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# # # #
Four and a Half
Uther Pendragon
nogardneprethu@gmail.com
"Well, Cat," Grandmere asked her, "do you want to take your nap
on your pad or on Grandma Brennan's bed?"
"No!"
"That isn't one of the choices. If you come into my room I'll
read you some stories first and lie beside you." Kate Brennan
couldn't understand her four-year-old granddaughter's dislike of
naps; siestas were such a luxury.
"Don't wanna nap."
"You don't have to want one. You're going to take one. You know
that, and I know that. The question is whether we are going to
have an ugly fight first or read some nice stories first."
"You talk like Papa." Grandmere did sound like Papa, and not just
the way that everybody but Maman and her special friends and the
people at school talked English like Papa did.
"Get your books and Wot, and I'll tell you a story that isn't in
any of them. It's a short story, so we'll have a couple of books
after. Dad books only." Wot, who had started out as a pink
plush elephant, had lost most of his plush and was -- despite
Jeanette's occasional laundering -- more gray than pink these
days. He was, however, something between Cat's favorite toy and
her constant companion.
Cat knew the difference between French and English. She even
could say a few things in Spanish.
Finally, they were settled on the big, soft, bed. Cat giggled as
usual at the waves that they made. Then Grandmere started in on her
story.
"Even Dad was a little boy once. And when he was a little boy, he
lived with Granddad and me. He was my baby just as you were
Maman's baby."
"Not a baby. Cat's a *big* girl."
"Cat's a big girl now. But Cat was a baby once. And Daddy was a
baby once. And even I was a baby once, can you imagine? Anyway,
Dad grew up from being a baby to being a boy who learned to talk.
And his favorite word was 'no.' Just like it's the favorite word
of his favorite daughter. And when he said that he didn't want
to do something, take a nap for example, guess who would tell him
that he didn't need to want to?"
"You!" It wasn't that hard to guess.
"That's right. He didn't need to want to, and often he didn't.
But he needed to do it, and almost always he did. Then he grew
up and married Maman. And he wanted to have a child of his own,
and Maman wanted to have a child of her own. And then they did,
and it made them very happy. And the child turned out to be Cat,
and that made them even happier still."
"And I was inside Maman." This was a really a puzzle to Cat, but
everybody said she had been.
"And you were inside Maman, except that you weren't the Cat who
runs and plays and talks. You were eentsy-teentsy. And then you
came out, and you still were quite small. But you grew and grew
and grew. And now you are the big girl who can take care of
herself."
And big enough that she didn't need a nap. But they'd already
had that fight, and the water bed was jiggly and giggly, and
Grandmere hugged her close while she read.... Then the hug was too
tight and she needed to go *bad*. She squeezed out. The bounces
weren't fun anymore, but she got off the bed and to the bathroom
just in time.
Kate Brennan woke knowing that she had just had a child in her
arms. The slant of the light meant mid-afternoon. But something
was wrong. "Bob," she called. "What are you doing?"
"Mikrate! Mikrate!" she heard.
Then she was really awake. It wasn't a son she had held, but the
son's daughter. Cat banged out of the bathroom and ran in the
door. "Did you wash your hands?" Kate asked. Cat ran back. And
people worry about an energy shortage.
When Cat was totally finished, Kate wiped up some of the residue
of her namesake's splashes. Then she used the facilities
herself. It was an hour after the train was due. Counting the
15 minute drive and the necessary greetings at the station, the
family could be getting back anytime in the next hour or two.
"Where's Tante K'leen?" Cat asked for what seemed the hundredth
time. Cat was really getting better on the middle syllables, but
Kathleen had threatened mayhem to anyone who corrected that
particular pronunciation. Cat ran into Kate's room, climbed on
the water bed, bounced for a moment, retrieved Wot, and ran back
into range.
"I don't know, dear. She'll be here sometime this afternoon.
Let's get your shoes on." This only took ten times as long as it
would have with Kate doing the work, but she didn't have anything
more important to do than holding her granddaughter. She
tightened the laces on the gym shoes and double knotted them.
What next? Oh yes. "Do you want to help Grandma Brennan fix
dinner?" Cat happily clattered down the stairs (clattering in
rubber soles being another talent confined to the young).
"Where's Tante K'leen?"
"She's coming on the train, dear, just as you did. Granddad,
Mommy, and Daddy went in the car to pick her and Charles up. The
train is late, but I don't know how late. Asking won't make the
train run any faster. Do you want a pickle?"
"Yes!" Cat definitely wanted a pickle. Then she remembered her
manners. "May I have a pickle, please?" Grandmere got her a pickle
and a saucer while she climbed up on the chair at the kitchen
table. Grandmere got her two napkins, too.
Kate shuddered. Cat should be too young for pickles. Instead,
the girl had gummed pickles before she had teeth. Well, it was
better than sugary snacks. "Well, dear, we don't know when the
others will get back; but they'll want a good meal soon
thereafter. So what we are going to do is to get some chicken
all ready to cook. We'll grill it under the oven when the time
comes.
"The first thing to do is to wash the chicken. We don't use soap
like we use on our hands, but the reason is really the same...."
The chicken was marinating, the pudding was done, and Pooh and
Piglet were searching for Eeyore's tail when the car stopped in
the driveway.
"Do you know who that is?" Kate asked. Now Cat could stop
asking for her aunt.
Cat knew the sound of that car. "Grandpere!" She ran to the door.
The first person she saw, though, was Sharl.
Charles had to free one hand to turn the knob. Kath's father had
led the way, but he now was engaged in holding the storm door
open for the laden. So Charles already had set one suitcase down
when he heard the cry of "Sharl!"
He dropped the other in time to catch the four-year-old missile
which had launched itself into his arms. "I'm glad to see you,
Cat," he said, "but we need to let the others in." He shifted
her to a position more comfortable for carrying, and walked into
the house until the distraction of his squirming burden and his
fogged glasses disoriented him completely.
There was a bustle behind them as the last of the luggage was
pulled in the door.
Kathleen didn't know whether she was more jealous that her god-
daughter had ignored her for Char or that Cat had stolen her
boyfriend's attention. She hung her coat in the downstairs
closet, and saw Bob walking up the stairs with two suitcases.
"You don't have to carry Char's bag up there," she said. "He's
sleeping down here on the couch." Bob ignored her, as she had
expected.
Char, however, took the hint. "Do you want to kiss Tante K'leen
hello?" he asked Cat, who was playing with his hair again. Her
hands patted all over the tight, kinky, curls. Kathleen could
understand that fascination, though she knew Charles couldn't.
Such hair might be common in the Black community, but it was
still *fun*.
Char brought Cat to her. She leaned over for the kiss, and
Kathleen took her in her arms. And a load she was too.
"Catherine Angelique," Kathleen said, "what a *big* girl you are.
You really have grown." Then she returned the kiss and hug.
When Cat was done hugging her, she let her down to the floor.
Cat went on to hug her grandpa, then her maman on general
principles.
"I'm glad to see you, too, Cat. Do you think that we could move
over towards the tree to let the people with the suitcases past."
Jeanette was proud of her child's affectionate nature, although
she worried about her getting into trouble with it on the street.
She also created a bit of a traffic hazard. And she was a
getting too heavy to jump on Charles. Now, if she could only
convince Charles of that.
Charles hung his coat in the downstairs closet. He headed
upstairs with the last significant load of their luggage, Kath's
smaller suitcase and a shopping bag full of presents. He'd been
out of residency for six months, and his new income level might
have led him to overdo the shopping. Only one purchase really
counted, however. Bob was coming down as he went up the stairs.
Bob could see that there was room past Charles if he would only
turn sidewise. Then he could see that Charles wanted him
upstairs. He held out his hand for the shopping bag and headed
back up. "I'm going to need your help in wrapping one package,"
Charles said when they were in Kathleen's room.
"Kathleen?" Charles nodded. Bob grinned. Surprise packages
were his specialty, and he suspected that this surprise would be
remembered for years.
Jeanette was a little miffed to find the door to her room locked
when she went upstairs, but this was Christmas after all. The
Brennans took the idea that one shouldn't know what was in the
package until you opened it to ridiculous extremes, and Bob was
the worst of all. Well, she loved him, and he loved her. In
someone who loved you, taking things to ridiculous extremes was
not a bad characteristic especially as he took that love to
ridiculous extremes.
She loved his family, as well. Still, she couldn't help feel
that her daughter's verbosity was only what they deserved.
During dinner Cat dominated the conversation at the table where
Jeanette had often listened to the volleys of talk in awed
silence.
"Many first-graders at our school," Kate said over her grand-
daughter's voice, "even a few of my third-graders, don't have the
English vocabulary that Cat does." She was shading it a little,
those third graders had been a constant worry. On the other
hand, having the vocabulary of EMH kids twice your age is still
an accomplishment.
"It's all your son's doing," Jeanette said. "I speak French to
her."
"Mean Mommy goes to school," Kate heard. That couldn't be right.
Did Cat resent her mother's being away from home?
"Maman and I," Bob said.
"Maman and I go to school. She learns Francais, and I learn
Espanol."
"Could you be overdoing the language thing?" Kate asked. She
*didn't* want to be that sort of a mother-in-law, but still.
"Inter-American has a fine record," Jeanette said, "much better
than the average Chicago public school, for the level of general
learning that their graduates receive. My daughter will grow up
bilingual; if trilingual is a burden, then the French goes. We
actually expected that we would drop it, but Cat doesn't want
that right now.
"She has a Latina friend, and they hang out together. The school
sort of encourages that. So she is learning heaps about
Guatemalan culture at the workaday level."
"And," Bob said, "this is the preschool year. What is she going
to learn this year? Language and getting along with others.
Inter-American is the best school in the city for that, not that
Chicago isn't full of schools for learning about getting along
with people of different kinds -- for well or ill. She knows her
numbers, though that, too, is more of a linguistic skill than a
mathematical one.
"You said yourself," he continued, "that her English vocabulary
was above age level. It's really borrowing trouble to worry
about it's getting too low. Besides, Spanish has unsuspected
bonuses."
"My husband has schemes."
"Bob?!" Nobody took Katherine's shock seriously.
"Well, yes," he said. "There are universities in South America
which will accept guest lecturers who lecture in English. We can
pop down there some summer when Cat is a little older; the pay
will just about keep us housed and fed. She can go to the local
school, which will run through the summer in the southern
hemisphere. I'll bet that their standards are more rigorous than
ours."
"They'd certainly be more rigorous on some things," his father
said.
"Anyway, the girl loves books. If that keeps on, there is no way
that she won't learn. Right now, she loves school, too. As
you've said, her present English skills are well above grade
level. And, much as I love her, I have put only a fraction of
the time in with her that Jeanette has."
The adults stopped talking over Cat's head to listen to her
glowing report on Conchita and Pablito. It took a while for
Charles to figure out that the first was her friend and the
second was Conchita's baby brother. Was Cat spoiled? In some
ways. She certainly owned more books than any of the kids he
treated would believe, more books than some of the clinic-kids'
parents. She refused foods that she didn't like, interrupted
adults without censure, stated her opinions with remarkable
freedom. On the other hand, she didn't really interrupt the
adults; they kept talking too.
