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Sweet Dreams Are Made of These - 3
by Innuendo (keepsake411@yahoo.com)

***

Every relationship has hurdles to overcome, and its own 
set of unique baggage, as Jahn is beginning to learn the 
hard way. Double the dynamic, double the fun, double the 
trouble. (FFM, mast, rom, fantasy)

***

Author Note: This is chapter 3 of 12 in my SDAMT series, 
sub-titled "Between the Bars". As usual // denotes 
Jahn's fantasy imaginings. Chapters are labeled by month 
rather than by number, but are my personal story-telling 
device and do not have to be re-added.

***

Part: March: Between the Bars

There are moments so uncomfortable that you wish you 
could be anywhere else, like being face to face with 
someone calling you an asshole, or a post-sex 
confrontation with your girlfriend's shrieking sister. 
An invitation to meet your sweetie's father shouldn't be 
one of those, of course, but when her daddy just happens 
to be locked up in a prison with a reputation for its 
inmates, just what is the right response? Staring at you 
with eyes that practically weep conflicting emotions, 
lower lip trembling slightly as she nibbles at it in 
anxiety, he's probably looking for a decisive response, 
and "Can I change my mind?" just isn't "Oh, hell no?" 
Sure. Depends on whether you want to keep your teeth.

Answering, "Okay, when do you want to go?" was Jahn's 
only real option, of course. Slower and less reassuring 
than he'd intended it to be, but relief flooded Jenny's 
face as soon as the words left his mouth. Visibly 
relaxing, his girlfriend moved forward to hug him 
tightly. 

"I know you're probably thinking he must be awful," she 
said softly, as she leaned her head against his 
shoulder. "What he did _was_ really bad, unforgivable 
even, but he's still my daddy, and he always tried to do 
right by me. I love him, even though maybe I shouldn't." 
Something left unsaid there, but the intuitive grasp was 
cut short when she continued, "He killed a guy in a 
fight way back. I was too young to get any details at 
the time, and I haven't asked since. I just know it was 
ugly."

Jahn patted her shoulder awkwardly as she went on, but 
she pulled back to look up at him. "Also, you need to 
know – he's racist. Not like the watered down stuff you 
hear about on the news, but like out of the old days." 
Sheets and slurs and crosses a'burn, he thought. Likely 
not KKK around here but there were plenty of supremacist 
organizations to catering that party. Fuck. Jahn had a 
long history of antagonizing bigots online; he'd have to 
moderate his instinct for smart-ass remarks.

"It's hard for people to deal with. I understand if you 
don't want to come."

Of course Jenny understood, but it was also clear in her 
eyes that she really wanted him with her, to have Daddy 
meet her boyfriend, see that his little girl was doing 
well for herself with someone he would approve of. 
Whatever history Mel Donovan possessed, his daughter 
kept her eyes firmly to the future. Jahn didn't like the 
connotations of Donovan's approval, but he was aware he 
possessed qualities the man would appreciate – hard work 
and a determination to succeed in a society where people 
didn't always. And white. Devotion to Jenny. And white. 

It kept coming back to that. Snide comments also kept 
associating themselves with his thoughts, but he knew 
that if he was gonna go, he'd have to focus. Because 
fuck, he'd be better off simply not bothering, than 
insulting her father in front of her, prison guards, and 
all creation. Jahn wanted to hedge, but instead said, 
"Don't worry about it, Jen, I'll come along."

She nodded, leaning her head against his shoulder again. 
"We can go Saturday, long as you don't have anything 
else going on." Of course he didn't. Jenny ... and 
later, Fiona... had fully owned his weekends for nearly 
the full two previous months.

***

"We're going down to see Jenny's father tomorrow 
morning." Jahn didn't understand the dynamic that 
existed between the two girls and their respective 
fathers. Uncomfortable was putting the response to 
Fiona's question about his plans for Saturday mildly, 
and the anxiety was apparently visible on his face.

