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 Storiesonline.net ------

   Road Rash

   by oyster50

   CopyrightÂ(C) 2014 by oyster50

   ------ Description: Chuck's on the road going home.  It's amazing the
things one might find on the side of the road.  Like Jen, a bit bent, but
not broken.
Codes: Ma/Fa, Consensual, Heterosexual, Fiction, Oral Sex, Masturbation,
Petting, Cream Pie, Slow

   ------



   ------

   Chapter 1

   I was rolling down the interstate on the way home from a week on the
road.  It hadn't been a bad week.  Somebody had a problem they couldn't
quite get a handle on, so they called me.  I went.

   Had a meeting to talk about the problem.  Walked out with a couple of
technicians and let them show me what they'd found and what they'd done.  I
guided them through a few more checks, directed by a couple decades of
experience, and let them find the failure.  A replacement part went in to
replace the failed one, we turned it on, things worked.

   Had another meeting to talk about what we'd done.  I gave as much credit
to the local guys as I could possibly do without making myself look like a
dolt, but when I walked out of the place, everybody knew who really got
things back on track.  That's fine.  I know who they'll call next time.

   So I'm on the road, three hundred miles into the four hundred mile trip
back home, cruise control set on seventy-five, even though that last sign I
passed said the limit was seventy.  I was only getting passed by five
percent of the traffic.  I saw one of those in my rear-view mirror so I
eased out of the left lane to give him the road.

   That put me closing pretty fast on a ten year old SUV that was emitting
the occasional puff of smoke from the exhaust.  Blue smoke.  Oil problem. I
punched the button on my car's AC to put it on 'recirculate' so I wouldn't
breathe that oil stench, and I kicked the cruise control off so I didn't
overrun that SUV.  My highballing buddy in the left lane blew past me at an
estimated eighty-five.

   I saw two things happen.  First, as Rodney Ramjet passed under an
overpass, a blue light started flashing.  He was getting ready to
contribute to the state's coffers for a speeding.

   Second, a huge gout of blue smoke came out of the SUV.  Not just the
exhaust, either.  Under the car.  Out of the edges of the hood.  It started
pulling to the right shoulder.

   If I was headed TO a job, I might not have stopped.  But I was headed
home.  No schedule there but my own.  And I was feeling particularly happy
with myself, so I pulled onto the shoulder behind it.

   I expected a door to open.  It didn't.  Okay, maybe not my brightest
move, but let's go see.  I got out.

   When I got to the driver's side door, there was a female form hunched
over the steering wheel, obviously sobbing.  I rapped gently on the window.

   Tearful eyes turned to me.  The face was middle-aged, not unpleasant
except for tears tracking down both cheeks.

   I held both hands up, showing they were empty.  The window came down
about an inch and a half.  "Are you okay?"

   She fought back sobs.  "No I'm NOT okay.  I tried.  I really TRIED..."
trailed off into sobs.  Recovered enough to squeak "stupid car's dead. 
Piece of SHIT!" And more sobs.

   "Is there something I can do?  Help?  Call somebody?"

   "No!  Nobody.  Nobody at all!"

   I could smell the hot oil and antifreeze as I stood there.  This car was
badly messed up.  "I don't think your car's going to drive.  Are you sure I
can't help you?"

   The window went back up.  I thought, 'Oh, well.  I tried.' I started to
turn back to my car when her door opened.  I did a quick, and I hope, not
too obvious survey of who got out of the SUV.  Inventory: Female. 
Thirtish. A little less than five and a half feet tall.  Not fat, by any
stretch, but nicely rounded, instead of that 'anorexic super-model' look.
Brown hair, collar-length, streaked with highlights.  Brown eyes.  Wearing
loose-fitting jeans and a decidedly unrevealing sweatshirt, but the front
was pushed out just a little, so not 'busty' as they say, but definitely a
pair of breasts there.  Nails.  Natural.  A small pair of athletic shoes
held the whole mess up.

   She wasn't as subtle as I was.  She looked me over from head to toe. 
Fortunately my travel clothes are pretty neat: Canvas pants, clean chambray
work shirt.  Leather shoes.

   "What the heck," she said.  "At this stage of the game an axe-murderer
would be a step up."

   "I'm under treatment for my murderous tendencies," I said.  "I'm
Charles..."

   "Manson," she interrupted.  Hint of smile.

   "Charles LeBert.  Chuck.  Thank you."

   "Virginia Coleman," she said.  "Jenny.  Homeless for the last two hours.
Now on foot."

   "I don't see you whipping out a cellphone, so..."

   "Who would I call?  My ex-boyfriend?  He's who I'm leaving.  Mom?  In
Section 8 housing?  Living from one government check to another?  Friends?
They're a hundred and twenty miles up the road and most of them are on HIS
side." Her shoulders heaved in a heavy sigh.  Eyes started getting wet
again as she inventoried her situation.  "And my stupid piece of shit car
just broke." Sigh.  "How far's the next town?"

   "Twenty minutes if you're gonna go in the direction you were travelling.
Want a ride?"

   "You don't mind?"

   "I don't mind.  I can't think of the hit my karma would take if I left
you on the side of the interstate.  Do you need help with anything?"

   "I have a suitcase.  Stuff I gotta have."

   "You got a lot more in there than a suitcase."

   "I know.  Somehow I'll get the rest of it.  Don't know where I'll put it
for right now."

   "Anything valuable?"

   "I guess maybe my laptop."

   "Let me carry that suitcase.  Get your laptop." I opened the rear door
and stowed her suitcase.  She was right behind me with a laptop bag.  I
stowed that, too.  She opened the passenger-side door.

   "Let me move that crap," I said.  "I don't usually worry about
passengers."

   She settled into the seat, buckled up her seatbelt, folded her hands in
her lap.  I cranked up the car, looked at the traffic, accelerated and
merged onto the roadway.

   "Okay," I said.  "What's your plan?"

   "I don't have one.  I have six hundred dollars cash to my name and a
credit card that has four hundred before it's full.  I was planning on
driving all day.  Goin' to the big city.  Get a cheap room in a fleabag
motel, and Monday start job-hunting."

   "Sounds kind of 'iffy'.  You know how the job market is right now."

   "I'm a registered nurse.  Try that question again."

   I glanced sideways and saw a look cross her face, a glimmer of
self-confidence.  "Oh," I said.  "I didn't know."

   "Got two sets of scrubs in my suitcase.  I'm sure I can get a job."

   "You can get a job almost anywhere." Nurses were eminently portable. 
"Now what's the plan?"

   "What's your verdict on my car?"

   "I can't be sure without an examination, but you look like you tossed a
rod through the crankcase.  Totaled the engine.  Couple of thousand bucks
if somebody finds a used one and doesn't screw you too bad on the swap.  It
goes up from there."

   "I don't have that kind of money.  What's the saying?  'No plan survives
the first contact with the enemy'?"

   "I didn't expect a random nurse to come up with that phrase," I said.

   "To YOU I might be some random nurse, but you see before you an Army
Medical Corps veteran.  And after I served my time I came out and got my
RN."

   "Oh, then you're not exactly unique, but rather rare, for sure."

   "What do you do, Chuck?"

   "I'm just a tired ol' engineer, on the road chasing problems."

   "I kinda wondered.  You don't LOOK like the standard loser.  Nice car."

   "Company car.  I'm kinda stretching the rules carrying you around."

   "Don't wanna get you in trouble."

   "I doubt there'll be trouble.  And if somebody was to see me and say
something, I'd claim it as a 'Good Samaritan' act.  'Sides, I have a little
bit of standing in the company."

   "Oh, do you?!?" she blurted.

   "Yes, I do.  I'm not indispensible.  Nobody is.  But I'm awfully
convenient."

   "Oh.  I guess it's nice."

   "More or less.  What about you?"

   "Short version?  Why buy the cow if the milk is free.  That's me.  Free
milk.  Got tired of being the cow."

   I glanced sideways.  She didn't look like a cow at all.  Cows aren't
maybe five foot four, hundred and ten, hundred and twenty pounds.  Cows got
udders.  The creature in the seat next to me did NOT have udders.  Not that
I'm an expert, all though I am as much a fan as any man, but those looked
like B-cups.

   "Sorry.  Didn't mean to hit a sore spot," I replied.

   "Right now I'm just one great big sore spot.  I'm sorry, but what did
you say your name was?"

   "Charles LeBert.  'Chuck'."

   "Sorry, Chuck.  I'm a little bit fried right now."

   "I can imagine." I named the big city up the road.  "Your destination?"

   "Yeah.  Figured I could hide amongst a few hundred thousand other people
until I got my stuff together."

   "At least you had a plan."

   "Now.  Should've had a plan a long time ago."

   "Ooooo-kay, then..."

   "I know you're not asking.  Is it okay if I want to tell you anyway?"

   "Sure.  I'm not unfamiliar with the 'you're such a gooood friennnnnd,
Chuck' activities.  Here's my shoulder.  You may cry when ready."

   "You have a streak of attitude, don't you?"

   "I'm sorry.  I've been that 'nice guy' sitting over there on the edge of
the room while every girl I ever desired waltzed right up to some turd whom
I'd guarantee would treat her like hammered shit before it was over, and
I've had several of those girls come cry on my shoulder afterward."

   "Burnt.  You're burnt.  I'm one of those girls.  Speaking on behalf of
all of us, I am truly, deeply sorry."



   ------

   Chapter 2

   I looked over at her.  Her expression was mixed.  Might've been some
remorse and regret in there.  I was feeling kind of ashamed that I'd taken
the conversation in that particular direction.  This was a lady obviously
in a tight spot in her life.  Whether or not the blame was hers or should
be shared with others, it wasn't my place to unload my own frustrations on
her.

   "I'm sorry," I said.  "Apparently I have a sore spot."

   "Chuck, you are not the first one to tell me that.  I had friends tell
me as much, but you know, the heart wants what the heart wants." She
sighed. "And a lot of times, the heart is a clueless dumbass."

   "Yet somehow civilization goes on," I said.  The miles were piling up
behind us.

   "What's your plan?  This next town doesn't have anything besides a gas
station and a dollar store."

   "Where are you heading?" she asked.

   "The city you were heading for.  I live on the outskirts."

   "And your wife doesn't mind you bringing home a stray?"

   "My wife chose to take off for greener pastures.  Her current hubby ...
Never mind.  No wife.  House is mine.  Am I bringing you home?"

   "I dunno.  Are you?  I mean, you can drop me at a hotel, for damned
sure. I have some money.  I'll be okay.  Really."

   "Look, I have an empty house.  Three bedrooms, even got beds in two of
them.  You're free to stay for the weekend if you want.  You get all the
privacy you need.  You have your own bathroom.  Laundry facilities. 
Whatever."

   "And for this you expect..." she arched an eyebrow.

   "Nothing.  Absolutely nothing.  I would prefer that you be responsible
enough to treat my home as you would yours..."

   "I might be a massive slob."

   "Even massive slobs know what they're supposed to do.  They just don't
do it."

   "So you're inviting some random bimbo into your home and you don't
expect a little poke and giggle in return."

   "I don't do random pokes and giggles.  My karma won't stand the hits."

   "Karma?  What if it's a mutually acceptable, non-coercive poke and
giggle?"

   "My morality won't take the hits."

   "Oh, you're one of those people..."

   "Who desires to go through life without any more regrets than he has to.
That's why I'm divorced.  I married a woman because I could not
differentiate between a desire for a mid-length cohabitation with the need
for 'till death us do part'.  She had no compunctions.  Marriage meant
nothing, nor did divorce."

   "Are you SURE I'm the one that supposed to hear this?" Jen asked.

   "You started it."

   She started to smile.  "You're on a hair trigger there.  I thought I was
the one who was screwed up."

   I shrugged.  "I don't think I've ever unloaded that crap," I said.  "I'm
sorry.  Again."

   "But I'll be safe if I spend a couple of nights at your place, then? 
Monday I can go looking for permanent digs.  I'll try to not keep pushing
your buttons."

   "I will try to restrain myself," I replied.  "I'm really not a nutcase,
Jen."

   "And I'm not the enemy.  I might look like it, but I'm not.  I'm a
casualty in this war, sir."

   "Okay.  Truce?"

   "Didn't know we were having a battle."

   "That's the problem sometimes.  There's a battle going on and one side
or the other doesn't know it."

   "Maybe both sides don't know," Jen said.

   "Gee, nurses are smart," I quipped.

   "ICU RN.  The smartest of the smart," she said.  "You listen to music
while you drive?"

   "Sometimes.  iPod's right there.  Radio generally sucks."

   She reached over and pushed the power button on the car's sound system.
I cringed when the music came out.  I guessed...

   "The classical music station.  Really?"

   "That's the good part," I said.  "In another ten minutes they start
their 'World Music' show and it's subject to go downhill fast."

   "So this is what you were listening to when you stopped?"

   "Sometimes they have some good ones, sometimes not."

   "Like Mozart?"

   "Hard to NOT like Mozart.  Most of his stuff is on my list."

   "Beethoven.  Haydn.  Vivaldi.  Handel.  Bach."

   I glanced sideways at her.  "Yes.  And several others."

   "Bert was all about country music.  Or rock.  Depended on whether he was
doing weed or liquor.  Very conventional, was Bert."

   "Bert," I repeated.

   "My ex."

   "Your ex," I said.

   "Ex ex ex ex ex," she muttered like a mantra.  "Ex ex EX ex ex." She
sighed.  "If there was device that I could implant in my brain so that if I
ever again entertained the thought of going back to THAT, it would explode,
I'd get one tomorrow."

   "Sounds final."

   "Is final.  I put up with a lot of crap for four years," Jen said.  "The
last three months I almost broke my own back trying to wrestle with this
shit."

   "Nice talk, little girl," I said.

   "Sorry.  Strong feelings concerning the subject matter."

   "Exes will do that sometimes," I replied.

   "Right, you have one too."

   "Oh, yeah ...  She left three years ago.  I gave the bitch her share of
the equity in the house.  She was happy with the money and her new
boyfriend had a much better house."

   "So she's 'the bitch', then..."

   "You make the call.  I came back from a week on the road, found her
stuff gone, and any of MY stuff that was shiny enough to attract her eye,
and there was a nice 'kiss my ass' letter on top of the divorce filing
papers."

   "Kinda harsh, I guess.  I didn't leave Bert papers.  Didn't need any. 
We never married.  Now I'm glad."

   "I guess," I said.  "Saves you the court costs."

   "Yeah, there is that," she said.  "It kinda told me how HE felt about
the situation.  Didn't matter how I thought I felt."

   "Wha..."

   "Bert was one of those that seem to work their way in and out of bars
with women drooling over them.  Looked damned good in jeans.  Could dance.
Liked to dance.  Blue eyes.  Brown hair.  Looked so damned good with a
day's worth of stubble."

   I stared straight ahead, driving.

   "He couldn't hold a job.  Or a conversation.  I thought I could fix
that. We broke up EIGHT times, Chuck!  EIGHT freakin' times!  What's the
saying?  'Doing the same thing time after time expecting different
results?"

   "Albert Einstein, more or less.  It's on the wall at my office."

   "Knew it was somebody like that," Jen said.  "The guy never held a job
more than three weeks.  Never found another one in less than a month and a
half.  I worked my butt off.  Haven't got a dime to show for it."

   "That'd make a country and western song," I said.  "Sorry."

   "That's another thing.  Despite the fact that I MET the bastard in a
shit-kicker joint, that's the ONLY place he ever took me.  That and Bubba's
Barbecue Hut and any restaurant that has a presence in more than a hundred
cities."

   "Sorry again," I said.

   "Not your fault," she said.

   "You apologized for your side.  I'm apologizing for mine."

   She actually let a chuckle out.  "Okay.  I'll stop the history lessons."

   "If you want to talk, I listen really good."

   We were working our way to my house, turning off the interstate onto a
major thoroughfare then onto a secondary road.  My house was there at the
end of the street.  I pulled in, parking my company car on the left side of
the two-car drive, beside my personal pickup truck.

   "Nice," she said.  "Neat place."

   "Costs me," I replied.  "Right now I expect to see an envelope on my
front door with the bill for the yard work I don't want to have to do when
I get home."

   "You don't do your own yardwork?"

   "I do some.  But if I'm out of town, or when I just don't feel like
messing with it, I don't.  There's me and the house and by gosh if I want a
home-cooked meal, I'm the one to cook it and sometimes that's just not
compatible with trimming the hedges and edging the sidewalks."

   "You need a wife."

   "Thought I had one."

   "Nope.  W-I-F-E," she said.  "Wash.  Iron.  Fuck.  Et cetera."

   I laughed.  "You're proud of yourself for THAT one."

   "You haven't heard it before?"

   "Oh, yeah.  Just hadn't had it worked into conversation in a while." I
opened my front door, motioning her in first.

   "Gentleman," she smiled.

   "Or I want to lock it once you're inside," I said.

   "Gentleman psychopath," she laughed.

   I did allow the door to close behind me.  "Up the hall on the right. 
Your room."

   "Thanks.  Place smells nice."

   "Air freshener.  I hate coming home to a musty house."

   "It's nice that you have a house," Jen said.  She put her bags down.  "I
need to go get the rest."

   "I'll get 'em.  Your room is on the right up that hall."

   "Okay," she said.

   I went back outside, got her last bag, locked the car, the returned to
the house.  "Okay," I said, the hall bathroom's yours.  I'll use the one
adjoining my bedroom.  Laundry's just behind the kitchen, there," I
pointed.

   "I need to see about my car, though."

   "I can get that taken care of.  Lemme make a phone call."

   "I don't have a lot of money, Chuck," she said, her face saddening.

   "I can get the car taken care of.  I have friends.  One of 'em's got a
wrecker."

   "I can't pay right now."

   "So don't pay right now."

   "They'll impound it."

   "The guy's my friend.  He'll do us a favor.  Lemme call him."

   "Okay."

   She sat there, watching and listening.  I dialed up the correct buddy.
"Hey, Pete," I said.

   "Hey Chuck.  What's up?"

   "Got a little issue, buddy.  A friend's in a bind."

   "What kind of bind?"

   "There's a blue SUV on the side of the interstate about seventy miles
east of here, on the westbound side.  I think it blew an engine.  I need to
get it back here to town."

   "Not a problem he said.  Got ol' Doofus (another buddy) finishing up a
little job.  I'll send 'im out in half an hour."

   "Great, but tomorrow would be fine."

   "Nah, don't want to send somebody out on Saturday.  You want it here in
my yard?"

   "If you don't mind.  We'll come see it in the morning and talk about
options."

   "You got it, buddy."

   "'Kay!  Thanks!" I punched the phone to drop the call, turned to Jen and
said, "There!  It's gonna be at this guy's garage tomorrow.  We can go talk
to 'im and get the rest of your stuff."

   "Garage?  He's a mechanic?"

   "Yeah.  Shooting buddy.  I've done some electrical stuff for him.  He
owes me.  And he can give your car a look and tell you what to do next with
it.  Fix it or part it out or whatever.  He's honest.  Won't screw ... 
excuse me, he won't cheat you."

   "How much is it gonna cost?  I mean, hauling a broke down car seventy
miles, that's money."

   "He won't be ridiculous.  And you don't have to worry about it for the
time being.  Get your feet on the ground, then worry about it."

   "You're being awfully nice," Jen said.

   I sat in my recliner, kicked the foot rest up, and sighed.  "What am I
supposed to do?  Leave you on the side of the road?  This is no strain on
me.  I have the house.  Spare room.  A friend who can help.  So what's your
plan?"

   "Monday I go job hunting.  I should be able to walk into an agency and
start right away.  If I can find a decent apartment, I can be out of here
next week." She looked at me.  Assuming you don't toss me out sooner."

   "Assuming that you don't have some horrible personality defects, I don't
have a problem with you being here."

   "I could be a dope-smoking crack whore."

   "Not the vibe I get," I said.  "Of course I could be wrong.  Been wrong
before."

   "You rescued me.  I'd have to be some sort of drug-addled psychopath to
mess that up."

   "I've heard stories.  Of course, they didn't start out like this.  By
the way, there's a Honda key on that key hanger over there.  Little Honda's
in the garage.  If you need wheels for your job search."

   "You ARE trusting." She gave me a look.  "You have that pickup truck AND
a little Honda?"

   "Little Honda's economical for getting around town and frankly I'd
rather drive it than the pickup, but some days a guy's just got to haul
stuff.  I have the company car for work.  I can toss a kayak in the back of
the pickup or I can take the Honda to go grocery shopping."

   "It's a nice pickup, though," she said.

   "Thank you.  If you want to use it instead of the Honda, go ahead."

   "Thank you, the Honda will be fine.  Beats the daylights out of walking
or using a cab."

   I smiled.  "Nurses're supposed to drive subdued, sensible cars."

   "Or rattletrap SUV's," she countered.  "I could've afforded better if I
was on my own, but I was paying rent, insurance on his truck and my car,
most of the household expenses..."

   "What'd he do?"

   "Like I said, he'd work for a somebody for a couple or three weeks, get
some money, spend most of it on himself ...  I kept hoping he'd get a
stroke of maturity..." she sighed heavily.  "Well, that's OVER!"

   "Well, then," I said, "you have a friend here.  You're my good karma
project for the week."

   "Gee, thanks, I guess," she said.

   I broke the moment of uncomfortable silence.  "I'm putting on a load of
laundry."

   "Big load?  Or can I mix some stuff in there?"

   "Colors," I said.  "You got some?"

   "Let me get them."

   We met again in the hallway, me with an armload, her with a few things.
We stuffed them in the washer, did the domestic requisites, and left it
running.

   "Dinner?" I asked.

   "Would be nice.  I missed breakfast and lunch."

   "Why didn't you say something?  We could've gone earlier."

   "First, I don't know where.  Second, you being my rescuer, I'm on YOUR
schedule.  Third, I'm being very conservative with money, so I figured a
fast food value meal, at best."

   Logical?  Hmmm.  My turn.  "I'll give you Number One.  On Two, YOU get
to have requests, and Number Three, I don't think that forking over for a
meal is going to break me.  I can whip something up quick here or I can
load you in the truck and take you someplace decent."

   "You cook?"

   "I am a pretty good cook.  I eat out a lot though, because I don't like
cooking for one," I said.  "As a matter of fact, I don't particularly like
eating out by myself, either, but I bring my iPad and park myself in a
corner and read while I eat.  Company -- that's you  -" will be a nice
change."

   "You're doing it again."

   "What?"

   "Paying for me.  Giving me stuff."

   I noted the mixed look on her face.  "Jen.  No strings.  Let me say that
again: "No strings." I have the money.  I don't mind helping.  Having
somebody to talk with at dinnertime is a big plus for me."

   "But..."

   "'But' nothing, Jen.  Every interaction between a man and a woman
doesn't have to be about angling towards sex.  People can be friends, you
know."

   "Okay.  I know."

   "Are you that badly burnt?"

   "It's ...  I dunno ...  Maybe ...  Chuck, I've known some nice guys, but
I've been tied up with that turd for so long..."

   "Okay, Jen.  Just know that I'm not angling to anything."

   "Sex..."

   "Lady, I don't know how to tell you this and not make it sound silly,
but I ain't about sex.  I love it, you know, but it only works for me if
there's love involved.  I'm not a dog, going out humping anything that
turns its tail toward me."

   She shook visibly as if I was whipping her.  "Wow!  Did I hit a nerve?"

   "Maybe.  I'm a non-combatant in the sexual revolution," I said.

   "Never heard that one," she countered.  "I was, sort of, myself.  I
mean, I wasn't exactly a slut in the first place, and when I met Bert, I'd
pretty much made my mind up that he was gonna be IT." She sighed.  "He
didn't want to be the kind of 'it' I wanted.  You know what?"

   "What?"

   "I'm glad he never took the hint and married me.  I told 'im that we
could be the kind of family with a house and a couple of kids, all that
normal stuff.  He said we could go ahead and have kids.  I told him that
there wasn't gonna be any kids unless we were officially married."

   "I know dozens who didn't let that stop 'em," I said.  "I've dated a
few."

   "Let me guess.  'I got two kids with ol' Harlan, but I'll settle down
an' let YOU take care of us for the rest of my life."

   "Uh-huh.  And when you add that she's still bumpin' nasties..."

   She giggled.  "With ol' Harlan.  While she's trying to convince YOU."

   "Then you know exactly what I'm talking about."

   "But Chuck," she countered, "there's PLENTY of women out there that
would be good for a happy bounce in the sack, no strings attached..."

   "Let me get a picture of THAT in my mind, will you?  This little
darlin's willing to take ME to bed.  I wonder if I'm #3 or #300.  There's
shit you can catch out there that a flame-thrower won't kill.  Not me,
babe!"

   "That's what I worried about with ol' Bert, that one of those nights he
didn't come back home, he'd be bedding Miss Suzy Rottencrotch and bring me
home a special gift.  Made 'im use a condom."

   "Condoms aren't 100%," I said.

   "I'm a medical professional.  I know that.  And I kept track of my
ownself.  Tests.  All that.  If he'd've given me something, I'd know. 
He'd've known too, when he woke up with an icepick in his ear."

   "Monogamous."

   "I was.  Cannot guarantee that he was.  Strongly suspect otherwise."

   I'm looking now and wondering what had to be wrong with the guy.  This
was NOT a woman to trifle with.  Nations are built with women like this. 
Men went off to the Crusades leaving one of these behind and praying to God
that they'd return to her.  Registered Nurse.  Okay, maybe there ARE some
dumb ones, but in most states that's a four year college degree and a
pretty stiff test.  I was replaying the conversations we'd had since I met
here and she's not brash, nor is she shy, but she's fast with her talk and
she can turn a phrase.  Maybe I'm missing something.

   "So it's over, then?  No 'week out of town and then 'but I LOOOOVE him'
and you're back for another round?"

   Her stare turned icy when she fixed me in it.  "Snowballs will bounce
down the main street of hell first."

   "Heard that one before," I jabbed.

   "Not from me, Chuck-o.  Not this time." She looked serious.  "So! 
Dinner.  Seafood or steak?"

   "Some places serve both."

   "Usually short-change you on one or the other."

   "Italian?" I suggested.

   "Mexican?" she replied.

   "Chinese?" I countered.

   "Japanese?" she tossed back.

   "You like all of them?"

   "I do indeed," she affirmed.

   "Then start making up your mind.  I'm not a picky eater."

   "It's a little early still," she said.

   "Oh, you want to wait a bit?"

   "If you don't mind.  Show me the rest of your kingdom."

   She smiled.  Made me WANT to show her.

   I took her into the kitchen.

   "Niiiice," she said.

   "If you're gonna cook, you just as well have good stuff to do it with,"
I said.  "This door goes to the garage." I opened it.  The garage is
uncluttered.  Everything has its place.

   She walked through the door.  Laughed.  "Little grey Honda.  Suuuure! 
That's just what I expected from the owner of that big blue pickup truck."

   "Yeah, okay, smartass," I said.  "This button opens the garage door. 
There's a clicker on the visor to open and close it from remote, too."

   She grinned.  "Sensitive, are we?  I'm not the one with the little
androgynous grey Honda."

   "And I don't know what I'm doing with wimmen who know words like
'androgynous'," I chuckled.  "This door goes into the back yard, just like
the one from the kitchen," I said.  I showed her my little refuge.

   Her head swiveled.  "That's different."

   "What?"

   "You put your air conditioning outdoor unit up at roof level."

   "Noise attenuation," I said.

   "Ooooooo, engineer talk.  I'm supposed to be intimidated, I suppose."

   "Nope," I laughed.  "Gave up on that when you used 'androgynous'.  I
hate to be sitting out here talking, then have to yell to be heard when
that thing kicks on."

   "Smart."

   "Until I need it worked on.  Pisses the A/C contractor off to no end."

   "Kinda let your hedges go, huh?" she observed.

   "More attenuation.  Privacy, without the harshness of one of those
fences.  On this side.  There's a fence behind it."

   "So your neighbors can't see into your yard."

   "Nor can I see into theirs.  I have to retrieve the odd softball from
time to time.  Teenaged girl next door plays softball.  Old retired couple
on the other side."

   She looked around some more, giving me inventory.  "Grill.  Smoker."

   "You know the difference?"

   "My dad made SURE I knew the difference.  You use both of them?"

   "Quite often," I said.  "Grill steaks.  Or fish.  Smoke the occasional
bits of pork or beef."

   "I won't deign to ask if you're good at it.  Questioning a man's outdoor
cooking skills is right up there with questioning his manhood."

   "It IS his manhood, lady," I said.  "From time immemorial, a man has
been expected to go out, brave the wilds, slay a beast, then attend to it
over fire."

   "While his mate does something tasty with berries and seeds back at the
cave, right?" She DID smile.

   "Yes, all the while gumming a hide into soft, pliable leather for her
man's attire."

   She looked around.  "It's cool enough.  Sit." She dropped onto a
convenient chair.  "You have a nice place."

   "Nice places aren't enough, apparently."

   "Don't go getting morose, Chuck.  I appreciate this place.  You should,
too."

   "Oh, I do," I said.  "There's many an evening that I'm out here,
listening to the neighborhood, reading, cooking something.  Sometimes
people will smell something and come over.  Sometimes I invite them.  I'm
the math tutor for the neighborhood ever since I helped Chloe next door. 
She's gonna graduate this year and her mom and dad swear it's my fault. 
So's Christopher and Jackson from up the street.  My after school tutoring
group."

   I leaned back, closed my eyes.  I opened them a crack, saw her slide
down to a decent angle of repose and close her eyes.  Little smile there.
Okay, maybe I did somebody a good deed today.



   ------

   Chapter 3

   Okay, I'm not finished doing good deeds.  "What have you decided about
dinner?"

   "Look, Chuck," she said, "What would make YOU happy?"

   "I dunno," I said.  "I've had a pretty successful week.  I may reward
myself with a steak.  You want one?"

   "That'l work," Jen said.  "But..."

   "But I told you, 'My treat!' Stop worrying.  Consider it a couple of
friends going out to eat.  I got it, okay?"

   "Okay.  If you insist." She had a wry vestige of a smile.

   "It's still early, though."

   "I know," she said.

   "Washer's stopped.  Let me go move stuff to the dryer.  By the time
they're dry, it'll be time to go eat."

   She smiled.  "I'm not going to argue with YOU.  You like winning."

   "I'm not that bad, am I?"

   "Well..."

   "Well, what?  I'm supposed to rescue you then leave you to your own
devices in a strange town?"

   "No, it's just that I feel like a big mooch."

   "Jen, don't sweat it.  Some time in the future, you can call me up and
feed me dinner and assuage your guilt."

   "So you do admit that I owe you?!?"

   I snorted.  "Where'd THAT come from?  I admit no such thing." She was
watching through the utility room door as I moved laundry from washer to
dryer, then started another load in the washer.  Terribly domestic, I am,
having gotten used to doing my chores so they don't pile up to unbearable
levels.

   I straightened up.  "We have forty-five minutes.  I don't like leaving
the dryer running while I'm not home."

   'Cautious man," she cooed.

   "Just rather not turn the corner into the neighborhood and see my house
burning," I said.

   "And you think about such things," she retorted.  "Like you're Mister
Stability or something." She caught my facial expression.  "No, Chuck, I'm
not being snotty.  That's a GOOD thing."

   "Well, thank you," I said, putting a bit of an edge on the words.

   "Don't get all sensitive.  I'm just not used to a guy who thinks further
ahead than ...  Never mind."

   "Sorry, Jen," I said.  "I shouldn't be harsh like that."

   She regarded me with a cool gaze.  "You know, this is another one. 
We've both been burnt."

   "You said that before."

   "Yeah.  But I notice it when I pay attention to you.  Look, Chuck, I
really am thankful for the help.  I don't mean to come off sounding like
some smartass."

   "I'm sorry.  The last woman I spent any time with, well, I found out she
was laughing about me behind my back with people I know, people I respect."

   "Oh?"

   "Yeah, with the lady who set me up with her.  One of the ladies I work
with thought that since I was single and she had a single friend, she was
going to do everyone a big favor."

   "And..."

   "The woman was dumb as a stump.  Supervisor at a convenience store, not
that anything's wrong with that, but I couldn't find a thing to talk with
her about.  I think she held the tabloid rack at the grocery store checkout
as the modern equivalent of the Library of Congress.  Music?  Both kinds,
country AND western.  Designer nails.  The cutest little tattoo on her
ankle, and one that she promised show me later.  The couple of times we
went out on a date, she had crap nailing her hair down so it wouldn't move,
and I guarantee that the application of makeup was one of her most
treasured skill sets."

