by Bonni Sansom
After dropping the bags, she went straight to the fridge and grabbed a handful of fake chocolate-chip muffins. Melanie had; amazingly, enough found ways of making the crappy chocolate taste pretty good. She sank her teeth into a muffin, closed her eyes and moaned.
She chewed slowly, letting the cake and chocolate melt on her tongue, savoring it. She had waited all day for a sweet treat, and damn if she wouldn't enjoy the hell out of it.
After three muffins in twenty minutes, she headed to her room. Next on her agenda, was a nice long bubble bath, then maybe read a book and take a nap.
She undressed and viewed her swollen profile in the floor length mirror. At six months pregnant, her belly was getting so large. She would pop out any day now, having her belly button sticking out. She rubbed her belly, feeling its tautness. She could hardly wait for him to get here. He was the only evidence left of their relationship, her little Kyle.
She sighed and headed for the bathroom. She pinned her hair up and ran the bathwater, pouring in copious amounts of floral bubble bath.
She slid into the warmth of the water and propped her head on the cushion. "Mmm, Ohmigod, this feels so good."
The water lapped delectably at her skin, sparking a fire inside of her. It had been too long since she had been touched. She pictured Kyle's face and reached down to fondle herself. She didn't know if she appreciated or hated the fact that being horny was a side effect of being pregnant. She wouldn't need her vibrator this time.
Her body was more than ready to explode with ecstasy. Her fingers lightly rubbed her slit up and down, grazing her clit with each upward stroke. Her light strokes tickled her bare pussy, adding to the intense sensation.
She wasn't in any hurry to come. She didn't want this experience to be over too soon. She had a clear picture of Kyle in her mind, a memory of his face, his touch. She could almost hear his voice, telling her how beautiful she was. Telling her he loved her.
"I love you, Kyle, I love you." She chanted over and over, as her fingers danced over her clit.
The slight splashing of the water echoed in the room, along with her rapid breaths. The clean floral scent added to the sensual ambience. The only things missing were candles and Kyle. Her beloved, the one man she knew in her heart was meant for her. She fondled her breast with her other hand, kneading and releasing, plucking her taut nipple between her fingers.
"Mmm, so close," She whispered.
As she rolled her hips, making the water move in tiny waves back and forth, she could almost feel the touch of Kyle's hands. She could almost hear his voice, bringing her ever so close to an orgasmic explosion.
"Kyle," she murmured. Her whole body twitched with each stroke of her engorged little nubbin. God, she wanted him, needed him, but she knew she had lost him forever. She shook that thought off and continued her sensual assault on her body. She needed this release as bad as her next breath.
She slid two fingers inside herself, pumping them as Kyle would have done, brought them back out and rubbed her clit again. She repeated this process several times, making herself fly. Higher and higher she went, until her body was wound up like a spring. Every nerve ending was on fire from her toes to her nose. One, two, three more strokes across her clit and her back arched with her climax. "Kyle!" she screamed.
She could swear she left her body. The ripples of her orgasm shook her entire frame. Her knees buckled and snapped together, squeezing her thighs together. It seemed to be long moments before she was able to gather a thought and catch her breath.
Her body still shook from her release moments after it was over. Damn, she needed that.
"Thank you, Mr. Orgasm." She laughed, remembering his nickname. Somehow, today she didn't feel like crying over him, but rather cherishing every moment they had together.
He had given her the ultimate gift. She rubbed her belly as she looked at it lovingly. He had given her their son. That was certainly worth celebrating.
She had yet to decide whether or not to tell him about the baby, but had plenty of time before the birth to make a decision. If it wouldn't have been a woman who answered his phone, he would already know. That thought didn't sit easy with her at all. He had already replaced her with another woman. As a matter of fact, it angered her.
"No, I'm not going to be angry," she promised herself. Why waste time dwelling on things she couldn't change? She snatched a washcloth off the side of the tub, scrubbed her body and pulled the plug. She was determined to enjoy the afterglow of her orgasm and not let negative thoughts ruin it. She and Kyle shared something special that couldn't be duplicated. She looked down at her belly and smiled. No, definitely can't be duplicated.
Laine grabbed a big fluffy white towel and wrapped herself up tight. The cool air in the house chilled her skin, making her shiver. She headed for her closet to change into her big flannel gown. It was an old ratty plaid gown she'd had for years. There were small holes in the side pocket and the hem was frayed, but it was the most comfortable gown she owned. It was by no means sexy, but she didn't care. She was alone and nobody would be seeing her for a while. It was time to settle in with a good book and fall asleep reading it.
She looked through the stack of books Melanie had bought, settling for Natural Birth, the Definitive Guide.
The more she thought about natural birth, the more nervous she got. She was sure the baby would be huge just like his father, and wasn't sure she could stand to be stretched that much and not have pain medication. She skimmed through the book, coming across moment by moment pictures of a natural birth. Her eyes went wide. Omi-freaking-god! No damn way am I doing that.
She stared at the pictures, horrified. The woman's vagina looked like it was being stretched a foot wide. The little dark haired baby's head was huge. She noticed in the after picture, the baby seemed to have a cone head and was covered in white goo. That's just nasty.