He'd noticed that, except for things which were clearly adult,
like drinking alcohol and coffee or driving cars, Bob and
Jeanette enforced no rules on Cat which they weren't ready to
obey themselves. Certainly, asking that a child wait to speak
until no adult was speaking would be tantamount to demanding her
absolute silence at the Brennan table. He realized that he was
no greater a disciplinarian than her parents. She didn't launch
herself at Kath the way she did at him, and that was because Kath
had told her not to every time she'd tried.
"Not done," Cat said while scrambling out of her seat.
"Mikrate!"
"Mic-TUR-ate," her father called after her as if pronunciation
were the only thing exceptional in that statement.
"The first year I taught," Katherine said, "student-taught
really, one boy raised his hand and said, 'I have to use it.'
Well I couldn't imagine what he had to use, and -- before I
figured that out -- there was a puddle on the seat of his chair.
He was embarrassed, but it was really my fault. On the other
hand, he *was* awfully embarrassed; I think the other children
teased him about it a great deal."
"Yes, Ma'am," said Bob. "But Jeanette objects to the standard
term."
"Standard?" asked Jeanette.
"'Piss' is certainly understood by all classes and subcultures of
the English-speaking world."
There was another clatter, and Cat was back. "Darling," her
mother asked, "did you wash your hands?" Cat held them out; they
were still damp in places. "And what do you say in school when
you need to leave the room for what you just did?"
"Need go bathroom!" She clambered back up onto the phone book on
her chair.
"Bob may be weird, Katherine," Jeanette said, "but he isn't
vicious -- certainly not to his daughter."
"Weird? Moi?" asked Bob.
No one rose to that bait.
The top half of the tree was already decorated with balls and
lights. Charles lifted Cat so that she could fit the angel on
the very top. It was a beautiful angel, but made from paper and
foil. Then they strung popcorn strings around the bottom, Cat
doing most of the work.
The family came near to filling the van, but Russ Brennan stopped
to pick up three neighbors on the way to church. The family did
fill half of the pew. Russ felt quite the paterfamilias.
At one point, he had thought seriously of moving to Chicago upon
retirement; but then Kathleen had moved to Philadelphia at the
end of her residency, leaving only Bob's half of the family in
Chicago. Either town was one hell of a place to retire, but
family was worth it. As it was, these Christmases were all he
was going to get. Well, Bob and Jeanette made other trips
occasionally; and just what Kathleen's schedule would be was a
little unclear. Probably unclear to herself, too; she was an
independent psychiatrist in a new town, instead of a resident.
He sat at the end, Kate next to him, Bob and Cat, Jeanette,
Kathleen, and Charles nearly to the middle of the pew. Beyond
Charles, there was a pile of coats. Not half the congregation
would show up tonight, there was plenty of space. Until the
prelude, people kept coming up to say hello: his friends --
shaking his hand while looking towards Cat, Bob's and Jeanette's
friends, a few of Kathleen's friends -- Vi's friends really; she
hadn't used "Kathleen" until years after she'd left home.
Then he tried to concentrate on the message about the coming of
the savior, rather than his pride in family.
Kathleen had a marginally good voice, but a keen appreciation of
musical ability. Singing next to Charles was always a treat. He
kept saying that the choir directors of his youth hadn't ever
asked him to solo. Maybe not, and he certainly hadn't had that
basso profundo in childhood; but the black church had much higher
standards than she was used to.
At the end, the kids had so much catching up to do that Russ gave
a set of rides home and returned for them. One of the members of
the church whom he regarded as an adult leader was actually
Kathleen's contemporary. The girl who had been president of the
youth group in Bob's freshman year had news of her daughter's
engagement.
Kathleen slipped something in her father's hand as they were
going out to the car. It was an addition for Charles's stocking,
and he passed it on to Kate in their room. They gave Kathleen
time to put up their stockings and then went down to put up
everyone else's. They'd redecorated this last year, and he'd
actually suggested adding a false mantle. Kate had more sense.
They looked at the tree once more, unplugged it, and went up the
stairs to bed. "Merry Christmas, Mrs. Claus," he said.
"Merry Christmas, Santa." Once in bed, they hugged each other
tightly for a minute, then rolled over into the spoon position.
The water bed sloshed under them but they were used to that now.
It had been a long day, and he was soon asleep.
Kate, who had napped in the afternoon, lay beside him neither
quite asleep nor anywhere near awake. She said a sort of prayer:
"Thank you, God, for my grandchild, for both kids home for
Christmas. Thank you especially for another year of Russ." She
snuggled back into his arms. She could no longer remember how
she had managed to sleep when he had been away so often; she
faced the certainty that she would have to learn how one day
soon. "Another year, Lord, give us another year."
But she wasn't one to concentrate on her problems. She had Bob
and Kathleen, she had Jeanette, and -- most of all -- she had
little Cat.
Cat hugged Wot. It had been a big day, and tomorrow would be,
too. She almost remembered last Christmas.
Her parents lay a few feet away. When Bob's parents had bought a
new waterbed, they moved their old queen-sized bed into Bob's
room. He and Jeanette had found the bed a real treat the last
three nights. But Cat had spent those nights in Tante K'leen's
bed in the next room. She was much too old for a primal scene.
Jeanette in her nightgown lay in the arms of a pajama-clad Bob
trying not to notice the obtrusive presence of his erection.
"It's not as if we always have to do it," Bob said. She didn't
answer. He wasn't talking to her; he was trying to persuade
himself.
Kathleen lay next to Char. Bob's old twin bed was a foot away,
but neither had considered using it. They'd been separated by
300 miles for four long years. They weren't about to sleep apart
ever again.
And they weren't about to sleep quite yet. At first, Char
caressed her and kissed her gently. Both of them were willing
to give the others in the house time to go to sleep. Besides,
Char enjoyed taking his time with her. But he didn't enjoy it
one-tenth as much, she was sure, as she enjoyed his doing it.
The room was dim, the only light was what leaked through the
curtained windows. But Charles was quite aware of Kath's growing
tension beside him. Her ragged breathing and taut belly were
only two of the signs. The nipple between his lips was turgid.
And his finger could find more and more lubrication to spread
over her labia and clitoris. When he judged her near, he
inserted two fingers into her to rub her G-spot. He loved Kath's
orgasms, especially since they were so clearly a response to his
actions. The only downside was that he had to abandon the sweet
breast to cover her mouth.
Kathleen thought that Char knew her so well. His professors had
persuaded him to change specialties from obstetrics to pediatrics
because they didn't think women would appreciate his huge hands
inside their vaginas. Male doctors -- what did they know. She
loved what his hands could do to her vagina, and all the other
parts down there. Still, she was just as glad that she didn't
have to share those sensations with a bunch of patients. Then
she had no more time for thought. She gasped into Char's mouth
as she came.
Charles felt his love contract around his fingers. After one
more stroke, he withdrew -- knowing that all Kath's erogenous
zones were too sensitive to touch just then. He lay beside her
just touching along her arm and blowing gently across her
hairline. "Oh Char!" she finally said. He could hug her then,
still avoiding the most sensitive parts.
"Oh Kath," he responded. When she spread her legs, he knelt
between them. He reached for the diaphragm case in her
nightstand. After kissing her, he concentrated on applying jelly
to the diaphragm. He could reach her so much better than she
could reach herself, his fingers were appreciably longer. If
they had to explain his applying the diaphragm to her, they could
provide good excuses. His pleasure, though, was much greater
than the mere appreciation of efficiency could explain.
When she drew her legs up, he kissed the insides of each thigh
before spreading her labia with his left hand. He inserted the
diaphragm with his right, pressing it snugly against her cervix
with two fingers. He withdrew those same fingers only part way,
stroking her entrance. By this time, Kath was usually vocal
about her preference for another part of him in the same place.
Tonight though, with her brother and niece in the next room, she
communicated only by her looks. Well, the undulations of her
body were a communication, too. Involuntary though they might
be, they were more persuasive communication than her words ever
were.
On his way to entering her, Char stopped -- as he always did --
to nuzzle her nipples. She grasped his head, half fondling his
curls, half pulling his mouth against her nipples. When he moved
on, though, she was even happier. He paused right at the
entrance to cup her breasts with his enormous hands. Then he was
in her, filling her, just where he belonged.
"Mmm," she said and shifted a little to bring him deeper.
"Mmm," he answered and kissed her forehead. He was too tall to
kiss her mouth like this, let alone her breasts. He had each
nipple between thumb and forefinger, though. He stroked them,
twisted them gently, pulled them slightly away from her chest.
When he started to do different things to each breast, she
writhed from the sensations. He drove in and out of that
writhing -- pressing against her clit when he was fully in,
rubbing across her G-spot as he moved out. She spiraled higher
and higher.
Tugging him deeper into her by his butt, she climaxed. His
climax followed before hers had finished. When she collapsed
gasping, he moved beside her. Minutes later, he pulled the sheet
and blankets over them. She reached out to turn off the bedside
lamp and cuddled against him. Her last sensation was of his
breath stirring her hair.
- = -
The couch, with a sprig of mistletoe taped above its center, was
reserved for Charles and Kathleen. Russ, Kate, and Jeanette
each had a big comfortable chair near a side table. Jeanette's
table contained two pencils and a steno pad. Bob sprawled beside
the tree, and handed packages to Cat who 'acted as Santa Claus.'
She opened her own packages at her mother's feet.
"Take this one to ta tante," Bob told Cat. She bustled over with
a large package. Kathleen wasn't surprised to find a smaller
package in a different kind of holiday wrapping inside the first.
Bob was notorious for doing that. She carefully searched the
wrapping paper before opening the next layer, and searched that
paper before unwrapping the somewhat smaller box inside. Bob had
given Cat a present for herself, and everybody else seemed to be
watching Kathleen. Char, in particular, seemed to be giving her
his whole attention. Well Bob's wrapping was worth an audience.
When she opened the box, it contained an even smaller box,
looking like something from a jewelers. She wondered briefly
where bob had got that, but it looked open -- though turned away
from her. She turned the package around to see inside. A
diamond ring appeared. Char slipped off the couch to kneel in
front of her.
"Oh, Char," she said. "Oh, oh, oh, yesssss!" She burst into
tears.
Charles took Kath's hands in his, and rose up on his knees as she
leaned over to kiss him. But someone small pushed him so hard he
lost his balance. "You made Tante K'leen cry!" Cat shouted.
"She's crying 'cause she's happy dear," her grandmother explained.
"She is?" Cat didn't cry when *she* was happy, and she sure
wasn't happy when she cried.
"Yes, Cat. Very happy, deliriously happy. Oh, Char!" Kathleen
held out the box and her hand for Charles to put it on.
The ring couldn't go past the first knuckle. "But," Charles
said, "you have such small hands." When Kathleen held out their
two hands against each other, the Brennan adults all laughed.