   "My, you're just picky."

   "Yes I am."

   "Are you that picky about TV?  That's a nice one."

   I have a big-screen, high-def, home theater setup.  Not state of the art
any more, but it was close when I installed it.  "Sometimes.  But I will
defer to your tastes in the matter,"I replied.  "It's all centered around
an Apple TV box.  Have you ever used one?"

   "No.  Show me."

   I ran through the controls on the remote.  "iTunes.  Netflix.  You can
watch old TV shows.  Movies.  Whatever."

   Netflix has a 'recently watched' category.  She clicked it.  "Just don't
want to choose something you just watched, Chuck," she said.  Of course,
what she saw was the last few movies and shows I chose on Netflix.

   "Documentary.  Documentary.  History.  Animated.  Animated.  Britcom."

   "You know about British comedy?"

   "Saturday nights on the public TV channel.  Dad got me hooked on 'em."

   "My dad did, too."

   "Mom used to laugh at us.  She had trouble understanding the accents and
the rapid-fire dialog."

   "Yeah.  A lot of people think that's strange of me.  Oh, those cabinets
have DVDs and Blu-Rays of some of my favorites, too.  My Saturday afternoon
pleasures in the winter when it's too nasty to do anything, or when I just
feel like watching a movie."

   She got up immediately and popped a door open.  I guess that if I was in
her shoes, I'd be curious to find the stash of snuff porn or whatever. 
Fooled her.  I don't do that stuff.  No porn.

   "Marx Brothers?  Really?"

   "A weakness," I said.

   "Warner Brothers cartoons?"

   "Another weakness."

   "Dad told me they used to watch them on Saturday mornings," she said. 
"I watch them when I find them.  I see why."

   "Your dad..."

   "Died twelve years ago.  Mom blew through the savings pretty fast, not
that there was that much, but now she's out of money and living on the
dole. She sort of picked back up on her drinking after Dad died."

   "Sorry.  Didn't mean to open old wounds."

   "It IS a wound, Chuck.  Just so you understand.  That's why I hardly
ever drink, myself."

   "Just so you won't be shocked, then, if you open the fridge there's a
few bottles of beer that I bought three weeks ago.  One six-pack lasts me
weeks.  There's wine, too, in the pantry.  Mostly for cooking."

   "You're not a drinker?" She looked almost hopeful when she asked.

   "I will have a beer or two at a social event.  May have wine with a
special meal.  But I don't stop at the store on the way home and get a
twelve-pack for the evening."

   "Oh.  That's good, if that's the way you are.  " She was standing there
with a DVD case.  "Can we watch a few of these until the dryer's done?" She
held up a Warner Brothers DVD.

   "Just put it into the player," I said.

   She inserted the disk and then retired to the opposite end of the sofa
from me.  Talk about de-fusing the tension: there's nothing like laughing
at classic animation like a couple of eleven year olds.

   I looked.  The girl is cute when she's laughing.

   I left her watching when the dryer buzzed the end of its cycle.  I
walked back through the living room with a handful of clothes on hangers.
"If you're still hungry, you can shut that thing off and we'll go after I
hang these."

   "'Kay," she said.

   "Pickup," I stated.  "Don't feel like moving cars to get the Honda out
of the garage."

   "Okay," replied Jen.  "Let's go."

   Driving out to the steakhouse, she was studiously positioned against the
passenger-side door.  We stopped at a light.  I glanced over.  She'd taken
time to run a brush through her hair and to wash her face before we'd left.
Not bad.  A man could certainly do a lot worse in the looks department. 
Brains?  I kept track of the flashes in her use of language, the wit that
forced its way through some obvious hurt and disillusionment.

   She caught me looking.  I denied it.  She smirked.

   Mid-range steakhouse.  Neither of us was dressed in evening wear, but in
this establishment we fit in quite well.

   We managed a decent conversation, too, about what she did for a living
versus what I did, as Topic One, then onward towards food, which morphed
into childhood, adolescence, then adult life.

   She watched.  Noticed, observed life.  "You hold your fork in your left
hand when you're eating your steak."

   "I know.  You're not the first one to call me on it.  I don't like
swapping my knife and fork back and forth."

   "Very European," she commented.

   "So I'm told," I countered.

   "Not a criticism," she tossed back.  "Just an observation.  Feel free to
criticize something about me."

   "Your bangs are too long," I said.

   "Used to have bangs.  Thought I'd let 'em grow out.  They're at that
awkward stage.  I can't loop the hair behind my ears yet." She paused. 
"You have issues with bangs?"

   "Absolutely not."

   "Fringe.  One of my co-workers was English.  She called 'em a 'fringe'.
Issues?"

   I laughed, "No, they're a morally ambiguous feature.  Evil?  The Russian
chick in Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull.  Good?  Zooey
Deschanel in Hitchiker's Guide."

   She smiled.  "Gotcha!  Zooey played an indecisive, manipulating,
opportunistic little bitch.  I'm surprised you didn't catch that."

   "You got me.  I was blinded by the bangs."

   "Oh-ho!  A weakness.  A chink in the armor.  You're easily blinded."

   "So I've been told.  I do have a stopping point, though."

   "Obviously," she chirped.  "Otherwise I'd've found a Mrs.  Chuck at
home, or another set of clothing and some makeup and an extra toothbrush
and all sorts of hair care products and lotions and stuff in the bathroom."

   "You used the spare bathroom."

   "Overflow, Chuck.  There's always overflow.  So I'm, like, what?  The
first female who's stayed overnight in a while?"

   "Guilty."

   She put on just the hint of a smile, like she was thinking.  "So,
Friday! What do you do on Saturday?"

   "Did you notice the kayak hanging from the ceiling in the garage?"

   "Yeah."

   "I usually put it in at the river and paddle up and down.  Exercise. 
Outdoors.  All that good stuff."

   "Sounds fun.  Wish you had two." She checked herself.  "Not that I'm
inviting myself.  Some people like the solitude."

   "Some people know how to make solitude undesirable," I tossed back. 
"And it's a two-seater."

   "So do I get the front seat or the back?"

   "The front.  And your own paddle."

   "Front?"

   "Of course.  That way I make sure you paddle."

   "Hon," she said, "I am USED to pulling more than my fair share."

   "Nothing 'fair' about it, Jen.  'Fair' is where you go to buy funnel
cakes.  Two-holer kayak is just a partnership."

   "Never been in a kayak before.  How's it go?"

   "You paddle.  It goes.  We wear life vests, just in case."

   "Brings up a point.  I don't have a swimsuit."

   "I wear shorts and a T-shirt."

   "I can do that."

   Now I'm running a file in my head of Jen in a shorts and T-shirt.  Not
good, Chuck.

   "Uh, Chuck, Am I being pushy?"

   "You're not if I'm not, lady."

   "One thing, though," I said.

   "What's that?"

   "Your car will be at Pete's in the morning.  Might be the best time to
go get the rest of your stuff."

   "You don't mind?"

   "Of course not.  I wouldn't want to leave things in your car over the
weekend in that lot, guard dog or not?"

   "Guard dog?  Like in 'Junkyard Dog'?"

   "Big ol' Doberman.  After you're introduced, she'll lick you senseless."

   "I look forward to meeting that dog," she said.  "Doggies can be just
pure friendly love."

   We finished our meal, she dodged dessert, I paid, and we left, headed
for the house.

   "Thank you for dinner, Chuck."

   "You're quite welcome, Jen," I replied.  "It's nice to dine with
somebody for a change.  I would've sat home and ate something from the
microwave."

   "I appreciate sitting across from somebody who can actually carry on a
conversation," Jen replied.

   Back at the house, I attended to my nightly shower.  I emerged from the
bedroom after dressing in gym shorts and a t-shirt.  I guessed they'd make
me dressed enough to account for Jen's presence.

   From the other bathroom I heard the sound of a hair dryer, so I sat
down, kicked the recliner back to a favorite angle and switched on the TV.

   The dryer stopped.  I heard the hall bathroom door open and Jen walked
in wearing a set of green hospital scrubs.  She saw my questioning
expression.

   "Didn't bring any PJ's," she said.  "These are comfortable enough for
lounging around."

   "Looks comfortable." It did.  Freshly washed.  Not a speck of
enhancement.  The loose-fitting scrubs just sort of did a peek-a-boo of her
femininity.  The shower left her smelling clean, subtle wisps of soap and
shampoo announcing her presence.  And it WAS a presence.  And I found
myself missing female companionship.

   She broke the spell with "What's on TV?"

   "Oh, I couldn't find anything except a nature show."

   "Blue Seas," she said.  "Seen it a million times."

   "Here!" I said, tossing her the remote.  "I'm not into this very much."

   She caught the toss, ran through the channels, arrived at the same
conclusion.  "Maybe Netflix?"

   "Go for it," I said.

   She clicked purposefully for a couple of minutes.  "How about this?  Too
high an estrogen level?"

   I'd seen the trailers.  One of those romantic comedies that might've
been a date destination.  Okay, then...  "Yeah, that'll work.  Never
thought of watching it by myself."

   "Well, you got me here.  Gives you a way to rationalize it in your
mind," she laughed.

   "Leave me to my feeble imaginings, lady," I picked back.

   The movie was actually pretty funny.  Don't get me wrong, I'm not
running into the office on Monday and reviewing it thusly, but I enjoyed
it. Most of it.  The love scenes, the ending, where the two protagonists
succumbed to the inevitable (and entirely predictable) and walked off into
the sunset ...  Actually, they didn't, but it's about THAT clichĂ(C), those
left me wishing that I had somebody cuddling with.

   Movie over.  Said good night.  Brushed my teeth.  Went to bed.

   I was sprawled across my bed, drifting between waking and sleeping,
sunlight pushing through the blinds when I heard a soft voice.  "Chuck? 
How asleep are you?"

   "Barely," I mumbled.

   "You got stuff in your kitchen.  How about me fixing breakfast?"

   "Eat what you want."

   "Not what I meant.  What if I fix it for two?  Bacon.  Eggs.  Biscuits."

   I woke up a little more.  "Whaaa?" Then it downed on me that this wasn't
a dream.  "Jen, you don't have to..."

   "It's there.  Will you eat?"

   "Sure.  I'll be in there in a minute."

   "Don't get in a hurry.  I can do this."

   She turned and left.  I twisted my way out of the bed and hit the
adjoining bathroom, doing my morning ablutions, relieving a huge amount of
fluid pressure, washing my face, then I dressed in my weekend knock-about
jeans and good T-shirt, one without holes, and padded my way into the
kitchen from where sounds of breakfast-building were emanating.

   "Bacon, crisp, but not burnt," she said.  "I am sad to report that you
had a can of biscuits, and they'll go into the oven when it's up to temp."

   "What are you, some kind of domestic goddess?"

   She tossed a smile at me.  "Makes me feel normal.  Besides, it's like
dining out.  Breakfast for two seems worthwhile."

   "I get that.  I do a lot of mornings with a bowl of cereal."

   "What about coffee?  I wouldn't presume to understand what that
apparatus is, but it smells like coffee, so I'll leave it to you."

   "You're pro-coffee?"

   "Nectar of the gods," she said.  "Try me.  Can you handle scrambled
eggs?"

   "Yes.  Why?"

   "I'm making gravy in this skillet to go with the biscuits."

   I pulled out another skillet for her to scramble eggs.  I broke four of
them in a bowl for her, then went about my coffee ritual.

   "What's that?" she asked.

   "French press.  Freshly ground beans.  I hope you like it."

   "If it tastes as good as it smells, I will."

   We bumped and worked around each other, the food hitting the table in a
flurry, and for the first time in what seemed to be eons, I sat across the
breakfast table from a smiling female.

   Who liked my coffee.

   "This tasted so good!" she said, savoring a sip.

   "One thing I get freaky about," I said.  "Advantage of living alone.  I
can be as nutty as I wanna be about this without having to listen to
somebody who feels differently."

   "Nothing wrong with having a little quirk," Jen said.  "Feed your need."

   I couldn't help but smile.  "It's nice to have somebody else say it's
worth the trouble," I replied.

   After breakfast, the two of us (did I just say 'the two of us'?) made
short work of securing the kitchen.

   "If you want, we can go get your stuff out of your car.  He'll be open
by now."

   "Saturday morning?"

   "Yeah.  His mechanic shop does a lot of Saturday business.  If you wanna
go do that."

   "And then the kayak thing?" She sounded like an excited little girl.

   "Yeah.  Go get your stuff.  Bring it back here and stow it, then load up
the kayak and go make a loop up the river and back."

   "Let's go, then," she said, almost excitedly.

   Five minutes later we were backing my pickup out of the drive and half
an hour later the two of us walked into Pedersen's Auto Service.  Pete's
wife was at the counter.

   "Hi, Chuck," she chirped.

   "Hi, Kelli," I said.  "This is Jen.  Jen, this is Kelli.  She and her
hubby and I graduated high school together."

   "Hi, Kelli.  Happy to meet you."

   Kelli's eyes caught mine, with a question in them.

   "Pete's got Jen's car in the lot.  She had a breakdown on the interstate
yesterday."

   "Oh, that's what that one is.  I was wondering."

   "It's still got a lot of my stuff in it," Jen said.  "I was moving."

   The door between the office and the shop opened and Pete walked in,
wiping his hands on a shop rag.  "Hey, Chuck!  Good to see you!"

   "Yeah, buddy," I replied, meeting his offered hand for a vigorous shake.
"Uh, this is Jen.  Jen, this is Pete."

   "Your car?" Pete asked.

   "Yessir," Jen replied.  "Did you..."

   "Oh yeah.  Doofus, that's my mechanic, he slim-jimmed the door open to
put the transmission in neutral so we could pull it onto the wrecker.  He
popped the hood.  Looks like your motor's trashed."

   "I love it when you talk all technical," I laughed at Pete.

   "That bad, huh?" Jen questioned.

   "Yeah.  Hole in the block."

   "How much to repair?  Ballpark numbers," Jen asked.

   "Oh, maybe two, three thousand.  If I can find a used engine somewhere.
Double that for a rebuilt."

   "Ouch!" Jen spat.

   "Or we could part it out, get you a chunk for a down payment on
something else."

   "Gee," Jen answered sadly, "I'm trying to get set up here in town. 
Things are kinda tight right now."

   "No hurry," Pete said.  "It's good where it's at."

   "We need to get her stuff out of it," I said.

   "Gate's open.  Drive on in.  Uh, Jen, if you could leave us a key."

   "I can do that," she said, then she started rifling through her purse.
She laid the key on the counter.  He tore a tab off a form and attached it
to the key.

   "Oh, hang on to it.  You need to get into your car."

   "Got another one," she said, dangling her key ring.  "Good meeting all
of y'all."

   "Pete," I said, "we'll be in touch."

   "No problemo, " he said.

   "See ya," Kelli said.  She still had that question on her face.

   I pulled the truck around and parked next to her poor dead SUV.  We got
out, she unlocked it, and we started transferring things to the bed of the
truck.  Fortunately I keep a rolled up cargo net behind the truck seat.  I
could picture driving down the highway trailing a stream of unmentionables.
I said so to Jen as I fastened the net down.

   "You know, Chuck, you're a hoot.  NOBODY calls 'em 'unmentionables' any
more."

   "Yeah, you're right.  They don't just mention 'em, they put 'em on
billboards!"

   "Come on," Jen laughed.  "You're supposed to take me kayaking.  That's
almost like a date or something."

   "Let's go, my dear," I answered, exaggerating the tone so it sounded
almost like a joke.  But not quite.

   Back in the truck, she spoke.  "Quandary."

   "What's a quandary?"

   "What to do about my car."

   "You got a ten year old car with how many miles?"

   "Almost a hundred and eighty thousand."

   "And it needs a new engine."

   "So he says."

   "Trust 'im," I stated.  "Pete's honest.  Besides, I saw the puddle of
oil."

   "So what do I do?  You're saying something.  Spit it out!"

   "Engine went.  I'm thinking 'What's next?' Transmission?  Wheel
bearings?"

   "So you'd replace it?"

   "If I had the money."

   "I don't have the money right now.  But in a bit ...  But in the
meantime..."

   "Use this.  Or the Honda."

   "You're nice, Chuck, but I can probably bum rides for a while.  Lemme
get a payday or two..."

   "Look, lady," I said.  "You broke your car.  You need a new apartment.
That's deposits and furniture..."

   "I was gonna get a furnished apartment for a couple of months until I
got my feet on the ground.  I know it's gonna be tough for a bit."

   "So take the car."

   "Lemme think about it."

   "You're hard-headed."

   She smirked.  "You're being all too nice to a total stranger, Chuck. 
You rescued me yesterday.  You know nothing about me but what I've told you
and you know, I could be the biggest liar going.  And you're gonna give me
your car keys?"

   "Or I could take you up the river and drown you."



   ------

   Chapter 4

   So kayaking was fun.  Finding out that Jen looked good in shorts was
good.  Finding out that she can laugh and look good when SOMEBODY
deliberately (I'm certain it was deliberate) flips a kayak and dumps both
occupants into a cool river with a sandy bottom and she emerges with her
cotton shirt soaked and revealing tantalizing bits that aren't covered by
that sport flotation vest, that's good, too.

   "What was that?" I asked, gathering the little ice chest floating next
to the overturned kayak.

   "It started getting hot.  The water looks so inviting.  I haven't been
swimming in so long I can't remember when." Titter.  "The ice chest was
latched.  Didn't figure it'd go far." Open giggle.  "You mad, bro?"

   "Decidedly not.  Lets drag this thing onto the bank for a while.  And
you can ditch that floatation vest while we're not in the boat." Okay, just
maybe I had an ulterior motive.  I'm not dead, and from the tease of seeing
bits of flesh through the patches of visible wet cotton, she flipped the
vest off and gave me a full view.  Sports bra under her cotton shirt kept
me from going insane on the spot.

   I don't know if she intended the effect she had.  Not at first.  Then
her eyes connected with mine and she crossed her arms over her chest for a
second, bashful.  Then, "Oh, what am I worried about?  Those girls over
there are showing more than this." The girls were probably college aged,
with a couple of similarly aged guys, twenty yards away on this little
isolated sandbar.  With that statement, she raised her arms straight out
from her shoulders and let herself fall backward into the water.  She stood
up.  "Weeeeee!!!!"

   What the heck.  I splashed face first, letting the cool water envelope
me.  It felt good.  Watching Jen, though, made me feel like a twelve year
old kid again.

   We splashed around, swam, played in the river until the sun started down
behind the trees.  A kayak on the river after dark is both illegal and
quite possibly fatal with powerboats zipping around blind, so I sidled over
near Jen.  She turned towards me, stepping awfully close.  Her face,
bright, fresh, smiling ...  I almost ...  No, I had to be mistaken.

   "I guess we need to paddle ourselves back," I said.  Mistaken again?  I
almost convinced myself that ...  no, I had to be wrong.  I handed her a
vest, then donned my own.

   Jen climbed onto the kayak as I pushed us back into the river, and
paddles flashing, we began our trip back.

   She could've HIT me with the paddle and gotten less effect than her next
words.  Chuck, why'd you stop?"

   I played stupid.  Maybe I WAS stupid.  "Stop what?"

   "You almost kissed me.  You stopped."

   "Is that what happened?"

   "You're not a bit transparent, you know..."

   "Okay.  Guilty.  Sorry."

   "So why'd you stop?"

   "Because I met you yesterday.  You were in distress.  I am not taking
advantage of your delicate state."

   "Oh, boy, Chuck LeBert!  You're soooo full of it!  It was ...  was
ALMOST a kiss.  It's not like you were tossing me onto the sand and
screwing my brains out.  A kiss.  Not a marriage proposal.  Just a kiss."

   "Didn't feel right to do that.  I thought I was mistaken.  Misreading
you."

   "Maybe.  But it's a beautiful day.  I am enjoying myself.  You're a
pretty good-looking guy, you've made me happy.  A kiss wouldn't've been so
bad."

   I remained silent.

   "You're my friend, aren't you?"

   "Yes."

   "Friends can kiss."

   "Guys who rescue girls from the side of the road don't take
advantage..."

   Giggle.  " ...  of my delicate state."

   "Oh, suuuure!  Make fun of me."

   "Not making fun of you.  It's just cute, a guy actually trying to be
decent.  Not used to it."

   "I'm sorry."

   "What?  You're sorry you try to be decent?"

   "No.  I'm sorry I missed the opportunity."

   Paddle.  Paddle.  Paddle.  Think.  Think.  Think.

   "You're not talking," she said.

   "Some of those nursing 'powers of observation', no doubt."

   "Yep!  I got 'em!"

   "Jen, I should've kissed you.  I wanted to, but I just don't want to
push myself on you when you're in a bind.  I didn't help you because I
wanted something in return."

   "I get that," she said.

   Paddle.  Paddle.  "I didn't want to grab you right out of your previous
relationship."

   "Previous is an operative term," Jen snorted.  "Was over weeks ago.  He
...  I told 'im to get the hell out.  He did, mostly."

   "Conjugal visits?"

   "Kinda personal there, aren't we?"

   "Sorry.  It was.  Not my business."

   "Short answer  -" NO!  Longer answer  -" HELL, NO!" She looked back over
her shoulder.  "Threw him out.  For good.  Got myself smeared and sampled
and tested to make sure that I didn't have any sort of Bert cooties, and I
kept my legs closed."

   I'm parsing this and thinking 'She's telling me this.  Why?' My mind ran
through a list of possibilities.  I couldn't think of a response that made
sense, so I didn't say anything.

   Noting my silence, she asked "TMI?"

   "TMI?"

   "Too much information.  Sometimes I start talking.  It's nice to have
somebody who listens, but you, Chuck LeBert, have a trait of not giving any
feedback."

   "Oh, well, really, Jen!  What am I supposed to say to that last little
soliloquy?  You're discussing that you've been celibate for a few weeks
during which time you've had yourself tested for cooties?  Am I supposed to
be like 'Wow!  That's great!' or 'Yes, that's quite sensible.' Or 'And
everything came back negative?' Or what?"

   "Soliloquy?  Wow!  A man with a vocabulary."

   "And..."

   "I dunno, Chuck.  Sometimes I start talking and words just come out in a
river." She sighed.  I watched her shoulders heave with the sigh.  "I
actually talk to you and you listen and let me talk and don't get off
telling me how I'm wrong and then twisting the conversation around to
yourself." She paused.  "I'm doing it again, aren't I?"

   "No, Jen.  You're talking.  I'm listening.  People do that sometimes."

   "Well, I like it, Chuck.  I like today.  I like that you took me to get
my stuff and then we had this perfectly crazy delightful afternoon and you
didn't get crazy when I flipped us into the river."

   "I knew you did it on purpose," I laughed.  "I wasn't sure you wanted to
swim, but it was a great idea."

   "Felt like I was twelve again," Jen said.

   Okay, Chuck, go ahead: "You must've been a cute twelve year old.  You
smiled a lot."

   "You just don't know, Chuck.  Dad used to take Mom and me to the river
in the summer.  This reminded me of that.  And ever since I made Bert
leave, I've been living by myself, trying to get things together so I could
get out of there.  Today sort of makes me feel like I succeeded."

   "My karma thanks you," I said as we rounded the bend to the landing.

   The kayak was tossed into the back of the truck and tied down and Jen
slid in on the passenger side of the truck.  We're heading home.

   "Dinner?" I queried.

   '"On the way?  We're hardly dressed.  Unless you're thinking about a
drive-through."

   "How about home for a quick shower, and then find someplace nice?"

   "Chuck, you spent too much on me last night."

   "I'm not running a tally," I said.  "What might tickle your palate?"

   "You know a good Chinese buffet?"

   "I know a couple."

   "Bert didn't like Chinese.  Called it 'gook food'.  I'd like some
Chinese."

   "Then that's what we'll do.  The place I have in mind has a Mongolian
grill and a sushi bar, too."

   "You're turnin' a girl's head, Chuck."

   "Purely unintentional, Jen," I replied.

   "You sure, Chuck?  Not even a little teeny tiny bit of motive?"

   "Other than liking your face with a smile on it?  I mean, if I'm gonna
be around you, I'd much rather you be smiling."

   "It doesn't take you spending a lot of money on me."

   "Oh, don't get weird on me, Jen.  We go home, make do with what's in the
house, start cooking something fast, or we clean ourselves up and pay a
little to let somebody else do the cooking and the cleanup.  Not a hard
choice in my mind.  Not hard at all." And I catch what I just said and I'm
thinking that if I saw too much more of Jen in a wet shirt, something would
be hard (again).

   "Well, since you put it THAT way," she acquiesced.  "I'll let you feed
me again." With that, she turned the truck's stereo on.  Saturday, the
public radio station's programming was spotty, and this time it was one of
those 'world music' programs.  She listened in silence.

   Finally, she said, "I'm just not wired for that."

   'That' was something that was supposedly all the rage in Africa, the
sounds grating, discordant and alien to my ear.

   "Not my bag either.  This is where I usually turn that thing off or
punch up something on the iPod."

   "No, let's listen to this and bitch about it." She was picking up the
iPod as she said it.

   "You're trying to aggravate me," I laughed.

   "Watching the way your face changes.  Analyzing." She was scrolling
though the menus.  "Here.  It's on YOUR iPod so you must like it." With a
click, a Bach flute partita emerged from the speakers.

   "You lucked out.  That's a favorite."

   "Sometimes Bach just speaks to me.  You can tell that he's a master, and
that so much of his music is written so that others could master their
instruments."

   "I hear it that way myself.  Beautiful, though."

   "These are so measured, structured," she sighed.  "Take the same
building blocks, the same techniques, even the same instruments, and you
can build a common wall or a cathedral."

   I glanced sideways.  It's been a long time since I had a thoughtful
conversation about the music I love.

   "That's a truth," I said.  "Very well put."

   She smiled as I glanced at her again.  "Thank you.  You're supposed to
grunt and demand another beer and 'get that shit off and put some GOOD
music on', which means something marketed out of Nashville."

   "Not the current stuff," I said.  "At least not the mainstream stuff. 
Some artists still hold to the old forms.  There's some good old stuff."

   "I know," she said.  She sat silent for a few moments, then spoke. 
"Life is like that, too, you know."

   "Oh, yeah?"

   "Yes.  It is.  Same building blocks.  Same instruments.  Sewage plant or
a cathedral or a park."

   "Yep!  Just depends on the engineering."

   "Architect," Jen said.  "Start with the architect.  Then you pass it on
to the engineers.  Engineers build what architects imagine." I think she
KNEW she'd jabbed me because she was smirking hugely when I turned to look
at her.

   "Gotcha!"

   "You have an evil streak."

   "You're too nice, Chuck.  And easy to get!  Just teed that one up,
waiting for me to swing."

   "I voluntarily rendered myself defenseless.  I never figured you for a
mean streak."

   We both laughed, then, listening to the selection she chose, got quiet.
When the piece ended, she paused the iPod before the next track started. 
"Did you notice that?"

   "Notice what?" I asked, wondering where she was heading.

   "How we got quiet, listening to the music."

   "It's good music.  Worth listening."

   "Yes.  Worth noting.  Sometimes when I'm reading, I have to put the book
down because the music just deserves more attention."

   "What do you read?" I asked.

   "I'm pretty eclectic.  Some fiction.  Some non-fiction.  Histories. 
Biographies.  You?"

   "I guess I'm pretty close.  I'm into thrillers as well.  And sci-fi."

   "I know.  I looked at your bookshelf.  Didn't see a single Playboy. 
Bert kept 'em all.  Says they'll be collector's items one day."

   "You left 'em in that apartment?" She'd told me that she got her stuff
out of her old apartment and left the landlord three hundred dollars to
clean it out and he could have anything in it.

   She laughed.  "Yeah.  He took 'is clothes and some other stuff.  I guess
he really thought I'd be calling him back."

   "You said you'd ...  he'd been gone three weeks."

   "I did.  He has.  He's managed that before.  Him and some loser buddies
will take off and go hit some construction job or whatever, short term.  I
imagine they spend every dime they make while they're there.  And then he'd
come home..." she sighed.  "Now there IS no home."

   "You sound confident."

   "I am.  I am certain.  And I am going to push this button and put that
next track on.  It's a good one.  It will cleanse the thought of Bert out
of my mind."

   "Hit it."

   We went silent again and let the music play.  Except while the music was
playing so was a long list of ideas, all in my mind.

   We pulled into the driveway.  I tossed her the housekeys while I stowed
the kayak.  She carried the little ice chest inside.

   I halfway expected a further discussion of that 'kiss' thing when I
entered the kitchen, but instead she was putting the canned drinks back in
the refrigerator.  I stowed the ice chest in the utility room.

   When I came out, she looked at me.  "Dress or jeans?"

   "Your choice.  It's a Chinese buffet, for pete's sake.  If you wear a
dress you'll stand out."

   "But you wouldn't mind?" she asked.  "I haven't gone someplace in a
dress in a couple of years."

   "Two years?  You sure it'll fit?"

   That, people, is NOT a question you should pose to a woman.  The glare
she shot at me caused my face to heat up.  "I KNOW it will fit, thank you."

   "Then wear one," I said.

   "I'm going to get a shower."

   "Okay," I countered "Me, too."

   We parted ways.  She hit the hall bathroom and I used the bath off the
master bedroom.  Following the shower, I shaved.  Almost as an
afterthought, I patted a little aftershave on my face, relishing the sting.
While I was finishing my ablutions, I heard a hair dryer going from up the
hall.

   I got dressed in my bedroom, like always, but I paid a little more
attention.  I mean, if Jen's wearing a dress, then I ought not do my
knocking-about jeans.  I put on one of my better shirts and a pair of
slacks that I usually wear to business meetings that fall a bit short of
suit and tie levels.  Same thing with the shoes.  I eschewed my normal
cross-trainers in favor of a pair of loafers.

   The hair dryer stopped.  I heard the door close to the bedroom Jen was
using, so I went into the living room to wait.

   I don't know exactly what I expected, but Jenn walked into the living
room wearing a royal blue sheath sort of thing and a sensible pair of heels
that matched the dress.  Her hair was brushed to a shine and each ear held
a tiny gold sphere.

   My mouth went agape, I guess.

   "Is that because I'm THAT bad?"

   "No.  It's because I just realized that somewhere there are men too
stupid to appreciate THAT look."

   "You like?"

   "I like.  On strictly a visual basis, it's striking."

   "Doesn't show enough leg or enough cleavage for SOME men," she said.

   "Whoever said that is a major dunce," I said.  "You're..." I paused. 
Here's one of those lines you need to be careful about crossing.  " ... 
beautiful.  Striking."

   "Wow.  That's quite a compliment, Chuck.  And you mean it."

   "Yes I mean it.  Why would you think otherwise?"

   "Oh, people have various reasons.  But your face ...  Remind me to lead
you away from the poker tables.  You're so easy to read."

   "You surprised me.  I didn't have time to steel myself into limiting my
response."

   "It's flattering, Chuck." She struck a pose, watching me for reaction.

   I tried not to drool.  I guess every man has certain things that just
click within him, things that, when he sees them, they resonate.  I was
majorly resonating.

   "Come on," she said, "Before you melt down completely." And she took my
hand, tugging me into standing.  She was laughing.  "Come on, Chuck."

   "Yes, Mistress," I said, getting more laughter from her.

   I'll tell you one thing.  Chinese buffet on a Saturday night?  She's
best looking, classiest woman in the place.  And she can do chopsticks.  I
already knew about her conversational abilities.  We both took on loads of
Chinese fare, just a bit more than needed, and we were both full when we
got back into the truck.  The radio had some relaxing classical sounds on
as we eased out of the parking lot.

   "Tonight's been too good to quit.  Today's been too good, Chuck."

   "Just life, Jen," I replied.  "Sort of the way it should be, I guess.  I
may be overstepping things, but having you with me put a beautiful spin on
it."

   "Really?"

   "Yeah.  I don't think I'd've had nearly as much fun on the river, and I
don't go out to eat by myself unless I'm on the road somewhere.  Having you
here..." I just sort of tapered off, because I'd know Jen two days now and
I think my heart was running far ahead of my head.