She was definitely rethinking this whole natural birth stuff. Maybe she should go with an epidural after all. Of course, Melanie had been harping on the natural method for a while, saying "It's best for the baby." Laine figured it was her body, her choice. When it was Melanie's turn, she could do whatever the hell she wanted.
She shuddered and closed the book. She was sure she would now have vaginal nightmares. Of course, the doctor warned if the baby was too large, she would have to have a caesarian section. Either way, she was going to wish she were somewhere else. Even the dentist's chair would be more pleasant than childbirth.
She tossed the book onto her nightstand and hugged up to her body pillow. It was getting hard to keep her eyes open. She couldn't fathom doing this more than once. It was so draining, too draining in fact. She had to cut her hours in half at the boutique, having Julie take over her duties as keeper of the bride.
She thought about after Kyle was born and what to do with him, coming up with no alternatives she liked. She didn't want her son to be too far away from her, but she had to work. There were other women who worked for her full time that had trouble with daycare, so she figured she might as well add an addition onto the boutique for in-house daycare.
There were so many things to do, with so little time to do them. She would call the contractor tomorrow, have him draw up some plans and get started immediately. She would have an ad made for daycare workers and Julie would be in charge of interviewing and thoroughly researching their background. God, it made her tired just thinking about it.
One careless, wonderful night had completely turned her world upside down and she couldn't be happier. Her little boy would be the focal point of her life. He would be the only man in her life, the only one she could give her whole heart to.
She had just let her eyes drift closed when her phone rang. "Ugh, please, I just want to take a nap." She covered her head with a pillow and waited for the machine to pick it up. Finally on the sixth ring it stopped ringing. The answering machine which was mounted in the kitchen would get the call, so she decided she would check it when she woke up. It couldn't be
too urgent or they would have called her cell.
Finally, in the quiet of her room, with only the hum of the ceiling fan, she drifted to sleep.
* * * *
"Dammit, I'm going to go crazy." Kyle yelled as he slammed his cell shut. That was the eighth time he'd called today. Maybe he would take another drive to her house and wait and see when she came home.
He hesitated, not wanting to come off like a stalker. Who knew what she thought of him after he told her he didn't want her. Jeff could have given him a little bit of information, instead of giving him the runaround. He hadn't even been able to leave a message on her machine he'd been so nervous. What would he say? This is Kyle, the guy who told you to go away, but I didn't really mean it.
He sat on the edge of his couch and dropped his head in his hands. He could still feel the edges of the scar under his hair. He would carry the scars from the accident for the rest of his life.
Wave after wave of desperation crashed over him, overwhelmed him. He knew something about her was urgent, but what? Damn his memories for evading him. She was the key to the urgency, the key to everything, he was sure of that fact. What if she wouldn't see him, or take him back?
Hell, he didn't think he could stand it. He scrubbed his face with his hands and blew out a puff of air. He had to get to her, and soon. He certainly didn't think he would be able to sleep tonight without at least talking to her over the phone.
Try as he might, he couldn't see her face in his mind. He would have had a picture if Jeff hadn't erased it. That made him angry all over again. It seemed Jeff was the whole problem. He obviously hated Laine and was jealous of their relationship, so he figured he must have been ignoring Jeff and spending all of his time with her.
He stood and paced the length of his living room, trying to come up with a plan. He had to try to find his way back to Laine. Maybe he should take her some flowers, but that idea seemed like a bad one for some reason.
He stared at the picture of Grams and Pops on the far wall, and sighed. He wished they were still here. He could really use Pops' advice right now. He approached the picture and ran the tip of his finger over the edge of the frame.
"Tell me what to do here, Pops. I could really use your help here." His hand dropped to his side, he felt tired. He was too tired, almost like he'd been awake for days. He had been warned about stress and told to avoid it, not to push himself too far mentally. What a joke that was. He would do anything, including stress himself out, to remember her.
"Fuck it." He grabbed his keys off the coffee table and headed for the door.
He didn't care if he came off as a stalker anymore. He would wait until she came home and then hope like hell she would see him.
The drive was hindered severely by rush hour traffic and an accident. As he sat in traffic, he felt the adrenaline he used to feel as the fire trucks showed up to save the day. He missed the adrenaline rush and getting onto a scene and helping people. It was his life, the reason he woke up every day, until Laine. He pounded his hand on the steering wheel, anxious to get to her. He was almost there. He just needed the road to clear of traffic. Finally, the road cleared and he was on his way. Just a few more minutes and the gate would be in sight.
His heart was hammering out of his chest. He felt the same rush as he pulled up to her open gate. She was finally home. Butterflies joined the adrenaline, threatening to make him toss his lunch. He couldn't remember being this nervous, but then again, he couldn't remember a lot of things.
Slowly, he pulled in. Anticipation flooded his senses, making him drunk with it.
"Sonofabitch, this house is huge." He stared in awe as he pulled up to the garage. It felt familiar, like he'd done it a thousand times. It was a weird sensation, but he almost felt like he was home. Like Laine was his home.