"Only in comparison with yours, Charles," Bob said. Kathleen
finally slipped the ring on her little finger and walked over to
let her parents and Jeanette see. Cat got up to look too.
"You knew," Jeanette said to Bob.
"I asked him to wrap it," Charles explained. "I wanted it to be
a surprise."
"Well, dear, you succeeded."
"All your chitchat last night was wasted, Kathleen," Bob said.
"Your friends have met your boyfriend, but they haven't met you
fiance'. C'mon, Cat; nobody has any presents to open."
"Well, sir," Jeanette said, "you can't say this year what you did
the Christmas before Cat was born."
"What was that?"
"This year the nicest present made it under the tree."
"That's true."
"Nicest present?" Cat had started listening when her name was
mentioned.
"You, dear."
"Vraiment," her mother said. "Ton grandpere appelle tu le mieux
cadeau."
When Cat looked puzzled, Katherine explained. "It wasn't really
you, dear. It was the news that you were coming. Your mother
told us that she would have a baby, and we were all pleased.
Just like now. It's not the ring that's the present, although it
is a very nice ring. It is the news that ta tante K'leen is
going to marry Charles."
"She is?" Cat wasn't sure what that meant, and nobody had told
her about this before.
"Yes, dear. That's what the ring means."
"Okay." It was a very pretty ring, all sparkly; but Cat could
tell that Tante K'leen wasn't going to let her wear it just now,
and she had presents of her own to open.
The last present under the tree was labeled 'Wot.' "Let's not
give it to him just now, dear," Gandmere said. "You and I'll
give it to him after lunch."
There were bags for all the wrapping paper. After Russ read
"King John's Christmas," it was time for lunch. The Christmas
feast would be tomorrow, but the food today was plentiful enough.
Russ Brennan said the grace himself instead of assigning it.
As well as the food, he gave thanks for "Kathleen's happy news."
The conversation ran every-which-way in the usual Brennan
fashion. "Way back when," Russ said, "there were two kinds of
people, blue collar and white collar. These days, women workers
-- secretaries at least -- are called 'pink collar.' And here in
the South we have green collars."
"Green collars?" Charles had never heard of those.
"Char," said Kathleen, "don't bite."
"You probably don't have them up in Philadelphia," but around
here many people eat collared greens."
"Char," said Kathleen, "you bit."
"I thought it was only your brother."
"It's all of them. I'm not even sure that I trust Cat." Then
she realized that this might not go over too well with her niece.
"Really, I do trust her. But I don't know how long she'll be
able to resist all her bad environment."
"On the subject of collard greens, dears. Is there anyone who
really dislikes onions, or mackerel?" Charles had long believed
living with Kath was an inoculation against non-sequiturs. This
one from her mother, however, really threw him. He was too
polite to say that.
Her son wasn't. "On the subject of collard greens, does anyone
not like onions?"
"Well, collard greens are in the recipe, dear, and if people
really hate them they should mention that, too. But I must say
I've never been able to taste them. They're mixed in with two
*strong* flavors."
Charles wasn't looking forward to eating collard greens cooked by
a white woman -- especially cooked so you couldn't taste them.
On the other hand, all of Kath's mother's meals so far had been
delicious. And he *was* looking forward to reporting on the
dish.
"Could I have a ring?" asked Cat.
"I give her an onion ring when I cook them in any dish,"
explained Jeanette. "You'll have to brush your teeth afterwards,
dear." Heaven help her, it was catching. "You know," she
explained to the rest of the table, "she *is* Bob's daughter."
"Are you sure?" That seemed to Kathleen to be an awful thing to
call her sweet godchild.
"Positive. When she started looking at the world lying in my lap
with her head upside down, I was certain that the hospital hadn't
made any mistake." Of course, Jeanette remembered, it was The
Kitten's satisfaction with her breast which had convinced her
earlier.
That wasn't quite what Kathleen had meant. Still, she was
content with that interpretation. Joking aside, she was loyal to
Jeanette, and didn't want to raise any suspicions about her
faithfulness in Bob's mind. Assuming that Bob had a mind.
"I could fix the original recipe, dear." Katherine was talking
to Russ now. "I had planned on only one onion, seeing as many
people don't like too many."
"We're seven. Do you want to fix it both ways? I'll eat either
leftover."
"We'll do it that way. If you like onions, you'll like this
recipe, dear."
Cat knew that this was addressed to her. Adults were always
telling her that she would like new foods. They were usually
wrong. Still, Grandmere didn't do that too much. Cat would
taste it, not that she had any choice.
After supper Cat got talking about her last days in Chicago. "So
I went to Conchita's, Pablito was sleeping, but when he woke up,
I got to hold him. He's so tiny and warm; 'n then we went
outside; 'n then Conchita's mom gave us some cookies; 'n
then ...."
"Cat!" Jeanette broke in.
"Maman."
"Respire. ma petite! Tu es a bout de soufle."
"Oui, Maman."
Kate laughed. "I can remember when you were very small, dear,
and visiting here for the first time. Your maman was *so*
anxious for The Kitten to talk."
"Not Kitten!" said Cat. "Cat! Walk by myself." She stamped her
foot to demonstrate.
"You are not a Kitten now!" Kate agreed. "You're a big girl.
Although stamping your feet doesn't demonstrate that. But, Cat
dear, you were a tiny, tiny, kitten back then. And Maman *so*
wanted you to talk. Now, she wants you to give other people a
chance to talk, too."
"Am I that transparent?" Jeanette asked.
"Dear, there is very little which you want for your child which I
didn't want for mine. And mothers have very few ways of
pursuing their goals."
"Did Bob really talk all the time, even as a baby?" Kathleen
asked.
"He wasn't the only one, dear."
"I sometimes tell my little chatterbox," Bob said, "that she
reminds me of her Tante K'leen at that age."
Kathleen swallowed several comments. It wasn't fair that Bob was
five years older than she was; not even Char was going to believe a
claim that she remembered him at four and a half. "Why Bob," she
said finally, "I think that's the nicest thing you've ever said
about me."
"Not really, dear. Way back then, you were his special
favorite. Do you think, dear, that this would be a good time to
give Wot his present?"
"Yes." Cat had been wondering about that since Grandmere had
mentioned it.
"And I didn't talk that much as a baby," Bob said. "They aren't
babies after they've learned to talk." Cat being present, he
didn't stick out his tongue at Vi.
"Well," said his father, "I do think you've caught up since."
"Let's do it upstairs dear." Kate gathered up the last package
from under the tree, and Cat grabbed Wot. She was less
enthusiastic now; this was starting to sound like nap time. On
the other hand, nap time with Grandmere meant the funny bed and
as many books as she wanted; nap time with papa meant her pad and
three books -- two if she'd made a fuss.
Wot's gift was a book about an elephant, *Horton Hatches an Egg.*
Grandmere read it to Wot, and then read Cat's books to her.
Bob called the other adults into conference once Cat was with
Katherine. "Look. The school requires an hour of quiet time; so
do we. I want to offer Cat her choice of adult to spend it with,
but I can't commit you without your agreement. The parental
duties are ours, after all."
"You mean to read to her and nap with her," Charles asked, "like
her grandmother is doing? I'm available."
"That's good," said Bob, "because you're maybe the likeliest
choice."
"You might have consulted me before you asked my fiance to go to
bed with another woman," Kathleen said. "But I'll permit it in
this case. And, of course, I'd be perfectly happy to take his
place."
"You might mention to her that I'll have to go to the office some
of the days that the rest of you are on vacation," said his
father.
"Thanks, Dad," said Bob. "I'm not sure that we want to raise the
future of this rule to her consciousness. I'll mention it
Sunday, though."
Kathleen and Charles carried their gifts upstairs to their room
while Jeanette recorded Bob's gifts on the steno pad. She
already had Cat's and her own down. Everybody would get a nice
thank-you letter -- typed, but signed by the recipient. Russ,
his room taken, read a *Scientific American* in his favorite
armchair. When Kathleen and Charles came down, Bob and Jeanette
started to gather their family's gifts to take upstairs. "This
is as good a time as any," Russ said. "I have something to talk
about with all of you."
"You have the floor, sir," said Bob.
"It bothers Kate to hear me talk about this. So I don't want to
have her around. When my will is settled there is going to be
less than you might think, and Kate won't be mentioned."
Jeanette was shocked by the last, but Bob thought he'd caught the
idea. "Joint custody?"
"Yes. With right of survivorship. She'll have the house,
furnishings, and both cars. She's the beneficiary of my
insurance policy. One of them; another is mortgage insurance.
As to the rest, Kathleen gets half, Bob, Jeanette, and Cat get
thirds of the other half. I suppose you'd say sixths. I have a
few books and papers I'm leaving separately.
"Sorry, Charles," he continued. "I didn't know about your
plans."
Charles could see that Jeanette was part of this family in a way
he wasn't. Leaving aside the marriage having lasted more than a
decade, Kath had told him about Jeanette's sacrifices to put Bob
through grad school. Anyway, he was earning an indecent amount
of money these days -- despite the time he put into the well-baby
clinic. "I don't expect you to change it. It lessens my worries
about protecting Kath's future, anyway."
"I just didn't want anybody to be shocked. One problem is Cat
gets a trust. You two planning on another?"
"Not exactly planning," Bob said. "We went through a lot of
worry before Cat. If another pregnancy happens, great; if not,
we have Cat."
"Wouldn't it interfere with your college plans, though?" his
Father asked Jeanette.
"One good thing about attending a Catholic university," Jeanette
responded. "They won't ask, 'Why didn't you take precautions?'"
"They might think it," Bob said, "but they won't say it."
"Anyway, I've kept you long enough," Russ finished. Jeanette
took her and Bob's presents upstairs. Bob carried Cat's.
When the packages had been set in their proper places, Bob held
Jeanette's face for a long kiss. His hands left the face to pull
her against him by the butt. When his hands moved up to her
breasts, she backed away from the kiss -- though not very far.
"Time for the mice to play?" she whispered.
Bob nodded happily. "Well...," she said in a still-low voice,
and began to unbutton her blouse. After Bob bolted the door,
they stripped in silence. In bed they kissed while Bob's hand
roved. Then he kissed a path down to her breasts. He kissed all
over both of these, avoiding the areolae. When he finally got
to the near nipple, his hand went to the juncture of her thighs.
Jeanette felt the difference in Bob's kiss on her right nipple
when he'd parted her labia. She knew he was grinning at the
moisture he'd found. Let him enjoy his discovery; he would bring
her enough enjoyment of her own. And he did bring enjoyment,
rubbing one inner lip against the other before his finger went
inside.
Bob had made a careful study of his wife's sexual responses.
Knowing that this would be a one-orgasm session for Jeanette, he
wanted that orgasm, and the build-up to it, to be as satisfying
as possible. He rubbed her G-spot until she tensed, and then
pulled his finger out to stimulate her labia and clitoris. He
remembered to switch his mouth over to her far breast as he did
so.
