George Hartmann Box Set

by Kelly Utt

  "Good," Roddy says.

  I lean back in my chair and look at the blank piece of paper in front of me. I still haven't made a single note. Yet, something about the possibility of doing so helped my mental state tremendously.

  I'm beginning to get very tired now. Being up all night is catching up to me. Well, most of the night anyway. When you combine that with passing out twice yesterday and when you consider all the incredible levels of stress I've been under, I guess being tired makes a lot of sense. I'd sure like to grab a quick nap.

  "Guys," I say. "I'm exhausted. I think I need a power nap. Can you keep watch and wake me up if there's any news?"

  "Go ahead, George," my father-in-law says.

  He's been under just as much stress as I have. I appreciate him being willing to keep watch for me.

  "Thank you," I say. "Of course, let me know if there's any word on Ali coming out of surgery. But also, please wake me up when Dr. Adams schedules Leo's surgery."

  "We've got you, buddy,” Liam says as he reaches over and pats one of my knees two times. "I'll go upstairs and check on everyone there. Your mom and Joe could probably use a break by now. I'll see if I can hold down the fort while they step out to get some food and whatever else they need to take care of.”

  "I'll be right here beside you, George,” Roddy says. "When there's news about Alexandra, we’ll hear it together."

  “That’s perfect,” I say. “But, Liam?”

  “Yep?”

  “If Marjorie hasn’t already mentioned the pregnancy, will you please keep that to yourself?”

  “Of course, I will,” my uncle replies.

  “I’m excited about it,” I affirm. “It’s just… you know.”

  “I do. Now get some rest while you can, George. You’re going to need it.”

  I agree, then slide down in my seat as I watch Liam walk out of the waiting room and towards the elevators. I let my eyes close and fall instantly to sleep.

  3

  Wishful Thinking

  The next thing I know, I'm back at our house for what seems like the night of the party we hosted before flying here to Lake Tahoe. I'm confused and the details are fuzzy. It feels like I'm about to be swept away, so I take it this is a regular old garden-variety dream.

  I've almost forgotten what a regular dream is like. More often than not these days, I'm remembering my past life in Ancient Greece, communicating with deceased loved ones, or receiving some type of precognition, such as in the dream about my son calling out for me from somewhere in the woods. It's actually a relief to experience a simple dream. I decide to relax and let my mind take me anywhere it wants.

  I look around at my surroundings and everything seems just like it did the night of the party. All the same people are in attendance and the musicians from Ithaca College are happily playing their instruments. I'm wearing my fancy clothes Ali insisted on.

  I feel a hand on my bicep and I’d know that touch anywhere. I swivel around to see my beautiful wife standing in front of me looking healthy, well, and positively glowing with happiness. She looks ravishing in her summer party dress and I can feel my manhood swell at the sight of her.

  Everyone else seems to be occupied, so I decide to sneak away with my wife for some discreet lovemaking. Part of me remembers that we made love in the bathroom the night of the party, just before the event got started. That part of me also realizes that this is a dream and there’s no chance of actually making love to Ali anytime soon, if ever again. But another part of me, my body, aches for my wife and knows it's been days since I've felt myself inside her. I figure it can't hurt to let myself experience whatever pleasure I can, so I reach my hand under the v-line of her party dress and place one finger in the groove between her legs. She looks at me, startled, but a smile begins to form on her lips and I can feel the moisture sliding down to meet my finger.

  "Let's find somewhere private where I can devour you,” I say to my beautiful wife.

  "If you must, Dr. Hartmann,” she replies. I love the way she calls me Dr. Hartmann in the heat of the moment. She doesn’t call me that any other time.

  I remove my hand from her dress temporarily as we scan the room for a place to get away. An idea pops into my mind. It's a risky one, especially because Ali likes to keep our sex life ultra-private. But my body wants her, badly.