Fiona studied her hands, expression inscrutable. "You 
don't need to tread lightly around the subject. I'm well 
aware what Mr. Donovan is like, and I don't think any 
less of Jenny for going to see him. I'd do the same, in 
her place, I think. Mom wasn't with my father very long 
after she found out that he was a hopeless alcoholic, 
and even though she tried to be nice about it, she told 
me once that it was a wonder he wasn't the cause of the 
crash that killed him. Our parents are what they are, we 
can't change them."

"So what are your plans for the day?" 

"Our threshold choir will be singing at the Corazon 
Retirement Home tomorrow. Several of the residents have 
asked us for our consideration, and that'll take us the 
better part of the day."

"Threshold choir, eh?" he murmured in curiosity to 
Fiona, as he dabbed spaghetti sauce from the side of his 
mouth. His ... girlfriend... the idea of having two 
girlfriends still jarred him disconcertingly... nodded, 
going on explain how she and this odd singing group 
she'd joined years ago would sing for the dying, those 
in hospice care, or other stages of illness that left 
them bed-ridden. All of it was an event that was 
sometimes as much for the family, as for the patient. A 
concept that he had never heard of before, and one that 
seemed strangely ...holy... though he knew neither of 
the girls were practicing members of any religion. 

A choice of hobby that seemed exceptionally fitting: the 
brunette had a lovely voice, low and rich –mellifluous, 
that was the word-, flowing like honey whenever she 
spoke about something she was familiar or comfortable 
with. "That's incredibly cool that you're able to do 
that for people who need it the most." She flushed in 
pleasure with the compliment, a dusky rose shade that 
deepened when he continued, "Any chance you might sing 
for me?"

"Maybe some other time? It's kind of awkward, singing by 
myself." 

Jahn waved a hand dismissively. "No big deal. Maybe I 
could come along sometime, and watch your group sing?"

A delicate hand twitched across the tablecloth. "I... 
don't think so. Respecting the family's privacy is an 
issue, and spectators are discouraged." After a moment 
of consideration, she suggested, "Perhaps you could sing 
with us sometime?"

Jahn laughed uncomfortably, matching her blush with one 
of his own. "It's been a long time since high school 
choir, and I don't think I ever had anything like your 
talent." This praise earned him a dazzling smile. 
"Talent is appreciated, but not required. We don't have 
to be superstars, just provide people with compassion 
and a measure of serenity." 

"I'll work myself up to it sometime," he promised. "Not 
soon, though. Stage shy, really." She eyed him 
speculatively, but didn't say anything to that. He 
wondered what she was thinking about that, if she was 
considering the fact that when he'd been with Andrea, 
he'd always been at a kind of center stage in any social 
situation, something he'd never been comfortable with. 
That was where he'd met Fiona the first time, he was 
sure, some company Christmas party. Long ago, and not 
something he wanted to embarrass himself asking about so 
late in the game.

"We've got the house to ourselves tonight," Fiona said, 
cheeks still pink. "I didn't really have much planned 
for the evening. Maybe we could watch a movie or... 
something?" She wasn't being coy, just shy on the 
subject of sex, even though she obviously enjoyed it a 
great deal. To date, he'd only had her twice, that first 
time and maybe a week later when she'd gotten tipsy and 
loosened up a bit on one of their dates. Most of that 
was probably due to Jenny, who devoured his time and 
occasionally himself with a voracious and seemingly 
endless appetite.

Attention from Fiona never seemed to waver either, and 
the two-sided siege was exceptionally soothing, 
providing a sense that there was always someone waiting 
for him no matter which way he turned. Another person 
might have found that cloying. Not Jahn. 

He loved the scent of the light perfume Fiona wore while 
they lay together on the couch, the intimacy of just 
being with her there, head resting on his chest, some 
tune he didn't recognize humming very quietly from her 
lips. Jenny thrilled him with her ever-present sense of 
adventure and good humor, a little blonde bombshell 
waiting to go off or get off, wherever the mood took 
them. She was white hot fire that seemed to sing with 
life, a constant spark in her eyes, simmering laughter 
on cherry red lips. 

Images flickered on the screen, but he didn't feel a 
drive to make sense of them, instead enjoying the peace 
and heady sense of companionship as he massaged the 
crook of Fiona's neck. Hands straying down to his 
midriff, his girlfriend's long slender fingers found the 
buckle of his belt, and slid lower to his groin. Erotic, 
that deft and teasing touch, but Jahn wasn't reacting 
where it counted most, and sighed inwardly for it. 