   "I needed this, Chuck.  Sometimes good things come from bad things.  If
I'd've made it here without my car blowing up, I'd be in some fleabag hotel
feeling sorry for myself and regretting things and you know, that's how
people make stupid choices." She paused.  "I hope this isn't one of them.
Chuck, let's not go straight home."

   Those little bells started ringing in my head.  There are two sets, you
know.  One set is like a carillon, playing happy summer sounds.  The other
is that alarm you always hear in the movies when the reactor's about to
melt down.  So naturally I asked, "Do you have something in mind?"

   She pointed to lightning illuminating distant clouds.  "Somewhere that
has a better view of those clouds."

   "You mean like go park someplace?"

   "Yeah.  Put the good music on.  Watch the fireworks."

   She couldn't begin to imagine the fireworks going on in my head right
now.  So I said, "I think I know a place."

   "Let's go, then.  Call it an unusual Saturday night event."

   "Thunderstorms at night aren't that unusual in the summer."

   "Virginia Coleman getting to watch one with decent music playing in the
vicinity is quite unusual.  Finding herself with a guy who will go along
with it is not only rare, it is unique."

   I knew a place, a gravel road that ended up on a bluff overlooking the
river.  There was nothing but coastal wetlands on the other side.

   "You don't mind, do you?  What would you normally do on Saturday night
if I wasn't here?"

   "Try to find something interesting on TV, read, mess around on the
Internet.  Then go to sleep."

   "Internet?" Her tone belied the reminder of the question.

   "No, no porn.  No chatting.  I have some interests, hobbies, dreams..."

   "Like?" she prodded.

   "Like that kayak thing.  I toy with the idea of loading up and going on
a kayaking vacation, maybe somewhere in the Northwest."

   "Sounds interesting.  Why haven't you done it?"

   "I dunno.  There are groups that set that up.  I just..." Here I go
again.  "I'd like to have somebody to share a thing like that."

   "I see," she said.  "One has to be wired differently to do a lot of solo
stuff and enjoy it."

   "I'm not wired that way," I said.

   "Me neither," she returned.  "You don't know how many times in the last
few weeks I almost let myself call Bert up and tell him we can try again.
But I just can't, Chuck.  No.  I can't.  I can do this."

   "You didn't have friends there?"

   "Not that weren't OUR friends, which makes them HIS friends, and Chuck,
they just didn't have the interests I wanted to share.  Believe me, I
tried, but when you have all your friends in common, it's hard for them to
keep both sides separate." She sighed heavily.  "They thought they were
supposed to patch things up between Bert and me.  One of the big reasons I
had to leave."

   "Well, here you are," I said.  "If you need a friend ...  and once you
start work, you'll ...  oh, you know..."

   "I know.  Work will get my mind off a bunch of things.  New faces, new
people, new drama..."

   "There is that," I said.  "Some jobs have more drama than others."

   "I know," she said.  "And I'm gonna be an agency nurse, not part of the
regular staff.  That puts me on the bottom level of the pecking order."

   "That's me every day.  I walk into a facility to do something that their
people can't do.  In a lot of minds that makes me the biggest target.  I
work extra hard trying to be tactful." A recent incident came to mind. 
"Sometimes that's not enough."

   "What do you do to defend yourself?"

   "Being the stinkin' expert that rumor and legend says I am.  They can
hate me all they want, but there's some things that aren't going to happen
if they don't get me."

   "Kinda cocky, aren't you?"

   "In my arena, yes.  It's what I do."

   She smiled.  "Wow!  I've never driven around with a legend."

   "You listen too good."

   By this time we were well out of town, running down a little country
road.  I took the turn onto the gravel road.

   "I must be crazy.  This is one of places you always see in those crime
movies."

   "Yes, and I will not subject you to a clichĂ(C), so relax." I nosed us
up toward the river.  We had a full view of the not too distant clouds
watching the blues and whites and violets and golds as lightning coursed
through them.  "Choose your music."

   She picked up the iPod and searched through the selections.  "I thought
you'd have this one." Her finger flexed and the opening measures of
"Fingal's Cave" flowed forth.

   Okay, give her points for music selection, but it's a short piece.  When
it ended, she said softly, "Can we get out?  I want to hear the thunder."

   "Okay," I said.  I heard her door unlatch, so I opened mine after
turning the motor off.  We met in front of the truck.  She was right.  You
could heard the distant thunder.

   It wasn't nearly as loud as the sound in my head when she turned and
kissed me.



   ------

   Chapter 5

   It was a GOOD kiss.  A very good kiss.  I don't know if I should be
proud or not, having known Jenn for two days, but I kissed right back.  I
didn't know what her deal was, but mine was bunch of things: I hadn't
kissed in a long time.  Jenn was pleasantly pretty in an understated, 'girl
next door' way.  And this kiss, illuminated by God's own lightshow, the
moment just seemed right.

   We finally pulled apart.

   "That's the one you should've gotten in the river, Chuck," she said.

   "Jenn," I said, "Not too soon?"

   A shake of the head.  "Nope.  Friends.  Kissing." And she landed another
one.

   Resolve?  Just a dictionary entry.  Many a man's resolve has disappeared
in the presence of a female with her arms around him, pressing her lips
against his.  I was one.  I kissed back.  Was rewarded with positive feed
back, a tongue teasing its way into my mouth to play with mine.

   My hand strayed up to cradle her head.  Her hair felt perfect and the
movement stirred wisps of perfume to augment the sultry summer evening's
scents.

   Full length body hug.  So very welcome.  And arousing.

   The wiggle against the evidence of my arousal was welcome.  Not subtle,
but welcome.

   She pulled back from our kiss, smiling.  "I guess that's a sign that I
haven't frightened you too badly."

   "Surprised?  Yes.  Perplexed?  Yes.  Confused?  Yes.  But not
frightened."

   "Are you sure you're not an axe-murdering psychopath?"

   "Nope.  My axe is unsullied by human blood other than my own."

   "Great.  Kiss me."

   "Okay."

   After that one ended, I started to say something.

   "Dammit!  Chuck!  Don't overanalyze this.  Shut up and kiss me."

   Kiss.

   "Jenn, I really like kissing you."

   "You do a good job.  Professional?  Or talented amateur?"

   "Enthusiast, coming in from a long dry spell." I was going to say
something else equally witty but my mouth became occupied again.  In the
back of my mind was a little message flashing "Warning!  You could lose
control at any moment." In the front of my brain, somewhat deprived of
blood supply at the moment, neurons were firing that said "Wow!  This is
niiiiice!" I felt less guilty about my participation here since I had done
nothing overt to initiate the act.

   The guilt came back when we parted lips and I saw a tear on her cheek in
the illumination of the light of a flash of lightning.  It went away again
when she smiled a little and moved back in.

   We held onto each other like this was just the way things were supposed
to be, kissing, not saying a word, idyllic situation, developing.

   Developing, that is, until a sudden blast of a cold downdraft brought
large wet, cold drops of rain.  Jenn squeaked.  I let her out of my arms.

   "Into the truck," she said.  Her blurt was emphasized by a blast of wind
bearing more of those big, cold drops.

   Two doors slammed shut.  I glanced sideways at her as I turned the key.
She was grinning.  "God's trying to tell me something."

   "Yeah," I laughed.  "Stop giving your friend a heart attack."

   "I could feel your heartbeat.  I think it works just fine." She was
grinning.

   "Jenn, you do realize that I haven't kissed a woman like that in a
while."

   "Then we're even.  I haven't kissed a man like that in a while,
either..."

   The rain was coming down in buckets now, the wind blasting it sideways,
rocking the truck.  The windshield wipers couldn't keep up, even on the
high setting.  I pulled to the side of the narrow road.  We weren't in a
hurry and I knew that downpour would be short-lived.

   "Oooooo, parking," she giggled.

   "No, just don't want to run off this road in the downpour," I said. 
"Besides, this damn console takes the fun out of parking..."

   "Unless..." and she unbuckled and stretched over the offending console
and kissed me again.

   "You're serious about this..."

   "I'm enjoying this.  I feel like it's all new and wonderful and happy
and I'm free and you better be enjoying this as much as I am." And another
kiss.

   "You're gonna pull a muscle in that position," I said.

   "So take me home."

   "Jenn," I squeaked after another kiss, "Home might not be as safe as it
was last night."

   "It'll be just as safe as we need it to be," she sighed breathily before
landing another kiss.

   I held onto her, keeping in mind that she was stretched over the console
between us.  My mind was hanging on that 'we' in her last statement.  All I
could get out of my mouth was "Jenn..."

   To which she replied, "Chuck..." and landed another kiss.

   Oh, well...

   That rain on the truck softened enough to make a noticeable difference.

   "One more.  Then I think I can drive," I said to her.  I kept the 'with
a massive erection' finish to that sentence to myself.

   When she sat back in her seat and buckled her seatbelt, she looked
happy. I don't know why she was so damned happy.  I had thoughts swirling
around in my head like marbles in a centrifuge, chief among them 'What have
I gotten myself into?' followed by "What's the rest of tonight look like?'

   I put the truck into gear and pulled back onto the narrow road.

   "Tell me, Mister Chuck LeBert," Jenn said, "are you overthinking this?"

   "I dunno what I'm thinking, Jenn," I replied.

   "Okay, let's try this from another angle.  What are you supposed to be
thinking?"

   "I am," I spoke, "supposed to be understanding that you are at a
vulnerable time in your life, having just exited another relationship, and
a man of honor would not impress himself upon you."

   She giggled.  Actually GIGGLED.

   "What's so funny?"

   "Oh, Chuck," she tittered, "Don't you see?!?  I mean, who impressed
themselves on whom?  Hmmm?"

   "Welllll..."

   "Chuck, I WANTED to.  Kiss you, I mean.  You didn't act like you expect
it from me like it was your due."

   "Look, Jenn," I said.  "You're smart.  Definitely.  Pretty..."

   Little squeal.  "I'm pretty?"

   "Yeah.  You're pretty.  Got that All-American Girl Next Door thing
going. Pretty.  Definitely.  I'd have to be absolutely dead not to be
attracted, Jenn, but 'attracted' is one thing.  Doing you is another..."

   "'Doing me'?  You haven't 'done' me.  We kissed, Chuck.  I really
enjoyed kissing you." She smirked.  I saw it because I am discovering that
Jenn's smirks are audible.  "Whether our future includes any doing, that's
some distance in the future.  I will promise you another kiss before
bedtime, though."

   "Why?"

   "DO I have to say it, Chuck?  I guess you want me to just say it, huh?"

   "Yeah.  Say it.  Why?"

   "Because you're cute.  Good enough?  How about 'It's nice to kiss a nice
guy for a change?' Or maybe it's a regression to my childhood when a kiss
before bedtime was just part of being secure."

   "I dunno how to deal with smart chicks," I said.

   That noisy smirk again.  "'Smart' is a compliment.  I dunno about
'chick', though."

   "Just a phrase.  Meant to convey my confusion." That's what I said.  In
my mind, though, was more turmoil.  The lady was charming, disarming,
alluring, attractive, desirable, her turns of phrase and her looks flipping
back and forth between schoolgirl and woman of substance.

   "Just so I'm not being classified as a piece of meat or an accessory."

   "Never."

   "Never?"

   "You know, Jenn, you don't ACT like a piece of meat.  I don't understand
how you got into the situation you tell me you were in."

   "I wasn't always who I am today.  I didn't know what I know today.  I
wasn't experienced in life."

   "You grew."

   "We all grow," she said.  "I'm sure you grew in a lot of ways, too."

   "I acknowledge that truth," I said.  "Life forces such things.  You
grow, or you go crazy."

   "I'm not crazy."

   "No," I said.  "You're subject to philosophical excursions, though."

   Giggle.  "I do that sometimes.  Bothers my co-workers to no end."

   The rain changed to 'downpour' status as we drove through the storm.  I
slowed down, the wipers beating hard to subdue the flood on my windshield,
losing the battle.  When the taillights of the car ahead of me almost went
invisible, I reached over and punched the emergency flasher button.  Jenn's
hand touched mine briefly.

   "You need both hands to drive right now," she said.

   "Jenn, what are you doing to me?" I asked.

   "I dunno, Chuck.  What are you doing to me?"

   "ME?!?  I'm all innocent here.  I saw your car blow up on the
Interstate. Stopped to help."

   "My poor old momma would tell you that God killed my car."

   "And exactly why would God take time out from managing a universe to
toss a rod through the crankcase of a ten-year old SUV?"

   "To make me meet a decent guy."

   "Your mom wasn't fond of what'sisname?"

   "No.  Not at all.  Of course, he wasn't fond of her, either, for that
matter.  She thought he was a lazy windbag, a set of characteristics I
apparently overlooked.  He thought she was a lazy windbag, a set of
characteristics that I find to be somewhat off target." She sighed.  "I
learned she was correct about him.  I wish I'd learned it sooner."

   "Would've saved God the trouble of blowing your car up."

   "Then he'd've had to cause an earthquake or something equally startling
to bring us together." That loud smirk again.

   "You're attributing our meeting to..."

   " ...  a direct action on the part of a deity."

   "You SURE you're not crazy?"

   "Nope.  I worked a psych ward.  Doctors all over the place.  None of 'em
ever looked at me and said 'You should be a client, not the staff.' Am I
frightening my benefactor?"

   "No, you KISSED your benefactor.  Turned him into something else."

   "A good something?  Or a bad something?"

   "A confused something.  I'm trying to be all noble here..."

   "And I recognize and appreciate that, Chuck.  Wouldn't have been as much
a quandary if you were obnoxious..."

   "You need to put that question to my co-workers before you assign a
value..."

   Giggle.  "And not bad looking."

   "You're making me blush."

   "I can't see that.  It's too dark.  You could be leading me on."

   "Wasn't trying to lead you anywhere."

   "As I've seen.  I pushed you here after dinner.  I pushed you into
kissing me."

   I saw a set of headlights approaching in my rearview mirror at a much
higher speed than I thought prudent.  The road was now four-laned, so he
had plenty of room to pass, but that required he change lanes.  On a dry
road, that would be no problem, but in the downpour, the depressions left
by a million passing tires held water.

   Rodney Ramjet swapped lanes and as his tires started hydroplaning and
lost friction, the car kept swapping, one end for the other, then hit the
median, nosed down, then up and over onto its roof.

   Jenn gasped.  I hit the brakes and the emergency flashers and pulled
over.  "Call 9-1-1." She already had the phone in her hand.

   It was still raining when I pulled off on the shoulder and got out.  I
didn't give a thought as to what I'd find.  The car was upside down, front
wheels still spinning.  The driver's side door was popped open and I could
see a figure piled up in a lump on the headliner.  No seatbelt.  I was
stepping towards the wreck when Jenn passed me up.

   "I'm a nurse, dammit," she hissed.  "D'ya have a first aid kit?"

   "Yeah."

   "Get it!"

   "Be careful," I told her as I turned back to the truck.

   In a matter of seconds I was kneeling on the soggy ground beside her,
opening my first aid kit.

   "Big dressing," she said to me.  "Wanna hold this skin off 'er face." To
her patient she said, "Hon, don't try to move.  I can't tell you what all
is wrong.  An ambulance is on the way.  Let them move you."

   There was indeed a female lying there, bloodied, as I used my flashlight
to illuminate the scene as best I could.  It was, as I supposed, a mess. 
No seatbelt, the overweight woman had tumbled freely in the car as it
flipped.  Somewhere in that trip, she'd torn a huge patch of scalp loose.
Jenn was gently pulling it back into place with my biggest dressing.

   "Just keep you eyes closed, hon," she said softly.  "Chuck, dump some
saline on this dressing."

   I poured the solution on a second dressing and Jenn carefully wiped the
woman's face, all the while speaking to her softly over the woman's moans.
"When the ambulance gets here they can help you with the pain, hon.  Just
hang on with us."

   There was a lot of blood.  In the beam of the flashlight I could make
out a compound fracture of an arm.  Blood flowed, but I didn't see the
spurts that I assumed marked arterial bleeding.

   Behind me, the ambient light took on blue flashes accompanied by a
siren. Police patrol unit.  Next thing I knew, there was an officer bending
beside me.

   "Just the one?" he asked.

   "All I can see," I said.  "Jenn's a nurse.  She'd just trying to make
her comfortable." I stood, stepping back a bit.  "Lady's messed up, but
Jenn's with her.  Best we could do."

   "Your truck?"

   "Yessir."

   He spoke rapidly into his lapel mike, listened to the reply.  "Ambulance
is a couple of minutes out.  Did you see what happened?"

   "She passed me, hydroplaned, swapped ends, and hit the median, then
started flipping."

   He hissed.  "In this rain.  You 'd think..."

   "You'd be wrong," I said.

   Jenn looked back at us.  "Chuck?  Could you pour some more saline on
this dressing?"

   I complied.  I watched her doing her best to be gentle and careful with
this total stranger.  The rain was slacking up to a drizzle, but Jenn was
soaked by now, the front of her dress covered in blotches of blood and
water.

   A second patrol unit pulled up simultaneously with the ambulance.  Two
paramedics popped the rear doors and dragged a gurney to the scene.  One
knelt by Jenn.

   "She's got a strong carotid pulse.  Good breathing.  Lucid.  Major scalp
laceration.  Compound fracture of the left lower arm.  Looks like a simple
fracture of the right arm.  That's all I can see from here.  We didn't move
her."

   He looked at Jenn, questioning.  "I'm an RN," Jenn said.

   "Oh," he replied.  "Thanks.  You put this dressing on?"

   "Yes," Jenn said.  "Big flap of scalp under there.  Keeping it off her
face."

   "Oh, okay.  We can take it from here.  Thanks for your help."

   Jenn patted her patient.  "Okay, hon, the pros are here.  I'll pray for
you."

   The answer was a moan.

   Jenn came to where I was standing between two police officers.

   "How is she?" the first one asked.  "Looks like a mess."

   "You've seen worse, I'm sure," Jenn said.  "She took a tumble when the
car rolled.  Broken arms.  Hit her head on something, tore half her scalp
loose.  But that's all repairable, as best I can tell."

   The scene was pierced by a scream.  "They're having to move her," the
other officer said.  "I hate these things."

   "Can I get some information from you two?" the first officer asked. 
"Witnesses, and all that."

   "My license is in my purse in the truck," Jenn answered.  "I'll get it."

   I pulled my own wallet out and handed him my driver's license, held my
flashlight.

   "I'm gonna go sit in the car and write this down," he said.  "Rain's
getting on the paperwork." He caught Jenn's license as he passed our truck.

   Jenn and I went back to our truck.  Inside, she turned to me.  "I'm
soaked.  I'm a mess."

   "You do have that wet puppy look to you," I said.

   "You too, you know."

   I reached behind the seat and dropped a roll of paper towels onto her
lap.  "You can dab some of it off."

   "Thanks!  Brrrr!  It's COLD now."

   I turned the truck's air conditioning down.  I saw our police officer
walking up, so I rolled my window down.  He passed the driver's licenses
in. "Thanks, folks!  I appreciate the help.  We may call you for more
information."

   "Did the paramedics tell you any thing about the victim?"

   "Pretty much like you said.  Broken arms.  Scalp lacerations.  They
strapped 'er on a board, loaded her up, and hauled her away."

   "Did you get her name?"

   "Yeah.  Sarah Lawrence.  Lives right here in town."

   "Okay, Thanks," Jenn said.  "Just curious."

   "I suppose so.  You have her blood all over you.  Y'all be careful
driving home, okay?"

   "We will," I said.  "There's a lesson here."

   Jenn waved as I put my truck in gear and eased back onto the roadway. 
On the road, she leaned back, then sat up.  "I'm soaked."

   "Still?" I said.

   "I know.  Gosh, what a mess."

   "You seem to know what you're doing."

   "Basic first aid.  A little 'nurse' peeking through.  Poor woman."

   "No seatbelt."

   "Still, poor woman."

   Jenn was quiet for the remainder of the ride home.  We both exited the
truck and I let her in the front door.

   "Shower," she said.  "I need one."

   "Toss those clothes out..."

   "Doesn't matter, Chuck.  That dress is wrecked.  So are the shoes.  And
the pantyhose.  Next time we do a rescue operation remind me to dress for
it."

   "Sorry."

   "Crap, chuck!  What was I supposed to do?  Wait in the truck while that
poor woman was hurting?  I'll get over the loss of that dress.  I hope I
can get the blood out of this bra, though."

   "I have some detergent.  We can put it on to soak after you rinse it. 
Cold water.  Don't wanna set the protein."

   That got her back to giggling.  "What are you, some sort of laundry
guru?"

   "I know some things, smart-ass," I countered.

   She grabbed some clothes and headed into the hall bathroom.  I went into
my bedroom and shucked my own wet garb.  Using the adjoining master bath, I
let the hot spray drive away the adrenaline rush, humming as I showered,
then got out and finished my routine.  A set of hospital scrubs filled in
for pajamas.

   When I passed the hall bathroom door I heard a hair dryer going.  I'd
just kicked back my recliner to a good angle of repose when the door opened
and Jenn popped out.  Her scrubs were blue.  Mine were green.

   "They make good pajamas, don't they?" she said.  She took a position on
the sofa next to my recliner, folding long legs underneath her.

   I tossed her the remote control.  "Find something on TV," I said.

   She flipped through the channels and landed on something.  Looking at
me, an eyebrow arched in question.

   "That's good," I said as I picked up my laptop to check email.

   "Good idea," she said.  "Lemme go get mine." She was back in a minute,
popping her laptop open.  A couple of minutes later she asked, "What? 
Wireless?"

   "Uh-huh.  It's 'Holodeck' and the password is 'enterprise' and the house
number, 1569."

   A few taps on the keyboard and "Okay!  I'm in." We computed side by side
for a few minutes.  Mine was messages between any of several online forums
as well as a few friends.

   Hers, though...  "Dammit!  I'm NOT going back."

   "Problem?" I asked.

   "His sister is telling me tales of his remorse and rehabilitation."

   "Yeah?"

   "And I should come back."

   "And are you?"

   "Chuck, this is like the sixth iteration of this exercise.  So ...  NO!"
she sighed.  "I do feel bad, though.  His sister is actually a nice person.
Her biggest flaw is that baby brother has never done anything so wrong as
to be permanent."

   "One of those," I opined.

   "Yeah.  One of those.  I'd wish we could be friends, but I'm not up to
having to fend off her brother if I did."

   "That's the trouble.  Divorce the mate, and the family are still..."

   She sighed.  "I'm glad it wasn't a real marriage.  But I know what you
mean."

   "In Texas you'd be in trouble," I said.

   "Reeaaly?  Why?"

   "Texas has common law marriage.  Louisiana doesn't.  If this were Texas,
you might need an attorney."

   "Thank God, no," she said.  "Anything with his name on it is his. 
Everything that costs anything is mine."

   "So you're not feeling the tug, then?"

   She turned and fixed me in a stare.  "Not just no, but HELL NO!"

   "Don't let me sway you," I said.  "You have to make your own decisions."

   "And live with them.  Chuck, I can do this."

   "Okay," I answered, going back to an email on the screen.

   I heard the lid of her computer close.  I looked sideways.  She had
slouched into the sofa, her head tossed back, eyes closed.

   "Are you okay?"

   "Yes," she said quietly.  "That wreck.  The adrenaline.  You stopped.  A
lot of people would've kept going."

   "Uh, distress on the side of the road..."

   Her eyes flashed.  "Character flaw?"

   "Not exactly, but that was bad, and traffic was almost nil.  If we
hadn't stopped to report it..."

   "And first aid."

   "You do pretty good under stress," I said.  "Impressive."

   "I've done an couple of ER rotations," she revealed.  "That was
nothing." She sighed.  "It's just, there she was, hurrying along one
moment, and upside down and bleeding the next."

   "Life's like that sometimes."

   Little smile.  "I know."

   We watched a movie on TV.  I made hot herbal tea for the two of us. 
Bedtime approached.  We went in two different directions.  My bedtime
routine typically involves a bit of reading in bed.  That's what I was
doing when a motion caught the corner of my eye, accompanied by a soft
voice.  "Chuck?"

   "Yes?"

   "Is that your side of the bed?"

   "Huh?"

   "If a girl was, like, getting into your bed, would she move you over or
climb over you?"

   "Huh?"

   "You heard me, Chuck."

   "I know.  But Jenn..."

   "Yes, Charles LeBert?"

   "Jenn ...  I don't do quickies and one-night stands and shorties or
whatever..."

   "Don't overthink this, Chuck," she said, crawling over me.

   "How can I not.  Sex is..."

   "Everything isn't SEX, Chuck."

   "How can it not be, Jenn?  I've known you two days."

   "So?!?  Do you have a woman in your life?  You haven't said you did. 
And I figure if you did, you wouldn't have me living here, overnight or
however long.  I don't care how good things are, the idea that you'd have a
girlfriend who didn't mind me being here is just too much of a stretch..."

   "You make it sound ...  Wait ...  What are you...  ?"

   "I think the term is 'friends with benefits..."

   "Veto," I said.  "I don't do gratuitous sex."

   "Okay.  Then strike the last feeble comment, my last grasp at not
sounding insane.  Chuck, I love you.  Be mine forever."

   "After two days?  You're nuts."

   "You have two choices: Yes or no.  Choose wisely." She has a way ...  a
pleasant face that has some configurations that can melt a guy's heart.

   "You love me.  After two days.  Two roadside disasters, a swim and a
thunderstorm.  And you love me."

   "And you love me too.  I know it."

   "How old did you say you are?"

   "Twenty-six.  Why?"

   "Little old to believe in fairy tales, don't you think?"

   "So you're thinking I'm crazy?"

   So here I am, under the covers in my own bed.  On top of the covers, in
close proximity, is this delightful creature.  And she's proposing
craziness.  In another time and place I'd have kissed her good night and
called her in the morning on the way to work and chatted about our date and
made arrangements for dinner and another date and another and another...

   This isn't that time.  It's been too long.  I'm not desperate.  Really
I'm not.  I looked at those big brown eyes, found myself getting lost. 
Fast.

   "I love you too."

   "You're not just saying it, are you, Chuck?"

   "Are you just saying it, Jenn?"

   The brown hair bounced with the shake of her head.  "Nope.  I mean it.
It's a start.  We can work on it, like EVERY day, forever..."

   "So you're saying..."

   "If you are ...  Seriously!  That wreck.  We SNAPPED!  Both dove in
together.  Like we were made to be together."

   "You're nuts!  I'm sure you could be certified."

   "Hush!" she punctuated her command by the expedient of placing her lips
against mine.

   Now I remembered how fast I was falling before the rains came.  I kissed
back.  Put my arms around her.  If the kisses were hot with her pushing me
back against the grill of my truck, this was an order of magnitude hotter.

   "Charles LeBert.  My Chuck," she said when we parted, "I'm serious. 
We'll make this work."

   "Virginia Coleman.  My Jenn.  You may murder me in my sleep, but I'm
yours."

   "Good!" she stated.  "Now, let me under these covers.  I have a need to
be held."



   ------

   Chapter 6

   While I was flipping the covers back, she slipped out of the scrubs
trousers.  Panties.  Nice, simple pastel blue.  Hip-huggers.  I was jealous
of those panties because they were hugging those hips.

   She reached down and grabbed the edge of the covers I'd carefully left
covering my lower half and gave them a flip.  Snorted.  "I like blue, too."
MY underwear was dark blue.  Cotton, of course, but the color was a simple
choice.  A sale somewhere.  She bounced over me and slid her legs under the
covers and turned to face me.

   "Now, about all those kisses, sir ...  what effect do you imagine that
has on me?"

   "Insanity of a more or less temporary nature," I said.

   "You don't get off that easily." Then she giggled.  "Possibly a poor
choice of words." And she kissed me.  And I kissed her back.  That thin
cotton material of our ersatz pajamas offered considerably more tactile
response than previous kisses.

   I felt soft, pliant breasts pressing against me, topped by nipples in a
definite state of arousal.  When the kiss broke, I made one more stab at
being honorable.

   "Jenn, we don't have to..."

   She sort of gasped and sat up.  "Chuck, you are one hard-headed
individual.  When words come out of your mouth, do you mean them?  You
know, like 'I love you'?"

   "Yes, but Jenn..."

   "But nothing.  I can see from your bookcase that you read a lot."

   "Or I buy a lot of used books at yard sales."

   "Smartass!  You read a lot."

   "Point being?"

   "Romantic love versus arranged marriages.  Couples.  Commitments.  All
that stuff of sociological import."

   "My, we are a literate little thing when we're pissed..."

   "If you want an ignorant bimbo, you stopped at the wrong disaster,
buddy. Now listen to me."

   "Okay.  I'm all ears."

   "No you're not.  That wasn't an ear I just felt when we hugged." Giggle.
"Sanity check?"

   "That's what I'm angling toward," I said.  "Jenn, you're darned sure
attractive to me.  And you're intelligent.  But are you crazy?"

   "If I was crazy then the ex would be lying in a freezer in fourteen
separate plastic bags." She heaved a sigh.  "I'm not crazy.  I am
disturbingly lucid today.  And inventory?  YOU, sir, are attractive to me
as well.  Not one of those stud-muffin calendar guys, no.  Just a good,
decent, easy on the eyes, pleasant guy.  And you speak in a way that tells
me that's the way you always speak, vocabulary, cadence, measured thought.
And you seem to care about people.  Think of me as your mail-order bride."

   "Wha..."

   "Mail order bride.  Used to not be that uncommon.  Girl shows up.  Guy
marries 'er.  Simple.  And they live together forever after.  Determination
that love is there and it's up to the two of them to make it grow and
flourish.  Verstehen Sie?"

   "Ich verstehe," I replied.

   "Hah!  Extra points for German," she laughed.  "But I still win."

   "Careful.  You might not know all the facts about the prize," I said.

   "No alcohol in the house but a couple of beers and half a bottle of
wine. Doesn't smell of cigarette smoke.  Place is clean.  No condom
wrappers in the trash can.  No other women's clothing.  Not the slightest
bit of evidence at all.  And you just don't strike me as the type who'd be
doing hookers."

   "You could be wrong..."

   "AM I?"

   "No, but you could be..."

   "Criminal record?  You?" she asked.

   "No.  You?"

   "I rolled through a stop sign four years ago."

   She kept after me.  "So were you waiting, hoping that the right one
would come along and you'd do the dating and the engagement and the wedding
and all that?"

   "I don't know exactly what the hell I was waiting for."

   "Your wait is over.  Since YOU didn't define it, I shall.  You were
waiting for a slightly used but serviceable lady a few years younger than
you who is tired of games and wants a guy who will be hers and hers alone.
That would be me."

   "And you?"

   "Apparently I had to get fed up with a boy in a man's body who never
progressed past the mental age of thirteen and I had to see that for
myself. And then God had to kill my car to make sure that I found you."

   "You are crazy," I said.

   She flopped halfway atop me and her lips met mine, laughing.  After the
kiss, at close range, she spoke.  "Is crazy a deal-breaker?"

   "I think I could like 'crazy'," I replied, tugging her against me for a
languorous hug.  She slid a bit further atop me.  I loved it.  "Tell me
this won't end."

   "Why should it?  Chuck, be honest.  Is there anything I'm going to find
out about you that makes you such a poor risk?  Are you subject to binge
drinking?  Running off for the weekend with your buddies and stretching
that to a few extra days?  Gang-banging some slut behind a country and
western bar on Saturday night?  Drugs?  Larceny?  International espionage?"

   "Do I get to ask the same questions?"

   Those pleasantly warm brown eyes connected with mine.  "Chuck, Chuck,
Chuck," she sighed, "just the fact that you're ...  we're having this
conversation, in BED together, you know that tells me something."

   "That I'm about two statements from being declared insane?" I said.

   Apparently smart-assed answers are grounds for kissing.  I got one.

   "No, smart-ass," she said.  It says that you have internal limits that
don't come down just because part of your blood supply has been diverted
away from your brain."

   "Jenn, there's a huge part of me that wants to love you."

   She giggled.  "I can feel THAT." Her eyes crinkled in mirth.

   "You know what I mean."

   "I do, Chuck.  You're voicing my own feelings.  I think you know it."

   "Yet here you are..."

   "I know," she said softly.  "I'm surprised, myself."

   "Should we stop and retreat to our own beds?"

   Her weight fell full atop me.  Anther searing kiss.  "Do you want to do
that?"

   "No.  If you're sure this isn't..."