He took a deep, steadying breath and opened his door. This was it, the time to find out if she still had feelings for him. Damn, he hoped she did. If she didn't, he couldn't imagine how bad that would hurt. His feelings were so strong. He knew she must be the one, the one to own his heart.
He raised his hand to the doorbell, but hesitated, his nerves were giving him hell. He took another deep breath, let it out in a long whoosh, and pushed the bell.
He stood shifting from foot to foot, trying to find a pose that would look casual as well as sexy. He waited long moments and nothing. He shifted positions and rang the bell a second time. The house was so large, he figured she might not have heard it the first time. Still nothing.
Maybe she wasn't home after all. He glanced up and caught the shimmer of a lens. There was a small camera staring down at him.
"Dammit." Great, she doesn't want to see me.
He paced the little stoop, trying to figure out how to get her to the door. She had to have heard the doorbell. Determined, he rang the bell again, holding it down for long seconds. One way or another he would at least be heard. She had to know he didn't mean what he said in the hospital.
He raised his fist to pound on the door, when it suddenly opened.
She was beautiful, Angelic, looking like a goddess in a loose flannel nightgown. She just stood there staring at him. Her eyes were as wide as saucers. "Laine, honey, I ... I don't know what to say." He was the only one saying anything.
"May I come in?" He was treading water here, starting to feel a lot like a drowning man. He took a tentative step forward, getting no reaction, so he took another and another, until he was standing in front of her. He smelled her clean honeysuckle scent and remembered smelling it before. Yes, things were starting to come back to him. He remembered her trying to get on the barstool and flashing the entire bar. He remembered her spitting the cherry in his face. He would have gladly gone after the ice cube. He remembered her high cheekbones, her milky white complexion with rosy cheeks and blade straight nose. And those grass green eyes. How could he have forgotten her?
He also remembered the first time they met. Her in an accident, hurt, vulnerable and breakable. That thought didn't sit well with him. He felt queasy when he pictured her with her head lulled to the side, unconscious.
"Uh, yeah ... I guess." She backed up, letting him in. He noticed the sleep lines on her face from the pillow. He had obviously awakened her. He let out a pent up breath. It wasn't that she didn't want to see him. It was the fact that she had been asleep. So he still had a chance.
It took every tidbit of strength he had not to go to her and hold her. He stood with her in the foyer, unsure what to do next, but decided to go ahead and lay it all on the line.
"Laine, I want you to know ... "
She held up her hand stopping him. "I don't know what you're going to say, but I think it's a bit late to have this conversation. You said all you needed to say ... " She put her hand over her mouth and ran down the hall.
He instinctively followed her. He caught up with her just in time to see her toss her cookies. That image he could have done without. "Are you sick?" He stood close to her, ready to help her if she needed it.
She flushed the toilet, went to the sink and rinsed her mouth out. She turned to face him. "Yes, something like that." She grabbed the hand towel from the holder and dabbed her mouth dry. "I'm not feeling well. Maybe you should leave."
"I'm not leaving until we talk. I have things to say that you need to hear." He inched even closer to her. He wanted to hold her so bad his hands were shaking.
"What could you possibly want to say to me? You have a girlfriend, you show up here unannounced, wake me up and you want to tell me what? That you're sorry? That you didn't mean it when you told me you didn't want me?" She threw her arms up in the air and huffed out a breath. "I don't really want to hear anything you have to say." She sidestepped him and headed back to the foyer. She opened the front door and propped her hand on her hip.
"I told you I'm not leaving until we talk. And no, I don't have a girlfriend. Where in the hell would you get that idea?"
She rolled her eyes. "Um, maybe from the woman who answered your
phone?" She threw her hand up and pointed out the door. "Please, just leave me alone. I've got enough to deal with already."
He wanted to snatch her up and kiss her silly, but thought better of it after watching her vomit. He still had to do something to make her understand he wanted her.
"Well? Are you going to leave?"
"No. I'm not leaving until you hear me out."
She crossed her arms over her chest and turned away from him. He hated seeing her like this. He really hated that she had turned her back to him. Fine, I'll just lay it out there and let the chips fall where they may.
"Laine, the woman that answered my phone was my physical therapist. I was in the middle of exercises, so she answered. I thought it would be Jeff calling again. I don't have a girlfriend. Well, other than you, if you'll have me." He pinched the bridge of his nose feeling the beginnings of yet another headache. She still hadn't turned to face him yet, so he continued. "I only want you, Laine."
She didn't turn to face him, but said, "You say that now, but you've hurt me before. I just don't think I can trust you."
"I didn't know what I was saying in the hospital. I was in a fucking comatose state. I'm sure I said a lot of things I didn't mean."
"You were pretty clear when you told me that you didn't want me. You knew who I was, I said I was sorry for causing the accident, and then you told me to get out."
He growled his frustration. "How many times do I have to tell you, I didn't mean it? I have memory problems, but I know enough to tell you I love you."
She swung around, locking eyes with him. "You what?"
"He held his arms out to her. "I said I. Love. You."
She closed the door and moved to a room with a huge plush sectional. He remembered this room. He'd made love to her in or near this room. Little things, like the room and certain images were coming back, not as a picture, but as little snippets of memories.