Cave Man's Captive

by Juliana Conners

  Chapter 3 – Riley

  “Oh, honey, I’m so sorry,” says Monica, leaning over to give me a hug. “That is really too bad! Maybe you’re just…”

  She clearly doesn’t want to finish the rest of her sentence.

  “Overreacting because I’m stressed and hormonal?” I ask her.

  She smiles.

  “I don’t mean it like that,” she says, and then nods her head over to where the kids are playing. James is purposefully knocking over all the blocks that Becky tries to stack for him, but she doesn’t seem to mind. “I myself was pregnant not too long ago and I know how it is. Those last minute fears. Jitters. Worry. It’s excruciating. Enough to drive anyone bonkers.”

  “I’ve thought of that,” I tell her. “That I could be over-reacting. Thinking something’s there when it’s not. But, I know my husband, and something seems… weird.”

  I let out a deflated sigh. She takes my hand and pats it.

  “Okay, well, maybe he’s just experiencing the same feelings,” she suggests. “Since he’s about to be a new parent as well.”

  I nod.

  “Yeah, I figure it’s something like that,” I tell her. “But that’s scray too, you know? Because, what if he’s scared like I am? Or even more so? Who is going to look out for this baby if both of us are so damn afraid?”

  “Have you tried talking to him about this?” Monica asks.

  “Of course not,” I say, shaking my head. We both burst into laughter. “I mean, it’s just not something I know how to say. ‘Hey, I’m having a lot of doubts and worries about all of this. Are you feeling the same way?’ What if he says ‘No, what are you talking about?’ I’ll feel like such an idiot. And a bad parent already, before the baby has even come!”

  I put a hand on my stomach, which is still tightening and rumbling quite strangely. I’ve never been anywhere close to being in labor, before, but I don’t think this is it. I expect something stronger, more ferocious and overpowering.

  “I can understand that fear,” Monica says. “But maybe Jensen is having the same one, too. One of you have to bring it up.”

  “That’s very true,” I tell her. “I’ll try to talk to him.”

  She smiles.

  “Good,” she says. “Glad I can be a relationship counselor today.”

  I laugh and tell her, “I seriously appreciate it. You have no idea.”

  She shrugs and says, “To tell you the truth, I’m a little jealous. Ramsey and I weren’t together while I was pregnant, so, it’s nice to remind someone who is part of a couple not to take these things for granted. He’s here, so you might as well talk to him.”

  “Good point,” I tell her.

  Then, looking at the clock on my phone, I add, “Hmmm, he’s usually here. But I wonder where he is now.”

  I look at her in shock, realizing Jensen is usually home by now. What if he’s staying away out of fear, or what if he’s sick of my sulking? My mind races with possibilities, but Monica steadies it by patting me on the back.

  “I’m sure he just had a second beer and he’ll be home soon,” she says. “Let’s get this stuff put away. Becky, can you watch your brother and cousin while your mom and I go up to the nursery?”

  “Sure!” Becky says, patting James on the head. He looks up and smiles at her from where he’s sitting on the floor.

  “Thank you,” Monica says, as she begins picking up some of the clothes to carry upstairs to the nursery.

  I follow suit. As we gather the tiny items, Monica mentions, “Have you talked to Whitney lately?”

  “No, not really,” I tell her. “Although she brought over some of these clothes the other day. One of her friends’ babies had outgrown them and she wanted to pass them on.”

  “That was nice of her,” Monica replies, but she sounds thoughtful.

  “Why do you ask?”

  “Well, speaking of people being distant… Whitney has seemed that way to me too lately.”

  “Hmm,” I say. “I wonder why.”

  “Yeah, it’s obviously not as worrisome as what you’ve been going through with Jensen and your pregnancy, so I almost didn’t say anything,” Monica continues. “But I just worry about her. She and Harlow have been trying for a while to have a baby and it doesn’t look like it’s working out.”

  “She’d mentioned that to me,” I say, nodding. “That’s too bad.”