   "No, it's not." And her hands snaked under the edge of my scrub tops.

   It'd been entirely too long since I felt the touch of a woman,
especially one like this.  The occasional 'connection' that wasn't, the act
seemed to me to be almost mechanical, that whole 'Tab A into Slot B' meme.
This, though ...  the touch of those hands carried more pure erotic passion
than any semi-drunken coupling to which I'd subjected myself in the
previous several years.

   My own hands left her waist, her warm, pliant, living waist, moved down,
my hands covering her rounded butt cheeks.  Okay, I do admit to admiring
the curve of those cheeks earlier, every time she walked past.  The legs.
Not overtly muscular, but carrying no extra fat.  But that butt.  I
squeezed.  Got an 'mmmmmm' for my efforts, then a wiggle like she was
trying to mold her body into mine.

   I kept one hand there.  The pressure that she exerted against me was way
out of proportion to the pressure I exerted on that hand.  My other hand
slid upward under her scrub top, savoring the taut skin of her back.

   Another lingering, sighing kiss and she sat up.

   "Coming to your senses?" I asked.

   "You just keep thinking, Chuck LeBert," she said.  She grabbed the hem
of her scrub top and whipped it off over her head.  "Should you turn that
light off?" She glanced at my eyes.  "Or leave it on?  There's a sense that
you can use if the light's on."

   I stared at a pair of sagless 'B' cup breasts topped with pink, perky
nipples.  Managed to work my mouth into, "What's your preference?"

   "I would prefer that you peel that shirt off."

   I started struggling to do that while she still straddled me.  She noted
the effort and flipped a leg over me to leave herself sitting in the bed
beside me.  I sat up and peeled that top off.

   Her eyes laughed.  "Are we going to repeat this sequence in ten minutes
or..." She finished the sentence by hooking her thumbs in the waistband of
her panties.

   "You mean I don't have to get you drunk and charm you with sweet words?"

   "Oh, no, Chuck.  You're much more subtle than that.  You found all my
hidden buttons and pushed them." She flipped onto her back and raised her
hips, sliding those pale blue panties up those long legs, finally tossing
them sideways.

   "Okay, then," I said.  I stood beside the bed, and bent over, shucking
my own briefs.  When I stood, she wasn't being subtle about looking at what
was there before her, obviously erect, all six and a half inches of
circumcised normality.

   I watched her face.  First, not even the slightest signs of disgust
(really bad) or regret (almost as bad), either of which would have brought
the proceedings to a halt.  Instead, just the slightest hint of a smile,
not some sort of fake leer meant to suggest uncontrolled lust or
lasciviousness, but more like to say 'this is the way they look in bad
porn'.

   She patted the bed beside her.  "Chuck, this is as seductive as I get."

   "Jenn, if you were any more desirable I'd explode." And I started to
crawl into bed.

   Started.  As in 'one knee on the mattress'.  And two arms wrapped me and
pulled me fully on top of her and she was writhing, positioning herself,
working legs apart, and enveloping me, searching.

   I started to say something but was stopped by her mouth on mine, her
tongue probing, one of her hands holding my head for kissing.  I could feel
myself finding something hot and wet with that probe that had suddenly
become the center of my existence.  She felt it, too, and a few wiggles and
we found ourselves mated.

   The kiss parted with a sigh from her lips.  Her brown eyes were bright
in front of mine.  "Chuck LeBert, you'd better be as serious as I am."

   "I love you, Jenn Coleman." My turn for the kiss, then we couldn't keep
still.  I don't know what all she might have had pent up, but I know what I
had pent up inside me and I knew that this mating was not going to be
long-lasting.  I was already fighting the rising fire.

   "Slow," I whispered tersely.

   She didn't go slow.  She pounded upward against me, sharp breath hissing
between her teeth.  I was lost.  There wasn't enough self-control in the
universe to stop me now.  Her hiss changed to "Unnggghhhhh!" and she
slammed her pelvic arch into mine, then froze.  Too late, I was spurting.
She felt it.  "Unnggghhhh!" Breathe.  "Unnnggghhhh!" Breathe.

   Her fingers fought for a non-existent hold on the short hair on the back
of my head and she gave up and pulled my head down and fastened her lips to
mine, breathing in sharp snorts through her nose.  I managed short pushes
to finish emptying the fire from me into her.  Her legs languorously
wrapped mine.  Her arms held on.  And I had no complaints.

   Breathed together.  Kisses.  Sighs.  More breathing.  Then a little
wiggle down below.

   "We're making a mess of the sheets."

   "I have more sheets.  I may never have another moment like this in my
life." Kiss.  "Come to think of it, I don't think I've ever had one like
this before."

   A gentle push that I interpreted as a sign to move off her.  I did.  Got
a naked Jenn plastered against me.

   "If you can say that, Chuck, then you won't laugh at me when I say it."

   I looked at her as she turned her face to mine.

   "Seriously.  Never.  Ever.  I have NEVER had an orgasm from intercourse.
Fucking.  Screwing.  Anything right up to tonight.  Apparently I have to be
making love."

   "Seriously?"

   "I've faked a few.  Wished it would happen, because to me it would have
meant something.  But no.  Never.  I'm not that experienced, Chuck.  Couple
of guys before you." She sighed.  Understood my silence.  Continued, "I
don't want to be experienced.  I want Chuck."

   "I want Jenn.  Jenn now.  Jenn only.  Jenn forever."

   "Mmmmmmm." Giggle.  "You got me.  I want to be wanted."

   "I want you."

   Her fingers traced and tangled in my chest hair.  She tugged.  "That
hurt?"

   "No."

   "Bother you?"

   "No.  Actually I relish the attention." I was idly re-arranging the
stray hairs splayed along her cheek.  I traced that smooth cheek with the
tip of my index finger.

   She turned her head and kissed my fingertip.  "It's not, is it, Chuck?"

   "Not what?"

   "One-night stand."

   "Don't do 'em.  Don't say 'I love you' to get in somebody's pants. 
Jenn, I was very close to talking myself out of tonight about a dozen
different times.  I almost got up and tossed you the housekeys and went to
a hotel.  I don't know what went off in me to end up here." I kissed the
top of her head.  "I couldn't do that, either..."

   She scooted up slightly to offer me her lips in lieu of her head.  I
took her up on the offer.

   "I never did a one-night stand, Chuck.  And you weren't going to be the
first.  Just so you know that.  And I didn't say things to you just so I
had a cuddle partner for the night."

   "We seem to be tiptoeing around each other.  Jenn, let's try to relax.
You've got me."

   Her hand slid down from my chest, past my belly and her fingers grasped
my semi-hard dick.  Giggle.  "Okay.  Indeed I do." Little peck for
punctuation.  "Questions."

   "Answers."

   "Serious."

   "Of course."

   "If a girl was to slide down there and suck this thing would you be
horrified?"

   "No, I think 'delighted' is a better word."

   "Okay.  Answer accepted."

   I'm wondering what sort of games that Virginia Coleman is playing, but
hey!  We're in bed naked, and I'm all for it, and I've carefully
sequestered those mutual 'I love you' statements in a safe area in my mind.

   "Do I get to question also?" I asked.

   "Of course.  You answer one, I'll answer one."

   "Does Jenn mind if her guy spends time enjoying the probably wonderful
taste of her pussy?"

   "I'm sure I'm all for that," she giggled.  "My turn again.  Before her
guys performs that activity, does she, like, have to be completely
sanitized, free of all traces of their previous love-making?"

   Enough games.  I pushed her over on her back and slid down on the bed,
landing my face between those delectable, if not a little sticky, thighs.
She squealed.  "A simple yes or no would suf ...  Ahhhhh!"

   Yeah, I know ...  some guys would rather gargle molten lead, but what I
had before me was the result of me and this delightful creature.  I lapped,
tentative at first, gentle, trying to determine her desires.  Her 'desire'
was expressed by her spreading her thighs wide apart and her hands pushing
on the back of my head.

   Finally, "STOP!  I need to breathe."

   "You like?"

   "Ohgodyesssss!" She took a deep breath.  Sighed it out.  "Please tell me
you have thought about sixty-nine by now."

   "All on the first night?"

   "Happy honeymoon, love," she said.  "Yes!  All of it!  I want it ALL. 
With YOU!  Roll over!"

   I did.  Got a happy Jenn on top of me, then my world dissolved in a
flurry of amazing sensations.  Got every single sense worked over in ways I
couldn't even imagine.

   Her head popped up.  "You REALLY like this?"

   "Amazing!  God, yes!"

   "Thought so.  You're awfully hard, you know."

   "You're awfully delicious, you know."

   There was a bounce of activity and I was looking up at her face as she
licked her lips.  The other end of me?  Impaling her.

   "Can you sit up without me losing that?" she asked me.

   "I can try.  And if it pops out, I'm sure we can get it back in."

   "Oh, yessss!" she hissed.

   We struggled a bit but achieved the required change in position without
mishap.  Those long legs?  They go so well wrapped around me.  She wiggled,
smiling broadly.

   "You're beautiful," I said.

   "I bet you say that to every girl in this position."

   "Nope.  Just you."

   "Nobody ever gets another shot at this, buddy," she said.

   "I can live with that.  Is this, like, a one-time thing for you?"

   "Not unless you absolutely hate it."

   "I love it."

   She wiggled again.  "Good!  It works with you." She had her arms around
my neck.  For a moment it looked as if she was thinking.

   Scratch that.  I need you to understand, Jenn thinks a lot.  I was just
learning that.

   "Something wrong?"

   Giggle.  "Absolutely not!"

   "Your eyes.  You went away."

   "Just a passing thought.  D'ya wanna hear?"

   "Sure.  I guess..."

   "Chuck, don't take this wrong, but we're both adults and we've both been
with others..."

   Part of me started dying.  Jenn ...  she's something.  "Don't look like
that.  Chuck, you're IT!  It's never been like this before.  First time? 
Any time!  You're who I was made for."

   She batted those dark eyelashes, her eyes bright.  I assumed this was a
good time to say something.  She's reading me again.

   "Truth, Chuck."

   "Words fail me.  I've always fancied myself as somewhat of a wordsmith,
and you, brown-haired girl, have depleted my vocabulary."

   "That fountain earlier sort of told me you liked it."

   "No, I REALLY liked it.  Jenn..."

   "It?  Chuck, 'it' cannot be separated from 'me'."

   "Okay, then, let me rephrase that.  I LOVED it..."

   She wiggled, reminding me (as if I needed a reminder) that I was six
inches deep inside her.  Another wiggle, and her brow knit and her eyes
closed.  "Oh, yeah..." more wiggles, little swirly slides.  Her eyes
fluttered open briefly.  A gasp and "Work with me," and she bit her bottom
lip.

   Yes, It's definitely THERE.  I gripped her waist, feeling her move under
my hands.  Hands?  What am I talking about?  Two more wiggles from that
mobile heinie and I forgot that I had any appendages at all other than the
one she was happily working inside her.  And that appendage was happy. 
Very happy.  Headed towards orgasmic levels of happy.

   So was my partner, as evidenced by head tossed back, eyes squeezed shut,
breath hissing, then her lips parting enough to "Yessss!  Like THAT!  Stay
with me!" Hump.  Hump.  Hump.  "Nnnnghhhhh!  Ohgodyesssss!" and when she
plunged herself down to ride through it, I triggered again.

   We ended up making happy whimpery noises into each other's necks.  She
was the first one to form words.  "I love you, Chuck.  Love you."

   "You keep saying it first, so it makes me sound like I'm just saying it
because you do."

   "Do you mean it?"

   "Yes."

   "Good." Wiggle.  "Definitely a second wet spot."

   "I know.  I feel it running down my balls."

   Giggle.  "Thank you for sharing that with me."

   "Ain't all me, babe," I said.  "You're a juicy little thing."

   "I'm a 'thing'?"

   "My thing."

   "Then I'll accept being a thing.  But what about the wet spot?"

   "We could dab as much up with a towel.  Or change sheets."

   "Sheets!" she said as she climbed off me.

   "Hall closet."

   "Gotta do the bathroom first."

   "Okay." She dashed toward that door.  I admired the neat body as it
moved.  Nice.  Very much nice.  I got the new sheets and then headed
towards the bathroom just in time to see her reach into the shower.

   "Is that a private thing?"

   "Is it supposed to be?" she asked.  "I would be happier if you joined
me."

   "Okay.  I'd enjoy that." I did, too!  Something about two wet bodies in
a shower.  New dimensions and all that, but then this is ALL new dimensions
for the two of us.  Well, except for those little thoughts that went
through my head when I saw her wet in the river.

   We toweled off in front of each other.

   "I am so glad you're not one of those bashful women," I said.

   "I am, you know.  Right up until YOU."

   "So this is the way it's gonna be?  You can be everything YOU want to be
with me?"

   "Yes." She fixed me in her gaze again.  "You're going to let me and
enable me and support me.  And naturally I will do the same for you."

   "That sounds like a marriage proposal, little girl?"

   "Do you need another one?"

   "You're serious."

   She slid her naked body up against me.  "And you're not?"

   "No, I AM.  It's ...  just kind of enormous."

   She fished a hair dryer out of one of her bags on the bathroom counter.
"Chuck, Monday morning I will go out and get a job.  I'm a nurse.  It's
just like that for me.  I can get my own apartment and set up housekeeping.
It would be on a shoestring for a while, but in a couple of months I'd be
pretty well set up.  Alone.  But set up.  Or..."

   "Or..." I replied.

   "Or you could succumb to what has overtaken me."

   "Jenn..."

   "That wasn't 'Jenn's horny and will say anything' before."

   "Chuck doesn't have that mode, Jenn."

   "Then where's it go?"

   "These things usually take longer."

   "Do they need to?"

   "I guess not, really.  Mail-order brides and all that..." She was sort
of insistent.  I found her charming.  And disarming.

   "I said that to say this, Chuck.  I don't need you for your money or for
your house.  When we get married (she said 'when') there's a line drawn. 
What's yours before is still yours.  What's mine is still mine.  But when
we sign our names, everything after that is ours.  But I don't NEED Chuck
and his money and his house.  I just need Chuck.  Didn't know I needed
Chuck, but now that I know Chuck exists, I need him.  Period.A" She gave me
a stern look and turned on the hair dryer.

   I pulled the plug.  She turned to me with a smile on her face.  "Have
you formulated your response?"

   "I have.  You're the piece that's missing in my life."

   "Good."

   I plugged her back in and took the dryer and brush from her.  She
giggled.  "You're trying to get on my good side.  Do you like my hair?"

   "I like it.  Your natural color's a lively brunette.  Quite comely all
by itself."

   "He wanted the streaks.  I gave 'im streaks.  Just kept doing it.  Can I
quit now?"

   "Your hair.  Do what you wish."

   "I have options.  One of them is to pay attention to Chuck.  As long as
you don't want a pink afro, I'm good."

   "How about if I just like it the way it is.  You know, you let it do
what it wants to do.  I like clean and shiny."

   "Short or long?"

   "Both have their attractions, but I do like easy access to your neck." I
showed her what 'easy access' meant.  Had to wrap her in my arms to keep
her from collapsing in giggles.

   She swung around to face me.  I loved the way she put her arms around
me, happy, without guile or prevarication.  Just like it was the finest
thing she could think of at the moment.  We kissed.

   "Day One of a million, Chuck."

   The two of us walked back into the bedroom, changed the sheets together,
both of us still completely nude.  She insisted on tightening the sheets
and arranging the pillows and the bedspread and tightening things to
perfection.

   "Why?" I asked.  "We're just gonna jump right back in it?"

   She stood back and took my hand.  "Because this is the way I want to do
it.  Slide between clean sheets on a perfectly made bed with my mate.  Do
you understand that?"

   "I guess it has certain aesthetic connotations."

   "More than aesthetic.  Almost spiritual." She did that sideways spin
thing again and again ended up pressing her delightfully naked body against
me.  The kiss was simple, delightful, loving, and oh, so erotic.  She
pulled back.  "I am serious about this, Chuck.  Just like this bed.  It's
used.  But we can make it up perfect and use it some more.  And make it up
perfect, time after time..."

   "Day after day, year after year," I said.  "Virginia Coleman, I hope
you're for real.  My heart's falling way down an awfully deep hole over
you."

   She grabbed the corner of the covers and flipped them back.  "Get in.  I
love you.  Let's sleep together for the first time tonight."

   I crawled in, met her in a tangle of arms and legs and bright brown eyes
and smiles and wet lips.  "Even if we don't sleep much.  At all."



   ------

   Chapter 7

   Jenn's turn:

   In the wee hours of the morning I rolled over and found a man in bed
next to me.  Understand, I have been sleeping with a man for several years,
but that guy was gone from my life for almost four weeks now, and here's
this guy in bed with me.

   It's not my bed.  Nice bed, though.  High-count cotton sheets, fragrant,
clean, the mattress is just the perfect firmness, the pillows caress my
head, the room is cool.  There's a dim light from the entirely wrong
direction, so I quickly inventory my surroundings.  Came up with the
answer.

   I am Alice, and this is Wonderland.  I am completely nude, there's a bit
of wetness between my thighs, and the guy next to me has no clothes on.

   And I remember that I told him that I loved him.

   Worse than that, he told me that he loved me.  No threats from me.  He
was stone cold sober.  And wasn't trying to get in my pants, not unless he
was the most subtle, crafty bastard on the planet.  He told me he loved me.

   It's time to find out something.  I roll onto my side, scooting up to
spoon his body with mine and I put my arm around him.  What's gonna happen?

   His hand gently covered mine, then closed and tugged me even closer.

   I always wanted a snuggler, so I went back to sleep.

   I woke up again when the sun was pushing around the edges of the blinds.
This time when I turned over I came face to face with the guy.  Make that
THE guy.

   "So it wasn't a dream?" he asked.

   "However dreamy it might have seemed.  Good morning, Chuck."

   "Good morning Lorraine," he said, watching my face.

   "If you want Lorraine, then I'm Lorraine, but I'd really rather you
wanted Jenn."

   "Ohhhh," he said.  "Jenn.  I remember Jenn.  I love Jenn."

   "Still?  No mistake?  Not overcome by the moment?"

   He kissed me, just a peck.  I didn't let him get away with that.  I
reeled him in for a REAL one.

   "I was worried about morning breath," he said as our lips parted.

   "Do I have it?" I asked.

   "No.  And you're beautiful after a night's sleep."

   "You're crazy." But I smiled when I said that, both outside and in.

   He placed a little soft kiss on the center of my forehead, a tender
thing that I'd never gotten since I outgrew them from Mom and Dad.  "You
should let me decide if you're beautiful or not."

   "I'm adequate," I said.  "All my life I was never the pretty one."

   "You know, lady, I have heard that spiel before.  I have news for you.
Most of the world can look at a piece of copper and say it's a plain ol'
piece of pipe.  Me, I look at it and say it's part of the system that
carries power to a city.  So when I look at you, I know something you
don't."

   "Brown eyes.  Brown hair.  B-cups.  The three 'B's' of mediocrity."

   "Are you really SURE you want to convince me you're not beautiful?"

   "I know what I am."

   "You did.  Yesterday morning you knew.  Last night at midnight your data
was no longer valid."

   "So changing my status from alone to being in love means I become
beautiful?"

   He gave me another of those kisses that burn through my being. 
"Exactly. To me, for sure.  Others?  Maybe.  But certainly to me."

   "Then I will be your beauty, Chuck.  Just know that it's kind of new to
me.  So what does Chuck do on a Sunday morning?"

   "Breakfast, then church."

   "Church?"

   "We don't have to, if..."

   "What denomination?" I asked.  Mom and Dad raised me in church.  I
always thought that I'd do the same thing, you know, marry, go to church on
Sundays, just like I was raised.  Bert was none of that.  Half the time,
Sunday was a hangover day for him, anyway, especially that last year.

   "Nothing strange.  You've landed in the home of a good Baptist boy."

   "I can do 'Baptist'," I said.  "I was one.  With Mom and Dad."

   I saw the look on his face.  "Last night ...  How do you reconcile last
night with a good Baptist girl, right?"

   "Took two of us..."

   "Yeah.  Did, didn't it?"

   "Well?" he questioned.

   "Well, nothing.  I love you.  You love me.  That's between you and me
and God.  Let the rest of the world worry about papers and ceremonies and
such.  You.  Me.  God.  Am I missing something?"

   He looked at me with those cool blue eyes, like he was studying.  "So we
walk in, and somebody comes up and says "'Hi, Chuck.  Introduce me to your
friend.' What do I say?"

   "If you're very brave, you say 'This is my wife, Virginia.  You can call
her 'Jenn'.' Or you can introduce me as your fiancĂ(C)e.  Or just say that
I'm your friend."

   "I wish you hadn't wrecked that dress you wore last night," he said.  "I
would want my wife to look like you did last night."

   "I liked it, too.  Bought two.  The other one's dark green."

   "I don't want to lie..."

   I spun and looked at him head on.  "About what?  Me and you?"

   He nodded.  This is a decent guy on the horns of a dilemma.  He needs
help.  I am Jenn, helper of troubled people.  "Chuck, were you serious last
night?  No one nighters.  NO quick shack jobs?"

   "Yes, Jenn."

   "So what do you tell 'em?"

   "If I said we were married, it would be close to the truth as my heart
knows it.  But I don't want to put Jenn in a box."

   "You put Jenn on a pedestal," I said.  "Let's get dressed and go have
breakfast." I paused, watching his eyes.  "And church.  We will go to
church."

   Breakfast was at a little family-owned diner.  Good food.  Good coffee.
The place was crowded but they were able to handle it well.  We chatted
about everything we saw around us.  Bert never wanted to hear me talk. 
Chuck seemed to hang on my words, then he'd actually reply to what I said,
like he was actually listening.

   After breakfast, church was a short jaunt.  We parked and got out.  He
walked to my side of the truck like he was waiting for something.  I hope I
gave it to him when I took his hand.  We walked in the same direction as
others, couples, families, towards the building.

   I didn't want to ACT like I was looking, but I was looking.  Several
heads clicked when they saw Chuck with this woman nobody knew.

   I was surprised it took as long as it did.  A couple, guy, wife, maybe
eight year old girl and six year old boy, peeled out of the flow and headed
toward us.

   "Hey, Chuck," the guy said.  "How's things goin'?"

   "Good," he said, "Ron, this is Jenn, Jenn, Ron, Connie, Haley and Ron
Junior."

   "Hi, Jenn," Connie said, offering her hand.

   I shook it and said, "Hello!  Beautiful kids!"

   The kids grinned.  Connie sighed.  "You're looking at almost an hour's
work there."

   "Jenn's my..." Chuck started.

   "FiancĂ(C)e," I chirped, cutting my eyes at him.

   "Wow!  Congratulations!" Ron blurted, pumping Chuck's hand.  "When's the
date?"

   Chuck looked at me.  I took that as my cue to continue.  "Next two
weeks, tops!  Him.  Me.  And if we can get the pastor to do it ...  And a
couple of witnesses."

   "Oh, well, when you get it done, y'all need to come over for dinner,"
Connie said.

   "We'll do that," I said.  I'd watched Chuck's face for signs of pain. 
Didn't see any, so I operated on the assumption that these were acceptable
people.

   We continued on into the church.  I noted that Ron and Connie stopped
and chatted with at least one other couple.

   We took our seats in a pew mid-way back from the altar.  I leaned over.
"I think we'd being advertised," I whispered.  "Next week we come early
enough for Sunday School."

   "Really?  Two weeks, tops?" he whispered back.

   "Too long?" I asked.  His eyes answered for me.  Blind.  The guy's
blind, and deluded.

   And mine.  Don't forget that.  He's mine.

   Okay, yes, I'm impressed again.  Church.  This guy goes to church and
people recognize him, which tells me this isn't just to impress me, and
besides, what kind of guy meets a girl on Friday, sleeps with her on
Saturday and then takes her to church on Sunday?  People used to call me
quirky, but I may have just found somebody equally warped.

   Church service was just about identical to every Baptist service I'd
attended as a child.  After the altar call, the crowd headed for the door.
We, me and my Chuck, got stopped and questioned and smiled a lot.  Word
spreads fast.

   Exactly how fast became clear when we exited.  The pastor was there
shaking hands.

   "Hello, Chuck!  I just heard..."

   "Reverend Paul, this is Jenn Coleman, my fiancĂ(C)e.  Jenn, my pastor."

   "Pleased to meet you, sir," I said.  "We have work for you to do."

   His eyebrow arched.  His wife patted him on the arm.  "You want him to
marry you two?"

   "Yes, ma'am," I said.

   "We'll do it!" Reverend Paul said.  "Have a date?"

   "Depends on if we can get a license this week.  But soon!" Chuck
replied. "We'll call you!"

   We navigated through the parking lot with only a couple more collisions
of the 'Hey, What's up?' persuasion.  Chuck gallantly opened my door for
me. I arranged myself in my seat.  He got in and closed the door.

   "You're a surprise," he said.

   "Again?" I asked coyly.

   "I thought we were going to say we were married."

   "But then we couldn't get your pastor to do the service."

   "You played it by ear?"

   "Yep!  Everything changed when that guy, Ron, and his family recognized
you."

   "What?"

   "Says you show up here often enough for people to know you and not be
too surprised when you show up." I paused for effect.  "Therefore, I don't
want to lie or give the appearance of a lie.  I surmise this is YOUR
church, so here's where you should be getting married.  To me."

   "You're nuts."

   "So are you.  I mean, what kind of freakazoid takes a girl to church as
a means of continued access to her goodies?"

   "Goodies?" he blurted.  "You got GOODIES?!?"

   I slapped his arm.  "Beast!"

   "And yes, I am nuts.  You?"

   "Nuts here," I laughed.  I was ABLE to laugh.  This guy had just
navigated me through a church parking lot TWICE and had engaged in multiple
conversations without resorting to 'fuck' in any of its forms.  Matter of
fact, I'd never heard him say the word at all.  I wasn't embarrassing to
him and he wasn't an embarrassment to me.  So yes, 'nuts!'

   "What do two nuts have for lunch after church?" he questioned.

   "We could go home and build something, or ...  You get a say, too," I
replied.

   "Why don't we hit the grocery for a couple of steaks then?  We can do
sandwiches for lunch and then steaks and baked potatoes for dinner."

   "You know how to turn a girl's head."

   You wanna know who else shops for groceries on Sunday?  His sister. 
We're winding through the aisles and this blonde chick comes up and wraps
MY Chuck up in her arms.  MY Chuck.  I slid right up next to him so when he
recovered his composure, there I was.

   "Oh, Geez, Jenn," he said, noting my expression.  "This is my sister
Courtney.  Courtney, you need to get used to Jenn.  We're getting married."

   "You skate on thin ice, Courtney," I said.  "But I'll forgive you
hugging on my man."

   Courtney regarded me for a second.  "Hello, Jenn.  I didn't even know
Chuck's been dating."

   "Pleased to meet you, Courtney.  I think I'd rather he tell the story."

   "He'd better," Courtney said.  "At least somebody should.  Why are you
keeping your sister in the dark, Chuck?" she asked him.

   I giggled.  "Yeah, honey, why are you?"

   I know the reason: Friday morning we didn't even know each other. 
That's something I'd rather HE figure out how to explain.

   "It's a short story," My Chuck said.  "Kinda like buying a winning
lottery ticket."

   His sister cocked a wry eye at him.  "I'm sure I'll get the whole story
sooner or later.  When's the wedding?"

   "Next week or two," he said.  I just smiled.

   "You don't ...  HAVE to?" Courtney blurted.

   "Of course not," I said.  "Not in this day and age.  I mean, who CARES
about that any more?"

   Courtney's answer told me even more about this guy.  "He does."

   "Really?!?" I squealed at Chuck, "you'd marry me if you knocked me up?"
It was just loud enough to turn a few heads in the canned goods aisle.  I
giggled.  To Courtney I said, "Really, no.  Just a real good guy that I
want to keep."

   "And vice versa," Chuck said.

   "So when can we get together and talk about it?" Courtney questioned.

   I glanced at the grocery basket.  "Our dinner plans aren't iron-clad. 
Your place or ours?" I caught the little twinkle in Chuck's eye when I said
'our place'.

   She looked to Chuck.  "Is that okay?  How about you two come over..."

   "We'll pick up chicken," Chuck snickered.  "Saves us from your cooking."

   Courtney snorted, "I'm as good a cook as you, but if you want chicken,
bring it on!  Five?  Five-thirty?"

   "We'll be there at five-thirty," Chuck stated.

   "Lemme go check out, then," Courtney answered.  "Good meeting you,
Jenn!" She trundled her cart up the aisle away from us.

   I turned to Chuck.  "Did we handle that okay?"

   "I guess so," he said.

   "I never did ask about your family.  So I know you have a sister. 
Others?"

   "That's it.  Mom and Dad are gone.  Mom three years ago.  Dad last
year."

   "Sorry," I said.  "I know how it hurts."

   "Circle of life and all that," he said.  "Neither of them was
unexpected. I miss 'em both.  They're why I am the way I am, I guess."

   "It is.  Part of it, anyway," I countered, thinking to myself that some
of what my own mom and dad taught me was finally taking root.  At least
that was my fervent hope.  And the subject of a prayer this morning in
church.

   We finished our shopping and loaded the groceries into the truck.

   "Now," I said, "we can talk.  Is your family going to be a problem?"

   "Courtney?  Hardly."

   "If she knew I met you on Friday?"

   "Courtney tried to get me NOT to marry Wife #1.  I'm her little brother.
She can abuse me, but she doesn't let others abuse me."

   "Do you think I'm abusing you?"

   "Haven't so far," and he smiled.

   I reached over and touched his arm.  A little giggle came out of my
lips.

   "What?"

   "I feel like I'm living in a fairy tale," I said.  "Carriage turned into
a pumpkin.  Getting married because the shoe fits.  All that stuff."

   "Now that you put it that way..."

   "Fairy tales leave one with some odd ideas of courtship, but there's
that whole 'and they lived happily ever after' thing."

   "I'm going to love getting inside that head of yours, Jenn.  You come up
with some odd thoughts."

   "Thank you, I think!"

   "I meant it as a complimet.  Wanna keep you around just to hear what you
say next."

   "Good!  This is a good thing, You and me?  Good thing!" I smiled.  This
is getting GOOD!  So I questioned him about his family life and he
questioned me about mine.  Neither of us was from a broken home.  Both of
us looked at our parents' experiences and synthesized our expectations for
our own.

   And both of us, up to this point, had failed.  Yeah, 'failed', like the
Titanic sank and the guy stoking the boilers had 'failed'.

   "I had reasonable expections, Jenn," he told me.  "I thought that once
we got past that 'dating' thing, life was supposed to NOT revolve around
partying with friends and doing bars and clubs.  She thought it meant she'd
always have a ride home.  And money to spend."

   "I thought it would work for me that way," I told Chuck.  "I mean, Dad
had that 'everyman' look to him.  He liked the occasional beer and he liked
TV and music and taking Mom out on the occasional Saturday night.  I
thought Bert was like that.  My dear ol' Bert sounds a lot like your wife.
He never quite grokked that whole 'maturity' thing.

   "Grokked?"

   "Yeah, 'grokked'.  I've read Heinlein.  Haven't you?  I thought I saw
some books on your shelf."

   "I've read a lot of his stuff.  I know what 'grokked' means.  I'm still
being surprised by what YOU know."

   I smiled.  "So you end up with a lady who's read books without pictures
in them, and it's shock?"

   He laughed.  "Yeah, it's a shock.  Most of the women I get set up with
think that People Magazine counts as literature."

   "And that tattoos are an expression of individuality..." I surmised I
could feed his stream of thought.

   "So they can be unique just like everybody else.  Some things are just
deal-breakers for me.  Cigarettes and tattoos are high on the list."

   "Most women my age have one or more offspring, too.  I'm sure that can
be a hurdle." Yes, I was egging him on.

   "Oh, you mean Mommy is overcompensating..."

   "Spoiling rotten," I interjected.

   "Yeah, spoiling the little crotchfruit to make up for the absent daddy,
and the kid's got 'issues' and you have to just understand those outbursts
are just acting out the hostility from an unstable home environment because
the bastard didn't send the child support..."

   "You ARE burnt," I commented.

   "No.  Yes, I guess, maybe a little bit.  I guess I shouldn't've been so
picky.  But marriage is supposed to be forever, and I just couldn't see
myself rolling over and looking at the tramp stamp from the wild weekend in
Vegas, or the two kids by two different daddies, or whatever else."

