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Chapter 33
December, 2004
"Lizzy!"
cried Kit Boudreaux. "Lizzy! Come see! It's SNOWING!"
With a yelp of joy,
Lizzy bounded off her family's couch and flew to the window.
Sure enough, the weatherman's forecast had been right. It was
snowing on Christmas Day in Louisiana.
Kit immediately
requested that Lizzy follow her outside, and a moment later,
the two sisters, still tugging on jackets, were standing on the
front lawn amidst the fat flakes, floating down from the sky.
"This is SO
cool! Do you think we can make snowballs?"
Lizzy noticed that
the snowflakes were melting quickly on the grass, but she didn't
have the heart to point that out to her sister.
"Let's try!"
The snowballs that
they created were pretty pathetic, but the two didn't mind. South
Louisiana got snow about once every twenty years. For it to snow
on Christmas Day, of all days, was a miracle. Laughing and playing
with Kit like she hadn't done since high school, brought joy
to Lizzy - and hope. Hope that this was a sign of better days
to come.
~*~*~
"No, Mom,"
Chuck Bingley was explaining on his cell phone, "we just
can't make it to Baton Rouge today. The roads are all slick and
icy… What makes you think that the back roads are in any
better shape? C'mon, Mom, I know you're disappointed not to see
us on Christmas Day. The kids are, too. What's that?... Of course
we're not going to Chackbay!"
He looked at Jane,
who was having a similar conversation with her mother on the
land line. She rolled her eyes. Chuck returned to his conversation.
"We're staying right here in Covington, where it's nice
and safe. We'll get together in the next couple of days, all
right?... Good. Say hi to Carrie and John. Merry Christmas. Bye."
Jane plopped herself
down on the couch next to her husband, Hailey and Brett engrossed
with their presents, under the watchful gaze of Rufus. "Your
call as bad as mine?" she sighed.
"Catherine
Bingley was on the other end. What do you think?" He grinned
as he slid his arm around his angel. "So, no Great Circle
Drive this year."
Usually, the Bingleys
drove the hour to Baton Rouge first thing Christmas morning,
to exchange presents and have lunch. Then it was a ninety-minute
drive to Chackbay for dinner, before jumping on the road again
for the two-hour journey back to the North Shore.
"Nope,"
said Jane, playing with his shirt. "Whatever shall we do
with all the free time?"
"I'll think
of something," he said as he kissed her.
~*~*~
Catherine Bingley
replaced the telephone receiver in the handset. "Well! It
looks like it's just us today," she announced to the couple
with the child seated on the sofa next to the Christmas tree,
decorated in blue-and cream, presents wrapped in coordinating
paper tucked artistically below.
"Woop-pee-do,"
said John Buford.
Carrie dug an elbow
into his side. "I'm sure we'll have a fine time, Mom, especially
since we know that Chuck, Jane, and the kids are safe at home,
rather than chancing the roads today." Trey was struggling
in her arms, trying to get at the presents.
"Humph."
Catherine wasn't completely convinced that the others weren't
on their way to Chackbay that instant. Heaven only knew that
Boudreaux woman didn't have a brain in her head and may have
badgered Chuck and Jane into traveling. "Well, I guess I
can heat up the cinnamon rolls before we unwrap presents. Carrie,
would you lend a hand?"
"Sure, Mom."
She handed Trey to her husband. "Behave yourself."
Buford was sure she was not just talking to their son.
Trey continued to
wiggle as Carrie followed her mother into the kitchen. Buford
grinned and placed his boy on the floor. "Go get 'em, champ,"
he advised.
Trey Buford was
a good boy and always followed his father's advice. The carefully
wrapped presents never stood a chance.
~*~*~
Frances Boudreaux replaced the telephone receiver in the handset. "Well! It looks like it's just us today," she announced to her family gathered around the Christmas tree, decorated with angels and bows, presents plied high underneath.
"Okay,"
said her husband, "can we get somethin' to eat, then?"