  “I just hope she’s not depressed or something,” Monica says. “Maybe we can take her out and cheer her up or something.”

  We both look down at my large stomach and laugh.

  “I guess I could try to get one more girl’s night out before the baby comes,” I tell her. “But I doubt I would be any good on the dance floor.”

  “I’m sure Jensen will watch the baby after he gets here,” Monica says. “And we can go celebrate you becoming a mother.”

  “I’m not sure that would make Whitney feel very good if the problem is…”

  I stop, the word just hanging between us.

  Infertility.

  Chapter 4 – Riley

  “True,” Monica says, as if kicking herself for not thinking of that. “Well, we’ll figure out something to do to make her feel better.”

  “Yes, let’s,” I agree.

  Our arms are full so we start to head upstairs to put the clothes away. But when we reach the stairwell, we see a scary sight. Jensen’s mom, who has been living with us for the past year or so, is sitting on a stair, with her head in her hands.

  “Are you all right?” I ask, rushing to her side.

  “Here,” Monica says, taking the clothes I’m carrying out of my hands and adding them to the pile she’s precariously balancing in our own hands. “Let me get these while you attend to Mrs. Bradford. I hope everything’s okay.”

  She walks up the stairs, giving us some privacy. It’s her mother in law too, but Jensen and I get along with her better than anyone else in the family. That’s not saying much, though. For a while after she first moved in with us, it had gone much more smoothly than we’d imagined. But lately she’d become cantankerous— angry, deviant, and moody for no reason we could decipher.

  “I’m fine!” Jensen’s mom says defiantly.

  Her doctor had told us that she was becoming senile from both old age and her history of drinking and taking drugs. He said to expect some docile, sweet moments from her, followed by raging, unpredictable ones, and that this cycle would continue. He’d urged us to move her to a home and Jensen and his brothers have been looking for one and even found a good one. But even though her health and emotions have been a roller coaster ride to put up with, we haven’t been able to bring ourselves to do that.

  Jensen loves his mother and wants to help— he’d feel guilty having her “rot away at some home.” I think that the fact that his father is deceased makes it all that much harder to come to terms with grappling with the issue of “losing” his mom too. As for me, I’ve tried to do my best to take care of his mom, to show her we love her and we’re here for her. But lately she has been really testing my patience.

  “Okay, can I get you anything?” I ask her.

  I shake my head, thinking about how that’s really a question she should be asking me, this late in my pregnancy and seeing as how she’s been staying with us rent-free for so long now. But Jensen’s mom has never been known for her unselfish or giving ways.

  “Just leave me alone,” she spits, and starts to stand up. But she’s shaky on her feet, wobbling and nearly toppling over.

  “Here you go,” I tell her, helping to steady her. Then I call up the stairs, “Monica, can you come help me…”

  I was about to say “bring Mrs. Bradford back upstairs?” but she darts for the door, suddenly spry.

  “Where are you going?” I ask her.

  But she heads out the door, mumbling something about not being a prisoner in her son’s house anymore.

  “Oh, my God,” I groan, as I join Monica at the top of the staircase.


  “Are you okay?” she asks. “I was just coming down to help.”

  “I’m fine,” I tell her. “But I have no idea what’s gotten into her. Do you think I should run after her? Call the police? Call Jensen?”

  Monica shakes her head. “This is really the last thing you should be worrying about right now.”

  “But the doctor says…”

  “I know that she’s senile,” Monica interrupts. “But she’s always been a selfish drama queen; that’s nothing new.”

  I can’t help but smile at that. I take my phone out of my pocket and try to call Jensen, but there’s no answer.

  “Plus, he’s also said you should put her in a home,” Monica says gently. “Maybe it’s time…”

  “I know,” I practically whisper.

  I don’t want to think about the effect of bringing a baby into such a chaotic environment. But part of me feels that Jensen has been distant because he senses I’ve been thinking that we should put his mom in a home, and he doesn’t want to. The last thing I need right now is marital strife. I feel stuck between a rock and a hard place.

