Challenge, Annika

Act 1, Chapter 1

It had been a few months since the Rose Garden, and Peta was still thinking of Sam. She lay on the sofa, watching the snow fall, her right hand on her slowly forming bump, and thought of him, only stirring from her thoughts when the baby kicked.

The baby was active. It was tiring Peta out. She was past the four-month stage, well into the second trimester, and fast approaching the third. Her first ultrasound was tomorrow, and she was, ever so slightly, freaking out.

Not helped by the arrival of Christophe and her mother, now living with her and Hans. Explaining to "Mutti," as she was now being called by Hans and Christophe, that she was not only not sleeping in the same room as Hans but was also divorcing him shortly, had been a real trial.

There had been tears, angry words, furious arguments, and then silent acceptance. It was now the second day without a word from her mother, and Peta wondered if things would ever be the same.

Christophe was entirely the opposite: the overweight sweet maker would not shut up. She had tried headphones, pillows, leaving the room, but his voice carried, and he just would not stop talking. It was like a verbal machine gun, penetrating her tired skull repeatedly, every word emphasized, every staccato sentence without end.

Hans, on the other hand, would spend endless time checking on her, asking her if she needed anything, and between the three of them, constant disagreement arose about how to help her with anything. Peta shut her eyes, trying to block out the dark thoughts.

The three of them had agreed, however, on one thing: they had challenged Peta to finally pick the boy and girl names for the baby. The boy's name had been easy; it would be Georg, after her late father. But the girl's name was yet to emerge.

That was the challenge for her. Come up with a girl's name she liked, and Hans would agree to it. So far, they had ruled out about a hundred names, including variations of her own name. It was getting increasingly tense every time it was brought up.

Today had been the first time in weeks she had any time to herself, and now she was too tired to do anything after a night up with the baby moving around, an evening of silence from her mother, and Christophe's endless boring conversation. Hans seemingly was deaf in one ear because it didn't seem to bother him at all; Peta suspected he was desensitized to Christophe's yammering after knowing him since they were boys.

She got up and walked to the kitchen gingerly. She felt heavy. It wasn't true; Peta had gained weight, of course, but it was baby weight. She was eating carefully, not for "zwei," but the right amount.

She was, however, constantly feeling hot, to the extent that the heating was turned right down, even in what was the snowiest winter for some years. Hmm... she walked past the counter, and a flash of her and Sam on the counter together flashed across her mind.

Maybe this was arousal, actually... She looked over to the doorway of the kitchen and remembered the time she had stood, naked, holding onto the frame while Sam "thigh fucked" her from behind. She giggled as she remembered that shot of Sam's come flying across the tiles.

She walked to the bookcase and held the side while she reached for the Encyclopaedia Britannica - the hollow one that kept all her little trinkets of Sam. She pulled it out, and it fell to the floor with a thud, depositing its contents all over the floor. Peta sighed and carefully lowered herself to the floor to pick it all up.

Photos scattered like shiny little memories across the tiles, and she glanced at them one by one, organizing them back into some semblance of order. The photo of her and Sam standing at Horse Guards parade in London made her smile, as did the one of them in his dad's old Lotus.

The new year's photo, my god, she thought. Her red dress and figure were amazing. Sam's eyes were shining, he was in a full tuxedo. The Polaroids were next, and Petra went red remembering. She looked slim and sexy in all of them. She felt annoyed, looking at some of the explicit ones, that she hadn't got a better one of Sam with her.

There were a few of them fucking. Oh, what glorious fucking had happened that evening! She flinched as she realized it was her redhead phase. What on earth had she been thinking? Probably trying to get Sam away from the Russian he'd been dating. She gazed at the one of her on the bed, bent over for him. That always did it for her.

It infuriated her that none of the explicit shots were of him and her together, just bits of one or the other either kissing or attached to the other's bits...!

Peta felt flustered and frustrated. No one to do anything with, or to her, now that Hans was outed and happy with Christophe. She had increasingly found it difficult to get aroused when she wanted to and seemed to get aroused exactly when she didn't want to. Like yesterday at the counter of the bistro. Or on the sofa next to her mother.

There was something wrapped in tissue, and Peta frowned as she picked it up, turning over the weighty object in her hand. She peeled the paper back - Mein Gott! - and revealed the custom dildo Sam had presented her some years ago.

She laughed, turning it over, marveling at it. He had bought it as a joke, it was a kit to make an "exact silicon replica" of his penis. And in fairness, she conceded, turning it over in her hand, it both looked and felt like the shape of Sam's erect dick. She glanced around her. Of course, no one was home.

She paused, looking down at her belly. It would be okay, wouldn't it? She just needed a little relief... she had time before everyone came back from shopping. They were still hours away.

The dildo had a suction pad, and Peta pushed it against the counter, sticking it in an upright position. She marveled at it, running her hand around it. She took her jeggings down, with her panties, and carefully stood, positioning her buttocks in front of it. She sat back and felt the tip just below her pussy. She steadied the dildo and then slid in the tip.

Peta went red, smiling, enjoying the penetration. It had been too long since anyone had been inside her... she started to slide back and forth, wettening, along the curved shaft of the purple dildo. She rubbed her clit as she swayed, trying to keep her balance with the baby in front of her.

Eventually, she got a rhythm and moaned, pressing it inside her, lifting it nearly out, then putting it back in fully. She imagined Sam, fucking her from behind, grunting in the way he used to, and she began to burn between her loins, wishing for him to really be there.

She sped up a little, imagining him close to coming, filling her with his cum, and then--she gasped--climaxed--and looked down, seeing her spray across the kitchen tiles below her. She left the dildo in for a little while longer, enjoying the feel of it inside her.