His stamina seemed to be improving, but a sexual 
Olympian he was not, and the time with both women had 
been taking a toll. Displeased, he shifted his attention 
from himself to her, lowering his hand from her shoulder 
to her waist, gently tracing a labyrinth of lines and 
circles upon her body. Fiona sighed softly as she 
nestled against him.

Exploration of her firm little waist had been entirely 
been without skin contact, a gentle press upon the silky 
material of her blouse. A few surreptitious tugs upon 
the tails of the material remedied that lack of access, 
and he slipped his hand beneath, making skin-to-skin 
contact, his hand upon her flesh, repeating the 
ministrations he'd given her before. Fiona's body arched 
against him as she was distracted by his touch, her own 
reciprocation not getting much response. He was fast 
resigning himself to this night being one-sided, but for 
some reason that didn't seem so bad. Her body was 
responding to every touch, and there seemed to be a 
bright sense of getting something back on an entirely 
mental level, the physical be damned.

Despite her movement to accommodate him, his attempt to 
slide his hand into her skirt stalled by the form-
fitting denim. Attractive skirt on her, showing off her 
slim hips and tight bottom to devastating effect, but it 
also clung to her body in a way that frustrated his 
efforts. He desperately attempted to recall how this one 
fastened. Realizing his difficulty she clasped his hand, 
her own guided his to the buttons, allowing him to 
manipulate and work them open. Obstacle removed from the 
path of his fingers, Jahn refocused on the original 
goal, smoothly slipping his hand between the sheer 
fabric of her panties and her skin. 

Finding the familiar patch of hair, he slid his hand 
deeper, seeking her moist and swollen lips, and then 
reverted back along the groove to find her equally 
aroused clitoris. A sudden jerk of her body against his 
own proved success, and he began to manipulate the 
button of flesh. There was something inherently exciting 
about her murmurs of pleasure as she squirmed beneath 
him, even though his own body still showed not the 
slightest hint of physical reaction where it mattered. 

Imagining himself plucking the strings of a harp, then 
tapping a light beat on a drum, and then... simply 
letting his fingers play upon the hidden flesh, Jahn 
teased her through a series of orgasms, taking what 
might have seemed under other circumstances a perverse 
delight in her breathless gasps and moans. 

In a strange way, it was better than the act of sex, and 
departure from the Reed house that night was accompanied 
by a sense of satisfaction and fulfillment.

***

As Jahn drove back to their house the following morning 
to pick up Jenny, it occurred to him just how little 
time he spent at home these days, and he wondered just 
how much gasoline he was burning on the daily driving, 
work, their house, the ongoing dates. His finances were 
in good shape and he had no worries on that score, but 
the nonstop commute seemed somehow inefficient. Too 
soon, surely, to broach the subject of moving in 
together, but it seemed like the natural next step.

Jenny stepped into the Taurus, and he immediately 
noticed that she'd dressed far more conservatively than 
normal, as if ready for work. Wordlessly, she slipped 
her pale fingers into his free hand, and he gave them a 
squeeze as he backed out of the driveway and began the 
long drive to the prison.

Nothing had quite prepared him for the experience of 
visiting an actual prison, and even looking at a few 
sites online that explained just how Johannesberg was 
set up didn't have the nerve-rattling impact that 
walking into the place did. Stark, sterile walls gave 
Jahn the feeling of being locked up in a bank vault made 
up entirely of office cubicles. God, now there was an 
idea that might someday be his personal existential 
hell. Jenny knew where to go and led the way, but he had 
the bizarre impression that the guards were shepherding 
the pair to their final destination. 

Off-guard, every bit of sensory input was a revelation, 
the stale odor of the human body distant but present, a 
stray noise that might have been yelling, the ever-
watchful eyes of men in uniform on them. When they were 
finally ushered into the divided room, there was a 
curious sense of déjà vu, every movie he'd ever watched 
about visitors meeting with convicts by talking on a 
phone while separated by plate glass springing to mind. 
The room seemed to darken in his head, just like every 
one of those scenes, placing an unseen spotlight on the 
people talking to their incarcerated friends or family.