One of the conventions of their marriage was that Bob pursued her
and Jeanette acquiesced to sex. Jeanette had established that
convention, but sometimes she lost patience with it. For a
while, she luxuriated in her feelings -- getting more aroused as
Bob kissed one breast, the other, and back to the first. His
ministrations to the surface of her genitals alternated with
probes deep inside. However she was at a peak, about to come,
needing to come, when he changed yet again. She couldn't plead
with the house full of people who'd hear her. She could,
however, stimulate him. She grasped Junior.
The evidences of his wife's arousal hadn't left Bob unmoved.
He'd been board-stiff since his fingers had reached her moisture.
Her hand around his phallus increased his desire past the point
that he could stay outside her. As he moved between her legs,
Jeanette spread them wider. She guided him where they both wanted
him. She was so warm and wet around him as he went in. He stayed
pressed all the way inside for one moment while he shifted so
that his hands could cover her breasts. Then he began the age-old
motions.
Jeanette welcomed Bob over her, in her. His sliding motions and
his hands caressing her nipples pushed her arousal higher and
higher. Then she pressed her mouth against his shoulder as she
came. It was heaven, heaven forever. But forever ended, and she
collapsed back beneath his warm weight.
Bob tried to hold back his reaction to the smooth friction of
Jeanette's warmth clasping him. Then, when she clasped more
tightly, he didn't have to hold back any longer. He drove
forward one more time and spurted and spurted. When he felt his
strength drain from him, he fell to his left.
His weight wasn't on her, but neither were the covers. When he
could, he pulled blanket and sheet from underneath him and
covered her more warmly. She snuggled back against him and they
lay in the warm aftermath of love for a while. Finally, Jeanette
spoke.
"We need showers. Would taking them announce what we've been
doing to the whole world?" she asked.
"Will they really not know?" he answered. She thought about that
for a while. Probably Bob was right. And they wouldn't smirk.
She went to take her shower first.
Bob knew better than to suggest sharing a shower in this house.
Even back home, Jeanette would only do that on special occasions.
When Jeanette didn't come down, Kathleen figured that she was
taking the opportunity offered by Cat's absence. In one sense
she approved; Kathleen had sexual needs of her own, and Jeanette
was certainly entitled to satisfy hers. On the other hand, with
Bob? She respected Jeanette in all sorts of ways, but she could
never understand her infatuation with Bob.
When Bob and Jeanette came downstairs, they found his father
cracking and eating nuts. Charles was looking through the
bookshelves with Kathleen's guidance and comments. The books on
the shelves were a fossil record of four Brennan's reading over
time. Although all four had been active library users, and the
bedrooms all had full bookshelves, there were an impressive
number of books in the living room. "Like science fiction,
Charles?" Bob asked. "Most of my SF is in my room. I'd be glad
to pick out a few old favorites."
Charles laughed. "If I decide to quit my practice and move in
here, I'll take you up on that. Maybe a couple of years later.
I think there are enough books here to last me for the weekend.
Have you read them all?"
"Those? No. Kathleen maybe."
"That's a myth. I haven't read dad's economics books or mom's
art-history ones, except to look at the pictures. Jeanette has,
haven't you?"
"A good many. Your mother selected a reading course when I
developed my interest in French. Not all of those involve
France, do they?"
"No. And all the French ones are back where Mom keeps them.
You'll never really fit into the family."
Jeanette thought that the least she could do for a person who
lent her a selection of books was to return them when they were
read. Katherine had kept those books ever since her
undergraduate days; she must value them. As if prompted by the
discussion, Katherine came downstairs, preceded by Cat who bad
Wot in one hand and a book in the other.
Cat went around showing the book to everybody. Then she returned
to her grandfather, who offered her a nut. Katherine bustled into
the kitchen. Jeanette, who felt she was putting too much work on
her hostess -- not that Katherine treated childcare as a chore --
followed her and offered to help. Kathleen and Charles went
upstairs. Bob looked at his father shelling pecans for Cat, and
went to the kitchen to get another nutcracker.
He shelled one and offered it to Cat. "Let son grandpere eat
some of those," he said. "That's why he was opening them." Cat
took the offered nut, but clearly thought the ones cracked by
her grandfather tasted better. And her grandfather was clearly
enjoying the process, as well. Bob shelled another one. "Here
Dad," he said. They sat like that, Bob shelling pecans for Russ
to eat, and Russ shelling pecans for Cat to eat. Finally,
Katherine came in.
"Did you say you wanted an onion ring, Cat?"
Cat ran off to the kitchen. "Why thanks, Bob," Russ said.
"You spoil her, you know," Bob said. "Both of you."
Russ though about his answer. Bob could have ordered Cat away;
he wasn't totally innocent of 'spoiling' himself. Finally he
tried a gentle answer to see if it would really turn away wrath.
"Grandparents' privilege."
Bob laughed. He shelled two more pecans, offered one to his
father, and ate the other himself.
Grandmere had put a saucer and a napkin on the kitchen table.
Cat sat on the telephone book, and Maman pushed the chair up to
the table. On the saucer was most of a whole slice of onion.
When Maman gave her a ring, it was much thinner than that; and
she gave it to a standing Cat with her hand. "Thank you,
Grandmere," Cat said before eating. Sometimes Maman would give
her another ring; would Grandmere give her another ring like
this? She looked up, but Maman shook her head. The two of them
went upstairs to brush Cat's teeth.
"We thank, thee, Lord," Russ Brennan said in for grace, "for
the food which we are about to eat, the fellowship of our family
gathered around this table, and for the gift of your Son -- which
we celebrate this day. Bless this meal and this celebration.
Please bless also the union which was announced this morning.
May Charles and Kathleen have a long and productive marriage
together. May they grow in love for one another and in service
to their fellows."
"If you're hoping for more grandchildren, Dad," said Kathleen,
"you're looking in the wrong direction with that 'productive
marriage.' I'm starting on a career, and I can't afford the time
for a pregnancy -- much less the time for childrearing."
"As a matter of fact," her father said, "I was thinking of the
career when I said 'productive.'
"I'm sorry, Charles," he continued. "I think I slighted you this
noon."
"I didn't think so." As a matter of fact, Charles had thought
that he had happier news in Kath's acceptance than she had from
his proposal. On the other hand, her father's saying otherwise
could hardly be considered a slight.
"The topping," Katherine told them, "comes in two flavors. There
is twice as much onion in the green bowl as in the yellow one."
With the topping came brown rice, green beans, and a tossed
salad.
"Try a little?" Bob asked Cat. When she nodded, he put a
spoonful of brown rice on her plate with a spoonful from the
yellow bowl on top. He gave her larger servings of the beans and
salad. He'd served himself and passed the dishes on when Cat
finished her serving.
"More, please," Cat said.
"Dear, you've done what you're required to do," her grandmother
said. "But I do wish you'd try the other bowl as well. It has
*more* onion and I think you'd like it."
At her nod, Bob retrieved the rice and gave Cat another serving,
then he put a dollop from the green bowl on it. The only other
person using the green bowl was his Dad.
"Good," Cat said. "May I have some more."
"Wait 'till the brown rice has gone around," Bob told her. "You
still have salad and green beans."
"I don't want any more brown," Cat said. "May I have more of the
onions, please." Bob served her.
Charles shuddered silently. To his taste the stuff from the
yellow bowl had plenty of onion flavor. Cat was eating something
twice as strong without any dilution from the rice. Well, it was
healthy. But not in extreme doses. "You're remembering this as
something she enjoys?" he asked Jeanette.
"Yes. I was in the kitchen when Katherine fixed it. I'm sure
she'll share the recipe."
"Fish is healthy, but not in large doses over time. It is likely
to polluted with mercury salts. I'll look it up for you when I'm
back and send you the maximum safe quantities. One can won't
hurt her."
"That's all right. Send your figures. I'll save this for special
occasions. Is tuna any better."
"Worse, if anything. Tuna are top predators." Jeanette took
note. It might be easier to give up tuna salad for health
reasons than the persuade Bob to stop dousing his with catsup.
"Is Russ in any danger, dear? He eats rather a lot of this dish.
He found it on the Internet -- the recipe, not the food itself.
It's supposed to be healthy for the heart."
"I'll send you the figures, too. But Cat is building up her
bones, and mercury can be deposited there." Charles also figured
that his host would be extremely lucky to live long enough to
accumulate enough mercury in his system to be at risk.
The conversation turned to cheerier topics. "Well, dear,"
Katherine asked Jeanette, "how do you like being back in college?"
"Yes," Bob said, "Tell them about your interview -- and the
book."
Jeanette was a little embarrassed at the attention, but the
family did look interested. Her father-in-law even quirked his
eyebrows. "Before actually registering, I brought in my
transcripts, trying to get a feel for what sort of schedule I
would need to get a degree. Anyway, I brought along one of my
translations of Verne.
"The professor said something like, 'You won't get much credit
for reading a book in translation, you know, especially Verne.'
Only he pronounced it 'Vurn.' I'd marked the title page, and I
turned there. 'You translated this?' he said. His voice was
really different. I nodded. 'You realize,' he said after a
short pause, 'that if somebody had asked my recommendation for
this translation, I wouldn't have considered anyone holding the
degree you seek.' Then we went to see the department chairman."
"And," Bob said, "she ended up with a two-and-a-half year program
which will get her a major, a minor, and a masters."
"That's Prof. Schmidt's fault. I took an awful lot of English
literature. Anyway, the English department will take French for
distribution; and the Romance Language and Literature guys will
take English courses for distribution."
"Not all the distribution," Bob added.
"No," Jeanette said "I'd taken other things at Grand Valley, too;
and, of course, my freshman year was *mostly* distribution. But
you know what subject I'd never taken a course in during my
fifteen years of marriage?"
If any had guessed, they were too polite to step on the punch
line. "History!" Jeanette said after a pause. "Everyone agreed,
however, that a French history course would only duplicate what
Bob had already taught me, so I'm taking a course in English
history. And," she turned to Katherine, "do you know what your
son has done?"
"Well, dear, you knew he read when you married him."
"Y'know," Bob said, "I never took a course in strictly English
history. Nor even read a book concentrating on it before this.
A few bios, of course." He had *asked* Jeanette's permission to
read that book. Warned by PastorJim, long ago, he had always
made it a point that Jeanette's books were hers. (Of course,
PastorJim had said 'possessions,' but what possessions mattered
besides books?)
"And you test me on the subject at dinner every class day."
Jeanette didn't really mind. Still, she had expected more
sympathy from his parents, let alone his 'how can you stand being
married to Bob?' sister.
"You can take the teacher out of the schoolroom dear." But,
Katherine meant, you can't take the schoolroom out of the
teacher.
All the adults were puzzled. Charles was trying to picture the
scene. The others couldn't see any view of dinnertime
conversation which would exclude 'And what did you cover in
History today? -- He said WHAT?'
"You did get something out of those translations, then, dear?"
"I got a great deal out of them. The publisher probably got
burned. He paid me a 'kill fee' for the third book without even
putting it in print. Not much money for the effort, I'll grant.
