lovely face to her
bare arms and shoulders, then lingered on the outline of her
breasts and tight nipples through the thin fabric of her
teal and black chemise.  "Because I wanted to be the first
person that you saw today when you woke up."  I made eye
contact with her and smiled, "I prefer it that way."
   "Are Pamela and Trish's families en route to us now?"
Devon asked, chewing on a grape.  But then, she answered
her own question.  "Oh, wait.  It must be four o'clock in
the morning in Canada.  They're not flying yet."  Devon took
a deep breath.  "Tell me about Captain Mike."  Hmmmmm?  The
family pilot?  "Where exactly was it that you found him?"
   "I found him through a referral," I answered.  "Could not
be more grateful, either.  He is the perfect pilot for our
family, our family jet.  Him and his two wives, and their
friend the co-pilot, Craig.  They will drop whatever they are
doing on a moment's notice and take us anywhere in the world
that we want.  Or, in this case, bring family to us.  And 
with their unique family situation - a three-way marriage - 
we do not have to hide our lifestyle while in their presence."
   "What's Mike's background?"  Devon liked and respected the
quiet and reserved pilot, but had not had many interactions
with him in the past.  She seemed genuinely curious about him,
though, and I was more than happy to fill her in.
   "He was an American fighter pilot during the Gulf War and
is very proud of the way he helped defend his country.  He
has known Carolyn and Barbara since they were all very young,
and started dating Carolyn in high school.  One day, Carolyn
admitted to Mike that she is bisexual and actually has a
female lover - Barbara, her very own sister.  Barbara, it
seemed, was very attracted to Mike at the time, too.  And thus
a three-way relationship started, and Mike has been married to
them both for the past 28 years.  Carolyn and Barbara are
married to each other as well.  They uprooted and moved from
the United States to Oslo about five years ago."
   "You don't just like and respect Mike as your employee,"
Devon theorized.  "Because of his unique relationship, he is
someone you look up to.  You think of Mike as part of the
family.  Don't you?  28 years is a long time.  You strive for
our family to be as happy as his is 28 years from now."
   Suddenly embarrassed for no good reason, I ducked my head
briefly.  "Yes, that is something for our family to aim for.
28 years from now, and even beyond."
   "Mike is like a big brother to you," Devon added.  "You
look up to him.  He is the big brother that you do not have
right now, because your brother Dan from Ohio still does not
approve of our marriage and the choices you have made in
life.  And your other brother, Steve from Kentucky, is a lost
cause.  Am I right?  Mike is filling that void for you."
   "He is," I murmured.  "But I... I'm going to call Dan
sometime this week and try to talk to him.  I will try and
call my sister Di too, I think.  It's Christmastime, after
all.  I wish my relationship with them could be better."
   Devon seemed saddened that her words had put a sudden
damper on my holiday spirits.  The quickest way to bring me
down, no matter the situation, was to remind me of the
estrangement I had with Dan and Di and, to a lesser extent,
my own mother.  None of them approved of my group marriage
and lifestyle; Dan and Di, I believed, thought of me as the
devil.  At least my mother was somewhat tolerable of it.
   Family had always been very important to me, and I felt
great pain and remorse that I did not get along with my big
brother and big sister.  No matter what I tried, they always
shot me down.  I wish my mom had a more prominent role in my
life, too.  I wish her and Dad were not separated.  I wish...
   Devon was silent for a moment, perhaps thinking of ways
to cheer me up, then reached over to take my coffee cup out
of my hand and put both hers and mine on the nightstand
beside us.  Next, Devon moved over top of me, straddling my
lap as I relaxed against the thick, comfortable pillows.
   My eyes widened in both pleasure and surprise.  "I guess
this means that you've had enough breakfast?"
   She smiled at me and offered her most seductive look.
"More than enough.  How are you feeling?"