Jesus, get a grip, he thought. This is the real life, 
not a fantasy.

Jenny practically danced forward to the chair in front 
of the window, a bright smile on her face as she saw the 
jumpsuit-clad man being ushered in by guards on his side 
of the wall. While the loose orange material went a 
great way towards concealing the man's physique, Jahn 
couldn't help but feel like he was looking at a bull. No 
horns, but he was _huge_, shoulders spanning a width 
that looked like two of himself. Couldn't tell if 
Donovan was taller, but with that brute size, it hardly 
mattered. As the man drew close, Jahn's gut clenched. 

He'd always thought that those stock phrases in books 
and movies that never lived up to the reality were just 
trite expressions. Donovan had the stone-hard face of a 
killer. Not just that, but he really had killed a man; 
Jenny's loving father was a convicted murderer.

Staring at the back of his girlfriend's head, her blonde 
tresses a distraction even now, he thought with wonder 
that she looked past that rock facade and only saw the 
man that was her daddy. Oh sure, she knew, but she'd 
placed the knowledge in some mental back compartment and 
filed it, to be opened at a later time. The words of 
greeting that bubbled off her lips into the phone as her 
father picked up the device's twin on the other side 
were nothing but love.

Strangest of all was the metamorphosis on Mel Donovan's 
face. Not ten seconds before wearing the disaffected, 
expressionless visage of a killer, it was now something 
alive, the creases of age around his eyes deepening with 
pleasure, thin hard lips curving with the same. Those 
eyes... yes, that was where Jenny's lovely blue eyes had 
come from. It was bizarre to Jahn to think of a man in 
that way, but Donovan really did have striking blue 
eyes, pretty if not for that granite face.

//You shore do got purty lips, bo//

Oh fuck you, brain, he told himself, shooting the stray 
thought down execution-style, rigidly turning his 
attention back to the convict, who, he was uncomfortable 
to note, was reciprocating the examination. At least it 
wasn't a look of ruthless calculation, merely the 
curiosity of a man considering whether this kid his 
daughter's seeing might be worth keeping around. 

Whatever horrific failings the man possessed that 
leading him to commit cold blooded murder, it seemed 
that Jenny was his heart and soul. Jahn could relate, 
and when she stood, handing him the phone, he tried to 
keep that thought firmly in mind.

"So, you're Jahn Halvers. Jenny's... boyfriend."

Jahn wasn't sure he liked how that was added on at the 
end like an afterthought, but braved forth anyway. "Yes 
sir. You prefer the first name or the last?"

"Sir works just fine, kid." Jahn was only a few years 
shy of thirty, but didn't think it wise to point out the 
distinction to the now flat and expressionless face 
before him.

"Yes sir."

"So tell me about yourself. Tell me what you do, and why 
you think you're good enough for my little girl."

Jahn began to sweat. Exactly like meeting Gianna's 
father, he thought, recalling a long ago prom date. 
Except Mr. Charter wasn't the sort of guy to raise a 
swatter to a fly, let alone a pipe or gun to someone's 
head. Suddenly, the wall of glass between them didn't 
seem like enough. Think of it as an interview, he 
thought, trying to desperately to bolster himself. Tell 
him what you do and why you're not the sort of dick that 
would pump and dump. Just not in those words.

So he did. Slowly and with a great deal of hesitation at 
first, but he worked up to it, and felt a sliver of 
success. It would have been more helpful if Donovan's 
face had given him some feedback to work with, but that 
flat expression never changed a whit as Jahn rattled off 
his personal biography.

At last the man interrupted, "That's enough." 

Jahn stuttered to a halt. "Okay..."

Unblinkingly, he said, "You seem like an ambitious kid, 
and pretty smart too. Got the blood to back it up, or 
are you one of them exceptions to the rule?"

It took a moment for Jahn to figure out what the hell 
Donovan was talking about, and when he finally got it, 
he had to bite back a scathing retort. Use your brain, 
man, he thought. No family tree cracks. Jen's right 
behind you. 