But the effort resulted in an increase in my skills. I've been
putting out effort to learn the language for years."
"For that matter," Bob said, "the publisher paid her more than
her husband did for the previous translations, and those were
harder to do and less fun to read."
"You might not pay me by the word, but I get food on my table and
clothes on my back from your earnings. You talk like you're
exploiting me." For that matter, if Bob's sources weren't
entertaining the way Verne was, figuring them out was more
intriguing than a jigsaw puzzle.
"Anyway...," Bob said. He really wasn't exploiting Jeanette
*now*; he certainly had exploited her when she did drudge work
while he went to school. "Anyway, I figure 'Jewels Vurn' and
'Zhool Vairn' are two different authors. Americans aren't much
interested in 'Zhool Vairn.'"
Cat asked for another serving of the onion dish. Bob gave her
two dips from the large tablespoon. "Finish your beans and salad
before you start on that," he said. Cat took several bites of
green beans. Then she took a little of the tastier dish. She
decided she liked it even better alternating with the beans.
Bob finished last. He took big helpings and ate rather slowly;
he had also dealt with Cat's needs. With the conversation
flowing, nobody minded waiting for him to finish. Dessert was
the remains of the pudding except for Charles. Katharine brought
him the last slice of a pie she had made before he came. He
noticed that she accommodated his lactose intolerance, which had
been mentioned once years before, every mealtime.
Kathleen and Charles took clean-up duty. When they'd returned to
the living room, everybody settled down to listen to "A Child's
Christmas in Wales." It was the first time Charles had heard the
piece. Even Cat sat silent through it, entertained by the voice
if many of the words went over her head.
When the news came on, Charles stayed to watch it with
Katherine and Russ. "Would you mind having the wedding here in
town?" Kath asked him when he'd gone upstairs.
"It's only fitting. Mom would be hurt if we'd hold it in
Washington, but -- after all -- she gets lots of time with us
that your folk don't. You and I live in Philadelphia. The
wedding is the bride's concern, too. That what you want?"
"But I'll wait for Dad to ask."
Russ and Kate Brennan were holding a parallel conversation. "Do
you want to walk your daughter down the aisle of your home
church?" Kate asked.
"I said that I wouldn't ask for anything more."
"So don't ask the Lord for anything more. Ask Kathleen."
"I said that I wouldn't ask for anything more."
"You are inflexible. I can't understand why I still love you."
Although that very inflexibility was one of the things about him
she'd always loved.
"You, on the other hand, are beautiful. And that's one reason I
still love you."
"Your glasses are off. I'm a blur."
"A beautiful blur." He didn't need his glasses to see her, or
need the light. She was imprinted in his memory. "And I could
see perfectly well at table, and I thought then of how beautiful
you were."
In bed, they kissed. "You're a romantic," she said. She spread
open his pajama top, and kissed downwards over his body. She
kissed both his nipples before opening the bottoms of his
pajamas. She kissed downward again.
"Now, *that's* not inflexible," he said when she reached his
phallus.
"Shhh. He's an old friend, and I won't have him teased." What
she did to the phallus, though, could only be described as
teasing. She kissed the top from his groin to its head. Then
lifted it and sucked the entire head into her mouth. She licked
the bottom from its base against his scrotum to the tip.
"You're so good to me," he said. He hadn't had an erection since
the doctor had prescribed a new heart medication. He'd assumed
that this would be the end to sex; Kate figured that it was a
problem to be worked around. And work around it, she did. She
licked all over his phallus before settling on sucking the head.
She had her lips all around the top of the shaft, and her tongue
licked the bottom of the head until he said, "Kate!" She sucked
more heavily and pulled her head back so the shaft was stretched
straight. He pulsed.
When he was done, she drew back until he slipped out of her
mouth. She swallowed a few times and moved upward in the bed.
He pulled a pillow onto his shoulder, and she lay there with his
right arm around her. He adjusted the covers around them with
his left hand. The water bed, which had bounced at each of their
motions, sloshed into stillness.
They were soon asleep.
- = -
Cat, who was sleeping through most nights these days, would be
horribly embarrassed if she had an accident chez grandmere.
Jeanette packed an alarm clock in addition to the one already
provided for the room. It woke Bob at 2:00 a.m., and he woke Cat
and guided her to the bathroom. He used the facilities after
he'd tucked Cat back in bed. Then he cuddled up against
Jeanette.
Since Cat had only awakened part way and was now deep asleep again,
he needn't worry about her seeing too much. He pulled the skirt
of Jeanette's nightgown up to waist level in back and pressed
Junior between her thighs. He cupped a breast through her
nightgown. Jeanette barely stirred. She was the source of Cat's
sleep-like-a-log genes.
- = -
"I should warn you, dear," Kath's mother told Charles at
breakfast, "that we hold a Christmas feast today. You don't mind
my borrowing your fiancee for the preparations, do you?"
Well, Kath had been Katherine's daughter for more than 30 years;
she'd been his fiancee for less than a day. "Should I object?"
he asked Kath.
She laughed. "No. The kitchen time is as much a part of
Christmas as the tree."
"You'll notice," Bob said, "that I don't get asked."
"Kate," her husband said, "doesn't waste words. And asking Bob's
to express his opinions is like asking the sun to rise in the
morning."
"So dears," Katherine changed the subject, "are you going to have
the wedding here in town?"
"What's your opinion, Dad?" Kathleen asked.
"I said I wouldn't ask for anything more."
"Your father did say that, dear, and counts it as a promise to
the Lord. But I would very much like a traditional wedding with
you walking down the aisle on his arm. Remember how pleased you
were to be a bridesmaid for Jeanette all those years ago? Don't
you owe her reciprocation?"
"Matron of honor?" Katherine asked Jeanette.
"I'd be honored."
"And you have some old school friends still in town. Do you have
anyone else you want to have as bridesmaid? Have you made that
sort of friends in Philadelphia? Old friends from Chicago?"
Kathleen could see she was being manipulated. Dad wasn't about
to ask. On the other hand, she didn't like the direction his
health was taking. If her last interaction with him was teasing,
she'd feel awfully guilty. Besides, the question -- aside from
Mom's motives for asking it -- was one she'd need to think about.
"I've been thinking about Isis." Let Char think she'd been doing
the thinking since he'd proposed. Actually, she'd had random
thoughts about what a wedding with Char would look like long
before they'd moved in together -- back when they'd been living
in separate cities. "On the other hand, a bride is entitled to
be the prettiest girl in her wedding party. That woman is
stunning."
"The traditional way to handle that, dear, is by choosing
bridesmaids' costumes. How would she look in yellow?"
"Awful! But I wouldn't do that to her. And I do want her to
sing. Whether or not she's a bridesmaid, too, is her choice.
You think Char has a good voice? You should hear his sister."
Charles didn't think he had a good voice. Isis, on the other
hand, did; Kath wasn't the only person who wanted her to sing
solos. "She's the one with the good voice. The good hair, for
that matter." Good skin, too, but he wasn't going to say that to
whites -- even Kath's family.
"Much as I like your family," Kathleen said patting Char's head,
"they have *no* taste in hair. I think your hair is perfect,
don't you Cat?" That opinion was the only one nobody at this
table would dispute.
"Uh huh!" It was too far away to reach. Maybe she could get up
and go around the table.
"No, you may not," said Papa. Which wasn't fair, Tante K'leen was
touching his hair. But Papa was *never* fair.
Kathleen snatched her hand away as if it had been burnt. Mom
didn't even have to say 'little pitchers have big ears,' though
her eyes said it. "Anyway, you wouldn't want to look like her.
The way you look is totally male -- totally masculine, I mean."
Actually, she meant 'totally male'; Char sitting there, as he had
sitting in class, oozed male sexuality. It wasn't anything he
did -- it was what he was.
"Anyway, dear, figure out who you want to invite from out of
town, and Russ can have Mrs. Baker make the reservations."
"Ooops!" said Kathleen. "Want your father and mother in
different hotels?"
"Preferably yes," said Charles.
"Well, there are two decent hotels in town. Or there were...."
Kathleen looked at her mother.
"Still are, dear."
"Anyway, Mom, you're right. I couldn't have a flower girl at a
JP's office, now could I?"
The women assembled in the kitchen, with a chair there for Cat.
"When you're tired of listening to me, dear, you may leave. You
don't need any other permission. If you want anything else, ask
Papa." Grandmere was usually interesting, but this wasn't. Cat
went out to find Papa, Sharl, and Grandpere talking. Their
subject wasn't interesting either, but they were each willing to
pay attention to Cat.
Curled up in Sharl's lap, she looked around the room. There was
a TV, like Conchita had, in the middle of the far wall.
"Telenovello," she said hopefully.
"I don't think they're broadcast down here, Cat," Papa said.
"You can only get certain television programs in any one city.
Wait 'til you get back to Chicago and visit Conchita's family
again."
His father dug up the television listings from the remains of the
newspaper. "Nothing in Spanish," he said. "Do you follow
Spanish that well, Cat?"
"Those are soap operas," Bob explained. "The acting is over the
top. I can follow the action, and I have maybe ten words of
Spanish. I'm not sure I want her following the dialogue."
"Get one of your books, Cat," Grandpere said, "and I'll read to
you. You got lots of new books yesterday." Cat went for a
couple of books. She brought Wot down with her and his book, as
well.
Bob and Charles moved to the other side of the room to continue
their conversation. "The debts are incredible," Charles said,
"but so is the income. Kath is afraid we'll get trapped."
"There is that. The change isn't *so* dramatic for university
professors, but we get one hell of a lot more than grad students
do. Well, you're supporting a struggling psychiatric practice."
"Yeah! But what happens when it stops struggling? Kath is
losing some patients when their insurance runs out, but she's
gaining maybe one or two more than she loses each month. If it
goes on like this, she'll be making more than I do in two years."
"Double income, no kids," Bob said. "Let her support you; put
all your effort into the clinic."
"I couldn't do that to her."
"Ah! Look, every marriage is different."
"But you have a good one, I'm willing to *listen*."
"More what PastorJim told me. He gave us our premarital
counseling. He said I was in danger of deciding things for
Jeanette -- out of her best interests as I saw them. But I
should understand that she was an autonomous individual. She
should participate in the decisions. I've been struggling with
that ever since. Now, maybe it's just me. I'm not really afraid
of Vi's, Kathleen's, becoming your puppet...."
"I'm not afraid of her caving in to my decisions. I *am* afraid
of moving from what we have now to constant squabbles."
"Well, yes. Some fights are fun; I suppose some aren't."
"You think I should fight with Kath the same way you do?"
Charles was dubious.
"Definitely not. Making up with your sister is no fun. Making
up with your wife, on the other hand...."
Charles laughed.
Cat left Wot (and the books) with her grandfather, and came over
to join them. She soon had Charles up and swinging her around.
Jeanette came in from the kitchen. "These your books?" she asked
Cat. At her nod, she said, "And ta tante asks if I'm sure about
your parentage. I'll take them up to our room. Dinner's all
prepared, and I'm off to change my clothes. Want Wot up there or
down here?"