  I place one hand on each of my wife’s hips from behind, then I guide her gently out the back doors and onto the deck overlooking Cayuga Lake. The sun is just about to settle down behind the Hills for the evening. The sky is beautiful, with its sideways light making everything sparkle in pinks and blues.

  I'm not sure why, but I've always fantasized about making love to my wife out on our back deck while she’s bent over the balcony. There’s something about seeing her body in front of me that I always love and that makes the rear entry position my favorite. I imagine the view of the lake in the distance would make it all the more spectacular. I imagine it would also feel like a conquest of sorts to dominate my wife while in our gorgeous home overlooking our stunning waterfront property.

  I don't mean that I want to dominate her in an unwanted or controlling way. I have her permission, of course, and I dominate gently. Well, as gentle as she wants me to be anyway. Something about her allowing me to dominate her that way, coupled with being able to see her enticing body in front of me is incredibly exciting. I decide to use this dream to fulfill my fantasy.

  In real life, I doubt it would happen like this. Ali would be far too concerned about the others nearby because anyone could step outside and catch us in the act, including our little boys. But this is my dream and those rules don't apply. I guide my wife to the far back corner of the deck while still holding her hips. With the sun setting, the shadows mostly obscure this particular area.

  When we arrive at the end of the balcony, I reach one hand around for her to take. She's already arching her back and I can tell she's ready for this. She places both of her hands on the one I have outstretched and I gently guide her hands to the railing. She knows what I want. And she wants it, too.

  "Oh, Dr. Hartmann," she says. Her voice is low and raspy. It's sexy this way.

  I pull my wife's party dress up and over her backside so that it bunches up around her waist. She smiles seductively at me as I work. Next, I slowly untie the thins straps covering her shoulders and gently push the top of her dress down, allowing her ample bosom to bounce freely in the summer air. Once she's in position, I step backwards three steps so that I can get a good look at her. I want to savor this moment and to memorize her every delicate curve in my mind.

  As I get an eyeful, I bring my hands up to my chest and press hard. I can feel the blood pumping through every vessel in my body. I urgently, desperately yearn for her touch. I slowly begin to unbutton my shirt one button at a time. If I were trying to be discreet, I would leave my shirt buttoned. But this is too good. This is my fantasy. I want my bare chest exposed. I want to feel the breeze all over my skin. And I want to feel my love’s pretty party dress brush against me. I deliberately undo the buckle on my belt, then the button on my pants. I don't want to rush through any of this.

  My wife is growing hot with anticipation. She turns over one shoulder to look back at me, her big brown eyes inviting me in. Her smooth, blemish-free skin looks delicious as the shadows allow me to see just enough to drive me wild with excitement. She knows how much I enjoy looking at her, so she twists seductively, moving her buttocks and thighs around for my pleasure.

  My manhood is engorged to maximum capacity. I feel so full and tight like it might burst at any moment. I slide one hand around the back of my own neck, copying my wife’s movements. Then I slide my other hand under the zipper in my pants and push it deep down, gripping my warm, throbbing rod. I tug and pull it urgently as I look at the beautiful creature that is my wife. The stimulation sends waves of electricity throughout my body from head to toe. I stroke and I rub myself every which way. I want my excitement to rise as far as it possib
ly can before I enter that sweet, wet spot that feels like home.

  My wife looks at me again and sees me stroking myself. She doesn't mind. In fact, it seems like it only turns her on more. She raises her backside high into the air while standing on her toes, letting me know that she's ready when I am. I can see the wetness glistening between her legs. She’s so wet that it looks like her juices will drip and run down her leg.

  Enticed by the moisture, I step towards her, then get down on one knee making my lips into the shape of an “o” and placing them between her legs. I can taste her familiar texture and I can smell her sweet, familiar scent. Having my mouth on her makes me wild with lust. I raise my hands and place one on each of her buttocks, holding her firmly against my face. I make a scooping shape with my tongue, just the way she likes, and I surround her throbbing bud and circle it. She twists and groans above me.