"Yeah, Mom,"
said Lizzy, "let's just have a great Christmas. I'm sure
we will, especially since we know that Chuck, Jane, and the kids
are safe at home, rather than chancing the roads today."
"Humph." Franny wasn't completely convinced that the others weren't on their way to Baton Rouge that instant. Heaven only knew that Bingley woman had no heart and may have bullied Chuck and Jane into traveling. "Well, I guess I can throw the breakfast casserole into the oven before we unwrap presents. Kit, would you lend a hand?"
~*~*~
Will Darcy sat on
the sofa in the living room of Pemberley, sipping his coffee,
watching in amusement as Gina modeled her new ski wear. To protect
the floor, the new ski boots and snow board were left in their
packages.
"Well, what
do you think?" she asked cheekily. "Do I look glamorous
enough for Vail?" The major part of her gift was a week-long
trip to Vail over Mardi Gras.
"My sister
- the ski bunny," he grinned. "The ski bums will be
all over you."
"Fat chance
of that happening, with you coming along."
"Damn straight,"
he said as he sipped his coffee.
~*~*~
"Ready to go,
hon?" asked George as he gathered the beach gear.
"Just a moment,"
called Emma from the bedroom.
George walked through
the sliding glass door to the patio of their suite, overlooking
St. Martin's Orient Bay Beach with its own private pool. He was
wearing a light tan linen shirt over his swim trunks. George
breathed in the mid-morning salt air of the Caribbean, his stresses
fading away. He had to agree that Emma's idea of a vacation was
the right one. They did need to get away - from work and Abe
- to re-connect as a couple.
They had not seen
much of the island, as they had arrived late in the afternoon
yesterday - just enough time to settle in, have dinner, and retire.
He slept late for the first time in over a year, rising to the
smell of coffee that Emma had prepared in the unit's kitchenette.
Over coffee and croissants - this was the French side on the
small island that was shared with the Dutch - Emma expressed
a desire to take it easy their first day and go sunbathing. George,
who had resolved to cater to Emma's wishes on this trip, quickly
agreed. Unlike his tanning-booth addicted wife, George had no
great desire to sit around and soak up the sun, but he figured
he could get some reading in. He had some medical treatises to
catch up on.
Hearing the bedroom
door open, George turned around. Emma was wearing a rather small
bronze bikini top with a bronze and gold sarong wrapped around
her waist. It looked spectacular against her tanned skin. She
had a gold chain with a Star of David at her throat, and her
long curly hair was pulled into a ponytail with a black scrunchy.
She was just putting on her sunglasses.
"All ready,
George." Emma hoped her anxiety didn't show. Mari had recommended
St. Martin and had given her some other advice, as well. Thanks
to Mrs. Dashwood's contacts, they had been able to get this room
during the busy holiday season. She had a plan to re-energize
her marriage, and she hoped it wouldn't blow up in her face.
George was torn
between admiration for his wife's figure and concern that she
was showing a bit much. The top barely contained her generous
breasts. But he recalled his determination to make this a memorable
trip for Emma, so he smiled and quipped, "You look great,
hon."
George was rewarded
with a bright grin, one with a bit of nervousness thrown in.
"Thank you, baby. C'mon, the sun's a-wasting." She
picked up her big floppy hat and beach bag and led the way out
the door. George grabbed the rest of their things, the room key
and his book bag and followed.
As the pair walked
out of the resort onto the beach, George was stuck by Emma's
movements. He idly wondered if it was the sand or Emma's sandals
that caused her hips to move so seductively. His attention was
spilt between watching their progress to their reserved beach
chairs and appreciating his wife's bottom. He had not realized
how focused on his two tasks he was until he heard his wife's
giggle.
"George! Didn't
you see her?" she asked.
"See who, Emma?"
She gestured to
the right with her head. Turning, he saw a tall young woman waking
away from them, wearing a thong. Only a thong, his brain
finally registered. She was topless.
We're on a topless
beach.