"Down here," said Cat.
"I'll help," said Bob.
"Little pitchers," said his father. Cat knew she was the little
picture he was talking about. She even knew something had been
said which she wasn't supposed to hear. What was hard was
figuring out what. It couldn't be that Papa liked to help Maman
take her clothes off and put them on; he said that *all* the
time.
Bob was the one to carry the books. "All four-year-olds leave
things around," he said. "You shouldn't blame me."
"But, Bob," she said in her sweetest tone, "you're not four years
old anymore."
He dropped the subject. They kissed while he unbuttoned her
blouse. Then he kissed his way down her body to her jeans.
Unsnapping them, he continued his path across her panties. She
pushed him away to finish removing the clothes. "No more," she
said when he approached her again. "I love you, too, but
your mom and sister have to change, too." She got the dress
she'd already selected from the closet.
Bob watched her slip it on. She even put on earrings before
stopping for a kiss on her way to the bathroom to put on
lipstick. He knew his chances for another kiss were dead after
that operation, so he took two books that he'd borrowed from
downstairs with him while she was using the mirror. She had a
book of her own up there, one of the art-history books she'd
already read once. Let her tease him again about his leaving
stuff all over. But she wouldn't; Jeanette was a strategist.
The adults had wineglasses in front of them; Cat had two
tumblers. Bob poured a little wine into one of those tumblers
and followed it with about half the water from the other
tumbler. Katherine's grace expressed thanks for the opportunity
for them all to be gathered around the table, especially Russ.
"Now," Bob said after the meal was over, "It's time for Cat's
quiet hour. Cat, do you want to choose the person you spend it
with. You and Wot and that person will lie down; maybe you'll
get a couple of books read to you. But I won't inflict a fuss on
anybody else. If you'd rather throw a tantrum, I'll take you
upstairs; the two of us will lie on your pad; but you *will* lie
quietly for an hour."
Cat was tempted, she really was, but the opportunity to choose
won out. "Sharl!" she said.
"Fine," her maman said. "We need to get you washed up first."
They went upstairs. Cat used the toilet and washed her hands
before Maman washed her face. She knocked on Tante K'leen's door
with books and Wot in hand a few minutes later.
"Come in," called Charles. He patted the side of the bed. Cat
put her books and stuffed toy on the pillow beside him and
climbed up. Jeanette removed her shoes. Then Cat rolled over
and snuggled against him. "Hoppy Toad first?" he asked.
"Please," Cat said and reached up to pat his hair. He didn't
try to stop her the way Papa had. She took a deep breath to get
his smell even though her back was to him. She sniffed again.
Tante K'leen didn't smell much like Maman; Sharl's special smell
wasn't anything like Papa's; but their bed smelled like Maman's
bed often smelled. She sniffed again as Sharl began to tell
another story about Hoppy Toad.
"Hoppy Toad," Charles began -- as always, "was hoppy. She went
hopping along her way without a care in the world." Then she
heard Freddy Frog sobbing. Freddy was having a bad-hair day.
Hoppy solved Freddy's problem, as she always did. The story
ended with, "And Hoppy toad was hoppy again." Cat snuggled
against him. He hugged her for an instant before reaching for
Wot's book.
He felt Cat drop off in the middle of the story about the Pooh-
stick race. He finished the story for his own benefit. Besides,
she might wake up if he suddenly stopped speaking.
Bob and Jeanette could hear Charles's voice in the next room, if
not distinguish his words. It reminded them to keep totally
silent. If Charles heard them, he might guess what they were
doing; if Cat heard them, she might wonder. That ruled out the
rocking chair. Unfortunately, the bed was close to the wall
against Kathleen's room. They stood near Cat's cot, which was as
far from that wall as one could comfortably stand. They only
interrupted their kisses to remove one or another article of
clothing. Finally, Jeanette pushed Bob away. She pointed to the
bed. He got in, and -- at her gesture -- moved over to what was
normally her side. She got in after him and lay on her left
side with her back towards him.
Dear girl! He couldn't say so, but he adored her for that. Ever
since their honeymoon, that position had been his favorite.
After covering them, he caressed her and kissed her shoulders and
the back of her neck.
At first, Jeanette luxuriated in the sensations Bob's hand and
mouth brought. Soon, though, she wanted more. She bent further
forward while reaching between her legs for Junior. She placed
him where she needed him.
Bob had already been excited by the feel of Jeanette under his
hand. When she grasped him, the excitement spiraled higher.
Then, as he pressed forward as she pressed back, he felt
his phallus slide into her smooth wet warmth. His right hand
caressed her ear or played with her hair. His left moved from
her breast to her cleft. She parted her legs in invitation, and
he stroked the tops of her lips. Junior had parted her outer
lips, and he could reach her clitoris easily. One touch,
however, was enough just then. Meanwhile, he was moving in and
out of her depths.
Jeanette felt Bob's gentle touches on all her sensitive surfaces,
but she also felt his penetration of her innermost being. She
grabbed her pillow as her feelings peaked. She couldn't restrain
her gasp, but she managed to muffle it.
Bob felt her shove back against him more strongly than ever just
before he felt the contractions around his phallus. The
sensations pushed him over. He grabbed her hipbone to pull her
even more tightly against him as he gushed inside her.
They lay together for a while. When Bob slipped out, he adjusted
the covers over them. Jeanette reached out for the Kleenex box,
passing one to Bob, while she used another to clean up herself
and the bed. Bob wiped her butt from behind before using the
Kleenex on himself.
Jeanette took clean underwear with her into the bathroom; she
wore her robe. When she came back, Bob waited a few minutes to
give others a chance. Then he took his own shower.
"Feel better," Katherine asked Cat as she came down from her nap.
Cat nodded.
"Would you mind," Katherine asked Jeanette, "if I took her
visiting? All my friends have seen the photos."
"Sounds good," Jeanette said. "Want to go meet Gandmere's
friends?" she asked Cat.
"Yeah." After a few minutes of Maman's fussing over her hair,
she was ready. The first place they went, the woman gushed over
her. She offered Cat a cookie and even offered Wot one.
"Sorry, Alice," Grandmere answered for her, "Cookies aren't in
Wot's diet."
"What a strange name."
"You know Bob."
"I did before he grew up and became a professor."
"Well... He did become a professor. He thought Wot-the-elephant
was a cute name." The woman laughed.
When they left the house, Grandmere made a call from a telephone
she took out of her purse. "Mrs. Jacobs? This is Katherine
Brennan. I have young Catherine Angelique with me, and we're
making visits. Would you like to see her? ... No, she didn't.
Does that matter to you? ... We could come by in a minute or
two; I only have her for a few minutes.
"We are going to see the woman who gave you Wot, Cat," Grandmere
said when she'd hung up. "Be on your best behavior, will you?"
Of course she would. Hadn't she behaved well in this house?
When they got there, she showed the woman Wot. "Grandmere says
you gave him to me," she said. "Thank you."
"It was much neater then," said the woman.
"Of course," said Grandmere. "When kids play with their toys and
hug them every day, they get dirty. This is a well-loved toy."
"Jeanette was raised better. And I never took her calling in
jeans. Come here, child." When she came there, the woman gave
her a kiss until she wriggled free.
"We have to be going," grandmere said. "I just think you
deserved to meet her."
"Jeanette is thankless," the woman said.
"The next person," Grandmere said, "is a woman who teaches with
me."
That woman greeted her with, "This must be Cat. You look like
your pictures, Cat. And who is this?"
"This is Wot."
"How do you do, Wot? Should a shake your foot or your trunk?"
Cat had never considered, but she decided that elephants shake
with their front feet. After the woman had done so, she looked
at Grandmere. Grandmere lifted up one finger. The woman offered
her a cookie and it tasted fine.
The people they went to visit next weren't home. "Time to get
back?" Grandmere asked.
It really was. Back at Grandmere's house, Cat headed right for
the downstairs bathroom. After she'd washed her hands, Grandmere
got her a pickle to eat. "Better than all those sweets,"
Grandmere said. Two cookies weren't a lot.
"You don't have to answer now," Charles began. He and Kath were
the only two upstairs.
"Double ring," Kath answered.
"Huh?"
"My patients would notice a ring, and yours wouldn't. So if I
have to wear one, you do too. I *won't* wear one this size at
the office."
"Okay. Thanks for your answer. May I ask my question now?"
"That wasn't it?" Kath asked. "Now you have me intrigued."
"How worried are you about our getting trapped in consumerism?"
"Aren't we?"
"Your brother suggested that one possibility is my putting in
more time at the clinic. I'm not sure," he said. "I'm not the
kind of man to live off a woman."
"This is different from your supporting me when I don't bring in
enough to pay my costs? How?"
"Well, it is. Anyway, that is just investing in our future."
"But living off that investment would turn you into a kept man?"
she asked. "Look. We have to face our future, but it isn't our
immediate future. Your balance between clinic and practice is
fine for now; I always disbelieve people who are going to do good
just as soon as.... But we do have things to do. Debt is as
much a trap as consumerism; we can't save the world with student
loans unpaid. And my practice still isn't breaking even. Let's
take care of that. However, let's schedule this discussion for
a year from now -- first weekend in January; Christmas season is
too full, already."
"Am I really a male chauvinist?"
"But I love you anyway."
Supper was light, but the conversation was heavy. At one point
Bob was talking with his father about politics -- agreeing with
each other though the tone of their voices could have fooled you,
Kath and her mother were arguing over the nudity taboo as it
should be applied to third-grade kids at school, and Cat was
informing the table that everybody else had TVs, and her family
should have one too. Charles happened to glance at Jeanette, and
she winked at him. It was fun to be the audience.
Bob took the dishes out while Jeanette supervised Cat's bath.
The elder Brennans watched the news. Charles and Kath went up to
their room.
"Do you really think I'm a male chauvinist?" he asked Kath.
"Look," she replied, "there are worse types of male chauvinism
than being comfortable with supporting me and not being
comfortable with the idea of my supporting you. And half of it
is that you want to *do* something, make a difference. You'd not
have gone to med school if you hadn't wanted to make a
difference; too many of our fellow students just wanted to make a
million."
"That's part of what I feel. And I want to take care of you."
"And I'm glad you do. You do take care of me in many ways, and
it makes me feel loved. And sometimes I want to take care of
you, too."
"Oh, you do."
"That's love. It's just... Look, you think I'm too hard on
Bob."
After Bob had moved to Chicago, Charles visited his place on
some of the weekends he had off. Bob and Jeanette would take Cat
to a museum or something just before Kath could get away from
the psych hospital. He and she would make love on the sofabed --
once on the rocker which Bob had moved to the living room in
invitation. They'd all share a meal when his hosts got home.
He'd drive Kath back to her apartment that night and leave in the
morning. It was much more privacy than the apartment that Kath
shared with two other women, much cheaper than a motel. Charles
thought that he and Kath owed Bob and Jeanette something. "I
think the two of you are too hard on each other."