   "Well, did you find MY tattoo?  I mean, last night you were in a good
position to look."

   "You don't have a tattoo."

   "And I plan on keeping it that way.  If you want some mark to tag me as
your property, the best you'll do is get me to wear a ring."

   "Which we need to go buy, since you mention it.  How big a diamond do
you want?"

   I mused at the thought.  Bert had never so much as offered, and when I
mentioned it, there was always someplace for the money to go besides him
buying me a ring.  "Ditch the diamond.  You can put a plain gold band on
this finger."

   "Serious?  I'd buy you a diamond.  Long as you keep it under ten grand."

   "Yikes!" I squealed.  "Seriously?"

   "I would.  Assuming that you still want to marry me."

   "About that," I said.  I watched his face change.  Gave him a few
seconds to stew, then said, "We need to make things happen fast if we're
doing this in the next week or two."

   "You still want to marry me," he spoke, as if he was both convincing
himself and verifying a fact.

   "Yes I do.  All that it entails." I touched his arm.  That was me
verifying that he's real.  "Yes I do," I repeated.  "Charles LeBert, you're
a good man.  I shall be a wife to you who is worthy of the title."

   "I shall be your husband, my dear.  But you're right.  We need to get in
gear.  Courthouse tomorrow afternoon?"

   "Gotta start somewhere, I suppose."

   "Then a jewelry store," he said.

   "I hope you're serious, Chuck," I said.  "That this isn't some kind of a
game of 'chicken' to see who ducks first."

   "I'd never do that to a woman, Jenn."

   "Then it's Jenn 'n' Chuck." And we pulled into the driveway.

   Between the two of us we soon had groceries stowed and were building
sandwiches.

   "Seriously, Chuck?  Paper plates?"

   "My concession to a bachelor lifestyle," He said.  "Don't judge me. 
Either this, or I have to run the dishwasher with two dishes in it, or wait
three days for a good load."

   "Or wash two dishes by hand," I laughed.

   "That runs counter to my engineering gadget sense."

   It also made kitchen cleanup easy.  That led to the next step where I
hooked my fingers into his belt and tugged.  His expression was precious as
it changed from surprise to happiness.

   "Gee, that's subtle," he laughed.

   "Sometimes I may show you my 'subtle' side, buddy," I said.  "Right now
I'm remembering my world being rocked last night and wondering if that's a
fluke."

   "I'm of a similar experience.  Let's go see together."

   Got pushed onto the bed fully clothed, and got severely kissed.  My head
buzzed like I'd taken a couple of stiff shots of vodka.  Head buzzed. 
Other parts tingled and got all gooshy.  My nipples got hard, but not
nearly as hard as what I felt in his pants.

   Last night I finally learned what good sex was.  Now I wanted more of
it. My dress was up around my waist and I was out of breath and... 
"Let's..." breathe.  "Clothes ...  off!"

   "'Kay!" he managed through his teeth.  "Hungry."

   "Me too!" And what I was hungry for ...  God, I was hungry for ...  You
have to realize that this is a new chapter of the book that is Jenn's sex
life.  Almost thirty.  Not a virgin since sixteen.  Just not that sexual.
This is the third guy who'd penetrated me, and he'd gone in clear up to my
SOUL.

   Up to last night, sex was ...  well, I could orgasm, and they were
relaxing and relieving and something that I faked for my partner's sake and
took care of later for my sake.  Just wasn't much.  Obviously my partner
NEEDED it, but never had I been with a LOVER.  It's like with Chuck the fog
was lifted and I saw clearly.

   And right now as I struggled to get that dress off, I was almost in
tears, happy tears, thinking about it.  NO, wrong.  Not 'it'.  Him.  Us. 
And wondering whatever happened to Logical Jenn, RN.



   ------

   Chapter 8

   Chuck's turn:

   The woman went to church with me.  There are so many things going
through my head right now over this Jenn creature.

   Ever since we first started talking, after we started letting our
defenses down, just about every question or comment I made to her, it was
like she was in my head, knowing what the answer was supposed to be.

   She was just pleasant.  I found the woman in what could best be
described as dire circumstances, but once she got her feet down, she was
intelligent, pleasant and to my thinking, pretty in that proverbial 'girl
next door' way.

   So many things going on ...  Main one, though, is that I want to keep
her.

   I met her under adverse conditions, sure enough, but I watched her swing
into action under worse conditions when we came upon a car wreck in a
rainstorm.  She instantly switched to a very business-like and capable
mode. Impressive.  And then she took charge.

   Competent women turn me on.  I thought I had a basket case on my hands
when she got in the car on the side of the interstate.  She shook that off.
Held her head up soon enough.  Shows me something that I really like.

   Convinced me that ...  I'm getting married.  Either I've lost my mind,
or found my heart.

   "When you get that look, what are you thinking, Chuck?" this creature
asked me.

   "How my world turned upside down."

   She nestled up against me.  "So when your world turned upside down, did
it leave an opening big enough for a mate?"

   "I believe it did."

   "Good.  I know this is crazy.  But good." She smiled.

   The two of us threw sandwiches together and sat in the breakfast nook.

   "You're not nervous about dinner with my sister, are you?" I asked.

   "Is she a violent person?"

   "Well ...  no, not since she got married ...  She gave me hell as a kid,
though."

   "Sisters are supposed to do that," Jenn smiled.  "All my friends report
the phenomenon.  I wish I had a sister.  I guess I'll adopt yours."

   "You may not want 'er.  Heaven knows, there's been times that I didn't."

   Jenn smiled.  "I wish I'd had the experience."

   "I suppose," I said.  "Sounds a whole lot better now than it felt like
at the time."

   One thing about my 'paper plate and sandwich' lunch: cleanup was quick.
I turned around in the kitchen and almost bumped into her.  Her brown eyes
were bright and lively and she had THAT smile on her face.

   "You're thinking something."

   "I am.  You know, us being so new at being together, we have a lot to
learn about each other."

   "We do," I affirmed, starting a set of memories in my mind from the
previous night.  "What do you have questions about?"

   "For instance," she said, pushing me backward against the kitchen
counter, "do you find it a turn-off to find yourself accosted in the
kitchen?" She grasped my waist, holding me against her.

   "I never thought being accosted could be so pleasant," I answered.  I
can't keep my hands off her face.  I gently brush her hair aside and kiss
her.

   "I ...  You must think I'm a nut-case, Chuck," she said.

   "Why would I think such a thing?" I asked.

   "Because you rescued me one day and the next day I'm in your bed and a
day later I'm pledging my undying love to you." She pulled her face back,
connecting those warm brown eyes to mine.  "If I was looking at this from
the outside, it looks awfully crazy."

   "I can't tell.  I'm not on the outside."

   "D'ya wanna be?  On the outside, I mean?"

   "Nope," I assued her.  "I've always wondered what it would be like to
surf an avalanche."

   "It is kind of like that, isn't it?"

   "Yep.  Very pleasant." I let my hands range down her waist.  They
stopped when they reached a delectable butt.

   Her smile broadened.  "What time do we have to be at your sisters?"

   "Oh, I guess a bit before five will work.  Why?"

   "Because I don't want to be in a hurry." What she didn't want to hurry
was made more apparent as she pressed against me.

   I've seen enough 'adult' video to know what some people think is a
'wanton' or 'lustful' look.  That's not what I saw in Jenn's eyes.  I saw
happiness.  Love.  Laughter.  Sharing.  And that's several orders of
magnitude up the scale on getting Chuck LeBert's furnace glowing.

   "Here?  In the kitchen?  Or the laundry room?  Or the back yard? 
Where?"

   Giggle.  "I'm sure we'll work down that list in due time," she smiled.
"But right now, how about a bed?  Easier on the knees."

   She squealed when I ducked to pick her up over my shoulder and she was
giggling when I unceremoniously dropped her in the middle of the bed, then
trapped her under me.

   "I love you, Jenn."

   "I love you, Chuck.  We're crazy, you know..."

   "For why?"

   "Getting married like this?"

   "Not as crazy as waking up hung over in Vegas next to somebody you met
the night before."

   "Nope.  You're right."

   "I've seen you in action," I said.  "I've seen you stressed."

   "And you've seen me in love.  Like right now." She punctuated her
statement by pulling up to kiss me.  "And you like it."

   "I love it."

   Giggle.  "Part of you does, for sure." Her hand insinuated itself
between us to measure the lump in my pants.  "I could have a lot more fun
with this if you got your clothes off."

   "One more kiss," I breathed.  She raised her head, her lips meeting
mine, her arms pulling me down on her.

   She broke the kiss with "Undress..."

   We did.  I looked.  Damned right I looked.  If I'm committing "'Til
death us do part" with this woman, I want to enjoy what I see.

   At first she covered her breasts, then spoke, "You don't look at me like
...  I dunno, Chuck.  It's like you think I'm pretty..."

   "You are."

   "Pretty enough to make this thing happy," she stated, her fingers
measuring my erection, causing me to moan.

   "I love the way you do that, Jenn.  It's like your fingers KNOW..." I
struggled.  The speech centers in my brain were losing blood supply.

   "I'm very interested in this thing, Chuck.  It made me very happy last
night.  Like nothing ever before.  And I'm all sticky right now just
thinking about it again."

   My fingers told me that she wasn't lying.  I brought my glistening
fingertips to my tongue.  "Mmmmm."

   "You really like that?  I mean, not faking?"

   "No.  Not faking.  A tasty part of my Jenn."

   "You got your Jenn doing something that no other guy ever did, Chuck."

   "Really?  What's that?"

   She pulled me down for another kiss.  "Lusting.  Tell me you love me,
then make me squeal!"

   I remember some squealing last night when my face was buried between her
thighs.  I started to move that way.  Got stopped by those horrible,
horrible B-cup titties.  With perky nipples.

   "Gahhhhh!" Her comment.

   "Mmmmm!" My comment.

   When she giggled, I moved lower, a moist goal in mind.  Brief stop at
her navel, a delightful innie that brought a peal of giggles when I tongued
it.  I moved through pubic hair, soft, fragrant, growing more musky with
every second.  The beginning of her slit, gateway to a little bit of
heaven.

   The girl DOES get wet.  Deliciously, luxuriously, sumptuously wet.  And
happy.  And breathless.  And responsive.  Her hands, fingers, touched the
back of my head, caressing, pushing, guiding me at my happy task.  Her
thighs clamped against the sides of my head as she shook.

   One.  I lapped up the slick, musky flow and returned.  This is the one
that made her squeal again.

   When lucidity treturned to her, I was beside her, my face still slick
with her juice.  Her hand cupped the back of my head and pulled me.  I
started to object.

   "I'm sure!," she spat.  "that's US!  You made me do that." She was
kissing me as she urged me onto my back.  "God, I love you, Chuck.  You
give me life!" She punctuated that statement by throwing a leg across me.

   "Oooohhhhhh," she uttered with a moan.  "Just absolutely perfect..." as
she lowered herself onto me.

   "I think so.  Perfect, my Jenn."

   She smiled, rocking, sliding.

   "I hope I look as happy as you do," I said between the shudders of
pleasure.

   "I've found my happy place, Chuck." She wiggled down.  "God, I feel
THAT!"

   "What?"

   "You're throbbing.  I can feel it!"

   "Can't..." I hissed, "control..."

   "Good!" The smile was still there as she worked mobile thighs, moving in
just the right ways.  A few moments more and she was biting her bottom lip,
corners of her mouth still turned up in a smile.  Her nostrils flared.  The
movements got insistent.  Stern.  Purposeful.

   I gasped, drawing a needed breath.  I would need it to oxygenate because
...  she pushed herself fully down and back and another of those little
squeals worked its way out.  And I exploded.  I heard colors and saw sounds
and breathed music into my lungs and I CAME.

   And still had the sense to catch her as she collapsed into my arms.

   "I love you, Jenn.  You're gonna kill me."'

   "Mmmm-hmmm," she purred.  "My goal.  If you don't kill me first." She
nestled into my chest.  "Two days.  Two days, Chuck, and I never want to
leave you."

   "You don't have to.  I don't want you to."

   "Really?"

   "Really really," I said.

   She knows how to kiss.  She knows how to curl up in my arms and slip off
into a nap made welcome by the activities of last night and today, a
pleasant hour and a half.

   She also knows that we need to strip that set of sheets off the bed and
toss them in the washer after we treat ourselves to a mutual showering. 
And she laughs as we try to dress one another.  She ends up looking quite
delectable in jeans and...

   "Lemme have one of your shirts."

   "What?"

   "D'you have a shirt I can wear?  One that just reeks of 'Chuck's
shirt'?"

   "I have plenty of shirts.  I don't think anybody pays attention to what
shirt I wear, though.  'Specially not one that Courtney or her bunch would
recognize." I tilted my head, questioning.

   She grinned.  "Wanna wear YOUR shirt."

   "Pick one."

   Yeah, it's way too big, and she looks adorably disheveled and I'm
thinking I really like it.

   "Well?" She questioned, spinning to show me her 'look'.

   "Charming.  Whimsical, crazy perfection."

   "I was just thinking that your sister saw me all dressed up at the store
after church, so she gets to see the other side.  I like being comfortable.
And wearing your shirt  -" that's just like I've got you wrapped around me
full time." Her face changed for a bit.  "Do I need make-up?"

   "Nope.  Not that I can see.  Those eyelashes look like what most women
attempt to emulate."

   "So you want to roll into your sister's house and present plain ol'
Jenn, unadorned..."

   "Informal, relaxed, cute as a button..."

   "You're doing it again, Chuck."

   "What?"

   "Making me feel special."

   "You ARE special."

   She did a little giggle.  "I think I'm in heaven."

   "Well hang on, princess.  I can't stay perfect for long."

   "As long as you can hover around 'pretty good' we'll do just fine.  Is
it time to go?"

   "Just as well," I said.

   We took 'her car'.  At least that's what I told her it was.

   "Really?  Just like that, I get a car?"

   "My wife should have to provide her own car?"

   "Well..." she started.

   "Look, tomorrow I have to go to work.  I know you have things you need
to take care of.  Here's a car."

   "Not like we won't be sitting together in it when we aren't at work,"
she said.

   "My point exactly.  But it's your car.  Or if you don't like it, we can
swap it out."

   "Oh, yeah," she laughed.  "I've always wanted a BMW."

   On the open road, my right hand idly touched the back of her neck.  She
tossed her head back.

   "Am I bothering you?" I asked.

   "Oh, gosh, no.  I love being touched.  The way you touch me."

   "I'm glad," I said.  "You're a pleasure to my senses."

   She smiled.  "Thank you.  Your eyes tell me you mean it."

   "I do mean it."

   She took my hand and pressed it to her lips, then squeezed it.  "You can
put it back there.  Touching my neck.  I like it."

   I glanced sideways as I drove.  Friday's 'standard brown-haired girl'
has changed to someone I don't want to think of living without.  I let the
silence sit for a minute, then said, "You need to be on your toes. 
Brother-in-law thinks his purpose in life is to embarrass me."

   "I'll defend you," she said.

   "Just be ready.  Sis'll try to slow 'im down, but I expect..."

   "I know the type.  I can handle it."

   "I think you can.  And I can always resort to punching him out."

   "Let's not start my relationship with my new family with a fist-fight,"
she laughed.

   We bantered our way around to my sister's house, stopping by a fried
chicken emporium on the way ...  After pulling up in my sister's driveway,
I took a deep breath.  "Well..."

   "Let's do this!" she finished for me.

   We walked to the front door, me with the bucket of chicken, her with the
bag of sides.  I was getting ready to push the button for the doorbell when
it swung open revealing my brother-in-law.

   "Come in, come in," he said with that loud voice of his.  The boy could
do 'boisterous' quite well.  I thought he was a loud, obnoxious blowhard
when Courtney dragged him home one day years ago.  However, twelve years
into marriage, he'd tamed Courtney and Courtney'd tamed him and the result
was a happy marriage.

   "Hello, Rod," I said.  "This is Jenn.  Jenn, this is Rod, my
brother-in-law for the time being.  You don't have to pretend to like 'im.
Nobody else does."

   "Chuck!  Don't be rude!" Jenn squealed, slapping my arm.  "Rod, I'm
pleased to meet you.  I shall try to control further outbursts!"

   By this time Courtney had made it to the front door.  "Geesh, you two.
You didn't even clear the doorstep!" The ongoing verbal joustings between
me and Rod were a constant.  Rod and Courtney knew how I really felt.

   "Hush, you!" I told Courtney.  "We brought chicken so nobody has to
endure your cooking."

   "Chu-uck!  Stoppit!" Jenn squealed again.  "Be nice."

   "I'm used to it," Courtney said, feigning sadness.  "Ever since he
popped out of Mom and ruined my life."

   We all went inside.  Jenn took off with Courtney to the kitchen.  Rod
turned to me.  "Engaged?  That's a surprise."

   "I'm surprised too," I said.

   "But she's something else."

   "Yes, she is," I said.  "Smart.  Sane.  Very easy on the eyes."

   Rod laughed.  "Sounds like you're in love."

   "Am," I said.  "She's it."

   "So when's the event taking place?"

   "This week," Jenn's voice sounded.  She was coming through the door. 
"We'll go get a license tomorrow and the preacher will do the job in his
office Wednesday or Thursday.  We need witnesses.  You volunteering?"

   I saw Courtney's face looking over Jenn's shoulder.

   "You don't have to ask HIM," I told Jenn.  "Courtney will make sure he
gets there."

   "I suppose you're shooting for some time after work?" Courtney asked.

   "Yeah," Jenn answered.  "Tuesday's probably too soon, Wednesday is
midweek services, so Thursday is probably where we'll do it." She looked at
me for affirmation.

   "I didn't choose her because she's stupid," I said.

   "Like the last one?" Rod snorted.

   "Hon!" Courtney spat.  "Don't be rude."

   Jenn giggled.  "Go ahead, Rod.  I need to know what I'm replacing."

   We sat at the table and started into the meal.

   After a bite, Rod asked Jenn, "Do you have a job?"

   "Not right at the moment," she said.  She paused, deliberately, I'm
sure, for effect.

   She got it.  His eyes rolled.  That was her cue to dive in.  "I'm a
registered nurse and an army veteran.  I will walk into a nursing agency
tomorrow and if I wish, go to work that next day, at the latest, at thirty
or forty bucks an hour, as many hours as I want."

   Rod sat back.  I smiled.  He said, "Well, points to you for that one.  I
had no idea."

   "We don't have tribal tattoos," Jenn snapped.  "We mostly look pretty
normal to the uninitiated."

   I was thinking 'Go Jenn!'.  Courtney just smirked.  "Told you she was
different."

   Jenn continued.  "I thought about making Chuck as stay at home
house-husband, but he does so much like his engineering stuff I just can't
make myself..."

   "Okay, okay," Rod surrendered.  "I guess I stepped into that one."

   "Yes, you did," I laughed.  "She doesn't fold up and get quiet."

   "Did his first wife?" Jenn questioned.

   "No," Courtney said.  "But nothing coming out of her mouth made much
sense."

   Jenn fixed me in her eyes.  "She must've had SOME attraction."

   "I wasn't as discerning back then," I replied.

   "Your future husband was hopelessly nerdy and socially inept, Jenn. 
He's better now."

   "Am not," I said.  "I just learned that some portions of humanity aren't
worth the efforts to fit into." I glanced sideways at Jenn.  She caught it
and winked.

   "Good!" she said.  "I get 'im all to myself."

   After dinner was done, Rod asked me to hit the garage with him to look
at the progress on an old truck he was restoring.  Jenn didn't let that go
without a comment.  "Oh, that's soooooo sexist.  The men go grunt over some
piece of machinery while us wimmenfolk clean up the kitchen."

   "Says the woman on the side of the road with a rod through her
crankcase..." I retorted.

   "Uh, that sounds somewhat suggestive, sir!"

   "Only if you've got a particularly susceptible mind," I countered over
my shoulder.

   Rod showed me the little details of the work he's doing on this old
truck.  "Dad had one just like it."

   "I can appreciate the work you're doing," I said.

   "Uh-huh.  Now, about that Jenn..."

   "What about 'er?"

   "She's quick."

   "Don't want a stupid one," I said.  "She doesn't NEED me, not in the
sense that she has no other options.  She just got to town.  She could have
a place of her own this week.  Told her she didn't need to even look."

   "She's a cutie," Rod said.  "I know you like 'em looking natural and all
that."

   "She does fit that bill," I said.  "Should've seen her Saturday night,
though."

   He had a questioning look.  I explained Jenn's actions at the wreck.

   "SO she's not one of those frail 'Oooo!  A SPIDER!' types."

   "Nope," I said.

   "She's not pregnant, is she?"

   "Damn, Rod!  You didn't take your 'subtle' pills this morning, did you?
But the answer is 'no'.  We both decided that we need to be together."

   "I guess that's reason enough," Rod said.  "Look at what I'm doing with
this rear suspension..."

   Jenn's turn:

   Courtney's got a nice kitchen.  Big.  Clean.  Reminds me of Chuck's
kitchen, which is to say, MY kitchen.  We're stacking things in the
dishwasher and I know the questions are getting ready to come out.

   "So how'd you meet Chuck?"

   "My car blew up on the Interstate.  He stopped to help."

   "Seriously?"

   "Yep.  I put that coincidence onto the the stack that says the universe
was lining up to get the two of us together," I said.

   "Cute!" answered Courtney.  "At least you didn't stalk him."

   "Or he didn't stalk me.  He just sorta was this decent, good-looking
guy. I managed to overlook that kind before.  Ain't making the mistake
again."

   "Oh, I know what you're talking about.  I have friends who're always
full of drama because they date the bad boys that they're just absolutely
sure they can domesticate."

   "Yeah.  I have friends like that.  I tried domesticating one myself. 
Gave up and swore off it.  Just lucky I ain't got a couple of kids from the
deal."

   "Chuck dated one or two of those women," Courtney said.  "I was so
afraid he'd just give up and settle."

   "I'm glad he didn't.  I'm not settling.  I don't think he is," I said.
"We ...  we sort of fit together.  Every time I turn around I see something
that says, 'he did or said that exactly the way I would'.  Makes me happy.
I walk into the room.  He smiles when he sees me.  Same thing for me.  I
smile.  Not 'Oh, Lord, what's getting ready to happen next?' except in a
good way."

   "Guys think they're so cool, you know," Courtney smiled.  "But when I
walked up on y'all at the store, he's glowing.  Probably thinks he's hiding
it really well."

   "I never knew any other version of Chuck.  From the time when he was
standing at my door on the highway, he's just ...  he has a presence. 
Rescued me.  Looked all worried.  Let me talk my problems out, then started
helping.  He TALKS, Courtney!  The guy actually talks.  He knows stuff. 
Can carry on a conversation."

   "My brother's smart, no doubt.  In most ways, anyway.  How long..."

   I am not a liar.  I am not going to start my relationship with my new
family on lies.  "Since Friday."

   "Wait ...  This PAST Friday?"

   I bobbed my head.

   Courtney's look was incredulous.  She repeated herself.  "This past
Friday.  Who brought up marriage?"

   "We both did.  Almost simultaneously.  It's crazy, I know..."

   "Understatement," Courtney said.  "You two are adults, though..."

   "Courtney, I am NOT going to shack up with him, and I'm not going to be
a short-time fling.  I intend to be by his side from here on out."

   "You make this sound like a fairy tale.  Jenn, you're a nurse, right? 
You know that 'happily ever after' isn't based on real life."

   "I know.  But I love him.  I know I love him.  And look at us.  We look
like we belong together."

   Courtney shook her head.  "It wouldn't make much difference if I threw a
fit over this anyway..."

   "It would, Courtney.  I don't want to start our new life by being on the
outs with his family.  Which is, of course, MY family."

   "SO if I said 'no', you wouldn't?"

   "I'd present that to Chuck.  His heart's part of this, too, you know."

   "Chuck didn't say 'Hi, Courtney, this is Jenn.  I met 'er Friday and
we're getting married this week.'"

   "We've talked about how it would look.  Before we went to church this
morning."

   "You went to church together?"

   "Of course.  It's what respectable couples do, according to Chuck.  We
asked the pastor if he could do the ceremony for us."

   "He took you to church..." Courtney repeated, as if she was ruminating.
"And you didn't think that was strange?"

   "I thought it was the most perfect kind of 'normal' imaginable," I
smiled.  "I mean, Sunday morning ...  What was he supposed to do?  Lay in
bed until noon, sleeping off a hangover?  I HAD one of those.  I like this
kind better."

   "Jenn, just so you know  -" that's the full-time Chuck.  He doesn't go
out of his way to impress people by being something he's not.  He's for
real.  I watched his first marriage fall apart because he was real and his
wife couldn't keep up with him.  She was a façade.  He was real."

   "Good to know," I said.  "I'm real, too, Courtney.  I want 'normal'."

   "Normal?  You know he's got odd hobbies, don't you?"

   "Already went kayaking with him."

   "It's worse than that.  Did you look in the spare bedroom at his house?"

   "I never even opened the door.  Something kinky?"

   "No.  Did he tell you about his military service?"

   "No.  I told him I was a veteran.  He didn't say anything."

   "He is, too.  Army.  Let him tell you."



   ------

   Chapter 9

   Chuck's turn:

   Dinner at sister's house progressed without fisticuffs, verbal assaults
or other mayhem, and having checked that block on my list of things I think
I should do if I'm getting married again, I was happy when Jenn and I
walked out of their house.

   "Well?" I questioned.  "What do you think?"

   "Nice people.  No transmission in the kitchen.  No car up on blocks in
the front yard.  Horrible lack of black velvet paintings and Elvis
Collector Edition plates." She caught my look.  "Unlike my previous
relationship."

   "They're good people, even though I'd never tell either on in person. 
Just wish the kids had been there to meet you."

   "Oh, fret not, Chuck.  I can deal with kids."

   I glanced at her.

   "At any level you might wish to entertain." She smiled a bit.  "Or not."

   "I hadn't given any thought to future reproductive activities," I said.

   "I have.  For years.  But I kept picturing myself like some of my
friends and co-workers who were trying to raise a kid with an absent daddy
or a present daddy who saw self-medication as a major lifestyle choice.  I
won't have children unless they will have a father."

   "Serious topic.  I suppose we should have some ideas before we do that
whole 'until death us do part' thing."

   "Have you thought about it, Chuck?"

   "Of course I have.  I'm like you, though ...  doesn't make sense to
create a child that both parties aren't committed to bringing up properly.
I just couldn't see #1 as the motherly type.  Fortunately, neither could
she."

   "Oh."

   "Am I to expect you to be as competent as a mommy as you appear to be as
an emergency care nurse?"

   "I suppose.  I know most of the mechanics of such things, having been a
babysitter since I was thirteen, for one, and I don't know how many
rotations in pediatrics since then."

   "Okay," I said.  "You know which ends to watch.  What about that 24-7
responsibility?"

   "As long as I can occasionally roll over at 2 AM and say, 'Baby, can you
take this one?' I'm pretty sure you're good enough for that."

   "Rather clinical approach, don't you think?" I smiled.

   "Oh, perhaps you'd rather me come at you halfway into your second
six-pack with 'Honey, dem pills didn't work!  I'm pregnant!"

   "Oh, yeah, that'd be just peachy!"

   "Happens more often that you want to think," Jenn said.  "You should
hear some of the stories I hear at the hospitals.

   "You should hear some the stories I hear at work," I countered.  "Some
people are just so oblivious..."

   I felt her wiggle sideways in her seat.  "But you have given it some
thought."

   "Of course I have.  But it takes two to tango, you know.  And I don't
take that lightly.  I've seen enough single mommies and their terribly
warped offspring..."

   "I bet," Jenn replied.  "You're kind of like a single mommy's dream, you
know.  A paycheck."

   "I always thought that the dream was a dong and a paycheck."

   "Dong's optional.  You work out of town, there are plenty of dongs out
there.  And appliances."

   "Rather callous, aren't we?" I was getting used to this brown-haired
thing next to me jumping right into my pocket in conversations now.

   "Just stating fact," she said.  "The truth shouldn't hurt unless it
oughtta." She did that smirk thing again.  "Relax, future hubby.  I'm not
going to turn up pregnant any time soon.  I'm just saying..."

   My turn.  "That would have an adverse effect on a pair of perfectly
delightful titties."

   She worked up an evil eye for me.  "You are just enjoying an ancillary
function.  Little Chuck Junior gets first call when he shows up."

   "I can live with that." I could, you know.  I had some amount of
experience with post-partum breast characteristics.  Didn't think I needed
to go into details with Jenn.  I surmised that she would expect that I'd
seen a few.  Even numbers, of course.

   "It's the way it's supposed to be," she said confidently.  "I mean, I'm
not going to be all 'earth mother' and all that, but breastfeeding is good
for the kid."

   "So I've heard." I paused.  "And you do think we should be married
first?"

   "Naturally," Jenn smiled.  "And a year or two of getting our lives
together and fitting and melding and making darned sure that you're right
for me and I'm right for you."

   "I think we are."

   "Well, good.  We're gonna give it a try, anyway.  And I'm optimistic."

   "And delicious."

   "You!  Sir, I think you want me for my body!" Giggle.

   "Among other things.  We can't sit around discussing classical music ALL
the time..."

   "Not when I can curl up on top of you to the Moonlight Sonata to bask in
the afterglow."

   "How in the heavens did I miss the supernova that spawned you, Jenn?"

   "Oh, you were probably just like me, trudging up the path you thought
you had to walk."

   "That's a good one."

   "Too busy with life to actually, you know, LIVE." Her hand cirled my
bicep.  "Let's live.  I don't mean we have to make a big splash in the
universe.  I just want us to be the ones that people look to and say 'They
love each other.  Life's good around them."

   "I can do that," I said.

   We pulled into the driveway in the dark.  The lights came on when my
truck got near the house.  I did a quick scan.  Nothing unusual.  We got
out and went inside.  Got myself pressed backward against the door as I
closed it behind me.

   "Home!" she said.  "Feels like home." Kisses.  "Now, your sister said
you were an Army veteran.  Really?"

   "Yep!  I don't make much of a deal about it.  Most people couldn't care
less, except for the ones who bought into that 'crazed veteran on the edge
of snapping' business."

   "But I told you I was..."

   "And I would've told you too when the subject came up."

   "What'd you do?"

   "Grunt.  Infantry.  Squad leader.  Mostly."

   "Mostly?" She looked at me and she KNEW there was more to the story. 
"What about the part that wasn't 'mostly'?"

   "I can shoot.  Really well.  They saw to it that I had a rifle and a
nice spot to shoot from and asked me to shoot people.  I did."

   "Do you still own guns?"

   "Yes I do.  My house.  My castle.  I defend that which is mine." I
sucked in a breath, watching her face.  "Is this the part where Jenn heads
for the hills?"

   "I was a medic.  I was required to train with weapons.  I can hold my
own.  And you can't get me out of here just because you have different
hardware than other people."

   "This is the South.  EVERYBODY has that hardware.  Mine is kind of
specialized."

   "Specialized?  As in???"

   "I LIKE shooting.  I still shoot competitively."

   She stepped back, crossed her arms, and skewered me with her eyes. 
"Okay, buddy boy.  Show me what you got."

   "In the spare bedroom, then.  I can't believe you didn't peek into that
closet."

   "Son, I was already bothering you for a place to stay.  Didn't want to
become persona non grata by sticking my nose where it didn't belong."

   "Open it then."

   Inside, neatly arranged, were a few gun cases.  On the hanger was my
hardback shooting jacket.  The stool and carry bag and rolled up mat were
in there.  I was equipped for my hobby.

   "I suppose I need to explain," I told her as I pulled one of my rifle
cases out of the closet.  "Highpower rifle competition has about as much to
do with shooting under combat conditions as ballet has with kung fu.  I
compete in highpower.  Usually in the 'military rifle' class.  Sometimes in
what they call 'F-class'."

   I popped the latches on the case, opening.

   "That's almost an M-16," she said.  She looked at me.  "Can I?"

   "Sure.  It's not..." Before I could finish telling her it wasn't loaded,
she had the bolt back, checking the chamber.  Okay, now THAT is different.
The rifle went to her shoulder almost naturally, too, and I noted a finger
held well away from the trigger.

   "Heavier than I remember," she said.