George was stupefied
for the moment it took his reason to kick in. Of course it's
topless. This is the French side of St. Martin. The Euros love
to go sans tops. Be cool, man. "Uhhh, I didn't see her,
hon. I was trying not to fall on my ass in this sand."
Emma grinned. "Sure
you were." She continued on, giving her hips a bit more
wiggle.
They reached their
destination in another moment. Emma laid out a beach towel that
had been provided by the resort while George claimed the chair
deepest in the shade. His eyes glanced around to see what other
sights might be available. He noticed that there were a few other
women who had selected the mono-kini as their swimwear de
jour, but none were as attractive as the first girl. He also
noted, to his dismay, that there were not a few men in Speedos.
To his eye, even the thin guys looked funny wearing those things,
but the middle-aged men in them were just appalling.
By the time he settled
in his chair, Emma was kneeling on the beach towel facing him,
applying suntan lotion to her upper arms, her wrap lying in a
pile beside her. "You better put some of this on, baby,"
she advised. "You're whiter than Casper the Friendly Ghost."
"How does a
kid like you remember Casper?" he asked.
If it weren't for
her sunglasses, George would have seen how his remark hurt Emma.
It was exactly what she needed to hear to dispel the second thoughts
that had been running through her mind. He still thinks of
me as a child! Well, we'll see about that! Her determination
redoubled, she tossed the bottle of lotion to her husband with
a smile, took off her hat, freed her hair, and lay facedown on
the towel.
George spread the
lotion on his legs, thinking about which report to read first,
so he paid no attention to his wife, until he heard her asking
to apply some lotion to her back. Looking up, his brain froze.
He saw the broad expanse of her back, unencumbered by a bathing
suit top strap, flow seductively to the twin tan globes of her
buttocks, exposed to the sun and held apart by a thin strip of
bronze fabric.
Emma is face
down on a towel wearing only a thong! his mind screamed.
I noticed, answered another part of his anatomy.
George whipped his
head around to see if anyone else had noticed.
"George? The
lotion?" Emma asked again.
"Emma!"
he hissed as he knelt down beside her. "What the hell is
this?"
Emma forced herself
to relax. "I'm just sunbathing, George. You've seen me do
this before."
"But not half
naked!" He kept his voice low.
She smiled. "When
in Rome, baby… The lotion, please? I don't want to burn."
George bent to his
task, head swiveling around the entire time. He just knew young
men were ogling his wife. Usually, he enjoyed spreading lotion
on her, but he was preoccupied now, as he worked her back and
legs.
"Umm, George?
You forgot a spot."
"You mean everywhere?"
"Don't be such
a baby, baby." Emma was enjoying herself.
Looking around one
last time, he applied the lotion to her ass. His labors resulted
in an embarrassing situation.
"Oooh…looks
like somebody's enjoying himself," Emma teased.
"Yeah, right.
How am I gonna get back to the chair without frightening small
children?"
"I don't see
any small children around here, do you?"
George stared at
the sexy creature beside him. "I don't see any children
around here - period."
Emma almost shouted
in triumph. Instead she just blew him a kiss and relaxed.
George scurried
back, doubled-over, to his chair and draped his towel over his
lap. He scanned the beach, certain that his wife was the center
of attention. He was relived and disappointed that she was not.
Confused over his warring emotions, he picked up the first report
and tried to concentrate.
It was not long
before he realized that it was a futile effort. He could not
help but take in the tempting sight before him. Emma's exercise
regime had served her well. She was tight, taunt and sleek. Her
suntan lotion coated skin glistened in the noon-day sun. He gave
up the pretense of reading, but he couldn't just stare at Emma.
So he used the report as a prop to ogle his wife.
Before long a waiter
approached, asking if they desired any food or drink. Emma, not
moving her head, asked for a chicken salad and a bottle of water.
George ordered the same, watching the waiter's eyes drift to
his wife's form. He seemed to appreciate the view good-naturedly.
His nod to George seemed to say, "Lucky bastard."