"Well, that's not going to change. But, if less frequently than
a stopped clock, even Bob can be tight about some things. He
talks about a 21st-century marriage. 19th century, the man
earned, the man decided, the woman cooked and bore children.
20th century, the man and woman were equal in everything. In the
21st century, everything is up for grabs. So let's decide what's
good for Char and Kath; whether it's appropriate for men and
women isn't the question."
"We'll decide," he told her. "Even so, I'm glad I'm a man and
you're a woman." He kissed her.
"Oh, yes," Kath said when they broke. She began to unbutton his
shirt. "I'm glad you're a man, but it's still Char. You weren't
the first man to have his hands on me, but you are the first --
the only -- one to have *these* hands on me. And they take me
higher than anyone else's ever did."
When their clothes were fully open, they split apart to finish
take them separately. Once in bed, they kissed again before Char
began his trail of kisses towards her breasts. She grasped his
hair, enjoying the feel until it was time to steer his mouth to
where she needed it.
There was a commotion in the hall a loud running sound and a
rattling of their doorknob. They froze. "Cat," boomed Bob's
voice, "come back here." There was more sound of running and
then the door at the end of the hall crashed open. "Sorry, Dad,"
said Bob, "We've just washed our heir and can't do anything with
her." After a pause and more running. "Gotcha."
"Put me down!" cried Cat.
"Not until you're dressed for bed," said Bob. The door to his
room crashed open and then was closed more quietly. Char
chuckled before resuming his kiss.
Russ Brennan was chuckling, too; but he made sure his door was
locked before returning to Kate. "Serves him right!"
"Well," Kate answered, "I did take Cat visiting two places which
gave her cookies. She may be on a sugar high."
"She may be on a sugar high, but she's Bob's daughter, too.
Stubbornness bred true." Kate didn't express her opinion of how
many generations of stubbornness were involved.
Kate Brennan had bought her last nightgown to wear in the
hospital when she had Kathleen. She wore a pajama top. In bed,
they shared a kiss while Russ unbuttoned it. He kissed a path
down her neck and torso to her left breast. While kissing that
nipple, he caressed and massaged her mound. When he kissed a
path from one breast to the other, she spread her legs to allow
him access to her center.
Russ took the invitation of Kate's spreading legs. He brushed
his fingers up both thighs and played for an instant with her
outer lips. He stroked her inner ones quite gently before
parting them. Then he stroked between these. He moved between
her legs before resuming his path of kisses to her nipple.
Kate slowly tensed under the ministrations of Russ's finger and
mouth. When she felt his kisses move downward from her breast,
she whispered, "Oh, yes." Even then, he took his time. But she
felt his tongue on her lips, and then on her clitoris. After
that, she paid no attention to the location from which she
received the marvelous sensations; the sensations, themselves,
filled her mind. Until they climaxed, and so did she.
Long a parent, she convulsed in absolute silence. Before the
waterbed had stopped rippling, Russ was lying beside her. He
adjusted the covers over her, and she snuggled back into his arms.
She hadn't even attention to spare for the thought that she
wouldn't have those arms for many more nights.
Kathleen and Char had gone back to less intense caresses when the
noise from outside reminded them that they were not alone in the
house. But the least intense of caresses form Char's marvelous
fingers were arousing. He could turn her on with a hand on her
arm. She played with his hair as he stroked her torso.
Silently, he pulled on her shoulder until she turned over. Then,
he stroked her back, raising goose bumps as he went. As the
sounds from the next room died down, his fingers went from her
back to her thighs. Finally, he parted her labia and plunged two
fingers inside her. She trapped them.
Her first year at Johns Hopkins, all the women students gossiped
about Kegels. They were a *medical* breakthrough, after all.
She would be sitting in the women's room, and she would hear a
rush from the next stall, followed by a pause, followed by
another rush. Kathleen had already heard about Kegels, had
already experimented with them; but in the new atmosphere of med
school -- competitive about everything -- she'd worked seriously
on them. The first time Char had slipped one of his magic
fingers inside her, she'd clamped down on it. "Now," she'd said,
"it's mine, and I won't let it go." He'd pulled it our easily,
she'd been producing lubrication for an hour by then, but he'd
chuckled. Since then, capturing his fingers had been part of
their sex play. Normally, he'd say something, but he couldn't
now.
She relaxed before rolling over. After grabbing the sheets she'd
pulled off him by her turn, Char kissed her breast. He teased
her thighs again before his fingers returned to where she needed
them. Stroking his fingers within her vagina, teasing her labia,
or brushing very lightly across her clitoris, he took her higher
and higher. She couldn't tell him her love when Bob -- let alone
Cat -- might hear, but she did pull him more firmly against the
breast he was kissing. When he broke away to kiss her mouth, she
went over. He continued to kiss and stroke while the fire
coursed through her.
When he reached for the diaphragm, she thought to tell him that
it wouldn't be needed, but they were being very careful.
Besides, the insertion was sex play. It might be less fun than
being stroked to orgasm, but it was still fun.
- = -
When Kathleen woke up the next morning, her body told her to take
a tampon with her to the bathroom. Sure enough, when she removed
the diaphragm, it was bloody. She cleaned up the diaphragm,
herself, and the toilet seat which had received a few drops.
Washed and dried, the diaphragm was back in its case when she
left. There was a downstairs 'half-bath,' but this room got a
lot of traffic with seven persons in the house. She'd delay her
shower until others had met more urgent needs.
When everybody had gathered for breakfast, Katherine presented
them with a platter of waffles. Jeanette was impressed once
again. With the leftovers available, she'd never have cooked
anything, much less stirred up waffle batter. She had one; Bob
had three of his own and then finished his daughter's second.
Cat's eyes were definitely bigger than her stomach.
"So," Charles was saying, "Kath kept writing, 'Chicago,' and I
kept writing, 'Cleveland.' By this time, we were both clear that
another long-distance relationship was out. Then one time I wrote,
'Cleveland,' and she wrote, 'Philadelphia.' I agreed. I had to
drag my chin up of the floor, but I agreed."
"Made perfect sense," Kathleen said. "Could have kicked myself
for not thinking of it earlier. Char had connections back home
-- not great connections, but we were both going to be starting
out anyway. I couldn't function at all here; Char wouldn't be
comfortable functioning here. On the other hand, the
opportunities for psychiatrists are a little better than they are
in Cleveland. And it is closer to you."
"And," Charles said, "since I see my mother and sister on a
fairly regular basis, it's only fair to visit Kath's family --
you all -- when we can get time off."
They got up from the table with a flurry of remarks at how
pleased the others were at this visit. If Cat didn't join in,
her pleasure at the company of 'Sharl and Tante K'leen' had been
manifest many times.
"Want a tour of the neighborhood?" Kathleen asked Charles a while
later. On his assent, she said, "Jeanette, would you permit a
little goddaughter time?"
"Fine with me. Cat, veul tu te promener avec ta tante?"
"Oui, Maman. Oh Tante K'leen, may I please come with you?"
"Certainly, Cat. Get your coat."
"Et une echarpe," put in Jeanette. Cat set out with them with
her scarf wrapped around her neck, but the hood of her coat was
down. Jeanette having permitted this, Kathleen wasn't about to
say that she thought it silly.
At first, they walked together, Cat holding one hand of each and
skipping along. Soon, though, she ran ahead. "Stop at the
street," Kathleen called. Char took her hand in his. Cat not
only stopped, she turned and ran back.
Bob ran white clothes in the washing machine. He asked his mom
whether she had anything to wash. He should have asked Vi as
well, but he hadn't wanted to mention doing a wash while Cat was
around. She was terribly embarrassed by her accidents these
days.
The clothes were still in the dryer when the expedition got back.
Lunch was leftovers. Jeanette heated the stuffing and gravy.
Bob made turkey sandwiches with waffles instead of bread --
including a small one for Cat.
After lunch, Cat wanted Charles to spin her around. "Not now,
Cat. I just ate." She'd just eaten, too, but the other argument
would go over better. "Why don't we sit here?" He held her in
his arms and sat down next to Kath.
Perhaps reminded by the presence of her aunt, Cat ran her hands
through Sharl's hair. She liked him, and nobody had suggested a
nap yet. She cuddled into his lap, pressed her face into his
sweater, and took a deep sniff. The results worried her. She
took another. He didn't smell like Sharl. "Sharl," she asked,
"are you sick?"
"I don't think so, Cat. Why do you ask?"
"You smell wrong."
"My puppy dog," said Bob.
Jeanette saw the look on Charles's face. He took this seriously.
Cat had stepped in it. "Qu'est ce qui tu sentis?"
"Rien, Maman." Well, it wasn't really nothing. "Sa odeur est
moins."
Jeanette was puzzled. How could a smell be less? "Moins de
qui?"
"Moins de Charles."
Okay.... Charles's smell was less than Charles. Then a light
dawned. "Are you wearing anything that you've worn to your
medical office?" she asked Charles.
"Underwear."
"Which has been washed since?" He nodded. "Mon enfant,..." she
switched to English. "Remember when I took you to that doctor's
appointment? You insisted that Charles was around. I said not
in that office. Did that office smell like Charles?"
Cat thought. It had been awfully long ago. "Oui, Maman." She
was doubtful.
Jeanette could hear the doubt in her daughter's voice but she
didn't share it. "Charles is a doctor. The same kind of doctor
as we visited. What you've been smelling hasn't been Charles,
it's been the things he handles. Remember that I sometimes smell
different when I've been cooking?"
Cat could remember that, but Maman didn't smell weaker -- she
smelled of strong things. "You're not sick?" she asked Sharl.
"I'm not sick, Pumpkin," Charles said. "I've just been away from
the office and the medicines there."
"That's good."
The feast had extended the Christmas celebration into another
day. Today, nobody was expending much energy. Jeanette thought
that she should follow Katherine's example. "Would you like to
visit some of Maman's friends?" she asked Cat. Felt weird to use
that expression. 'Maman's' was neither French nor English.
Still, the others should understand the question and answer.
Cat's schedule was everybody's concern.
"Oui, Maman."
"After your nap, then."
Now that wasn't fair. Cat was awfully tempted to throw a tantrum
right then on general principal. On the other hand, a nap here
meant some of her favorite people reading as much as she wanted.
She'd wait to throw her tantrum. She wasn't going to take any
naps ever again after they got back home.
Jeanette waited until Cat had actually gone up for her nap with
Kathleen to make the phone calls. When she'd scheduled some
visits, she crossed paths with Charles, who was -- after all --
locked out of his room. "Poor man," she said, "your two admirers
are off by themselves excluding you. And after finding out that
the younger one doesn't love you for your self but for your
profession. And the rest of the vacation has been Kathleen's
family shanghaiing the planning of the day that should be central
for the two of you."
"It's been a great time. I got the answer I wanted. You could
make anything sound bad."
"That's true. And I think Cat likes your smell 'cause she likes
you. And grateful I am; I wouldn't enjoy taking her to
appointments she has to have if she hated them."
"And Kath, at least, asked whether I would mind having the
wedding here. Can't say that her father shanghaied it," Charles
added. "He didn't seem interested in having it here."