Sliding herself off, she found it was not so easy to remove from the counter. It wouldn't budge! Peta looked around desperately, grabbing a tea cloth, and pulling it, finally, from the counter side.

She carefully moved around the kitchen, first cleaning her dildo and replacing it back in the box, wrapping it in new tissue paper, then the floor, which took a while both to get onto the floor and then back up again, and finally returned to the box of knickknacks to organize.

The letters were next to order, and she started putting them into the order. University, mid-20s, 30s. Then... Peta stared down. A list of baby names. It was in Sam's handwriting; she recognized his spidery scrawl. She had neatly written out translations across the page.

There were a few ringed ones. For the boys, Adam, Stanley, Nigel (crossed out by her, very vigorously), Andrew, and Josef (crossed out by Sam, she thought). The girls' names were intriguing. Irena, like her mother, Patricia, his mother, Monica, Claudia, Sofia, and the only name ringed and underlined: the one they both seemed to have agreed on... Annika.

The last letter was the one he'd left for her on the kitchen counter, asking her to meet him in the rose garden. Peta welled up. She could have told him everything. She was pregnant, but divorcing Hans, and left it up to him. Maybe he'd have still asked her?

It hurt Peta so much that it wasn't Sam's baby. She'd reluctantly given up on it, as the dates seemed to line up, in her head, with Hans and her trying and not her last trysts with Sam, which had been without any protection whatsoever either. It just seemed logical; she'd been trying with Hans, and it had happened.

The end.

She put the fake book back together and gathered all of the knickknacks, carefully replacing it back on the shelf. Well, that had distracted her for a bit. Back to the sofa then.

She lay back down and started up at the ceiling. Now she needed to pee. This wasn't fair. You had better be worth it, she said to the baby sternly, getting up and walking down the corridor to the bathroom.

Twenty minutes later, she was back on the sofa. It was midday. Time for lunch... No one here to help her. Peta groaned and got up again. She made it back to the kitchen and decided to stay there for lunch and a bit of the afternoon. Her ankles ached.

She sighed as she opened the fridge and grabbed the plate of lemon cake. Fuck it. Cake for lunch. Just this once, she told herself and the baby. She sat at the bar, tired, and realized she had no fork. Fuck it. She picked up a slice and just ate it. WITH HER HANDS. Secretly she was delighted, no prissy overbearing lady here today!

She turned the television on and flicked through the channels. The old JVC was hung from the ceiling, angled downwards, as it always had been for her late father. He'd enjoyed sports. She couldn't remember which. She knew motorbike racing was a definite, but the channel setup, hardly changed from all those years ago, seemed to show a bias for football too.

She flicked the channel and glimpsed a shot of a British football match, and some commentators including some fans. She froze and flicked back. Her jaw dropped.

Sam stood, in a dark overcoat and wearing a suit, speaking to one of the commentators on the pitch. Something about new owners, bringing in fresh ideas, saving the club, yada yada yada yada. Peta got up and moved closer, marveling at him. She knew he'd been involved in his local club a lot, but here he was actually speaking on their behalf. He was so professional. Oh god, why had she let him go?

She realized with a start that there was a short blonde woman standing next to him. Curly blonde hair, brown eyes. She was wearing what she recognized instantly as a dark blue Gucci overcoat. She seemed to be very close to Sam.

Her blood ran cold. New girlfriend? Maybe? Then the screen changed to adverts, and back to the game, and Peta waited to see if he'd be back on. He wasn't, and so she had to settle for grabbing her phone off the counter and trying to stalk him. Which was nearly impossible; Sam had seemingly blocked her from everything. Peta put the phone back down, frustrated.

She looked down at her belly and sighed. "Oh little one, she said, putting her hands on her bump, I really made this so difficult for us. Hans will be a great father to you, and we have Christophe and Mutti, too, I know, but Sam would have loved you so much. So very, very much."

She teared up and put her arm across her eyes. "Don't cry, don't cry, don't cry,"she repeated, before bursting into tears. "I don't cry!" She shouted at the ceiling, angrily. "I never cry." It took another ten or so minutes before she felt calmer, and decided it would be best to go back to the sofa.

Finally back on the sofa, Peta tried to fall asleep. The baby had other ideas and started to move again. "Nein," Peta said, exasperated. "Nein Nein Nein Nein... NEIN!" The baby wasn't listening. She sighed. "You can't help it," she said, fondly. "Oh... what will you be? A boy? Or a girl? We find out tomorrow," she said, rubbing her belly. The baby seemed to react and stopped moving.

"We're home," came a call from the front door.

"Ja, we have brought snacks for you, Petal!"

Peta winced. She hated when Christophe called her that. "Ja, great," she called back. "Mutti, are you there...?"

There was a pause. Then, "Ja, mein tochter." Relief filled Peta's heart.

"Mutter...", her mother came over, still covered in snow, and hugged her, careful not to squash the bump.

"She got you some hot chocolate and marshmallows," Hans called to her.

"Danke," Peta said. "Hans..." she said, taking his hand. "What do you think of the name Annika, if it's a girl?"

"Annika," he said slowly. "Hmmmm. Ja, das ist gut. I like it," he said, squeezing her hand. "Annika. Annika Fernsands. It sounds lovely."

"Oh mein gott," Peta said, putting her hand to her face. Tears were forming.

"Have we picked the name?" he asked.

Peta nodded, crying. Hans beamed and hugged her. Peta sniffed, trying to stem the tears.

"Annika," she said, looking down at her belly. "I think you are now Annika. Challenge complete?" she said, looking to Hans.

He nodded and smiled. "Ja."

Peta laid back, relieved. "Annika..." she said, thinking of Sam.