He left to collect the order. He returned minutes later. George
signed for the food and as the waiter left again, Emma reached
back and refastened her top.
The couple sat beside
each other, eating and talking about the island, just enjoying
each other's company. George's "condition" had calmed
down enough to remove the towel. The two made comments about
the others on the crowded beach, agreeing that most people should
not go topless. Emma enjoyed pointing out the worst offenders,
while George moaned over the Speedos.
As the conversation
died, Emma knew it was time to put Part Two of her plan into
motion. Behind her sunglasses she glanced at her husband, hoping
she wasn't making a big mistake. Impulsively, she reached over
to kiss George's cheek.
"I love you,
George. Thank you for this lovely trip."
George smiled in
pleasure. "I love you, too. I'm the happiest guy on this
beach, 'cause I'm with the prettiest girl. I'm sorry if I didn't
tell you before, but you look fantastic. I'm proud of you."
I hope you still
feel that way in thirty seconds.
"I'm going to get a little more sun, okay?" She got
up.
"Go ahead."
This time Emma knelt
facing the water. Taking a deep breath, she reached back and
undid her top. She heard George's gasp as she placed it down
beside her and looked over her shoulder.
"Can you pass
me the lotion, baby?"
"Emma!"
"Grow up, George.
The lotion, please?"
George sat petrified,
unable to move. Emma continued to look at him patiently, her
thong-covered rear between her feet. George knew what the other
side looked like - he was married to her - but now it seemed
he shared that distinction with the entire world. Knowing the
damage had been done, he retrieved the lotion and brought it
to her.
"Should I apply
it, too?" he asked with a hint of huskily desire.
"Oooh…you'd
like that, wouldn't you, big boy?" Emma had a lecherous
grin as her eyes traveled down. "Hmm, I don't think you're
in any shape to be in public, George."
"You're in
too good of shape to be in public, lady."
"Thank you,
baby. I'll take care of this myself. Go sit down and be a good
boy."
Making the best
of the situation, George sat back down to watch Emma apply the
lotion. If he thought he was excited before, it was nothing like
he was experiencing now. Emma wasn't trying to tease him - her
actions were matter-the-fact - but the response was the same.
Emma finished with
her chest and arms, so she drew her legs from under her and attended
to them. It only made the thong appear smaller. George almost
whimpered.
Completing her task,
Emma reclined on the towel, her heavy breasts settling in a delightful
manner. She was still nervous, but excited, too. She was not
an exhibitionist, but she was trying to make a point. It seemed
to be working. George had reacted as she hoped he would. She
now willed herself to relax and allow time to work its magic.
George didn't need
to look around to know Emma had attracted attention. Several
young men appeared out of nowhere, walking as slowly as they
could, trying to be nonchalant as they eyed the attractive American.
At first, George's protective instincts were as aroused as the
rest of him. He wanted to scream at them for daring to look upon
his wife. He held his tongue, knowing they were doing nothing
wrong. He admitted to himself that he would have done the same
thing at their age.
But she's with
me, he thought. Yeah!
She's with me! She's mine! Look all you want, losers! She's going
home with me! She's my wife! My woman!
Relaxing, he candidly
gazed at Emma. Yes, she's a woman, a gorgeous woman, a woman
in love with me. Not for the first time he marveled at his
good fortune to win her affections. For so long he thought that
he was too lucky, too old, that he didn't deserve her. George
felt the all-consuming lust he had for Emma well up inside -
the lust he kept under tight control. He didn't want to frighten
her with the intensity of his desire for her. He had seen her
as a woman-child, something to cherish and protect. One was gentle
and loving to such as her. One did not ravish a doll on a pedestal.
He had done that once before, to his everlasting shame.
But the figure before
him was no doll. It was a living, breathing, wanton symbol of
sex and desire. He was fascinated as the sweat trickled down
the soft slope of her breasts, her Star of David nestled between
them. She breathed in even slow breaths, completely relaxed.
It was the sexiest thing he had ever seen. His desire for her
was immeasurable.