   "Match conditioned.  Heavy barrel.  Weight in the buttstock for
stability."

   "Can I dry-fire it?"

   "Sure." After all, I'd watched her clear it.  I watched her trigger
finger.  First pad went on the trigger.  She racked a bit back to put some
tension on her back, nestled the stock into her shoulder pocket, laid her
head over...

   "That black thumbtack on the wall is there for a reason, isn't it?" she
questioned.

   "Yep."

   She drew a breath, let half out, then <<Click!!!>>.

   "Memories..."

   "You know what you're doing?"

   "I actually LIKED shooting."

   "You're kidding."

   "Nope.  When can we go play?"

   "Maybe after work..."

   "Show me more!" Sounded like the kid in the candy store.  I showed her
some of my other guns.  Like I said, I like to play the games.

   "So you have enough guns so that if you went to a match and brought me,
I could shoot, too?"

   I nodded.  I know guys that would die to have wives interested in their
hobbies.  Conversely, I knew guys who had wives they got away from through
their hobbies.  Apparently I was becoming a member of the first group.

   "It'd take a bit of prep, but yeah, everybody has a first time.  If
that's what you want."

   "I won't know until I try, huh?" she looked at me, her eyes, happy,
bright, expectant.

   "You're nuts, you know," I said.  "You're really something special."

   "I'm just me."

   I had to kiss 'just me'.  "Now, just so you know, here's where some of
the other guns are located.  I showed her around.

   "You're..." she changed to a facsimile of a breathless new reporterette,
"one of those horrible paranoid gun nuts, sir!"

   "My house.  My rights.  And even though it's a nice neighborhood, you
never know.  Last year I sat with scared neighbors for twenty minutes
waiting for cops to show up.  Daughter's loser boyfriend broke into the
garage and stole a bunch of stuff.  Twenty minutes.  Not good odds."

   "And you KNOW I'm kidding.  What pistols do you have?"

   Something in her eyes...  "I'll show you mine if you show me yours..."

   "First, this!" She opened her purse and produced a card.  "I'm legal. 
Second..." She pulled out a neat little semi-auto.  " .380," she said. 
"Any bigger and it would be too heavy.  And I know ...  I have to leave it
in my car when I'm at work, but still, if it's legal, I carry."

   Now I'm REALLY thinking.  "Is this something that you and Bert did
together?"

   She gimleted me with her brown eyes.  "Hell no!  We were going through
one of those rough patches.  He took off to a job somewhere in Georgia.  I
took the classes.  He never knew..."

   "He never hit you, did he?"

   "No.  That would've been a bad mistake.  No, he was a stupid drunk. 
Verbally abusive.  But things could change.  A smart person prepares. 
Besides, living with Bert on MY income, we didn't get into the most upscale
accommodations."

   "So I'm parsing all this and thinking you had your stuff together in so
many ways..."

   She smiled wanly.  "But I was still with Bert.  I know.  Personal growth
and all that..."

   "Sorry about darkening things, dearest," I said.

   She swung an arm around my neck, hauling us together.  "You are my
personal growth.  YOU are the guy I should've been mature enough to look
for in the first place instead of wallowing around aimlessly until God
killed my car."

   "You're really something, Jenn.  I'm not sure what, but I really like
it."

   "Good.  Like me in the shower, okay?"

   That's a perfectly wonderful ruse to add another notch in our little
honeymoon.  Married or not, this IS the honeymoon.  Showering is a happy
thing with a lots more, "Let me help you with THAT" than is actually
necessary for good hygiene.  Well, at least the first shower was long,
luxurious and lascivious.  Then we got to the bedroom and ...  breathless
half an hour later, she turned to me.  "Another quick shower?  I don't want
to go job-hunting while smelling like an orgy."

   "But I LIKE you smelling like an orgy."

   "Beast." Giggle.  Oh!  Look!  It's hard again!"

   Okay, let me be the first to admit that my Sunday night routine was
severely impacted by the presence of a Jenn in my life.  Somewhere along
the evening we both managed to lay out clothes for the next day.  I didn't
watch TV.  The computer was untouched.

   We romped.  Finally, she lay flat on her back, her head supported on my
arm as we both tried to catch our breath again.

   "God, Chuck!  Is it supposed to be like THIS?"

   "I dunno.  I hope so.  I never had it like this before."

   "It's like every button I have, we push.  I explode."

   "Yep!  Pretty much sums it up from my end, too."

   "That shower we were gonna take?  The quick one?  Wanna?"

   "We need to," I said.

   We took the quick shower.  Crawled back into bed.

   "Can we sleep naked?"

   "You want to?"

   "Liked it last night."

   "Okay," I said.  I sleep in shorts and a T-shirt.  They went on the
floor.  She scooted her butt up and stripped off her panties.  They hit the
floor, followed by her nightshirt.  And we slid into each other's arms.

   Monday.  I awoke to the crescendo of a Bach Concerto  -" the Third
Movement of Brandenburg Concerto III if you're interested.  Waking up by
myself usually meant a quick roll sideways, feet on the floor, and stand
up. Waking up with Jenn seems to mean being wrapped in a pair of warm and
loving arms and a kiss on whichever side she had access to.  I rolled over
to give her access to my face.

   She giggled.  "Are you still surprised to wake up with ME?"

   "Best surprise I've had in a long time."

   "Well, that's wonderful," she smiled.  "You go shower and get dressed
for work.  I'll go make coffee.  You said you do cereal on workdays,
right?"

   "Yep."

   "GO wash.  I'll try to do the coffee right."

   Fifteen minutes later I was seated across from her at the breakfast
table.  She looks good in the morning: a few brush strokes puts her hair
where it's supposed to be.  A washcloth on her face, a smile ...  And I
don't want to go to work.  I want to pick her up and go back up the hall.

   She smiles bigger.  "Don't even think about it.  It would be perfectly
lovely, but we are both responsible people.  You go do what you have to.  I
will be at the first agency at nine with my resume' and a smile.  I think
that by mid-afternoon I will be employed and you and I can go to the
courthouse ...  if you still want to."

   "Yes, I still want to."

   It's been years since I left my front door with a kiss lingering on my
lips.

   First thing in the door, I caught the boss at the coffee pot.  "Ron, I
need to cut loose around mid-afternoon today.  Got an errand to run.  And
probably lose Thursday and Friday, too."

   His eyebrow raised.  I was a pretty steady employee.  Vacations were
planned out and scheduled well ahead of time.  I wasn't a health problem or
a drinking problem or a responsibility problem or a dedication problem and
here I was, tossing these demands at him.

   "Oh?  Trouble?"

   "Only the very worst sort." I wanted to tell somebody.  "I need to meet
my fiancee' at the courthouse today to get a marriage license.  We'll
probably get married Thursday."

   "Oh, Chuck!  One of my bimbo friends didn't pull that 'I'm pregnant and
YOU'RE the daddy' stunt, did they?" The voice was decidedly feminine and
acerbic.  Celia, our office manager.

   "No, but I'm sure several of 'em would have given it a shot after three
dates."

   "You never gave one of 'em three dates," Celia said.

   "None of them were up to the standards of womanliness that we see in
you," I said.  "So I never wanted to settle for less..."

   "I told my husband that," Celia laughed.  "He says he's still willing to
cut you a deal, your pickup truck and a twelve-pack..."

   "Yeah, but he says we have to take the kids, too," I tossed back. 
"Besides, he thrives under the benefit of your uplifting influence."

   "Y'all stop!" Carl said.  "You're setting a bad example."

   "D'ya have pictures?" Celia asked.

   "Just this one," I said.  I whipped out my iPhone.  I had one shot from
Saturday.  Jenn in shorts and shirt, standing in the sand at the river.  I
passed the phone to Celia.

   "Twenty-something.  Nice looking in an understated sort of way.  At the
water and NOT wearing a skimpy swimsuit.  That's points for sensibility. 
Okay, Chuck."

   She passed the phone to Carl who had to walk the tightrope of reactions
over another guy's lady, choosing something between drooling and grunting
and 'meh...  ' His comment was "What's she do for a job?"

   "RN," I said.

   "Oh, a woman with a job ...  That's usually good." He cast a wry look at
Celia.  "Some of 'em's unstable, though."

   "It may take WEEKS for me to find your next expense account
reimbursement," Celia laughed.  "But Chuck, she looks nice.  Two questions:
When's the wedding and when can we meet 'er?"

   "Wedding's probably Thursday at the pastor's office of my church and if
her work schedule will permit she may come by for lunch or whatever."

   The 'Thursday' comment got a flash from Celia's eyes, but she said
nothing.  I know that I'll be getting a visit from Celia as soon as we get
the Monday madness out of the way.

   I was right.  When the last technician truck left the parking lot, here
comes Celia.  I laughed when she swung in the door.  "I'm thinking you
don't want to discuss the billing for last week's trip, huh?"

   "You're not late with that  -" yet!  You ARE late with the news of you
getting married.  I still have half a dozen prospects for you."

   "You know that the only reason you do that to them is so I'll show up in
your office and tell you that none of 'em is up to YOUR high standards. 
You don't really expect me to marry "Miss Tattoo of the South Louisiana
Gulf Coast", do you?"

   "Oh, you mean Harley, huh?"

   "Yeah, real winner, Cee.  You send me on a blind date with a girl named
after a motorcycle and she's got 'art' on her body I wouldn't hang on the
bathroom wall of a Chinese cathouse."

   Cee's got a neat laugh.  "I dunno, Chuck.  I've never been in a Chinese
cathouse to be able to assess their art." Chuckle.  "Didn't figure Harley
was a real good shot anyway.  Thought she might be good for stress relief."
Cee could be a bit forward at times.

   "She was two tequila shots away from showing me a map of the Soviet
Union," I said.

   "So what's the deal wit this one?"

   "Jenn?  Jenn's perfect.  Same music.  Educated.  Intelligent..."

   "We know those don't go hand in hand," Cee spoke.

   "Jenn really is.  No pretense.  Just a neat person all around."

   Cee smiled.  "Then I'm glad for you."

   Lunch came and went with a local client.  At two I was out the door. 
Driving toward the courthouse, my iPhone went off.  I punched the Bluetooth
button to answer.

   "Yes love?"

   "Hi!" she chirped.  "Are you on the way?"

   "Yep.  Gimme fifteen minutes.  You got everything?"

   "Except you."

   "You got me."

   "Did you get questioned?"

   "Yeah," I said.  "I showed 'em the picture of you at the river
Saturday."

   "That's a horrible picture."

   "It's a great picture.  Candid.  Captures you perfectly."

   "I look like a little redneck frump."

   "You look like a cutie enjoying herself outdoors."

   "You ever get me back on that river and I'll show you enjoying herself
outdoors."

   "Don't tease me, Virginia!"

   "Not a tease at all, Charles!  Try me!"

   "When we get home," I laughed.

   "Nope.  We'll do that, but I'm talking about out under the trees."

   "Have you every done that?"

   "Nope.  You'll be the first."

   "Makes two of us, then."

   "Sounds like a goal."

   "I'm starting a list," I said.

   She laughed.  "Just as long as they're all 'Jenn and I will...  ', I'll
start my own, we'll compare..."

   "I'll see you at the courthouse.  I can't drive well with an erection."

   She squealed.  "Get to the courthouse."

   Of course everybody knows that courthouses are surrounded by parking. 
The good slots are for all the special people like judges and officers of
the court, the less good slots are for their minions, and somewhere a half
a mile off are the parking slots for the people who pay for it all.  I did
a quick tour, got back on the phone.

   "Yeah?" Jenn answered.

   "You just as well come meet me at this parking lot down the block.  It
ain't close, but at least we can walk in together.  In a few minutes she
pulled in beside me and we started walking.  Holding hands.

   I had plenty of cash in various small bills.  One doesn't navigate the
bureaucracy without the expectation that things are not set up for
convenience.  An hour later we were walking out of the place and Jenn's
face was glowing.  I imagine mine was as well.  She followed me home.

   In the door...  "Call your pastor."

   I looked at her.  "Wanna try for Thrusday?"

   "Yeah.  Let's see what he can do."

   I punched purposefully at my iPhone.  Got a ring.  "First Baptist
Church. This is Dana.  Can I help you?"

   "Dana, this is Chuck LeBert.  Is the preacher in?"

   "Yes he is.  You wish to speak with him?"

   I'm thinking 'No, I just want to keep track of where he is, ' but I
don't say that.  "Yes, if you could arrange that for me."

   "Thank you." Click.

   "Paul Smith.  Can I help you?"

   "Paul, this is Chuck LeBert."

   "Hey, Chuck!" he said.  "What can I do for you?"

   "Find a spot on your Thrusday calendar to do a wedding.  Nothing big. 
Your office will work."

   "You and the lady I met Sunday?"

   "Nah, I dumped her.  Totally wrong.  Got a new one this morning at
breakfast!"

   "Chuck!" Jenn squealed, punching my arm.  "Don't be a butt.  To your
PASTOR, yet..."

   Paul heard that, laughing "She'll straighten you out.  Let me see.  I
think I'm open." There was a pause.  "Yeah.  Four?"

   I looked at Jenn.  "Four PM Thursday good enough?"

   Squeal.  "Yes."

   "That'll work."

   "Why don't we say four PM in the little meeting room.  Just in case you
want a few rows of disappointed women wailing in the front row..."

   Jenn was listening, her ear next to mine on the phone.

   "Oh, that's perfect!" she giggled.  "A wedding and a gloatfest!"

   "Jenn, just so you know I'm not off my rocker, I normally do counseling
with couples before marriage, but I know Chuck and I don't think he's
dragging some random girl in for a two-month marriage."

   "He's not, Paul," she said.  "I promise."

   "If you do want to come by and talk, though..."

   Jenn's thinking.  Her eyes flashed at mine.  "You got a little time in
about an hour?"

   Paul paused again.  "Sure.  You two gonna show up?"

   Oh, well.  I'm marrying 'er.  Just as well get used to her making
decisions.  "We'll be there."

   "See you in an hour," Jenn said.

   "Okay," Paul said.  "God bless..." click.

   I flopped back onto the sofa.  Jenn shoved enough to make herself a spot
molded against me.  "Do we need to change clothes?"

   "To go visit Paul?  I don't think so.  How'd the job hunt go?"

   "You act like I was the hunter.  Babe, I'm an experienced nurse.  I'm
the quarry."

   "And..."

   "I start next week.  Get the week's schedule the week prior.  Approvals.
Might have some shift work for a while."

   "Not sure I like that," I said.

   "Only temporary," she replied.  "Part of the give and take of working
for an agency."

   "Kinda like the idea of sleeping with you," I said.

   "I like that, too.  But we'll manage, won't we?"

   "You don't have to work at all.  Or you can be really picky."

   She bumped her forehead against mine, her eyes locked to my eyes.  "I
want to pay off all my bills.  Get us some savings..."

   "Got savings."

   "Our savings, Chuck."

   "You marry me, they're our savings."

   "Let's just do it this way.  Help me fight it for a few weeks, I'm free
and clear and we bank a few thousand, and then we'll see..."

   "You're nuts," I said.

   "I like being a nurse, and I mostly like working, and that makes me
useful.  And I got me a Chuck and I want ...  I have plans.  We need to
talk about them."



   ------

   Chapter 10

   Jenn's turn:

   I'm getting married.  Got a piece of paper from the courthouse, got an
appointment with the preacher, and most of all, I got me a MAN!  Yeah, okay
...  That sounds like a giddy moron.  I'm not like that at all.  I'm sane.
I think I'm sane.  I think Chuck is sane.  But three days!  Friday I met
him.  We'll be married on this Thursday, and the world is full of people
who think that's just crazy, but we're both stone cold sober and we're both
adults, and we mutually agreed to this, so why not?

   We got the license.  Went home.  Made love.  LOVE!  Not sex.  I've
matured enough to know the difference now.  We made love.  I was properly
cuddled and kissed and caressed and then taken to the mountaintop and
thrown off, to drift screaming ...  three times.  Then we showered and went
to dinner together, to a restaurant where the owner's name is on the sign
and his wife is at the front counter.

   When we got back home, Chuck made a point of giving me a meticulous tour
of OUR house.  He was pointing out the incoming water line shut-off valve.

   "You're something, dude," I said.  He looked almost hurt.  "I'm kidding.
This makes sense.  Really!"

   "I think so," he said.  "I had the handle come loose on the kitchen
sink. It was a minor disaster before I got it shut off.  If I didn't know
where this valve was, it would've been a much bigger deal."

   So I have a house where I know how to shut off the utilities.  I've got
a husband who cares enough that I know these things.

   All that means that I have a man who's worthy of the title of 'husband'.
I flashed back to high school English class where I had a teacher who was
widely despised by the 'gimme mah diploma' bunch.  I adored her.

   I remember one class and today when I was thinking about Chuck in terms
of 'husband', her words came flooding back to me.  "Words have specific
meanings that get lost over the years.  Do you ever wonder about why
'animal husbandry' contains the word 'husband'?" She looked over an almost
stoned class.  I was listening, my mind running fast, deriving an answer.

   She continued, "It is because the word 'husband' carries a much wider
meaning than just the man who has a wife.  It means ...  anyone?"

   Okay.  I'm into this now.  I'll risk adding another 'smart girl' log to
my funeral pyre.  So I raise my hand.

   "Yes, Virginia, you wish to answer?" In the background were some poorly
masked snickers.

   "Yes, Mizz Pugh.  Animal husbandry.  Husbandry in this context means
managing the resources necessary to get the best out of livestock, doesn't
it?"

   "Are you asking me, or giving me an answer?" She was like that.  I had
to remember to shift gears in her class.  She was a consummate teacher,
doing it for real instead of going through the motions like some of the
other teachers.

   "Excuse me.  It's an answer." I dug deeper into my head.  "One husbands
one's resources, which means guarding and caring and properly using them."

   "Correct, Virginia," she said.

   "Husband," I said to myself.  "Guarding and protecting his resources and
seeing that they reach their full potential.  That's me.  I'm a resource.
So's he.  Happily, we're like nuclear fusion.  All it took was to put us
together and there's this huge amount of heat and energy and light."

   Light.  It's like that first clear blue day after a week of dreary
winter nastiness.  I didn't realize how beat down I had gotten living with
Bert, and that's even when he took off for 'work' or whatever.  Now, I had
a brief little pity party about that, but then I realized that had I gotten
out from under Bert's shadow earlier, I might not have found Chuck, or,
more accurately, Chuck might not have found me.

   I made him breakfast this morning.

   "You can sleep late, baby," he said when I bounced out of bed when his
alarm clock went off.

   "And miss time with YOU?  You go do what you need to do.  I'm doing
breakfast." I already knew what's in our fridge and pantry, so when he came
out of the shower, the smell of bacon was in the air.

   "I thought you being a nurse and all, I'd have a steaming bowl of
oatmeal.  Heart-healthy and all that."

   I swung around and faced him.  "I checked your pulse recovery time. 
You're in possession of a pretty healthy cardiopulmonary system.  I think
we can indulge in a bit of old Southern bacon and eggs and grits."

   "I don't do this very often," he said.  "But it sure smells good."

   "Indulge, then.  I promise you I'll do oatmeal tomorrow.  And we'll see
what we can do for a cardio workout."

   He raised an eyebrow, smiling.

   "You have a one-track mind, sir," I giggled.  "But that's definitely
part of it.  Kayaks.  I saw YOUR bike.  I need one." I paused.  "And your
rifle matches?  When are they?"

   "One this weekend.  I think I'm gonna miss it.  Got a new wife."

   "Your new wife is interested."

   "Shooting those things ain't cardio.  Wait'll you see some of the
competitors.  Ain't no six-pack abs there.  A few kegs, though..."

   I'd had my hands all over this guy.  He wasn't far from a six-pack, and
frankly, I don't want a lumpy husband, not from either end of the spectrum.
"Will I fit in?"

   "You won't be the first female there.  Others occasionally bring their
wives."

   I took a breath.  I was getting ready to cross another line.  I hope I'm
reading Chuck right.  "I wanna shoot."

   "Seriously?!?" he sounded incredulous.

   "What did I say when you showed me your rifles?  I want to at least try
it." I was putting food on his plate as I spoke.  "Chuck, unless it's your
'get away from the wife' thing..."

   "Jenn, little love, I just GOT the wife.  I damned sure don't want to
get away from her.  But to spend four or five hours on an outdoor rifle
range..."

   "Or paddling a kayak up a river.  Or bicycling.  Or leaned against a
pickup truck watching a thunderstorm?  Chuck, I'm not some little porcelain
doll you have to put on a shelf and protect from everything.  I've worked
ER before.  I know all about salty language.  I even use some of it,
although not like I used to.  I've grown into a lady."

   "Okay, princess..."

   "I will be your princess under certain specific and controlled
conditions.  But..."

   "But okay.  I just wanted to give you a graceful 'out'."

   "Watchit, Bud," I said.  "I'm your wife.  You and I?  We're gonna do
this up right!" I allow myself to see a bright, happy future with this guy.
I put my own plate on the table and we ate together.  When Chuck finished,
we got up, I loaded the dishes into the washer and started tidying up the
kitchen.  I let him out the door with a kiss on his lips and a travel mug
of coffee in his hand.

   I retired to the living room with my own coffee and sat in HIS recliner.
I could smell his aftershave on it as I closed my eyes.  Yep!  I'm in the
right place.

   I got up after coffee, put away some things, did an inventory of my own
clothes and decided a few new things might be in order.

   Out the door I went.

   Chuck's turn:

   I hope this is permanent.  Okay, I know a couple of women whom I've been
told will, for a resort weekend, just tear your ass up in bed.  I mean,
"Jeanie, let's go do us a Jamaica trip," and you get everything you want
from 'er.  Except that part I[PtC1] want.  A heart.  A mind.  A melding of
lives.

   Jenn.  Up with me this morning, even though I told her she could sleep
in.  Made breakfast.  Argued with me over bacon and eggs.  Insisted. 
Talked to me about diet and exercise, and then announced she was not only
encouraging me to shoot the weekend match, but she was going WITH me as a
shooter herself.

   No wonder I'm humming along with Mozart on the way to work.  I'm even
impervious to the normal assortment of clueless morons on the road.  When I
walk through the door whistling, heads turn.

   Ron noticed.  "Your step's awfully springy for the second day in a row,
Chuck."

   "I'm liking my life, buddy."

   Carl was next.  "Honeymooners.  Hmmph!"

   "Jealousy is a terrible emotion," I countered.

   Didn't get Jenn for lunch.  Clients require attention, and for many of
them, that attention comes in the form of lunch.  The end of the day found
me still at one client facility.  I gathered up a bundle of drawings, gave
him a ride to the gate, saving him a walk.  I figured each hundred yards of
walking that I saved him, we'd get ten thousand dollars worth of work on
this project.  At least that was HIS comment.

   Out the gate.  Bluetooth headset on, I called the office, got Celia who
put me through to Ron.  I delivered my update to him.

   "You used to come by the office after those things.  Your dedication is
flagging."

   "You have me all day.  It's Jenn's turn now."

   "Tell 'er I said 'hi' and save some energy for tomorrow."

   "Yeppers," I replied.  Next call was to Jenn.

   "Hey, baby!" she answered brightly.  "Are you on the way home?"

   "Yes, I am."

   "Got a surprise for you.  I hope you mean every word you say to me."

   "I do," I said, then immediately wondered what I might have said for her
to ...  what did she do?  "Why?"

   "I won't tell you.  You have to come home and see for yourself.  I think
you would like the old me a little bit.  It's for you.  Not anybody else.
Just me and you."

   "You get to be you," I said.  "I get to love you that way."

   "Well, don't faint, then," she countered.  "I talked myself into this
and back out of it a dozen times.  But I wanted to be the real Jenn for the
real Chuck."

   "I'm sure I'll love whatever resulted from that logic," I returned.

   "Well, pay attention to traffic and get home safely.  I'm here waiting
for you."

   So naturally I was distracted as hell on the way home.  I trusted her.
'Trusted' is an odd word for somebody I'd known only a few days, but it was
like plugging a computer into a hub  -" there's some sort of magic that
goes on and then  -"click -"you're in and part of it.  That was Jenn.   -"
Click  -" we're networked.  Still -- 'Don't faint'.  What could she have
done?  I LIKED Jenn's look the first time I saw her standing outside her
broken car.

   'Trust Jenn' my heart told me.  So onward I drove.

   I pulled into the driveway and got out.  Walked up to the door.  I was
reaching for the keypad to let myself in when it swung open.  There was
Jenn.

   "Ta-daaaaa!" she said.  She spun around.  "So!  Do you hate it?"

   "Nope." There she was.  The blonde stripes were gone out of her hair,
leaving that rich, warm brown.  The back was cut a little higher.  And the
front was back to bangs.  Fringe.  Frame for the face of an angel.  She was
watching my eyes so she didn't see my hands.  I grasped her and pulled her
to me.  Kiss.  Oh god, a Kiss!  The way she melted against me and kissed
back.  I breathed her.

   "Scale of one to ten, Chuck.  You like?  Don't like?"

   "Twelve.  Then the needle stops moving.  That's the natural color?"

   "Yeah," she said.  "I told the girl I wanted my natural color back. 
That place at the mall." Giggle.  "NONE of those girls have normal hair. 
The one that did mine had blue.  With spikes.  Tried to talk me into
highlights and tips and all sorts of things.  I said 'natural.  And trim
the back, and give me back my stupid bangs."

   "And you're beautiful and this only gilds the lily."

   I was maneuvering her backward toward the sofa but somewhere along the
journey she turned me around and kept pushing.  I found myself sprawled
backward with Jenn atop me.

   "I'm soooo relieved.  I risked.  I could've lost."

   "You'll never lose me, Jenn.  Never.  You fit.  I've only dreamed..."

   "I've always wanted to be somebody's dream."

   "You are." I was fondling the new haircut.  Okay.  Fetish, maybe.  But
coupled with those warm, happy brown eyes and that gentle, smiling face,
that's a whole new level of, yes, arousal.  "You ...  How do you know how
to push my buttons?"

   "I'm just me, Chuck.  If all that's happening, then it's because we're
supposed to be together.  You do the same things to me." She pulled her
head back.  "And dammit!  We have clothes on.  Naked.  Right now!"

   "Here?"

   "Bed!  I need room!"

   I threw the covers onto the floor as I was undressing.  Damn, she's
beautiful naked.  The collision was epic.  Afterward, we're enmeshed
together, cooing.

   "So!  The hair?"

   "You looked beautiful before.  But I really like this."

   "Now, what about boobies?"

   "You mean these perfect things here?"

   "B-cup.  I could..."

   "Don't you dare!  They're perfect!  And our future offspring need them
intact!"

   "You're for real, aren't you?"

   "I am, Jenn.  You're what I dreamed of.  Just like you are."

   Thursday at four PM we were standing before the pastor of our church. 
My sister, her husband and the two kids were there, as well as the pastor's
wife and the church secretary.  Celia and her husband were there as well.

   "Jenn, you're prettier in person than the picture we saw," Celia said.
"I'm very happy for the two of you."

   "Celia, thank you," Jenn replied.  "Keep an eye on 'im for me."

   "Oh, my dear, you got a safe one.  I've tried setting him up with
friends and such, and he doesn't do that.  You're a surprise."

   After the wedding I took the whole bunch out for dinner.  It's that kind
of thing.  Friends.  Family.

   And we went home and made love.  All evening.  Showered.  Went to bed.
The next morning we got up early and ran around looking at the countryside,
hit a hamburger joint that I knew was a hidden gem, then came back home.

   "Okay, hubby," she said.  "What do you have to get together for the
match tomorrow?"

   I showed her as I laid things out.  Match rifle.  Spotting scope and
stand.  Mat.  Stool.  Carefully handloaded ammo.  Jacket.  Other things
that seemed odd.  And that rifle she'd first handled.

   "A spare?"

   "No," I said.  "You're going to shoot.  This is YOUR rifle.  Let's go
over it." I gave her a refresher.  She didn't need much.  Using dummy
cartridges, we practiced operations.  I showed her the basic positions for
the choreography that was a highpower rifle match.  And I had a plan.

   "You can use my stool and my mat and my scope.  They can squad us
separate, so I'll be in the pits when you shoot."

   "Uh ...  I..."

   "I'm not throwing you to the wolves," I said.  "There are usually a
couple of old-timers there who will handle the coaching and help you out.
I'll snag us one of them."

   "So, let's talk about it, then.  How does it all work?  Overview." She
doesn't let up.  She gets an idea, she hangs in there.

   We walked through it in the spare bedroom just like I did myself before
Jenn, using black-headed thumbtacks on the wall for aiming points in
dry-fire exercises.

   "I think I got it.  This is gonna be fun."

   "Well, don't get upset if you don't do well on your score.  It's your
first match."

   "I told you that I did well with my rifle in the army."

   "Sorry, princess," I said.  "This is a lot more structured than that. 
But at least you know about the noise and about the recoil."

   So in addition to my stuff, now we had HER stuff.  And I loved it.  Deep
inside I harbored the hope that this was something she'd really enjoy.  The
number of couples who compete is extremely small.

   After that bit of prep, we actually curled up together on the sofa to
watch a movie.  Started anyway.  Wiggly.  She's wiggly when she's thinking
about being playful.  I'm lying on the sofa with my back against the
backrest and she's lying in front of me with my arm around her and that
perfect ass is right there and I'm thinking, 'Damn, this is nice' and then
something on the screen looked a little bit sexy and that ass wiggled. 
Okay, one time, that's just fine, but she realizes that wiggly heinie
equals hard dick and so there's a flurry of wiggles.

   "I'm about to turn the TV off and have my way with you, young lady," I
said in her ear.

   "Sir, I am your wife.  My body belongs to you, for your use." She pulled
my hand over one of those horrible B-cup titties.  I squeezed.  Got more
wiggles.  I pulled the hem of her nightshirt up and slipped my hand
underneath, finding that perky, pliable rounded mound of flesh.  I toyed
with her nipple, then slid my hand over, toyed with its beautiful sister.

   "I'm getting all gooshy," she announced.  "Somebody needs to take care
of that."

   I relished that thought.  Relished even more when she got up, shucked
down her panties, and straddled my face.  She's right.  She was juicy. 
Deliciously so.  I voiced my opinion.

   "You are too, love," she said.  "And ever so interesting to play with."
She underscored that by flopping forward on me and pulling my erection out
of my shorts.  The ensuing "mmmmmm" made my being ring like a bell.

   Never.  Never.  Never.  First time.  Subsequent times.  Drunk.  Sober.
Married.  Whatever.  Never had I experienced anything like Jenn.  I didn't
say it just yet, but I knew it.  Of course, she was upside down and
quivering through her own orgasm while I was entertaining that thought.

   We were up at 0530, caught breakfast on the road, and got to the rifle
range for the match.  I was familiar with most of the shooters there.  A
few were taken aback by Jenn, though, first that this neat female person
showed up wearing jeans and a work shirt, second, that she was in
possession of her own rifle, and third, that she was a veteran.

   And she was going to shoot.  One of the constants at these matches was a
retired former Marine who'd had quite a successful career as a shooter
himself.  Sadly, the last couple of years had him quit shooting due to some
nerve problems, but he still showed up for every match as either the range
safety officer or a handy coach.

   "Jenn, this is Gunny Stark.  Gunny, this is Jenn.  She's my wife now. 
She wants to shoot."

   He eyeballed the creature before him.  She pulled up to her full five
feet five inches.  "Okay, young lady ...  Oops!  I hope that doesn't
offend."

   She smiled.  "No, Gunny.  Not in the least."

   "How familiar are you with this rifle?"

   "Army.  Qualified.  Shot 'expert'.  Chuck showed me the positions last
night.  Said I'd find a good coach here."

   "Squad us on different relays, Gunny.  That way she can use my mat and
scope.  And can you help her in the pit?" (The pit is where targets are
pulled and marked.  The pit crew is behind a protective berm or in a
trench, safe from bullets overhead.)

   "I can do that.  It's been a while since I've had as attractive a
student." He looked at Jenn, raised an eyebrow.  "Offensive?"

   "Compliment," she smiled.  "One does not piss off one's teacher."

   Gunny smiled.  "She's dangerous."

   The way things work, since Jenn and I were using the same equipment,
that meant that when shooting commenced, I was pulling HER target.  First
string of fire was offhand, i.e., standing.  This is the most difficult
position for shooters, especially novices, and it's not unusual to see lots
of misses and very low scores.