  I leave a message for Jensen, letting him know that his mom ran out of the house on her own and that if I don’t hear back from him shortly, I’ll call the police. I figure they’ll know what to do about her better than I do.

  “That’s the spirit,” Monica says. “I’m proud of you. Let the police deal with the senile, mean lady running around in the streets. That’s not your job.”

  I can’t help but laugh, as she adds, “Just kidding. But seriously. That’s the most you can do. You’ve already done so much.”

  “Jensen must be riding his bike home,” I tell her, and I also can’t help but tell myself that, by way of reassurance. The only time he doesn’t answer is if he’s on his bike. Unless…

  He’s not that upset that he wouldn’t answer your phone call, I tell myself.

  My stomach tightens. I take a sharp breath in, as what definitely feels like a contraction, passes through me.

  “I think the baby wants to see how the clothes look in his room,” I tell Monica. “He’s sending very strong signals that I should pay attention to him. Or maybe he’s hinting that I should hurry up and finish getting ready for his impending arrival.”

  “Yes, let me show you,” she says, taking my hand and leading me into the nursery. “This is all you should be worried about right now.”

  The baby blue paint and teddy bear stickers on the wall immediately brighten my mood. I rub my belly, excited for the baby to get here.

  “Now, I haven’t hung everything up of course, since we couldn’t carry it all at once. But I put everything in here in order by size and then season and then color.”

  “Look at you, Miss Organized,” I beam, running my hands along the clothes hanging up in the closet. I have no idea how she did this so quickly. “I knew I wouldn’t regret inviting you over, even if you do bug me to talk about my problems.”

  She laughs, and we hug.

  “I can handle hanging the rest of the stuff up,” I tell her, still smiling at the system she’s put into place so that I can easily follow it.

  “Are you sure?” She asks. “Won’t you need help carrying things?”

  “I’m sure,” I tell her. “I want to do some of it on my own so he doesn’t think his mom is completely useless when he gets here. Plus, Jensen should be home soon.”

  Monica and I laugh as we head back downstairs. The kids are engaged in a lively game of duck duck goose.

  “Time to go,” Monica tells James, sounding so motherly that it’s cute. “Tell your aunt goodbye. You too, Becky and Mason.”

  All three kids run over and hug my legs, causing my heart to melt.

  “Bye bye, Aunt Riley!” James says. He can’t say his “R”’s yet, so it sounds more like “Wiley.”

  “Bye bye, little love,” I say, bending down to kiss him on his cheek. Then I kiss Mason and Becky.

  “Pick up your toys before you leave,” Monica instructs.

  They do so, placing them back in the bin I keep for when they come over— and for our own baby when he gets old enough to play with them. He kicks me, and I rub my hand over the place where I can feel his arm and his little butt. He’s particularly active right now; he must sense some trouble.

  After Monica and the kids leave, I shut the door behind them and look around at the clothes that remain to be put away. There are still some items in a box in a closet, so I begin to unpack them, since it will keep my mind occupied until Jensen gets here. The baby is still kicking around like crazy and I feel an occasional sharpening and tightening of my stomach.

  I run my hand up and down, back and forth, to reassure him that everything’s all right. At least, I think it is.

  Chapter 5 – Jensen

  I cut my bike’s engine and hurry into the house, feeling bad that I’m getting home later than usual. My phone vibrates to alert me of a pending text message, undoubtedly sent by Riley when I was on my bike. I’m sure she’s just asking when I’ll be home, and now that I’m here, I’d rather talk to her in person than waste time answering the text.

  As soon as I open the front door, I see my lovely wife bent over a box of baby clothes, rustling through them and sorting them out. This domestic gesture makes me feel surprisingly manly… and turned on.