Emma could not see
the effect she was having on George. The sun felt fantastic,
but her nervousness was almost overwhelming. Her own excitement
grew, as she began to think that her plan was working. God,
if I'm this turned on, this has got to be working on George!
Still, she forced herself to relax for the half-hour she thought
was necessary.
The two people in
lust with one another remained separated by their own fears and
five feet of distance for almost thirty minutes when the lady
broke first. Emma sat up and turned to her husband. To her delight
she saw he had that towel on his lap again.
"Baby, I've
done enough sunning. I'm going in for a dip." She took off
her sunglasses.
George started.
"Umm…good idea. I'll join you."
With a lazy smile,
Emma rose to her feet, stretching her arms over her head. George
thought he was going to die. His excitement was painfully evident,
but there was nothing for it. Rising, he took his wife's hand
and they trotted to the ocean's edge.
"Race you!"
Emma shouted as she plunged into the surf. George was right on
her heels. They dove in and swam for all they were worth.
Emma came up for
air and looked around. She wiped the water out of her eyes, hoping
her contacts stayed in. Where is George?
Suddenly she yelped
as a hand grabbed her ankle. Kicking to free herself, she saw
her husband break the surface next to her.
"Caught you!"
he laughed.
"Darn you,
George!" she laughed back. "You scared the crap out
of me!"
"What do you
mean - like this?" He started to tickle her.
"NO FAIR!"
she cried. "STOP IT! GEORGE!" Laughing, she splashed
water at her tormentor.
"What's the
matter, can't you take it?" he grinned. He embraced her,
his hand now caressing. "You can sure deal it out."
Emma wrapped her
arms around his neck, pulling her body into full contact with
his. "Aww, are you uncomfortable, baby?"
"Not anymore."
Tossing aside his inhibitions, he pulled her into a torrent of
kisses. At least it was until they slipped underwater. A moment
later they both returned to the surface, spiting out water and
wheezing for air.
"Baby,"
Emma gasped, "we'd better get into shallower water before
we try that again."
"Good idea,
Em."
Once they reached
a sand bar that allowed their feet to touch bottom while still
and still be below the surface of the water, Emma was in George's
arms again. "Now where were we?" she purred as she
kissed him.
George didn't answer
with words. Instead he allowed the raw desire he had held back
for five years to come spilling out. He mashed their chests together,
hungrily devouring her lips. Emma's yoga practice came in handy
as she wrapped her legs around his midsection, her bottom resting
on his manhood. His hands gripped her ass, holding her tight
against him.
"Oh god,"
she gasped, "I want you so bad. You want me too, don't you,
baby?"
George could only
groan.
Emma smiled. "Yeah,
I can feel you. So hard." She wiggled a bit.
"Ah! You drive
me crazy, Em!"
Emma was lost in
her passion. "You want me right now, don't you? You wanna
fuck me right here - just pull this bit of fabric aside and do
me right in front of everybody, huh, baby?"
George allowed one
of his hands to move forward and under, causing his wife to yelp.
"You're a dirty girl, you know that?" he growled.
"I'm dirty
for you, George," she whispered in his ear. "I'm wetter
than this whole ocean for you, George. I'd do anything
for you…"
George silenced
her with a kiss. "Damn, Em, I'm so turned on I can't see
straight. I should - I should do like you want - fuck you right
here…"
Emma shivered.
"But…but
we can't. There are people on the beach. Shit, this is tough."
Emma turned around
to look at the beach. "You're right. We'll have to take
this elsewhere."
"Depend on
it," he promised. "Only, I can't get out of the water
right now."
Emma grinned. "I
know. I'm sorry. Does it hurt?"
George shook his
head. "Not yet, but it will if you keep this up."
"We can't have
that," she declared. She unwrapped her legs and released
his neck. But she did not leave his embrace. Instead she turned
around, facing away from him, and leaned back into his strong
chest. She guided his hands to the underside of her breasts as
she floated, her head under his chin.