   I'm in trouble.  After the string was finished, I had her score
informally tallied in chalk on the wall of the pit.  Novice shooter.  Never
shot a formal match in her life.  Seventy out of a hundred.  Zero misses.
Several tens.  And an 'X'.  Maybe not unheard of, but certainly noteworthy.
That's okay.  Since we're at the 200-yard line, the next string Jenn will
shoot is rapid fire, ten rounds, with a reload, and she starts out standing
and goes to the sitting position, and has sixty seconds to get ten rounds
downrange.  It's pressure for a new shooter.

   All us pit monkeys are waiting for the call to raise the targets.  Time
starts when the targets are up.  The call comes, the targets go up, and I
start counting seconds.  At the ten-second mark the first crack of Jenn's
round is over my head.  There's a hole.  Ten-ring.  I start counting.  All
eights, nines and tens.  Ten of them.  It's not unusual for a novice to
mess up here either.  Not this girl.  I mark her hits and write her scores
on the tally board and hoist it for her to record.  Time to swap crews.  I
and the rest of the bunch dutifully troop out of the pit and walk to the
200-yeard line, passing the first group of shooters coming to take our
place.  Jenn's grinning.  So's Gunny Stark.

   "Good luck, baby," she smiles.

   An unidentified voice snarked "Nobody wished me 'good luck, baby'."

   "Nobody loves you," I countered, generating laughter.

   I won't bore you with the rest of the match.  There's one word, though.
Surprise.

   "She's unclassified, you know, Chuck," Gunny said.  "She needs her NRA
card and we can turn the scores in, and they'll send her a classification
card." He looked at her, then me.  "And if she responds to coaching like
she did today, she's gonna embarrass a lot of people around here."

   Being in the 'master' class myself, I was always in a shoving match with
other similarly classed shooters, so I didn't quite win my classification,
a fact announced by the range officer.  He also announced, "New shooter
score.  You all met Chuck's wife, Jenn, here.  This is her first ever NRA
match.  First day with this rifle.  And her score is solidly in the
'expert' classification.  Some of you guys need to get off your duffs or
Jenn's gonna be dealing misery here."

   I looked at Jenn.  Her arms were folded and she had that little smirk on
her face.  We got in the truck and headed back home.  She was giggling.

   "It's funny?"

   "Sort of," she said.  "I think Gunny thought I was some helpless ball of
fluff.  He was worried that I'd shoot the wrong target or have a bunch of
misses or wouldn't be able to handle the rifle, at first, anyway.  But I
did like you showed me.  After my first two sighters (the shooter gets two
untimed and unscored shots before each record string to adjust sights) hit
the target, he started coaching, you know, breathe, get your hand here,
lean back this way, put your cheek on the stock the same way for each shot
...  He knows his business."

   "He's a good guy.  Until two years ago, with his stroke, he used to whip
the whole bunch of us on the firing line."

   "He IS a good guy."

   "You know," I said, "you beat three guys who shoot here pretty
regularly."

   "I knowwwww.  Freaky, ain't it!"

   "Okay, then.  Completely serious.  Did you like it?  I mean, you don't
have to do this to stay on my good side."

   "Chuck LeBert!  Husband of mine, I will TELL you if I don't like
something.  I like this.  I told Gunny that I'd be here for the next match.
Now I got a question."

   "I'd say 'shoot', but that's not a good word right now.  What's the
question?"

   "Pistols.  You showed me.  I need to familiarize with the ones you have
at the house."

   "Tomorrow after church," I said.

   "You know," she said, "People are going to ask me what we did on our
honeymoon.  I'm gonna tell 'em this!"

   "People are gonna think you're nuts."

   "I am nuts.  About you.  Take me home.  We have guns to clean, dinner to
make, then gee, whatever shall we do to entertain ourselves on Saturday?



   ------

   Chapter 11

   Chuck's turn:

   Weekend.  I've known her for a whole week and a couple of days and I'm
sure that most people who know that fact and correlate it to the fact that
now we've been married half that time, they'd think that one, or more
likely both of us are crazy.

   I like being crazy.  Like Sunday morning.  Woke up without the alarm
clock going off, rolled over, found Jenn, wrapped her in my arms.  She
twisted her head to check the clock.  "Okay, buster," she said.  "We have
forty-five minutes, then we get ready for church.

   I'm thinking that going to church is kind of iffy.  I say so.

   "Nope.  We go.  You and me.  Holding hands, just like we belong there,
because we do."

   "You're going to turn me into a better person," I told her.

   "We'll turn each other into better people.  That's what couples are
supposed to do.  At least so I've heard.  I've never actually succeeded."
She kissed me.  "Darned blue eyes.  You're like Jenn's cocaine."

   "You're beautiful in the morning," I said.

   "And you're blind."

   "Maybe.  Maybe there's a difference between 'blind' and 'blinded'. 
Whatever.  You're beautiful in the morning."

   Her hand explored, found me hard.  "Is that because of me?"

   "Yes it is." I've never been much affected by that 'morning wood' thing.
But then I'd never hand Jenn in my life.  "You're like some sort of fantasy
to me."

   "You're strange."

   "Used to think so myself.  Then I found this brown-haired girl who
floats my boat."

   Giggle.  "And she thinks you're strange, and she thanks God that you
are." Her tongue moistened her lips, something I took as a sign.  I kissed
her.  She started pushing the waistband of her panties down.

   "You know, Chuck, this all started when you gave me a ride.  I wanna a
ride right now." She paused.  "What have you DONE to me.  I'm all wet, and
...  we just woke up together."

   I responded by hauling my own drawers down as she cleared the covers out
of the way.  Up until this point in my life I have never made love to a
woman wearing a T-shirt.  Can't say that now.

   We showered together, got out, attended to personal hygiene.  I finished
shaving.  She was drying her hair.

   "Let me help you with that," I said.  She looked sideways at me,
questioning.  I took the dryer from her, then her brush, and took over for
her.  She lolled her head back, smiling.

   "You're gonna spoil me, Chuck."

   "Why?  You think this is a one-time thing?"

   "It isn't?"

   "You're my habit, rabbit," I said.  I thought I was finished.  "Did I do
it right?"

   She stood up and kissed me.  "Absolutely." Wrapped her arms around my
waist, pulled me against her.  We're both naked.  The effect of this
contact was obvious.

   "Oh.  Look!" she said, smiling.  "Watch this." She knelt.  I honestly
tried to watch.  My vision blurred.

   She was smiling when she stood back up and kissed me on the lips. 
"That, my dear, is a promise." And she headed out of the bathroom, smiling
seductively over her shoulder.

   Which I misread.  Started easing her towards the bed.

   "No!  Church!" Giggle.  "We're not subject to our baser instincts."

   "Yes I am, baby."

   Giggle.  "Then I shall be your stabilizing influence."

   "Yes, ma'am."

   "If you get dressed all by yourself, I will kiss you again before we
leave," she said in a mothering voice.

   "Yes ma'am."

   "And if you're good in church, you'll get a special prize afterward."
The twinkle in those eyes...

   We drove to church, parked, got out.  "Don't smile too big.  Everybody
will think something's up," she whispered.

   "They'll find out that we got married Thursday and KNOW something's up,"
I said.

   We ran into the pastor's wife in the back of the church.  "You two," she
said.  "Didn't figure we'd see you two for a couple of weeks."

   Jenn fielded that one.  "We both have work in the way.  We're going to
wait a couple of months and do a proper trip."

   Several others stopped us.  Word gets around.  I was congratulated and
clapped on the back by men who were standing there in the presence of their
wives.  Yeah, I caught more than one doing a quick scan of my Jenn.  She
dresses well.  Simple.  No glitter or miles of filmy fabric.  Knows the
'little black dress' trick, except she's more diverse in her spectrum. 
Today it's royal blue, simple lines, not too tight, but definitely
following the curves of what I knew to be a sweet body.  The fact that
other males eyed it, well, it IS church, and one is better served NOT
getting into fist fights.  Besides, wives were there.  None of those guys
was going to go near the precipice of being too obvious at checking out
another man's wife.

   We participated in the Sunday School and in the service, like good
Baptists, then filed out afterward, shaking hands with the pastor and his
wife.

   "I didn't expect to see you two here this Sunday," he said.  His wife
laughed.

   We drove off along with the majority of the congregation.  "Gonna hit
the restaurants like a herd of locusts, aren't they?" Jenn noted.

   "Yeah.  We can fight the crowds..."

   "Or go home and have something light for lunch and do a bigger dinner."

   "There are HOURS between lunch and dinner," I stated.

   "Why, sir, you're correct." And a smile that melted almost everything.
Except this one part.

   Ten o'clock at night.  Jenn's propped on one elbow beside me in bed.  My
breathing and heart rate are almost back to normal.  "Work tomorrow," she
said.  "But you know what?"

   "What?"

   "Forgive me for being coarse, but I now understand the term 'fucked
silly'.  That last one?  I was giddy!"

   "You!  This is something of a fantasy, Jenn.  I never imagined..."

   "Me too, Chuck.  Turn off the light.  We'll get up early enough for a
quick shower." I turned out the light.  Turned towards Jenn.  She slipped
up against me, her hand grasping my dick, then my balls.

   "Does that bother you?  I'll stop."

   "Don't stop.  Please don't stop."

   "It's kind of relaxing to me, Chuck.  Like one of those squeeze things
they sell for stress relief.  You're my stress relief." She raised up
enough to kiss me.  "G'nite, baby.  I love you."

   "I love you too, Jenn." And went to sleep.

   Monday morning alarm.  Quick shower.  Two of us.  Together.  Small
amount of hanky panky.  I slipped into my work togs: khaki slacks.  Knit
shirt.  Safety shoes.  I noticed Jenn bent over, her butt giving delightful
impression to the cotton fabric of her hospital scrubs.

   "You're gonna make me have a nurse fetish," I said.

   "Since I'm a nurse, that's a perfectly acceptable aberration," she
smiled.  We both hit the kitchen, two bowls of cereal, two travel mugs of
coffee, a kiss in the driveway, and we're off to make the wheels of
industry spin.

   Several times during the course of the day my dedication
uncharacteristically flagged.  I'd find myself leaning back in my chair,
closing my eyes, thinking of Jenn, wondering how her day was going.  I had
no idea what it was like being a nurse, never gave it much thought., but
Jenn had me wondering.

   Finally I gave up on the office, ran out to see how a couple of projects
were going with our crews in the field.  Grabbed a friendly client and took
him to lunch, dropped him back at his office, then went back to mine.

   Celia caught me coming through the door.  "You didn't even say 'hi' this
morning.  You mad?"

   "No, not in the least.  Distracted."

   "Newlywed," she said.  "I'd've taken a couple of weeks off.  Let ol' Ron
just suck it!"

   "Gee, Celia," Ron's voice came from his office, "Glad you have our best
interests in mind."

   "Silliest thing I can imagine," Celia returned.  She looked at me again.
"Well, it's your life.  She looks like a sweetheart.  Deluded beyond my
kin, but a sweetheart."

   "She is," I smiled, thinking of that kiss this morning in the driveway.
"I wonder how her day's going.  First day.  New hospital."

   "Sounds like fun," Ron interjected.

   "She's an agency nurse," I said.  "Like us being contractors.  Always on
the outside, no matter how competent."

   "I know how that feels," Ron commiserated.  "It's the story of our
lives. Never thought of it for a nurse, though."

   "Jenn says it's a fact of life.  I think it works better for the two of
us.  If she wants to take off so we can go on vacation or whatever, she
just takes her name off the roster for a while at the agency.  If she was
on the staff at a hospital, she'd have limited vacation days in the first
place, and in the second place she'd have a schedule according to their
whim."

   "So, did you two do something romantic this weekend?" Celia asked.

   Okay, here's where I build on my legendary persona.  "We sure did.  We
both shot in a rifle match Saturday.  Went to church yesterday."

   "Wait!  What?"

   "She wanted to shoot, so we shot."

   "Like, GUNS?"

   "Paperclips and rubber bands won't do six hundred yards, Cee." I looked
up at Ron.  He had a bemused expression on his face.  "Did I tell you she's
a veteran?  Army?"

   "Still..."

   "She's not your standard delicate little flower," I said.  "Might be why
I tumbled so hard."

   Celia's eyes softened.  "You admitted it.  I never heard a guy admit
it." She cast her eye at Ron, skewering him.  "But ...  shooting?"

   "She went through the whole course.  First time for her.  I let an old
Marine coach 'er, and she outshot three guys who shoot there twice a
month."

   "You ...  you sound like you're proud..."

   "D'you have an idea how hard it is to find somebody who shares my weird
hobbies?"

   "Yeah," Ron said.  "You kayak.  Shoot.  Those are kind of off the wall."

   "Off the reservation," Celia said helpfully.

   I reached in the candy jar on Celia's desk and took a mint.  "I could
stay here all day and talk happy about Jenn," I said.  "She's sort of my
favorite topic.  But I have to finish reviewing those drawings..."

   "Oh, sure!  Act all dedicated when the boss is standing there..." Celia
laughed.

   "Yes, please do," Ron tossed back.

   So I went back to the office and flipped through pages of esoteric lines
and wording, extracting information, occasionally eyeing the clock. 
Finally the hands were in the vicinity of the magic four.  I killed my
computer and got up, gracefully exited, and headed home.  I was just
turning off the main road, heading into the residential area when my
cellphone rang.  Bluetooth in my ear.  Touched the button without looking
at the phone  -" company safety policy, you know.

   "This is Chuck.  Can I help you?"

   "You can tell me you'll be home when I get there.  I need cuddles and
pats on the head 'n stuff."

   "I'll be there.  Bad day?"

   "No, exactly what I expected for a first day at a new hospital.  The
faces change.  The geography changes.  The assholes are a constant."

   "Assholes are almost as widely distributed as hydrogen in the universe,
baby," I said.  "Come home.  I will hold you and squeeze you..."

   "And call me 'George'?" Giggle.

   "And call you George.  Even though you don't look anything like a
'George' to me.  Drive carefully.  I'm turning onto our street."

   "Our street.  I like our street.  I like having anything that's 'our'."

   "I love you, doll.  See you in a bit."

   "I love you too.  Bye."

   A short bit later and I was in the driveway to what used to be MY house.
Yeah, you can talk to me about what was mine before marriage, and how it's
still mine, but in my heart it's OUR house.  I got out of the company car,
stretched, looked around.  Hedges getting a bit frayed.  I might get the
people who do the yard work to take care of that.  Or not.  I had the
trimmer.  Weather wasn't too hot.  I could do it myself.  I could talk to
Jenn and see what she thinks.

   I unlocked the door and went inside.  Dinner.  What to do about dinner.
Another question for Jenn.  Somehow we'd never gotten around to how we were
going to handle the logistics of both of us working.  Before Jenn, I was
likely to toss a frozen dinner in the microwave, or reheat some frozen
leftovers or occasionally cook something for myself that went from pantry
to table with low effort and time.

   Okay, TWO decisions I want to discuss with new wifey.  Boy, I have
friends who'd be sure to point out how fast I gave up my gonads.  Of course
one of those guys is on wife #3 and the other's in between wives.  And
after what this weekend did for my gonads, you can bet I'll ask her who
gets to trim the hedges.

   I hear somebody at the front door.  My hand instinctively slides down
the side of my recliner.  The door opens, so I relax.

   "Hey, baby!" she chirps, like she's glad to see me.  "You got room for
me there?"

   A scrubs-clad bottom is only slightly less arousing than a completely
naked bottom when it insinuates itself into your lap.

   "Hi, baby," I said.  "You've changed my relationship to time..."

   "I know ...  Day took forever..." kiss.  "Horrible people." Kiss. 
"Work." Kiss.  "Missed my Chuck." Kiss.

   "Missed my Jenn ...  How did you become so indispensable in a week?"

   She giggled.  "Maybe that whole 'kiss the princess and live happily ever
after' thing really will work."

   "I'm thinking it will, Virginia.  Now, a serious question.  Have you
considered what we do about dinner?"

   She looked into my eyes for a second, got all serious, and said, "Is
this the 'Woman, go fix me a sammich' moment?" She tried, but she couldn't
hold the look.  Her face when from serious through smirky to grinning.

   "You're horrible," I said.  "I'm tryin' to be all tender and caring and
shit, and you're being mean."

   No words after that.  Jenn's tongue was in my mouth.  Then "I know some
stuff we could have on the table in half an hour.  Or are you thinking of
something else?"

   "Your first day on a new job.  Celebrate, maybe?"

   "Did you say you knew a good Chinese place?"

   "Buffet or menu?"

   "Buffet.  Sushi bar gets you extra points.  You can always use extra
points."

   "Extra points?"

   She giggled.  "You may redeem them later for valuable prizes.  Like
favors..." Eyes twinkled.

   "Extra points, then.  I know the place."

   She wiggled.  "Do we have to move to get there?"

   "I only wish we didn't."

   "Feed me Chinese.  Bring me home.  Wash my back.  Win valuable prizes."

   "You're nuts," I said.

   "You LIKE nuts.  I looked in our pantry."

   "The best nut isn't in the pantry, my dear."

   She twisted as she got out of my lap.  Her hand went ...  squeezed
gently.  She grinned.  "I'm awfully partial to these."

   "One more squeeze, baby, and..."

   "And what?  You'll lose control and take me and tear off my clothes and
ravish me?  Hmmm?" She smirked.  An eyebrow raised, and she squeezed.

   I believe that's called 'a sign'.  She squealed as I chased her to the
bedroom.  Jenn needs pointers on evasion.  She's awfully easy to catch. 
And her main defensive skill seems to be turning me inside out.

   Afterward, she's lying on top of me.  "You sure I'm not too heavy here?"

   "Don't be ridiculous.  You belong there."

   "Confession," she said.

   "Confession?"

   "Yes.  I confess that I thought about this more than a few times today.
Wondered how hard it would be to seduce you..."

   "Was I a challenge?"

   "Chuck, you're a horrible failure as a seduction target."

   "Gave it my best shot."

   "Two," she said.  "I know I felt you give TWO shots.  And I lost count
of mine."

   "Mmmm-hmmm," I answered.

   "We're gonna seriously damage that buffet..."

   "If we ever get out of bed."

   "Take me to the buffet.  Win extra points.  Redeem them for valuable
prizes."

   "I remember hearing that somewhere."

   She rolled off of me.  I thought that was the end of this session, but
no ...  A luscious mouth sucked and licked me clean.

   "Gimme this thing," I said, stroking her pussy.

   "Yessir.  I am an obedient little wife." She straddled my face.  My
turn.

   "Whatever that last number was?  I just added one more to it," she
sighed.

   My turn to laugh.  "Yes you did." She showered me with kisses.

   "Mmmmm!  We taste good!"

   "Indeed we do," I said.  "And I love the taste.  And the smell.  But we
probably shouldn't go out in public smelling like an orgy."

   Smirk.  "Wasn't an orgy at all.  Was Jenn 'n' Chuck mating joyously. 
But let's wash our faces, at least."

   She didn't put her scrubs back on afterward, choosing instead a pair of
jeans and...  "Lemme have one of your shirts."

   "Okay.  Come choose."

   She looked through the closet, pulled a light cotton shirt.  "Is this
one okay?"

   "You'll do it better than I do."

   Giggle.  And that's what she's wearing, looking like an adorable waif.

   When we got to the restaurant, we walked in together, my hand at the
small of her back as we walked through the door.  After we got seated, we
both headed for the sushi bar.

   "Love this stuff," I said.

   "Bait, according to..." she sighed.  "But YOU love it and I love it and
he's nothing but a bad experience.

   We were both groaning when we left.  "Tomorrow I need to buy a bicycle,
Chuck.  We can't keep eating like this unless we start doing something
else."

   "I don't eat like this very often.  Like I said, nobody to eat with."

   "We just need to keep it under control, is all," she said.  "I don't
wanna be your fat li'l wifey..."

   I thought about Jenn carrying forty more pounds.  Okay, I could live
with it, I'm sure.  Of course, those evil neurons in my head slid right
from 'fat Jenn' over to 'pregnant Jenn'.  That's a whole 'nother thing. 
Would be, if she was happy about it.  But I like my Jenn just the way she
is, for right now.

   "Where'd you just go, Chuck?" she questioned.

   "I'm here."

   "You weren't.  I said something about 'fat li'l wifey' and you went away
for a second."

   "Thinking about the difference between fat and pregnant."

   "Can you live with either of those?"

   "One's still my Jenn.  Other's my Jenn plus a physical manifestation of
US.  Yeah.  I can live with 'em."

   "I won't get fat, Chuck.  Bicycles.  Tomorrow.  And that 'pregnant'
thing?  Due time." She smiled.  "Let's have a couple of years to ourselves.
Is that selfish?"

   "Nope.  Sounds like a plan.  As opposed to learning to live with a new
mate while your hormones are raging and your body's changing because we got
pregnant when we got married."

   "Plus or minus," she laughed.  "And you're right.  I know a few who got
married while pregnant, plus or minus a few weeks.  It's apparently a
strain.

   "He was poking fun and she took 'im seriously," I jabbed.

   "Horrible.  But true.  We're not doing that." She sounded like she meant
it.  "And we're not getting fat, either."

   "Yes, ma'am," I said.

   "And while you're being subservient, I need to have an especially good
washing tonight.  And a shampoo.  I'll be naked, naturally.  You are
allowed to be naked as well."

   "Thank you, ma'am," I said.  My mind was saying, 'go along with it,
Stupid!  You have something beyond your ken here.' My other personality
agreed.

   More small talk about her new work.  "ICU," she said.  "Tough floor. 
Understaffed.  Supposed to be one nurse to two patients.  Today it was one
to four.  Time flies when you're doing that."

   "I can imagine," I said.

   "Worst thing is the families.  Mama's in there, eighty years old, they
trickle in, two at a time, during visitation.  You can feel the stress.  Or
little kids.  Accidents.  I'm going to need major cuddles some days,
Chuck."

   "You're gonn have them, Jenn.  But you can be choosy.  I can easily
afford both of us, while you look for something else."

   "Not the way I wanna do it.  Lemme do this.  Get a reputation.  Then
I'll look around."

   "You know best.  I haven't any idea," I told her.  "Like I said, you
have all the flexibility you need, though, if you want something
different."

   "I never thought you'd be any different, Chuck.  You've been giving to
me freely since you stood at my car door."

   "You just don't realize that what you give in return is life, little
brown-haired girl."

   "We're ...  you're so sweet, Chuck.  This ...  words ...  so sweet.  I
dreamed of some day having my man say sweet things to me.  I dreamed. 
Thought I was just looking for something impossible.  And here you are..."

   "You need words, Jenn.  The best words I have.  Along with everything
else I have."

   "I'll be worth it," she sighed.  "I've always wanted to be worth it. 
Just didn't have the right guy.  You're the right guy."

   We travelled on, my right arm on the back of the seat, my hand idly
playing with her neck, and when she turned her head, her cheek and her ear.

   We pulled up at the house and went inside.  That shower she wanted? 
First thing.  Delightful.  Giggly.  "Would it be easier for you to shampoo
my hair if I was kneeling?"

   Answer: No, it's not, because she diverted most of my blood supply.  But
I'm not complaining, no, not at all.
Now our attire for lounging around after shower consists of nightshirts
and underwear.  The sofa gets both of us, me against the backrest, her
using me for her backrest, a perfectly wonderful arrangement.  I handed her

the remote control and let her flip through the channels.

   Wiggle.  "Nothing worth watching.  I think we can go to bed and find
better entertainment."

   The horny little boy inside my head said 'Yes Yes Yes!' So I said, "Yes,
I think we can."

   I followed her into the bedroom.  She backed up against the bed, locked
eyes with me, smiling.  Her thumbs caught the waistband of her panties and
sent them sliding to her feet.

   She held her arms up over her head.  "Strip me, Chuck."

   "Yes, ma'am," I said.  She's beautiful naked.

   "Take your shirt off."

   "Yes, ma'am." My shirt came off as she sat back on the edge of the bed,
tugging me towards her.  She hooked my shorts down and her head darted
forward and my knees DIDN'T buckle only because of a supreme effort on the
part of two neurons that still had a blood supply.  Her mouth released me
but her hands didn't.  She rolled backward onto the bed, legs spread to
welcome me.

   Her breath hissed out as I entered her.  "I love the way it feels going
in, Chuck," she said.  Like it's supposed to be there.  My missing piece."

   We got used to setting the alarm clock fifteen minutes earlier to make
room for the required shower each morning.  We did make use of those
'pantry to table in thirty minutes' recipes.  And we were settling quite
well into life together.

   It's all too good.



   ------

   Chapter 12

   Jenn's turn:

   A month now.  It's been a month since our actual wedding day.  We
haven't exchanged a cross word between us.  I have cooked meals and seen
him enjoy himself.  HE'S cooked and afterward I swore that we needed salads
and bike rides for a week afterward.

   The house is spotless.  I don't have to pick up after him.  He doesn't
have to pick up after me.  We keep things taken care of between us.  Of
course the first day I walked into his house, it was clean.  Now that it's
OUR house, it's spotless.

   My life.  Since my car died on the interstate, it's been spotless. 
Bright.  Happy.

   At least the domestic part.  Work is work.  I'm doing nursing in the
ICU, and right now, today, I have two patients, well, two and a half. 
We've got five in the ward, and two nurses, and this is the sad part of
life because both of my patients are at the ends of long lives and
honestly, I don't think either of them will ever live to leave my ward. 
Every few hours I usher in the limited number of visitors and I try to
smile and be comforting and supportive because, heaven knows, my patients
are more than the dear old lady in that bed.

   That's draining.  Even more draining when I come in for the shift and
see that the patient in the room is different.

   So I go home and Chuck gets to hold me.  "Bad day?" he asks.

   "Mrs.  Johnson didn't make it."

   "She was ninety-one, baby.  Had her family there.  Probably would've
been better if they took 'er out of ICU."

   "I know.  Chuck, when I go, I want people to love me like that."

   "You know they will, my Jenn.  I love you like that."

   He was caressing my head when I determined that he should be kissed.  I
need his kisses.  He needs mine.

   Right now I'm on my way home.  I get home a half hour before he does. 
That means I get to do dinner tonight, at least the entrĂ(C)e.  A couple of
weekends ago we did a Saturday full of cooking, the idea being that we'd
stock our freezer with frozen entrĂ(C)es that we could pop into the oven
for dinner.  Today it's lasagna.

   What I'm saying is that life is normal, like in 'He'll be home at a
quarter to five or I'll get a phone call' normal.  A 'Don't do anything for
dinner.  Be thinking of a restaurant' normal.

   And the gigglingly abnormal.  "I'm on the way home, Jenn.  Do I need to
stop for anything?"

   "Nope.  We're good."

   I'm trusting that Chuck would TELL me if he was bringing somebody home
with him because when he walked in the door, I was standing behind it,
slamming it shut and locking it and all I had on were my ear studs.

   Well, it takes a while for the oven to properly heat a block of frozen
casserole, the housework's done, and whatever could we find that's more
entertaining?

   "Where'd you come up with THIS idea?" he asked after his breathing
stabilized.

   "I take it that this was well received?"

   "Guys dream about this, baby," he said.

   "You could've said something, you know," I sighed.  Darned right I
sighed.  I'm post-orgasmic and I'm being cuddled and kissed.

   "No, I couldn't.  It had to be spontaneous and voluntary on your part.
That's part of the magic."

   I giggled.  "Chuck, my love, you're my magic.  It's okay for you to
ask..."

   "And it's okay for you to improvise," he spoke softly.  "You just keep
making my heart pound."

   I felt a tingle between my legs.  "Something else got pounded, guy.  I
understand that I got you good!"

   He's got me good.

   All that good stuff, and then the phone calls started.  Naturally, Bert,
the ex, had my cell number.  I answered one.  Told him simply and as
politely as I could muster that I did not want to talk to him now nor in
the future.

   Told Chuck.  I'm not keeping anything secret from Chuck.  Bert does not
know where I live, at least that was what I thought.

   Another phone call.  I dodged it and blocked his number.  Another phone
call.  From another number.

   "No, Bert.  Not now, not ever.  Stop calling me."

   Told Chuck.

   "Let's go see my lawyer buddy and get a restraining order."

   Lawyer buddy said it was easy to fill out the paperwork, but that Bert
needed to be served.  That's a problem.  I don't think Bert has his own
address.  Since I let the apartment go (it was in my name) I don't know
what he's doing for living arrangements.  I imagine he might be crashing at
a buddy's place, but I can't begin to list addresses.

   "It's gonna be difficult," the lawyer said.  "We'll post it and hit
every address you gave me.  Do you think he's dangerous?"

   "I dunno," I said.

   Afterward, in the car, Chuck said, "Range weekend.  All the pistols. 
The shotgun..."

   I sighed.  "Chuck, I'm sorry.  I didn't want this..."

   "You didn't ask for it, princess, but here it is.  He'll get tired..."

   "I hope so."

   "You don't think he'd..."

   "I ...  he had a rowdy period in his life, but he never put his hands on
me.  And it's been a year and a half since he got in a fight, at least one
that I know of." I could see the wheels turning behind Chuck's eyes. 
"Chuck, I'm sorry about all this.  I meant it when I said 'you and me,
forever'."

   "I love you, Jenn.  This is scary, though."

   "If he was the last man on earth, Chuck, I'd kill myself first.  You've
been better for me in a month than he was in two years." I felt my eyes get
wet.  I'm NOT a crier, but I felt the tears.  "Chuck, hang on to me. 
Please."

   His hand reached over, fingers open.  I laced mine in his.

   "It's too late," he said.  "I'm irrevocably in love with you."

   "Good!" I said.

   We got home, entered into delightful domesticity.  Still, in the back of
my head I had a feeling of unease, and it's the first time I've had that
feeling since I first snuggled into Chuck's arms.

   Over dinner, he read my eyes, I guess.

   "We'll get through this, Jenn," he said.

   I felt the implied 'if that's what you want to do.' "I love my new life,
Chuck.  I know it's strange to some ways of thinking, but we've got a
little more than a month together, and I love you.  Real love.  The forever
kind.  And I don't want you going through a lot of crap because we're
together."

   "Look, babe," he said, "I made the vow with you.  We're a unit.  All the
way across the board, from this kitchen right out into the whole wide
world."

   "I'm not paranoid, Jenn, just prepared," Chuck says.  "Home invasions in
the news.  Not in our neighborhood, but who knows?  And last summer up the
street, there was a break-in.  Cops showed up to investigate afterward. 
Consensus seems to be that the old couple had a grandson who knew what sort
of things they kept in their home.  They went out one evening, came back to
find the back door broken in.  It's my house.  I will do what I can to
protect it.  Hiding in the closet is an option, but not the ONLY option."
He watched my face for reaction.  "And now I have YOU to protect.  It's a
sad man who won't stand between those whom he loves and those who would
harm them."

   I hear him say things like this, about life and security and such, and I
don't get that 'poser' vibe nor the 'macho' vibe.  I get the 'mature and
competent' vibe and the 'I love you' vibe.

   So Saturday morning we're at the local range.  Chuck is a member of the
club and Saturday mornings the place is somewhat busy, causing me to feel
kind of shy because I'm the only 'two 'X' chromosome' type in the crowd. 
Chuck doesn't flinch.  Everyone he recognizes gets the 'Hi, Bob!  Meet my
wife, Jenn!" treatment.

   I recognize one shooter in the bunch besides Chuck.  It's one of the
guys who was at the rifle match.

   "Hello, Chuck.  Hi, Jenn," Jerry said.  "Practicing?"

   "Just exercising and refamiliarizing with some of our things," Chuck
said.

   "Don't let 'er practice, Chuck.  If she practices, she's gonna embarrass
a lot of us."

   "Thank, you, Jerry.  I think."

   "Jenn, you just do it.  A lot of those balloons on the firing line need
a bit of deflation." He smiled.  "Funny!  I'm an old guy, and even with all
this women's lib stuff, it still hurts to get beat by a girl."

   We did practice.  I haven't done a lot of pistol shooting, so we went
through a couple of boxes of cheap ammo to familiarize me with the four
different pistols we own, then Chuck and another guy worked with me on
accuracy.

   "Ignore what you see in the movies," Aaron said.  "If you can use two
hands, USE two hands.  We're talking about defensive range here, so we'll
practice at seven yards." They set me up some human-sized silhouette
targets.