"He was pleased."
"He said he wouldn't ask for it."
"He said he wouldn't ask for *anything more*," Jeanette
contradicted. "That's another kettle of fish. Look, if he's
anything like his son...."
"Now, that's a safe statement."
"You see it. Why can't the two of them see it? Anyway, Bob has
a horror of 'telling the Lord what to do.' If his Dad has the
same horror, then the prayers of his mouth would have sounded
somewhat ambivalent to you. And, remember, these are prayers I
never heard; I'm guessing. But clearly, from what he said later,
the prayers of his heart were answered."
"You think he's happy?" Charles asked.
"I think he's happy. Probably more relieved. Y'know, the
wedding is only the start of things for the couple, although you
might have less to work through than we did, seeing as you've
already lived together. It's her parents who get to live happily
ever after."
Charles laughed.
Upstairs, Bob greeted her with a kiss. Door securely latched,
they continued the kiss until Bob had her blouse open and her bra
unhooked. When he started on her jeans, she pushed him away. He
took care of his own clothes while she finished.
Bob led Jeanette to the bed. When she sat down, he knelt to kiss
up her thighs. He had her where he wanted her; with Cat only a
thin wall away, she couldn't protest. Soon after his mouth got
to her center, she was writhing silently. The bed wasn't quite
so silent.
Under Bob's ministrations, Jeanette spiraled higher and higher.
When she felt her climax coming on her, she grabbed a pillow to
muffle herself. Then, just when she needed him most, Bob left
her.
Alerted by her reach for the pillow, Bob stopped kissing his
wife. He moved up across the bed over her and poised at her
entrance. He slid into that heavenly refuge, so wet, so
welcoming, so *hot*. He had to hold himself up, and there was a
pillow between her face and his; but he she grasped his back as
he moved in her.
The twin surprises, first the absence of his tongue -- then the
presence of his erection, slowed Jeanette's climb to completion,
but only momentarily. As he moved above her and within her, her
arousal grew and grew. She could only hug him tight as she
gasped and came.
Bob drove in and out through the rhythmic clasping of her vagina.
Helpless to control himself, he sped as she arched underneath
him. Finally, at the last quiver around him, he thrust inward
and spewed into that welcoming warmth.
Jeanette came down from her own peak enough to feel Bob spurt
within her. Then she felt him collapse. He slid off her and sat
on the floor. She threw the pillow off her face and gasped.
After a few minutes rest, she grabbed a Kleenex. She held it
against her groin as she pushed herself to a sitting position
with the other arm. She wiped herself carefully after struggling
to her feet. She threw on her nightgown and robe. After peeking
out the door to be sure that nobody could see -- a totally naked
Bob was still sprawled on the floor beside the bed -- she crossed
to the bathroom and took a quick-but-thorough shower.
Bob managed to get up when Jeanette got back to the room.
"What's the rush?" he asked as she started dressing herself in a
new outfit.
"Cat and I are going visiting after she wakes up. I want to be
ready for it. You might take your shower before your daughter
needs the bathroom; she'll *really* need it. And you don't have
to leer; I'd think your libido would be quite satisfied."
"'Satisfied?' Pleased, yes. Sated, no. The sight of you would
draw the attention of a plaster statue." He did gather his
clothes and put on his robe, though. When she was decent, he
crossed to the bathroom to take his own shower. He was
downstairs before Cat awoke.
When Cat did come down, Jeanette took her back up to wash her
face, brush her hair, and change into a dress. She borrowed the
keys to Katherine's car. "Je t'aime," she called as she headed
out the door.
"Je vous aime," Bob responded in a language -- if not a sentiment
-- unusual for him.
"Je t'aime, Papa," Cat called, proud to be included.
When they got back, Bob hugged Cat. Rather he hugged her
shoulders while she hugged his knees. Then he and Jeanette had a
sweet kiss. "Enjoy yourselves?"
"Pretty much. I remembered how much fun we had here, and then I
remembered why we wanted to leave. Traci -- you remember Traci?
-- told me that Cat was much too young to learn another language.
She'd had trouble in high school. Now, I can remember that she
*did* have trouble in high school French class. Still, she'd
managed to learn English when she was much younger, which might
have given her a clue."
He didn't remember Traci. Jeanette's friends were all a year
younger than his, and it was hard enough to remember his friends.
"Tell her that?"
"You don't remember Traci. One of the reason she had trouble in
French -- other subjects, too -- was that you could never tell
Traci anything." Bob laughed.
Katherine fixed a new meal for supper. Jeanette was torn between
jealous awe and gluttony. She would have served the leftovers
until they were gone, and Bob would have gladly eaten them day
after day -- meal after meal, for that matter. On the other
hand, the dish, stir-fried vegetables over rice (brown again),
was delicious. Cat gobbled it up, maybe because there were
onions along with the other vegetables. She even ate a decent
amount of the brown rice. Jeanette thought that it tasted better
than her white rice. Maybe the bran gave it a nuttier taste, or
maybe Katherine could cook rice better, too.
The conversation after dinner was desultory. They were all
feeling lackadaisical. When Cat dropped off, Bob carried her
upstairs. He and Jeanette managed to get Cat to the bathroom and
into nightclothes without too much fuss. She went back to sleep
with Bob lying beside her on the mat. He was
yoawning by the time he got up. "Early to bed?" Jeanette asked.
"We could use the monitor."
"You want?"
"I think I'm done for tonight," she answered. They were nearly
asleep when they heard Kathleen and Charles come upstairs.
Kath turned on the bedside lamp. It was a signal, though
Charles didn't need the signal. Maybe a symbol, a reminder or
long ago. They'd been alone on a picnic, out in the country
where nobody could see them. They'd made love before eating,
kissed after the meal, talked for a long time, made out.
Finally, she'd asked, "Have another?" He hadn't -- from then on,
he would pack a spare condom.
In the dusk, she'd pushed him back on the crumb-laden blanket.
Still mostly dressed, she'd stripped him, kissing every part
she'd bared. She'd teased him with her mouth for the longest
time before taking him to ecstasy. After spitting it out on the
ground, she'd said, "I'll never again do that in the dark."
He'd been disappointed, as disappointed as he could get when he
was so replete. He'd enjoyed her attentions with her mouth
that afternoon and previous times. On the other hand, he'd
enjoyed her company, too. He hadn't been about to demand
something she didn't enjoy.
It was days later that he'd discovered that she was quite serious
about the words "in the dark." Fellatio was something that Kath
would do -- would even suggest -- but only when they could have
light.
Now, he sat back while she danced silently for him, taking off
one piece of clothing after another. She didn't rush; she hung
the clothes up rather than throwing them aside. When she was
done, she said, "My turn." the first words either of them had
spoken. She kissed him on the mouth before beginning to strip
him. He was allowed to caress her while she did that, almost his
only actions on these nights.
Finally, she lowered his boxer shorts. He had an erection, and
she kissed it gently. After he lay down on the bed, she kissed
all over him from his shoulders to his abdomen. Constrained to
silence, he let his eyes plead for him. When that didn't work,
he folded his hands as if in prayer.
Kathleen enjoyed the entire process. She even enjoyed the strip
show. Stripping him was more fun, and reducing this big,
powerful man to begging was even more fun than that. By this
time, his penis had leaked a great deal. She licked that up,
saving the underside and the glans for last. Every one of Char's
muscles was tense; you could have bounced a coin on his abdomen.
When she enclosed his penis with her mouth, he pressed his handds
into the mattress until his hips almost rose off the bed. She
licked him once before withdrawing her head slowly. He groaned
as he popped out.
Well, there was a place or two on his inner thighs which she
might have missed the first time. No. They tasted only of
sweat. She was chilly; he had goosebumps. Why the sweat? She
took a deep breath at the base of his penis to get the odor of
his groin. She stirred deep within, independent of the odor she
could detect. She'd read the explanation; but tonight was a time
to experience the mystery, not a time to explain it. She wasn't
about to tell him of her enjoyment, though. "All you peds smell
alike."
"That's *not* funny."
"Sure it is. You just have no sense of humor."
The joke had brought him down from the edge she so enjoyed
watching, though. She cupped his testes in the palm of her hand
as though weighing them. The scrotum tightened up. She
scratched the scrotum very lightly with one fingernail. Not only
was his abdomen tense again, his penis was bobbing up and down.
She licked the base, then blew a thin stream of air on it. His
face was screwed up in a rictus as if he were in great pain. But
she'd done this before, and his thanks afterwards assured her that
he wasn't. Once her lips touched his glans again, she could move
by feel while watching his face.
Waiting for Kath to finish him was a torment, and Charles was
sure Kath knew that. Finally, though, she slid her mouth down
his cock. With her lips on his shaft, she licked the glans
slowly. A grunt left his mouth as gallons left his cock. Kath
didn't stop licking until it had all come out. Then she held it
as she sucked to keep everything inside.
Kath watched Char tighten one impossible iota more. His face
gave the appearance of agony and his hips did rise from the
mattress. Then his penis was pulsing between her lips and his
ejaculate was shooting into her mouth. When he collapsed back
down, she made sure she had the last little bit. Then she moved
over to the waste basket to spit it all out. Kathleen was a
lady, and a lady doesn't swallow.
She covered Char with the sheet and blankets before donning her
own nightie. She turned off the lamp and climbed in beside him.
He was still breathing like he'd run a marathon. He always did
on days she'd done all the work. She lay just touching him.
He'd wrap her in his arms when he recovered.
Was she going to be lying by this man for the rest of her life?
Would the satisfaction of watching him climax ever pale?
Perhaps. Jeanette had seemed so deeply in lust with Bob (with
Bob!) and she didn't seem quite that way any more. Kathleen
could still remember being in this room when Jeanette and Bob
were newlyweds next door. She could hear a lot, could hear the
rocker when she was in the living room on one memorable occasion.
This afternoon, she'd heard not one sound from that room, and she
knew more directly what the sounds meant, now.
On the other hand, they had gone into that room in the middle
of the day. And Jeanette looked quite content. She talked with
her on the phone every third week, sometimes more; and Jeanette
told of what made her happy and unhappy. The unhappiness wasn't
over her marriage. So she could see contentment in her future as
a good possibility. Mom was contented, too; her worries about
Dad were over his health, not over his behavior.
So, Kathleen could look forward to contentment as a reasonable
prospect. If Jeanette had found contentment with Bob, certainly
life with Charles should deliver at least as much. She had fewer
examples offering hope of a continuation of passion. Well, she'd
*work* for a continuation of passion; these sessions each month
were a good beginning.
The end.
Four and a Half
Uther Pendragon
nogardneprethu@gmail.com
2004/01/01
2010/01/08
Thanks to Neneh for editing this.
This is the last, so far, in a series of stories about
Bob and Jeanette Brennan.
The series is indexed at:
brennan.txt
The first story is:
foever.txt
"Forever"
A non-Brennan story involving child care is:
trust.txt
"Trust"
The index to nearly all my stories is:
index.txt