"This isn't
helping, Em," he said.
"I'm sorry,
George, but I need you to touch me. Just a little while?"
"All right.
I'll calm down - hopefully." They were quiet for a while,
soaking up the sun and enjoying the warm embrace of the water.
Both knew what was coming once they returned to their room, so
they reveled in the anticipation.
George finally asked
the question that had been in the back of his mind. "What's
gotten into you, anyway? Not that I'm complaining."
"I'm seducing
you, you big oaf."
"You're doing
a damn good job of it. Is it the water or the island?"
"George, it's
something I've needed to do for a long time. I want you to see
me as a woman, not a child."
George complained,
"I do not treat you like a child!"
Emma said quietly,
"Oh, baby, yes, you do. You love me, I know, but…George,
haven't you ever wanted to just let go and attack me? Just throw
me on the bed and have at me?"
"I…I…"
George blushed. "I didn't know you would like that. I wanted
to treat you with respect. To cherish you." He didn't want
to bring up their disastrous first time.
"I feel cherished,
George, but… you act as if I'll break. I won't, George -
I'm strong. Stronger than you think." She turned in his
arms. "You ready for public yet, love?"
"I'll manage,
hon."
As nonchalantly
as they could manage, the pair exited the water and returned
to their things. They gathered up their belongings and began
the journey back to their room. Emma decided to keep the fun
going, so while she replaced her top she did not replace her
wrap. George enjoyed walking behind her and taking in the delightful
motion of her ass. They stopped briefly at the outdoor shower
to wash off the salt and sand.
Once in the room,
Emma dropped her bag just inside the doorway and continued to
the bedroom, undoing her top. By the time she reached the bedroom
door she had discarded the top and hooked her thumbs in the waistband
of her thong. She stopped, and, in a motion born of her yoga
training, pulled the bit of fabric down her legs, bending at
the waist. George, standing by the main door he had just closed,
felt his mouth dry up at the sight.
"Hurry up,
baby, I can't wait," Emma announced as she continued into
the room. George made fast work of his belongings and bathing
suit and joined his wife in the bedroom in a flash. He found
her lying on the bed. She was not alone for long.
What happened next
was not sweet lovemaking - it was raw sex. The lust George had
for his beautiful wife seized control of his senses. Hands and
lips were everywhere as each lost themselves to their desires.
It was at this time that George finally learned Emma's secret:
She was loud when she was truly excited. Loud and profane. She
egged him on with dirty words and moans, and George was surprised
to see how inspired his efforts became. His positive response
to her exhortations only spurred Emma on to greater demands.
She had felt cherished before - now she felt wanton - wanted
- possessed. When George penetrated her, she screamed in
delight.
George knew this
was going to be fast and hard, but he didn't care. When he looked
at Emma, he saw her wild eyes and strained neck. They were animals
going at it - she demanding all he had and more. Her gasps signaled
her coming climax, which crashed upon them like a force of nature.
George, with a yell, emptied so much seed into his wife's hot
and willing body that he was not sure he would survive the experience.
Sweating, he collapsed upon her. She, in her turn, wrapped her
legs about him again, keeping his member embedded deep within
her, electrical shocks still running through her. Both lay sweaty,
gasping for air.
"Well…"
Emma finally managed, "I…think I've…been…truly
ravaged now."
"Ravaged, hell,"
George panted, "you've been royally fucked."
"I know,"
she purred, "it was wonderful." She began to kiss him
gently.
What had passed
before was all hormones and adrenaline. Now that the lust had
receded, love and contentment flowed over them. Hands and lips
began pleasuring again, but it was all light and slow and loving.
"My god, Em…I've…never
felt like that before." George took her face between his
hands.
Emma was glowing.
"It was just what I wanted. You were so wonderful. I love
you so much."
"Em,"
he chuckled, "you were cursing like a sailor."
"You seemed
to like it."
"Yeah, I did.
I thought you'd peel paint when you screamed when you came."