Stiffly, he replied, "Dutch ancestry straight back to 
the motherland." Donovan nodded in a manner that was so 
approving he wanted to puke. Instead, he waited for 
'Daddy's' next question. Half of Jahn's brain called him 
a pussy for not following up with something like "and 
probably purer blood than yours", while the other 
applauded his restraint from that course of stupidity.

"So, nice smart white kid like you... Jenny know you're 
seeing that little half-breed girl on the side, or are 
you really that stupid?" The hostility in his voice was 
undisguised now.

Oh, shit. Jen hadn't told Donovan that. "How do you even 
know-"

A biting interruption was returned, "Don't fuck with me, 
boy. I have friends on the outside that keep a close eye 
on my little girl for me." 

Okay, so the prick had people watching Jahn coming and 
going. Wonderful. He'd have to go with straightforward 
then, and hope he didn't piss Jenny off in the process.

"Of course she knows. It was her idea." A sharp intake 
of breath issued behind him.

The convict's eyes narrowed, no longer blue, but a 
steely flint. That broad face seemed harder still, but 
softened again when his glance moved past Jahn.

"Never should have let her mother keep that kid." From 
what both women had told him about their mother, 
Donovan's suggestion seemed an unlikely proposition.

Those eyes turned back to him and the voice came over 
the phone once more. "You know what miscegenation is?"

You fucking asshole, Jahn marveled inwardly at the man 
in front of him. Aloud, he said, "Yes, I do know what 
that is, and what it means to you personally." He loaded 
the word 'you' with as much venom as possible, though 
Donovan seemed oblivious.

"I won't tell you to stop seeing Jenny, 'cuz it's 
obvious she's real sweet on you. I won't do anything to 
break her blessed heart. Neither will you." The threat 
was implicit, every bit as venomous as his own. "If you 
have to keep seeing that Indian girl, then that's how 
it's gonna be. You watch it, though. What I'm saying is, 
I know what guys who got two or three girlfriends get up 
to, and if I hear you've been talking Jenny into that 
kind of shit, I will have your arms and legs broken. You 
hear me?"

It took Jahn a minute to puzzle out what the convict was 
hinting at. Threesomes, he thought hysterically. He 
thinks Jenny and Fiona and I might start a threesome. 
Stupid asshole, came the thought, and this time he let 
his mouth wander.

"Give your daughter some credit for the intelligence we 
both know she has... sir." The last word dripped ice. 
"You might not see Fiona as a real person, but that is 
her half-sister." Emphasizing the last word, "Her 
sister, get it?" He didn't want to invoke the word 
'incest' in front of Jenny without context, but 
Donovan's expression flickered enough that it seemed he 
understood.

The silence on the other end of the phone stretched 
interminably, before Donovan finally responded. "Okay, 
you're talking sense. We're on the same wave-length, 
kid."

"And..."

"And nothing. You treat my little girl right, and make 
sure you don't do anything to her that would make me 
regret not adding you to a long list of kids who got 
shown the door." 

Jahn had no idea what he was talking about, but let it 
rest. "Yes sir."

"Put her back on." Jahn stood, passing the handset to 
Jenny, who had an apprehensive look on her face. He was 
unwilling to eavesdrop, but the shift in his 
girlfriend's overcast expression to her usual sunshine 
demeanor told him all he needed to know. Donovan might 
heap that bullshit on Jahn, but he wasn't going to do 
that to his daughter. Maybe love could work miracles. Or 
maybe he was just a romantic of idiotic proportions.

***

The ride home was not as silent as he might have wished 
for. When he saw Jenny's face return to the cloudy 
expression she'd worn after hearing his words to her 
father, he should have known the verbal left hook was 
coming, but he wouldn't have been able to dodge it 
anyway.

Tone unreadable, she asked, "What were you saying to my 
father about me and Fiona?" A loaded question, with no 
dodge available, no place to retreat to.

To be continued...

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
It's okay to *READ* stories about unprotected sex with
others outside a monogamous relationship. But it isn't
okay to *HAVE* unprotected sex with people other than
a trusted partner. 4-million people around the world 
contract HIV every year. You only have one body per 
lifetime, so take good care of it!
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Kristen's collection - Directory 72