  Suddenly, I hear a door slide gently on its track and I realize we may have company. I don't care who sees us like this. I'm not ashamed of enjoying my wife. Ali would normally be embarrassed and signal me to stop. But she does nothing of the sort. Instead, she pushes her hind end against me harder and arches her back further as she begins to audibly grunt with pleasure. Seeing her uninhibited like this, even when someone is about to catch us puts me over the edge. I don't know if I'll be able to contain myself before spewing right here and now. I’m enjoying myself immensely.

  We hear footsteps, so we turn to see who is approaching. We're still covered in the shadows, so whoever it is probably won't see the fine details. I assume they'll just see two figures and then Ali and I will have to cover ourselves and come out of the shadows. Or maybe we'll get lucky, and they won't notice us at all. I want nothing more than to keep going right now. I'm not sure I could stop if I had to.

  The light continues to dim as the sun sets in what seems like an accelerated pace, special for my dream. Whoever it is that has joined us on the balcony is walking right towards us. And I can make out a figure. It's an adult. That's good, at least. As the figure grows closer I can see that it's shorter, so it must be female. All of the guys in our friend and family group are significantly taller. I hope it's not mom or Marjorie. That would be strange and disturbing.

  Ali recognizes her first. I can see the recognition wash over her face. Instead of saying anything or stopping what we're doing, Ali takes one hand behind her head and seductively gathers her hair, then lifts it up high into the air and lets it drop, one elegant stranded at a time around her shoulders and naked breasts. She grabs her breasts as if she might be trying to cover them up. But instead, she soon loosens her grip and begins to finger her nipples. I think she’s getting turned on by being watched. The throbbing in my crotch feels like a beating drum and travels throughout my entire body as my level of arousal rises to heights I didn't know were possible. And then I recognize her, too. It's Isabella Madera.

  I recall the past life memory of the three of us sharing an incredible lovemaking session in ancient Greece. I also remember Ali and I being turned on by Isabella in real life the night little Will was born. I was turned on by her the night of the party, too. She’s very sexy and alluring. Since this is still my dream, I'm going to let whatever may happen, happen. I want this. I want to enjoy both of these ladies. At the same time.

  Isabell continues walking towards us slowly, one deliberate step at a time. When she reaches the shadows which surround us, my eyes adjust and I can see her more clearly. She stops less than an arms-length from us and stands quietly, looking at my wife's partially naked body.

  My hand is still on my manhood and I squeeze and tug hard as I look at these beautiful women and remember Ancient Greece. I consider reaching out to touch Isabel. I’d like to take one of her supple breasts into my free hand. Or one of her muscular buttocks. But I'm not ready for that yet. Even in my dream, I don't want to overstep or assume too much.

  Isabel’s wearing a khaki-color linen dress with a halter top that falls just above her knees, just like she was at the real party last weekend. She looks at me, then at Ali, and then pulls her long, dark hair back seductively and wraps it around one shoulder. The move is very similar to what Ali just did. The two of them are in sync and look like they desperately want to touch each other. Their eyes lock and they both begin to sway in the same smooth, sexy rhythm. I wonder what will happen next. I wonder if they actually will touch each other. I watch for a minute, until I feel like can’t hold my load any longer.

  Quickly now, I step forward and enter my wife in one purposeful motion. I look out at the lake as I pump. I feel like a wild animal, completely immersed in the act of copulation. I look over at Isabel. I’m delighted to watch as she begins to rub and caress her own breasts over top of her dress as she looks at us and moans. Her nipples become stiff and protrude forcibly through the thin fabric. In a glorious explosion of ecstasy, I discharge my liquid to swim deep within my wife. I can feel myself smile with complete and total pleasure is if everything is right in the world.

  Then, abruptly, things begin to shift and move in a strange way. The glorious scene on the balcony with Ali and Isabel grows dim and the setting flips completely. When light begins to come back, I'm in an entirely different dream.