"You were pretty
loud yourself, baby. Oh, don't go…" she said as George
began to move.
George looked at
her with a worried expression. "But I don't want to hurt
you."
"Wait,"
she requested. Carefully, she rolled them both onto their sides,
keeping their connection. "How's that?"
"You're amazing."
He gave her a long and slow kiss. "I'm sorry I haven't done
better by you before this."
"Hush up, George.
I adore you."
"I'll love
you 'till I die."
"Me, too."
The two slipped
off and slept the afternoon away.
~*~*~
Despite Emma's protests,
George insisted that they dress for dinner. Emma compromised
by wearing nothing beneath her silk strapless jungle print dress.
George looked sharp in a silk sport coat with a crew-neck shirt
and linen trousers. Both wore sandals.
George refused the
first table offered them, requesting a four-top so that he could
sit next to his wife rather than across from her. Emma slid her
knee against his, and they held hands during most of the meal.
George drank in
the atmosphere and Emma's demeanor. She looked achingly lovely
in the candlelight, her star gleaming and her nipples just apparent
beneath her dress. More than once he kissed Emma's hand, thanking
his lucky stars for this day.
"This feels
like a honeymoon, Emma," he said over their appetizers.
"It is, George
- our second one. Our new life together."
"The old one
wasn't too bad, was it?"
"It wasn't
what it could be. It's not this."
"C'mon, Em.
I love you now, but I loved you then. I've loved you for years."
He kissed her hand again. "I know I work too much, but haven't
I been taking care of you like I said I would?" He knew
better than to mention Abe.
She looked up at
him. "You love me and want to take care of me, but you won't
let me take care of you. Let me in, George. Let
me be your partner and lover and wife - not just a prized possession."
"You think
that's the way I think about you? Something I own?"
"You own my
heart, baby," she said to soothe him, "but you won't
let me be your equal in this marriage. Let me show you how much
better it can be."
"I'm trying,
Em, really I am."
"I know. It
will take some time. That's what this is all about - to show
you that I am your equal - in passion for this marriage and in
the desire to make our life work." She looked down. "It
meant a great deal to me when you let Papa move in. That was
a lot to ask of you." George made to protest, but Emma cut
him off. "I know it's been difficult for you; don't deny
it. It's been very hard on me. Papa hasn't reacted well to retirement.
And I know that you've been…holding back because of him."
A tear ran down her face. "So have I."
She wiped her face
with her napkin. "I don't want to hold back any more, George.
That's what this vacation's all about. I want to be free with
you and for you to be free with me."
George leaned in
and kissed her nose, a favorite part of her anatomy. It was the
slight imperfection that made her seem real. He was glad she
remained so afraid of surgery that she wouldn't get a nose job.
"I want that, too, now. But we'll have to make some changes."
"Changes?"
He grinned. "Sound
proofing, hon."
Emma blushed but
couldn't answer as their food appeared. The conversation was
put on hold as they enjoyed their meal. Their free hands moved
to each other's thighs. Over coffee, Emma started again.
"George, I
love you, but I want three things from you - three things that
will make our marriage stronger and our lives more meaningful.
Will you give them to me?"
George swallowed.
"Ask me, Emma."
"First, I want
you to go to counseling, either with me or by yourself. You could
go to Rabbi Tuckmann or someone else, like Chris."
"Aw, honey
- why? I said I'd change."
"Baby, you're
a workaholic. I need you to spend more time at home - with me.
That won't be easy for you. I know you've been trying. Why not
let us help you?"
"Okay, Emma.
I'll go see the rabbi."
Emma smiled. The
first was the hardest request. The next two were far easier.
"Thank you, George. Second, I want us to start attending
synagogue regularly and try to observe the Sabbath as best we
can." She looked earnestly at him. "We need to be connected
to something bigger than ourselves, and that's our faith. Please,
can you do this with me?"
George thought about
the scheduling he would have to move around. "It might mean
I'll be on call on Sundays, but okay. I can make it happen, as
long as there are no emergencies. What else?"