  I stare at her curvy ass while my cock stands straight up to attention. I just want to pick her up and carry her upstairs so we can fuck in our bedroom, but as she turns around to greet me, I remember there’s a little something that could get in the way of that goal… our baby. Her stomach is huge and I can’t believe there’s still any room for him to stay in here this long.

  “Hi honey!” she says, dropping the clothes and coming over to greet me.

  I’m glad she isn’t mad at me. Her voice sounds a little hesitant, as if she thinks I might be mad at her. But I don’t have time to try to figure out that mystery because, the next thing I know, she’s kissing me.

  “Mmmmm,” I say, my tongue eagerly meeting hers.

  She smells like a mixture of clean and clear detergent— the kind she insists we use to wash all baby clothes— and her shampoo. I’ve come to love the smell of that, but it’s even nicer to have it mixed in with the scent of our baby’s clothes.

  “I missed you,” she says, as I reach around and grab her ass.

  She laughs and looks down at my cock, which can’t hide the fact that it missed her too.

  “Can I… umm….?”

  I want to ask her if I can fuck her in this condition but I don’t want to be insensitive. It’s been awhile since we’ve had sex. I would say that part of the reason is I’ve been afraid to hurt her. But there’s definitely been some emotional distance between us that I feel determined to repair now that I just had the chat with Larson.

  She nods, understanding the question, and pulls my shirt over my head. Then she traces her fingers down my chest.

  “Oh, Jensen,” she says. “I thought you were mad at me.”

  “I thought you were mad at me too,” I tell her. “I think maybe we should talk.”

  “Me too,” she says, but I start taking off her shirt.

  “After we do other things, of course,” I say.

  She laughs and I lead her over to the couch. I figure it’s better than trying to carry her upstairs like I want to do. But then I remember something.

  “Oh, shit, my mom,” I say, worried that she’ll come down and see us in this state. It’s hardly like I’m a kid in high school, but, it would still be awkward.

  “Yeah, did you get my text?” she says, looking up into my eyes.

  “Your… text?” I ask. “No. Sorry. I stayed a bit later than usual with Larson so I was on my way home and by the time I saw it, I just figured you were asking when I’d be home, and I already was.”

  “It’s okay,” she says. “Monica was here anyway. She just left. She was helping me organize the baby’s things.”

  “Oh, that’s nice of her,�
�� I tell her, nuzzling her neck.

  “But Jensen,” she says, slightly pushing me away, so that I’ll pay attention to her words instead of her amazing breasts. “Your mom isn’t here. She left.”

  “She left?” I ask, taking her ample breasts into my hands. They’re even bigger and fuller now that she’s pregnant, and I love them even more than I did before, although I hadn’t known that was possible. “Where did she go?”

  “I don’t know,” Riley says, sounding alarmed. “She was sitting on the stairs in a daze and then when I tried to ask her if she was okay, she ran out of the house.”

  “Geez,” I mutter, shaking my head.

  I’m really getting tired of my mom’s antics. I know the doctor says she’s senile but she’s also been like this my entire life. Always looking for attention, even when my wife is nine months pregnant and the spotlight should be on her. It’s really about time I do something about this.

  “I’m worried about her,” Riley says. “It was… strange.”

  “Well, I’m sure she’s just gone over to Harlow and Whitney’s,” I tell her.

  Mom has been spending a lot of time over there lately. I think it’s become her new favorite place since there is nothing to distract anyone from her favorite object of affection: herself. They don’t have a kid and Whitney’s not pregnant, so, Mom thinks she can rule the roost over there.

  “Are you sure?” Riley asks, putting her hand back on my chest. The motion makes my cock perk back up. To be quite honest, my mom is the last thing on my mind right now. The thought of delving deep into Riley’s perfect pussy is using all my brain cells.

  “I think so,” I tell her. “But we’ll call him as soon as we fit in a quickie, while she’s still out.”

  I’m hoping against hope she says yes, because I really need to be close to her right now, physically, as well as, emotionally. Luckily, she nods and I feel like doing a fucking happy dance.