  I'm in a house now. I'm not sure where it is. I don't recognize it and I don't think it's mine. I'm suddenly overcome by debilitating sadness. I don't know how I received the information, but in this dream, I've just been told that Leo is dead and that Ali wants to divorce me. It's bizarre. There's nothing leading up to this no other information. Just me, left alone with the knowledge that one of my precious little boys is dead and, even though Ali is alive, she doesn't want to be with me. Maybe it’s my guilt for having just had an orgasm that involved another woman.

  Aware that I'm dreaming, I begin to try and wake myself up. I heard somewhere that moving a part of your body in real life may wake you from a bad dream, so I focus all my energy on lifting my head. But the sadness of this dream keeps coming as I repeatedly try and lift my head with no success. A stranger shows up and tells me it's time to plan Leo's funeral. An image of my sweet boy and a tiny casket appears in front of my face. It’s awful.

  How did things turn from such a good dream to such a bad dream so quickly? Maybe this is a life lesson about taking the good with the bad or something. I don't know. I just want it to end. I only want the good parts. I admit it. Is that so bad? Don't we all just want the good parts?

  Finally, something causes me to wake up from the dream. I open my eyes and sit up straight in my chair in the waiting room at the emergency department. I'm sweaty and there's a wet sensation in my pants. Oh, no. I think I ejaculated in my sleep. I look around and no one seems to have noticed. Roddy is still sitting beside me, but he doesn't act like anything is out of the ordinary. I excuse myself and head for the bathroom to get cleaned up. I sure hope I wasn’t gyrating like a horndog in my sleep. How embarrassing. Especially in this setting.

  I walk around the corner and towards the door of the very same bathroom I occupied in the middle of the night while Duke waited outside and I talked to God. I’ve regained some of my strength now and don't need the wheelchair. I suppose I should be grateful for every bit of progress.

  Once inside, I lock the door behind me and inspect my pants more closely. I have, in fact, ejaculated in my sleep. I feel like a fourteen-year-old boy having a wet dream. What the hell is wrong with me?

  Before I can think too long or seriously about that, someone knocks hard on the outside of the bathroom door with three even booms. It’s Roddy.

  “George, get out here. It's the TV news crew from yesterday at the search site," he says. "They're here and they're looking for you. We need to get off this floor while hospital security handles them."

  "What? I say. "How did they find us?"

  "Someone must have tipped them off that Ali was found and brought here” Roddy says. "It could've been anyone. But that doesn't matter now. Let's get to the elevators and go back up to the boys’ room.�
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  I clean up the discharge in my pants as thoroughly as possible and then quickly wash my hands and open the door to make my exit. As soon as I step out into the common area, I see that Roddy wasn’t kidding. I count five individuals who appear to be with the TV news station and they're coming right towards us. Yesterday at the search site, there were only two of them. It appears the station has assigned a significant percentage of their resources to covering this story.

  "Dr. Hartmann!” a young, female reporter yells out to me from across the large, open space.

  "No comment,” Roddy growls as he steps in between me and the news team, shielding me from the cameras.

  "Excuse me, Dr. Hartmann!” the reporter calls again, refusing to be ignored. "What do you think of the arrest that's been made this morning? Do you know the suspect?”

  Roddy and I glance at each other, puzzled. We hadn't heard anything. An arrest sounds like good news though.

  My father-in-law and I do our best to pretend like we didn't pick up what was said as we make our way to the elevators. The camera crew catches up with us and I hear a loud pop as a bright light is turned on and shone in our faces.

  “The suspect, he says he knows your wife,” the reporter continues as we ignore her.

  We reach the elevator and Roddy pushes the button hard and fast, calling it to come and take us away from this misery.

  I'm tempted to talk to the reporter and to ask questions. She's baiting me and I’m acutely aware that no good will come from being reactive. But I want to know what she does. I need to call Duke to find out whether or not he is privy to the same knowledge.

  "Dr. Hartmann!” she tries one more time. "The suspect, he claims he had a previous romantic relationship with your wife. Were you aware of this relationship?"