   "I feel fine.  What do you mean?"
   "I mean, are you in a playful mood?  Are you up to...
enjoying the morning this way?  With me?"
   I chuckled.  "I could never turn down such temptation,
with a reward so great."
   Giggling at my choice of words, Devon kissed me, and I
tasted coffee on her lips and the slight tang of grapes.
   My arms moved around Devon immediately, pulling her
lovingly upon my chest.  We kissed for quite a long time,
slowly, deeply, moving our mouths against each other and
sliding our tongues about.  Her body was warm and lithe 
over mine, and I loved the feel of her taut, supple flesh
against my skin.  Sensations popped and sizzled.  Devon 
moved her hands to my hair and tangled her fingers in it.
   Fortunately, the sex life that I once enjoyed so much
with Devon had made a comeback of its own in the past two
weeks.  Perhaps this could be another positive step for her
in the ongoing process of healing and recovery?
   After a few moments, my body began to tense beneath her,
and Devon enjoyed the feel of my erection growing against
her.  The 30-year-old tore her mouth away and grabbed the
fabric of her chemise so she could pull it over her head.
She was wearing nothing underneath; her tiny and slender
5-foot-3, 105 pound frame, yet a full D-cup breast size, on
glorious display.  Good God, this woman was beautiful.
   Devon seemed thrilled as I hungrily stared at her naked
body.  There was no hesitation or even a millisecond of fear
or trepidation (i.e. a flashback to her childhood), which
was excellent.  I was always on the lookout for such things
with Devon nowadays.  I lifted my wife up by the waist until
I could take one of her luscious breasts into my mouth.
   Devon moaned and screeched as I teased her into even
greater need and arousal.  She had always been very responsive
to others paying proper homage to her breasts and nipples.
When my fondling and kissing became too much for her to
withstand, Devon pulled away and yanked my pajama pants down.
   My erection freed, Devon took it into both hands and
squeezed generously.  She stroked my length with her thumbs
before rubbing the palm of her right hand in small circles
over the very tip of my shaft.  My body convulsed at first
touch, and then I let out a low, guttural sound of pleasure.
   After a moment of teasing and frigging, Devon silently
positioned herself above me and exhaled with deep passion
as she sank down and allowed to me into her heavenly sheath.
I reached out and gathered her in another deep, blissful
kiss, and she began to rock upon me slowly.  The rhythm of
our kiss soon matched the rhythm of our bodies, and I was
shocked that something so simple, a motion so gentle, could
bring me to orgasm so quickly.
   But then again, I reminded myself, I was with Devon.
There were so many extenuating circumstances at play with
her, but the simple fact of the matter was that I wanted to
make Devon happy and feel safe.  Any happiness that she felt
or received as a result of me was magnified ten-fold, at
least in my book, compared to any of my other wives.  All I
wanted to do was make Devon smile.
   Devon's muscles began to tense after a few moments as
well and she grew very tight around my penetration.  She
tossed her head back, breaking off our kiss at last.  Devon
panted out with silly huffs of effort and extreme pleasure
as she rode me much more urgently than before.
   Devon's blue eyes were trained on me - hot and possessive -
as she bounced on my lap until the tension finally became too
much for me, and was unleashed.  I shifted to faster, harder
bucks of my hips as my cock filled Devon's precious, fertile
womb with its seed.  At the same time, sensations of climax
pulsed through Devon and she slumped forward against my chest.
   Panting against my mouth, Devon squeezed a hand down
between our bodies and rubbed her clitoris with my shaft
still embedded within her.  I caught her mouth again for a
kiss as I did my best to move and grind up into her during
the aftermath, her inner muscles contracting tight against me.
   But things settled down shortly thereafter, and Devon,
sated and exhausted, groaned against my neck.  Thank the high
heavens above that slowly but surely, my wife was returning.
It had been a long and hard process, even grueling, but I had