   "Don't try to get cute," Chuck said.  "This isn't shooting at little
black dots and you don't shoot to wound.  Aim for the center of the chest."

   I tried a few rounds.  Just like they said, I saw something: Good grip,
and ignore the rear sight.  Put the front sight on the target and pull the
trigger.

   Chuck and I both took a half an hour to work on that rifle thing.  I got
a lot of stares when Chuck rolled out the shooting mat and I wiggled down
into the prone position with that little black rifle.

   Got a lot more stares when the range went cold and we retrieved the
target.  It's only a hundred yards, so the target is reduced to simulate
600 yards.  Giggle.  Ten round string.  ALL in the black.  four nines, five
tens.  One X.

   Chuck chided me.  "Use your spotting scope.  When you KNOW you had a
center hold and your shot is off, ask yourself: Wind?  Light?  And adjust
your sights.  You could've gotten a lot more X's if your group was
centered."

   "Yes, Master!" Giggle.  It's a shooting joke.  Chuck's official
marksmanship classification for rifle matches is 'Master'.

   Next ten round string, all tens and X's.

   We popped open the cleaning box and cleaned all the weapons while we
were still at the range.  Was good that way.  Lots of conversations.  Meet
people with common interests.

   We stopped at a barbecue joint on the way home, did the drive-thru, left
with a pound of brisket and some baked beans and potato salad.  Dinner was
pleasant.  Saturday night, we took in a movie, ate bad fast food.

   Sunday is church.  Yes, I know ...  could sleep late.  Don't.  Get up.
Go to church.

   After church, another phone call.  Unrecognized number, but in this area
code.  A hang-up.  I didn't call it back.

   Monday was nominal.  I was lucky.  Agency nurses usually get to do
weekends and weird shifts, and honestly, I can do it, but I do so much
enjoy life with Chuck.  I would think long and hard about having to work a
schedule that conflicted with his.  He and I have talked.  I don't HAVE to
work if I don't want to.  Still ...  paychecks...

   Tuesday was different.  When I checked in at the nurse's station, there
was an envelope with my name on it.  Didn't look official at all.  My
printed name on the front looked vaguely familiar.  It did show me as
Virginia LeBert, though, so I thought ...  Chuck's had flowers delivered up
here for ME.  Wowed the other staff something fierce.

   And then I opened it.  From Bert.

   "How long has this been here," I asked the outgoing ward clerk.

   "I dunno.  Came up with the evening stuff, I guess."

   "So nobody up here saw who delivered it."

   "You're upset," she said.

   "Yeah.  Ex-boyfriend.  I just filed a restraining order on 'im." I
whipped out my iPhone and took pictures of the envelope, then read it.



   JennYou belong with me.  Everbody says so.

   I know I have ben on the road a lot lately, but work has not ben good
for my trade.  I will try and find some work locally, and I wont go out at
nite unless I take you with me.

   I am stopping drinking as much and I will stay away from the herb and
that kind of stuff.

   You know we said we loved each other.  I am not ready to give up and I
don't think you really are either.

   I know you are supposed to be married now, but my sister says its probly
one of those spur of the moment things and she knows a lawyer that can get
it annulled just like you were never married.

   I am ready to forgive you for leaving.  We can be together and get
married and have kids like you used to talk about with my sister.

   You can call me on my cellphone when you make up your mind.

   Your real love

   Bert



   "You don't look like it's good news," my friend said.

   "Nothing having to do with this guy is good news at this stage in life,"
I replied.  "I wonder how he found out where I worked."

   "Oh, hon, there's always WAYS.  People talk to people, you know."

   "I suppose," I said.  In my head I was running through possibilities. 
He knows where I work.  Does he know where I live?

   I didn't want Chuck to be unaware, so I went into the little office and
dialed him up.

   "Chuck LeBert.  Can I help you?"

   "I relish hearing your voice.  That's a big help."

   "Hi, baby," he said.  "Something important?"

   "Yeah.  Not good, either."

   "You okay?"

   "I'm okay.  Fine.  I love you.  You love me.  That's all good." I
sighed. "There was a letter from Bert at the nurse's station when I got
here this morning."

   "Really?"

   "Yeah.  So he knows where I work."

   "Was it threatening?"

   "No.  I'll show it to you when we get home."

   "Are you okay, little one?" he asked.

   "I'm fine, Chuck.  I just wanted you to be aware.  If he knows this,
then he might know where we live."

   "I'll take an extra look around," he said.  "If he shows up there, just
call security."

   "I will.  I can't believe he has the nerve.  This requires more effort
than he's shown in two years, Chuck."

   "You be careful too, Jenn.  I need you."

   "Good!  I love you."

   "I love you, too.  Bye."

   So I turned around and went about my work.  This is critical stuff,
nursing, not stacking panties at Walmart.  There, you can get away with the
error of sliding an 'M' in a stack of 'XXL'.  Here, a mistake might just be
the difference between recovery and ...  I know this, so I pay attention.
Which means that work pushes down most of those crazy thoughts.  And when I
do take a break, I close my eyes and think of waking up in Chuck's arms, in
a house that we make a home, OUR home.  Bert?  Not no, but HELL NO!

   Okay ...  end of day.  I drove home with Brahms on the stereo.  When I
pulled into the drive, I saw a white envelope on the front door.  Okay,
could be a visiting salesman or a meter reader or something, but I was
wary. When I got close enough, I saw the handwriting.  I didn't touch it. I
hurried back to the car, got in and backed out of the drive, scanning the
street.

   I didn't see anything out of place, so I headed over to the parking lot
of a nearby business, parked, and called Chuck.

   "He's been to our house, Chuck."

   "Call the police and tell them there's the possibility of an intruder on
the property.  I'll be home as soon as I can get there."

   The police officers that showed up, two cars, two patrolmen, were
courteous, at least.  They walked around the outside of the house, didn't
see any signs of forced entry.  I explained a little of the history about
Bert and the fact that I'd filed for a restraining order.  In their
presence I opened the envelope.



   Dear Jenn,

   So this is where you're hiding these days.  I could give you something
like this.  We could both pay for it.

   We need to get together so we can have a talk.

   You belong to me.

   Your real love

   Bert



   It was about that time that Chuck's car showed up.  Chuck walked up,
introduced himself.

   "Sir, Ma'am," the senior officer said, "Would you like us to do a sweep
of the inside of the house?"

   I looked at Chuck.  I know he has this thing about his, oops ...  OUR
house being our refuge, but this was a bit of a different situation.

   He nodded.  "Yes, I would appreciate that." He punched the keypad to
open the garage door.  "You can enter through here."

   Of course that puts the officers walking right past Chuck's bench full
of all sorts of equipment for handloading ammunition.  Their heads
swiveled, taking all that in.  Chuck unlocked the door between the garage
and the kitchen.  We waited in the garage while the two officers walked
through the house.  They returned.

   "You keep a neat house," the younger one said.  "Very nice."

   "I imagine you get to see some really fine layouts in your business,"
Chuck said.

   "Yeah," the older one said.  "Better suited for Waste Disposal Monthly
instead of Southern Living."

   "Big gun safe," the junior officer noted.

   I saw Chuck's 'antennae UP!' look flash across his face, then it
softened.  "Yeah.  Got a few.  Haven't I seen you shooting one of those
pistol matches?  Reggie, isn't it."

   The guy smiled.  "Yeah.  I pay for the privilege of getting my ass
handed to me a lot."

   "I know some of that," Chuck replied.  "And Jenn just shot her first
rifle match a couple of weeks ago."

   The speakermics on both officers' lapels spoke something almost
undecipherable.  The senior officer keyed his.  "Yeah, Units fifty-six and
eighty-one can respond to that.  ETA five minutes." He turned to us. 
"Sorry to cut you short, folks, but somebody missed a driving lesson."

   "Okay," Chuck said.  "Thanks for helping us out."

   "Yeah, thanks bunches," I said.  I meant it, too.

   They walked away.  I retrieved the envelope and letter, showed it and
the one from the hospital to Chuck.  We went inside so he could read them.

   "Not much to say," he said.

   "I'm not his."

   "I don't look at you as 'mine', either, princess.  There's two of us
here, together.  We chose each other.  You're not property."

   "Partner?"

   "Mate.  For life."

   "Hold me then.  I need affirmation."

   He chuckled softly as he wrapped me in his arms.  "Affirm this."

   All that trepidation I had about me putting a strain on our new
marriage? It started melting away.  I guess thinking about it made me
tearful.  He noticed.

   "Worried, punkin?" he asked.

   "Don't wanna lose you, Chuck."

   "Not that easy to lose, Jenn baby.  If you want me, I'm yours.  If you
DON'T want me, at this stage of the game, I'm still yours."

   "I want you."

   "We'll get past this, little one.  The guy'll tire out if you keep
ignoring him."

   "I hope so, Chuck.  I like our life together."

   He kissed me, not one of those 'take me to the bed and ravish me'
kisses, just an 'I love you' kiss.  "What about dinner?"

   "Lets do that Italian place we like," I said.  It was small, almost
cozy. And good.

   Nothing else happened that evening, at least nothing adverse.  Unless
you count the part where I temporarily lost consciousness.  This man rocks
me on so many levels.  Of course if I'm reading these things correctly, I
rock him as well.

   So we're cautious.  Still, I'm not going to let the past intrude on my
'here & now'.  Chuck and I do 'normal'.  Well, quirky normal, but normal
nonetheless.  We do it well.

   Changes?  I feel, well, exposed.  I become more aware of our
neighborhood.  I like our house, anchored in its little cul-de-sac, but I
pay a bit more attention to the cars parked there, and I do a bit more
scanning when I pull into the driveway.

   And...  "Practice, Chuck."

   "Practice?"

   "Yeah, pistol ...  I know how to shoot them now, but I need practice..."

   Chuck knows a trick for short-range indoor practice.  He handloads his
own ammo, and he does this thing with wax bullets.  I can load one in a
pistol, and put the pistol down, pick it up, and POP!  Costs three cents.
Isn't any louder than a flyswatter, and won't go through a folded
newspaper, but it provides feedback.  At self-defense ranges, like indoors,
it shows that I did things right because if I do, I hit the target.

   I am NOT going to be helpless.

   I didn't let other things in my life go unattended, either.  Chuck
doesn't get in the door without me wrapping him up.  I didn't know that I
could get this way about a man.  I mean, Bert ...  he was good-looking in
that 'bad boy' kind of way that seems to get so much attention, you know,
the jeans worn out just exactly the right amount, the two-day beard,
cheekbones, brown eyes, grin ...  but Chuck, always clean-shaven, five days
a week he's in slacks or khakis and has that 'responsible individual' look,
and when he speaks, there are actual thoughts involved.

   I'm into Chuck.  Twice a week at the gym Chuck.  Puttering around the
yard Chuck.  Sensible Chuck.  Not worried about where he is tonight Chuck,
because he's right there beside me in bed and we're fitted together like a
boxed set.

   On a fiduciary level, we have a joint bank account where somebody
besides me actually deposits money.  He's gone through and shown me his IRA
and investment portfolio.  He can actually SPELL 'portfolio'.  I'm finally
NOT just a paycheck ahead of financial disaster.

   The reason is that it's not just me.  I've finally achieved every little
girl's (well, every RESPONSIBLE little girl's) dream of being part of an
'us'.  I feel more secure than I've felt since I left the army.

   So this evening we've had dinner, cleaned the kitchen, I practiced with
a pistol, twenty wax bullets, you know, and now we're on the sofa, Chuck
leaning against the backrest, me in front of him, and it's very nice, arms
around me, some silly movie on Netflix, he does this thing that makes me
melt, where he just lightly kisses the top of my head.

   It's not something that says 'let's go screw', it's something that says
'you're a delight and a joy to me' and yes, I start getting melty and
poetic like a lovestruck school girl.  That 'melty' part?  Guess where
THAT'S at.  I twist around in his arms.  Kisses on the top of my head
aren't going to do it for me now.

   "Wow!  Did I break your concentration?" he asks with a smile on his
lips.

   Lips.  Kiss.  "You ARE my concentration." Kiss.  "And I've seen this
movie before and WE can do better, don'tcha think?"

   He agrees.  And we do better.



   ------

   Chapter 13

   Still Jenn's turn:

   A week passed without a single phone call.  No more letters.  Chuck and
I began to relax again.  "Maybe he figured out that you're gone from his
life, punkin," Chuck told me.

   "I hope so," I said.  "He's got NOTHING for me, Chuck.  What little
there was, I tried making it a big deal.  Now, since you and I have been
together, I see what a sad mess that it all was.  You're ...  we're magic
together."

   "I like the way we fit, Jenn," he said.

   I gave him a look.

   He laughed.  "Yeah, THAT way, too..."

   "I know what you mean.  We just seemed to slide together like we were
mapped out for each other."

   "Yes.  You're the prescription for the disease I didn't know I had."

   "Oooooo," I giggled.  "I love it when you talk medical."

   "Part of my charm," he laughed.

   Yes, intelligence was indeed part of it.  His feeling that he could be
himself freed me up to be myself.  I didn't have to soft-pedal my
vocabulary for fear that I'd sound uppity to Bert and his friends and
family.  I got to listen to MY music on speakers instead of headphones.

   The first time he walked in after work and I was already home after a
bad day at the hospital, I had something Bach on, Art of the Fugue I think.
I was stretched out, leaned against the back of the sofa, my eyes closed.
He sat down beside me, gave me a gentle kiss, then encouraged me to lay
down, my head in his lap, and he massaged me.  I thought I'd died and gone
to heaven.  I mean, I didn't ask, hint, whine, cajole, coerce.  Said, "Hi,
baby." And he did that.

   Yeah, I'm gonna give THIS up.  Not!

   Worst arguments we have are over what to do about food or folding
clothes.  I fold the towels right.  He folds them wrong.  It's that simple.
He showed me HIS way, giving me a stern look.  I showed him the way I was
going to fold them, and offered him a variety of physical coercions to get
him to accept the decision.

   Afterward, I smiled at him and said, "Now was it worth it for me to get
my way?"

   "Not nice to gloat after sex, my dear," he laughed as he rolled me over
for Round Two.

   After that one I told him, "Wait until you see me fold your
underwear..."

   It is good.  I want it to stay that way.  So I got home on Tuesday,
started supper in the oven, waited for Chuck.  He got home, we ate our
meal, were watching TV.  It was beginning to get dark outside when there
was knock at the door.

   "Probably the UPS guy with that stuff we ordered last week," Chuck said
arising from the sofa where we were curled up.

   He went to the door.  I heard it open, then a sound like somebody
slapping a big chunk of meat on the counter.  And the sound of a body
hitting the floor.

   I jumped up and saw MY Chuck laid out on the floor, bleeding from a
laceration on the side of his head, and BERT stepping over him.

   He saw me.  "Knocked your pansy-ass boyfriend OUT!" he said, like his
was proud of himself.

   "Bert!" I screamed, "Get OUT of here!  I don't want to SEE you.  I'm
married to HIM!"

   "This thing?" He prodded Chuck's unconscious form with the toe of his
cowboy boot.  "Ain't much, darlin'.  You need to be with ME!"

   "Go away, Bert!  You ain't happening.  I'm calling the police!" I
reached for the phone, but he was across the room in a blink.  I was
caught. Dead caught.

   "Jenn, baby, don't make me be like this.  I love you, baby.  We belong
together."

   My mind is going a thousand miles an hour.  My Chuck is laying over
there on the floor, bleeding, unconscious, knocked out.  He needs medical
attention.  And this turd has the drop on me.  He takes the phone from me
and yanks it out of the wall.

   "Now!  Where's the bedroom, baby?  We're gonna make love like we used ta
do." He grabbed the back of my scrubs.  "You know I always liked you in
these things." He was pushing me up the hall ahead of him.

   Okay.  I'm thinking.  I'm playing helpless.  And I know something.  I
need a little time, a little running room, a tiny bit of freedom.  I can do
this.  Bert's got a real big ...  ego.  I can force myself...

   "Bert, baby..." I said, pulling up every bit of Southern charm I could
generate.  "You ...  You really WANT me.  You REALLY want me.  I never saw
you like this before.  How come you never ...  You're so forceful.  You
know I love it when you're manly!"

   Any man with half his senses would've read right through it, but ol'
Bert has that ego, plus, up close, I can smell a bit of booze.  Clarity of
thought isn't his strong suit when he's sober.  His face softened.

   "Let's toss the covers off this thing.  You an' me can..."

   "I'm gonna FUCK you right here!" he said.  He let me loose.  "Strip!  I
wanna see those titties again!" I moved around to the other side of the bed
as I undressed.  I bent over.

   "Gotta ditch these shoes so I can get my pants off," I said.

   When I bent over, there's the shelf right there on the nightstand.  I
came up with a pistol.

   "Outta here, Bert.  Right now.  Back up, turn around, and leave!"

   "I ain't.  You're still a BITCH, you know, Jenn.  This is the shit that
kept me from marryin' you in the first place!" And he started to come
around the bed.

   "Stop, Bert!  I mean it!"

   "Fuckin' bitch!  Put it down!" he hissed, raising his hands to grab me.

   Wasn't no seven yards.  I pulled the trigger three times before he
started to fall.  He hit the floor.  I'm a nurse.  This part isn't brain
surgery.  Three 9mm hits in the center of the chest, point blank range,
premium defense ammo.  No exit wounds.  Quick check.  No pulse.  I jump
over his carcass and run to Chuck.

   Chuck's got a pulse.  Not reacting, though.  Cellphone.  9-1-1.

   "What's your emergency?"

   "There's been a home invasion.  My husband is unconscious.  The intruder
has been shot.  He's dead.  I need an ambulance, stat!"

   "You're on a cellphone.  Verify your address, please."

   I carefully sounded out the street and house number.  "Seriously.  My
husband's unconscious.  Head wound.  I need an ambulance fast!"

   "EMS is on the way.  So are the police.  Please stay on the phone."

   "I'm putting it on speaker and setting it down.  My husband's hurt."

   When the flashing lights and sirens came up the street I was sitting in
the doorway with Chuck's head in my lap.  He had a good pulse, his
breathing was regular.  Past that, I was too busy holding him.

   Two blue-clad police officers, weapons drawn, came up first.  Behind
them I could see neighbors staring through curtains and blinds.  A couple
of the more brave were out on their lawns.

   "No weapons?" the nearest officer questioned.

   "There's a pistol on the coffee table.  It's been fired.  Three rounds
out of it.  It's still loaded, but the safety's on.  Do be careful."

   "Dispatch said there's a fatality."

   "Up the hall in the bedroom.  Albert Corley.  Twenty-eight.  Fresh
restraining order.  He's dead.  I'm a nurse.  I know these things."

   By now the EMS had arrived.  Two paramedics were unloading a gurney and
wheeling it up the walkway to the door.

   "Whose gun?  Who's the shooter?" the officer asked.

   "Chuck's gun.  Bert ...  Albert was at the door, Chuck opened it..."

   "Chuck?"

   "Charles LeBert.  I'm his wife.  This is our house.  Bert was my ex. 
Started problems.  We got a restraining order against him."

   The second officer squeezed past us into the house and kept his pistol
at the ready as he went up the hall.  In a minute he was back.

   "She's right," he told the first officer.  "Chest is gone." He motioned
the EMC crew up.

   Big overweight guy seemed to be the team leader.  His junior was a woman
about my age.

   "I'm a nurse," I said.  "His pulse and respiration is good.  Laceration.
Took a punch to the side of the head.  Out cold.  I don't see a compression
fracture..."

   "Can't be sure by looking," the guy said.  By this time his partner was
pushing a backboard under Chuck.  "We're gonna transport him to Central."

   "Can I go with them?" I asked the police officer.

   "Afraid not, uh..."

   "Virginia LeBert.  Jenn.  This is MY home."

   "Ma'am?" the female paramedic called.

   "Yes?"

   "He's conscious.  He's asking for you."

   "Can I?" I asked my policeman.

   "Sure.  You're not gonna run, are you?"

   "Hardly.  That's my husband over there.  This is MY home."

   "Go.  Talk to him.  But I can't let you go with him right now."

   I ran to Chuck's side.  Shoes still on.  My fake worked out well for me.
For Bert?  Not so good.  I bent over Chuck.  "Hey, baby," I said softly. 
"How d'you feel?"

   "Took a whack on the head.  I guess that's your friend Bert?"

   "Yeah.  Not any more, though."

   "Not any more?"

   "He took me to the bedroom.  That pistol by your side of the bed?"

   "Yeah?"

   "Works."

   "No shit?!?"

   "Absolutely minimal defecation involved."

   He gave me a brave smile.  "Cops?"

   "Yeah.  They won't let me come with you.  Seems that shooting somebody
is a serious thing around here."

   "Call Dodd Grantham."

   "The lawyer that did the restraining order?"

   "Yeah.  He'll know who to get if your need a criminal attorney."

   "Okay, baby.  You're gonna be okay.  Might have a headache."

   "Stitches," the female EMS said.  "Probably stitches."

   "Oh, no," Chuck said.  "There goes the modeling contract."

   "Hon," we gotta take 'im," the lady said.

   I bent over and gave him a kiss.  "See you as soon as I can, babe!"

   "I love you, Jenn," He said.

   "I love you too, Chuck."

   They closed the door on the ambulance and took off with flashing lights.
I trudged back to the waiting police officers.  By this time there were
several other people.

   The first officer, 'my' cop, said "This is Lieutenant Gaines, our shift
supervisor.  Lieutenant Gaines, this is Virginia LeBert.  This is her
house."

   I nodded at him.  "How do you do, Lieutenant?" I said.  "I am NOT having
the best of nights."

   A second gurney rolled in the front door of MY house.  Came back with a
body under a sheet.  I put a hand out.  "Goodbye, Bert.  You made this
happen."

   My policeman, last name Brenner, told his supervisor, "Her ex. 
Restraining order.  He punched out the husband..."

   "Pushed me into the bedroom with rape on his mind.  I don't want to talk
until I get an attorney."

   "I understand, Mizz LeBert.  Do you have a copy of the restraining
order?"

   "Yes.  It's in the file cabinet.  Would you like for me to help you get
it?"

   "If you would."

   I showed him the file cabinet.  He pulled the papers.

   "This thing's brand new."

   "I know," I said.  "Started with the phone calls, then he dropped
letters at work, and left one in our door.  Your guys came out when we
found that one."

   "Oh, really?"

   "Yeah.  Had 'em sweep the house.  They didn't find anything, but he
knows ...  knew where I lived."

   Two and a half hours later I met Randall Seeley, Attorney at Law in the
police station.  We're ushered into a little interview room.

   "I'm sorry about the hour, Mister Seeley."

   "Please, call me Randy, Mizz LeBert."

   "Then I'm Jenn."

   "Great!  Now, in your best memory, what happened tonight?"

   I explained most of it.  Didn't go into the fact that I feigned renewed
interest in Bert, just that he thought he had me scared enough to undress
myself, and how he came at me when I presented the pistol.

   "That's definitely within the guidelines of self-defense.  He already
showed inclination to do physical damage, assault, threat of sexual
battery, home invasion, several other points that we could make.  Do you
feel up to an interview by Lieutenant Gaines?"

   "You'll be there, right?"

   "Absolutely.  Let him ask the question.  Look at me.  If I nod, you can
answer.  Measure your words carefully.  Lieutenant Gaines is a good guy,
but he IS a police officer.  You want to get out and go check on your
husband."

   So I got to tell the whole thing all over again.  With Lieutenant
Gaines, I gave short, terse answers.  I didn't ramble.  I didn't get
descriptive.

   "I'm with you, Randy," he said to my attorney.  "Off the record, this
looks like a good case for self-defense.  Lemme make a phone call.  Talk to
the judge."

   We sat for another fifteen minutes.  Lieutenant Gaines returned.  "Mizz
LeBert, you're not planning on leaving the country in the next couple of
weeks, are you?"

   "No, I'm not."

   "The judge says we can release you on your own recognizance."

   "Where's my gun?"

   "Oh, we'll let you have that when we get a final disposition on this
case."

   "Good.  It's a good gun.  One more thing," I said to Lieutenant Gaines.

   "Yes?"

   "Do you know who specializes in cleaning up these sorts of messes?"

   "I have a list.  Let me make you a copy."

   Five minutes later I had that page of copy in my hand.

   "How am I supposed to get home?" I asked.

   "I'll take you," Randy said.  "Part of services rendered."

   "Great!" I replied as we walked out.  "Still paying for ol' Bert after
he's dead."

   "You don't sound too remorseful."

   "I gave him everything a sane man needed to know that it was over
between us.  He kept it up."

   Half an hour later I'm back at the house.  There's still a patrol car
there.  I announce my presence loudly as I walk in.  It's still Brenner and
his partner, Sims.

   "You have a mess in there," Brenner said.

   "Better it's HIS mess instead of MY mess," I said.  "I didn't feel up to
getting raped by an ex-boyfriend tonight.  'Specially after he knocked my
husband out."

   "Cold-cocked 'im?" Sims queried.

   "Yeah, that's the term.  Chuck was expecting the UPS guy.  Opened the
door, and..."

   "Ouch!"

   "Yeah," I said.  "Look, guys, I need to go see my husband.  Can I give
you a key to lock the door behind yourselves?  I can pick it up at the
station tomorrow."

   "Sure," Brenner said.  "We'll do that."

   I gave him the spare key off the key rack, then headed to the hospital.
My hospital, of all the luck.  I didn't know anybody in the ER, though.  My
Chuck, there with a shaved spot on the side of his head, a dressing in the
middle of it.

   "Three sutures," the nurse told me.  Doctor Rajahpoori will come out in
a bit and talk with you."

   "Great," I said.  "X-rays?"

   She nodded, eying my scrubs.  "You?  Medical?"

   "Agency nurse.  RN.  Working ICU here.  Day shift."

   "Oh, well, then, between you and me, X-rays negative.  Three sutures. 
Concussion.  He's gonna have a headache.  You get all that from your fellow
nurse, but Doctor Six-Figures will make it official."

   I smiled.  "Ain't that the truth," I said.

   My Chuck is lucid, happy to see me.  The doctor did indeed come by and
repeat the nurse's information.  He did add "Follow up with your family
physician.  You're expected to experience headaches.  If they get too
severe, your vision blurs or you experience other symptoms, return to ER."

   They wheeled Chuck to the entrance and he slid into the passenger seat
of our car.

   "So what's the house look like?" He asked.

   "Bedroom's got a big ugly spot on the floor.  We're not spending the
night there.  I reserved us a hotel room.  In the morning I'm calling a
cleaning service that specializes in that mess.  And we need to talk to our
homeowner's insurer.  I think they'll pay.  We get new carpet, possibly a
new mattress and bedding."

   "He didn't hurt you, did he?"

   "Nope.  He thought his bravery would win me back.  I'm not any man's
prize, Chuck.  I am YOUR wife.  You are MY husband.  I love you.  It's OUR
home.  I was protecting US."

   "Where in the world did I find you?" he asked.

   "I was just marking time in the universe waiting for you, Chuck," I
said.

   First stop on the way home was to drop off a prescription for
painkillers at an all night pharmacy.  "We'll be back by in thirty minutes
to get them," I said.

   We went home.  Chuck looked into the bedroom.  Big dark spot already
smelling bad on the floor.

   I stuffed things into a suitcase for the remainder of the night.  Back
in the car, I called the hospital to advise them that I wouldn't be at work
in the morning, stopped at the pharmacy and retrieved Chuck's happy pills,
then I checked us into a hotel.

   Got Chuck into a hotel room.

   "Are you going to be okay while I shower, baby?  I seem to have worked
up a little funk."

   "Can we both fit?"

   "Cant' get your head wet," I said.

   "Yes, nurse.  I'll be careful."

   And when I got into bed with him, it all hit me.  I was shaking
uncontrollably.  "Hold me, Chuck," I pled.

   "Here, princess," he said, opening his arms to receive me.  "You're very
brave.  You can't keep it in forever."

   "Chuck, I killed 'im," I cried.  "I wanted to be free of 'im.  I KILLED
'im!"

   "Honey," he soothed, "You had no choice.  Guy was crazy.  You know..."

   "I know ...  I've never killed anybody, Chuck..."

   "Most people haven't.  It's something that few people experience."

   "You?"

   "We already discussed that.  You know I was a soldier.  Yes."

   He'd told me he was a soldier.  That his marksmanship skills had gotten
a workout on a tour in Iraq.  Past that point, I assumed...

   "Hold me, Chuck." He had his arms around me, holding me through my
shakes.

   "I got you, my Jenn.  I'm here.  You're here.  We still have each
other."

   I breathed deep.  Smelled his freshly washed body, the traces of
disinfectants from that dressing on his head.  Felt his warmth, the
strength of his arms around me.

   I guess since we're both veterans, we've both seen things that can't be
unseen.  I've seen the guys medevac'd in, twisted, torn, covered with
dripping field dressings.  I've prised a bit of information of Chuck's
service, only that he was a known marksman and that he spent some time with
a sniper rifle overwatching his troops and that he was, in his words,
"Pretty good at it" because it wasn't the specialty he trained for, it was
a process of field selection.

   I saw one side of the war.  He saw the other.  Now I have an inkling of
his side.  In that slow-motion thing that the mind does, I saw the muzzle
flashes, the spreading crimson, the surprise on the target's face, and the
collapse to the floor.  Of somebody that I'd LIVED with.

   "Who's thinking NOW," my slightly bashed mate asked me.

   "Me.  It's a shock, my bent baby," I said.  "He was six feet away..."

   "Don't be confused," he said.  "The other outcomes were NOT good.  He
had to know that he was already up for a laundry list of charges.  Maybe
he'd've just raped you and slapped you around.  Maybe he might've decided
that there should be no witnesses.  Either way, you did the right thing."

   "Are you too drugged to possess me?"

   "What?!?" he blurted.

   "Possess me.  Validate me and you.  Physically." My hands started
emphasizing my language.

   "Are you SURE?  I don't..."

   "Don't what, Chuck?  I'm your wife.  Mating is expected." I knew that I
was getting through to the animal inside him because he was hardening in my
hand.

   "Virginia, you are the most amazing woman imaginable," he said,
struggling to shove his drawers down.

   "I'll do that," I said.  I tossed the covers back, clearing the bed,
then stripped him, removing T-shirt and shorts, then stripped myself.  I
crawled into the bed, trapping HIM beneath me.  "I need this."

   I rode him hard.  It's something that I've done since I met Chuck.  I
guess I was a passive partner before, but with Chuck, I've become an equal,
taking a hundred percent of the responsibility for BOTH our pleasures.  Of
course, ever since the first time HE made bells go off in my head, I've
known him to be the same way.  But tonight?  Tonight I took control.

   He fought off his own orgasm bravely as I worked on mine, grinding my
button into the juncture between his dick and his pubic bone, and when I
tossed my head back, eyes squeezed tight, slapping us together with short,
violent jabs, he knew where I was and he released.

   I felt him pulsing deep inside me.  I knew how deep he was because I was
controlling that, too.  As I rode through my own I knew that as my almost
violent thrusts subsided into little rolling rubs, I was pumping him dry
inside me.

   My eyes finally opened to gaze on my slightly battered mate.  He was
gazing back, smiling.

   "How in the world could I NOT be in love with you, Virginia?"

   "I understand rape and pillage now, Chuck."

   "Oh," he smirked.  "I'm being raped?"

   "I dunno.  You were awfully willing.  Kinda takes the sting out of it,
huh?"

   He kept smiling.  "So you're claiming me as your property?"

   "Absolutely.  I fought for you.  I claim you, Charles LeBert."

   "I submit to your ownership, mistress."

   Okay, I giggled.  I know a little bit about that BDSM crap.  I mean, I
DO read.  I never harbored a desire for it, though, but there was something
about the way the word came out of his mouth.  He's lying there underneath
me, I guess 'trapped' enough for me to be dominant for recreational
purposes, and he's got that 'beaten' thing going, what with the dressing on
his head.

   "You know it, buddy boy," I said.  I collapsed forward into his arms,
giggling.  He kissed the top of my head, so I turned and moved a bit,
fastening our mouths together.

   Release.

   "Chuck.  We survived.  I love you."

   ------ The End ------ Posted: 2014-05-26 Last Modified: 2014-12-30 /
08:08:43 pm
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