She kissed his hand.
"I know about emergencies. You're a surgeon. You do what
you have to do." She took a breath. "Third, I want
to start having a family."
George looked at
her stupidly. "You have a family…" He caught on.
"Would you mind repeating that?"
"I want to
have a baby. Your baby. Our baby."
George stared at
her. "When?"
"Soon."
"Soon?"
She smiled. "Now.
Today. I want to start tonight."
George just stared
at her.
"What are you
thinking?"
"I'm thinking
we're gonna need lots of sound proofing. Emma, are you
sure?"
"I'm very sure.
I'm ready. But baby, are you?"
George pondered
for a moment. "Well, yeah. I mean, I always wanted a family.
I knew we'd start sometime…" The more he thought about
it, the more he liked it. He looked up at her and chuckled. "Now's
as good a time as any to add some more Katzes to the world."
He kissed her hand again. "You're going to make some amazing
mother."
Emma's smile was
heartbreaking in its loveliness. "Good! Then I have a fourth
request!"
"A fourth one?"
"Yes - I don't
want dessert. Get the check, and let's get out of here!"
~*~*~
Once back in their
unit, Emma insisted on a small ceremony. She undressed herself
and then her husband. Completely nude, she took his hand and
led him into the bathroom. She reached in the cabinet and retrieved
her birth control pills. Solemnly, she handed them to George.
Staring into Emma's eyes, he dropped the package into the trash
can.
She also had a present
for George. "The Joy of Sex?" he said after
he opened the wrapping.
Emma took the book
with a bawdy grin. "This is our road map, lover. By the
time we leave this place, we'll put a good dent in this book,
I promise."
George took her
in his arms. "That's a good plan, Em."
They then began
the process of conceiving a child. Their chance of success was
minuscule, but it did not deter them from trying. The sounds
of their efforts could be heard in Marigot.
~*~*~
Emma and George
fell into a routine for the remainder of their trip. They would
awaken late and take in the sights of St. Martin/St. Maartin
before and during lunch. They saw Fort St. Louis, Marina Port
la Royale and Grand-Case. Emma shopped like crazy on Front Street
in Philipsburg.
But they stopped
going to the beach, for the most part. They reserved time each
day to perform the ritual of topless sunbathing in the afternoon
at their private pool. They would do so until their passions
had been ignited to such an extent that they would retreat to
the bedroom for an afternoon bout of Hot Monkey Sex - picking
out a random page from Emma's gift - when their cries would disturb
no one (they hoped). They even used their private pool for their
amorous activities.
Another time, while
George was lying in bed watching a college bowl game beamed from
America, Emma, wearing only a black broomstick skirt, walked
over to him, undid his shorts, and mounted him. George didn't
regret missing the end of that game at all.
In the evening,
they would go out for dinner and dancing before returning to
their rooms for late night (relatively) quiet lovemaking and
sleep.
On New Years' Eve,
they stood on the patio outside of their suite, the broadcast
of the ball drop from Times Square in New York City playing on
the TV in the room. They danced, dressed only in robes, to music
only they could hear. They stopped to kiss, George's desire very
evident.
Emma broke away.
"What time is it?"
George craned his
neck to check the TV. "Almost midnight."
Emma's eyes grew
wide. "Come on! Hurry!" She grasped his hand and dragged
him to a chaise lounge. She had made a resolution and she meant
to keep it. There was only one way she wanted to end 2004.
They could hear
the countdown: "TEN! NINE! EIGHT!"
She undid his robe.
"Lie down!" she ordered.
"SEVEN!
SIX! FIVE!"
Emma threw off her
robe and quickly mounted her husband.
"FOUR! THREE!"
She engulfed him
in her wetness.
"TWO! ONE!
HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!"
As they moved, the
resort's fireworks display started going off. Their bodies were
lit by the flash of the exploding rockets. Emma had to bend down
to whisper in her husband's ear:
"Happy New
Year, darling."
It was 2005.
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