faith that the end result would be nothing short of spectacular.
Devon and I were eventually going to be closer than ever before.
   I held Devon for a few moments, but then nudged at her gently
so I could pull out.  She stifled a groan of reluctance as she
rolled off of me.  We had not spoken since our initial kiss.
   "I wasn't expecting that this morning."
   Devon broke out into a burst of laughter, which was music
to my ears.  "I wasn't either."
   I took her into my arms so she was leaning against me.
"What do you want to do today?"
   She smiled against my chest.  "I don't know."
   "Pamela and Trish's families will not be arriving until
midnight or so," I said, pressing a kiss upon Devon's hair.
"I don't think any of our wives would object if you and I
stole a couple of hours alone together, and did something
special.  Or fun.  Want to go and see the new _Star Wars_
movie at the theater?"  _Rogue One: A Star Wars Story_ was
just released in the theaters a few days ago.  I had already
seen it twice here at home on DVD, however.  I had friends in
high places in Hollywood, and could get copies of DVD movies
with just a telephone call even before they made it to the
theater for initial release.  Devon, however, preferred the
movie watching experience at the theater when possible.
   "I'm going to take a shower," Devon murmured, kissing me
on the lips and getting out of bed.  "I would love to go and
see _Star Wars_ with you, Jeremy, but I bet Kaden and Piper
would love to go, too.  Why don't we ask them?  Kaden loved 
seeing it here at home the other day, remember.  That way, at
least, Pamela could have a few hours to relax today.  I am
sure Pamela and that eight month pregnant baby bump of hers
would greatly appreciate it if we brought Piper along, too."
   I smiled up at Devon.  She was always thinking of others.
"Good plan, sweetheart.  Good plan."
   Devon got up and went into the adjacent washroom.  I had
since stretched out underneath the covers, enjoying the sweet
aftermath of orgasm and the lazy thrill of lying in bed in
the morning without having any particular reason to get up.
Wow, what a life I led...
   But soon a little shriek emanated from the washroom and I
sat up, concerned.  Any little noise of discomfort from Devon
was cause for concern.  "What's the matter?" I insisted,
looking on as she studied herself in the huge vanity mirror.
   "Why didn't you tell me that my hair looked this bad?"
Devon demanded, seemingly horrified by the image in the
mirror.  Her cheeks were bright red, and she had a sheen of
perspiration on her skin.  Her breasts a bit too jiggly
without the support of a bra.  But that was not too bad.
Just the result of sex and being undressed.
   But her hair.  HER HAIR.
   Devon had went to bed with her blonde hair still damp,
never a good idea, after a late shower.  It had snarled and
kinked all throughout the night, and now stuck out all over
in wild flips, waves and tangles.  Devon was mortified,
thinking that she had just had sex with me looking like this.
Like she was a cartoon character, and had just stuck her 
finger in the proverbial electrical socket.
   "What?" I asked, my lips twitching.  How many times had
Devon and the other ladies made fun of me for waking up with
a serious case of bed-head?  Too many times to count, in
fact!  "I thought it looked nice."
   Devon tried to huff, but it came out more like a squeak.
How utterly adorable.  "That's what you were laughing at when
you first saw me this morning, Jeremy!"
   "Certainly not."
   "Liar!"  Devon whimpered somewhat and tried to smooth the
tangled mess down, but her hands did absolutely no good.  "I
knew you were laughing at me!  Why didn't you tell me?"
   I chuckled and got out of the bed, buck naked, and made my
way into the washroom with Devon.  I wrapped both arms around
her from behind and kissed her.  "Your hair is the sexiest
thing I've ever seen all morning.  Why would I laugh at it?"
   "JEREMY!" she screeched, unable to hold back a giggling fit.


                <<<- End of Chapter 15 ->>>


==---- -- -- -- - --- -- --  -  - --- -- -- --- - -- - - - - --- -- ----==
"Island Fever 6: Sanctuary"

(c) 2016  JeremyDCP

- JeremyDCP@hotmail.com

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