Eugenie's Story

A couple times I took the original paper to bed with me and fingered myself with one hand while I held the paper in my other hand and looked at the numbers. I'd close my eyes and called up a mental picture of his face; he was very handsome, definitely way out of my league. After a few nights it wore off, and I forgot him.

I didn't forget for long. Around three weeks after the reception my hands and feet and around my eyes started to feel puffy. I was retaining fluid; ok, my period was just a tad overdue, it was most likely just that. I'd seen the doctor, and he'd cleared me of VD so my reception partner was probably all right too, not that I cared.

Six weeks after the reception I started feeling queasy in the mornings. My period still hadn't come yet, and for sure I was gaining weight. My tits felt tender and sore, and my bras didn't fit right. I felt tired all the time. Damn, me missing a period was like the sun forgetting to come up in the morning; it was time to see what was up. I figured it was some other kind of infection. I couldn't be pregnant, not me, I'd always been careful, always except that one time. Maybe I was fertile when I was at the reception, maybe I wasn't. What the fuck? I went back to the doctor.

Dear Diary I'll save that one and what came after for next time.

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Entry fifteen.

Hi Diary! I'm back! Now where was I? Oh I'd gone to see the doctor.

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"The doctor smiled at me, "Congratulations Ms. Bonheur you're having a baby."

I sat there in disbelief. Me pregnant? Me? I knew how it happened, but who could have done it? I asked him, "Tell me doctor how far along..."

He scratched his neatly trimmed chin whiskers, and that made me think of Woody Hayes the old Ohio State football coach. He'd told his players once he could predict how many points his team would win by based on how many goatees he counted on the opposing team. He called goatees 'high speed blow jobs'. I looked at the doctor and that's all I could think of. Anyway he said, "Six maybe seven weeks."

I thanked him, made my co-pay, went home and had a really good cry. Damn, what was I going to do? Abortion, I'd get rid of the thing. That's right I'd get a dusting and cleaning. First thing the next morning before work I looked it up on the Internet. I saw the procedure. Then I went asshole.

Some kind of 'right to life' advertisement kept popping up. What the hell; I checked it out. That was a big mistake!

Holy Jesus fucking Christ I never knew how real a fucking eight week old fetus looked. Shit they almost looked like a real person. God damn; they were real people! I felt nauseous. I got sick and ran to the bathroom. I wretched up the cream cheese and bagel I'd had for breakfast. I sat there on that cold tiled floor and cried. I cried my God damn eyes out right out of my fucking head. What was I going to do? I didn't want any God damned baby! I didn't want to kill anybody either.

I sat there on the floor, and I mean I had a 'come to Jesus' moment. I used to laugh at people like Billy Graham; all that Gospel religious hoopla. I knew they were all phonies. They just wanted the money. What did I want? I didn't know. I just didn't know. I started to think back.

I didn't think about church, or mass, and any of that. I thought about my music. That sounds stupid now I know. Come on. I was a flat chested little nobody in high school, but like any girl I listened to music. I danced; sure I danced alone in my bedroom, but I danced and I dreamed.

Every little girl has her dreams; I dreamt about Mr. Right, Mr. Prince Charming, the hero who rides in out of the sunset. I used to listen to Cyndi Lauper and dreamed about someday being a 'material girl'. There was Bonnie Tyler and 'Total Eclipse of the Heart'. But most of all there was Madonna, yes Madonna. I can't remember how many time I'd come home after snagging a piece of 'man ass' singing "Feel like a virgin-Fucked for the very first time!" Now another Madonna song crept in my head. Oh shit, Oh no! "Papa don't preach. Papa don't...I'm having my..." Oh God oh Jesus no! Not me!

I made up my mind. I was keeping this thing inside me. Then I realized I had to stop thinking about it as this thing. I had a little person in me; a tiny perfect little person. I was making a human being. He or she I swore would grow up and be somebody; he or she would be better than me anyway. I thought, 'This could be my big chance!' I could do something great. But could I do it? Why was I so scared? Why was I so fucking scared?

I knew full and well having a baby and raising a baby were two different things. I thought about my mom. Boy this would be her chance; she could really rub my nose in it. If I was keeping this baby, and I was, I truly was, then I'd need help. I'd need help at the start anyway. I checked back; who could be the father, who could possibly be the father. I did my calculations; it had to be the guy at the reception. Well I remembered he'd been a good hunk of dick, the best I'd had. I remembered he was handsome. I remembered I'd liked him too. Well I liked him as much as I'd ever liked any man. That was something. Next I had to call him.

I waited several days before I called. I was scared. I figured he'd hear my story and laugh at me. But I had to chance it. I sent an email, and then I called. He agreed to see me. We met at a restaurant.

When I walked in the restaurant he was already there. I'd never felt so insecure, so uncertain. I did my best though. I walked over. He was even more handsome than I remembered. I was in the deep end of the pool and I knew it. This man should be married; he had that look, that look that said, 'I'm a man. I'm in control. I take care of things. People trust me. I'm a leader. I'm steadfast. I'm reliable. In short he was everything I knew I'd never get a chance at. Here I was walking toward this man who I knew was absolutely totally better than me.

I'd been careful about my dress this time. I was a whore and a pig, but I didn't want him to think so, not right away at least.

I'll keep this short. Two times I got up to leave, and two times he called me back. I was totally stunned he not only agreed to give me his name; he said he'd let me move in with him. All I had to do was ante up a little money.

I was pretty surprised. I'd fucked a lot of men. I was accustomed to the 'bums rush'. This guy, Chase, he didn't blow me off. He said he'd help me. We agreed to meet and do the blood work and some other shit. I figured that would tell the tale. I'd go to the clinic but he wouldn't show. Why would he? Why should he? I'd given him a hundred reasons why he shouldn't stick his neck out for me. Hell I'd fucked him before I hardly knew him. We done it unprotected. I told him I had black boyfriends. That could have easily been a killer. There's the old saying 'once a girl goes black she never goes back'. I saw it another way too. I'd dated some nice white men, but usually when I told them I'd been with a black guy they'd disappear. Yeah, 'once a girl does a black guy she's not welcomed back' like she's been soiled or something. Chase didn't even bat an eye when I told him about my black boyfriends. And guess what Diary; yeah he showed up at the clinic.

We went to the clinic; we did the courthouse for the other paperwork. He paid for all of it. Then he took me to lunch. I swear. I mean it; he never tried to look down my dress or sneak a peek up my hem. I saw him checking out my hair and he looked at my hands and stuff, but honestly he was a real gentleman. I wondered how long it would take him to wise up.

We met each other's parents. My dad was his usual circumspect self. My mom did her 'I don't want to be here' routine. His parents were pretty nice. They knew I was knocked up, but they acted like their son was doing what they expected him to do. I could tell they lived by a different set of rules. They had a nice house. I don't mean it was fancy or elaborate; it just had a homey look, something I never felt my parent's house had.

Well I moved in his apartment; that was another eye opener. Chase had prepared a room for me. He'd set up the bathroom just so. I got half the medicine cabinet, but he said I could use anything he had in his half. I got the lower towel rack. I'm short and that mattered.

He treated me with respect. He showed me the kitchen and where all the pots and pans were. I did my damnedest to be nonchalant about everything, but inside I was terrified. He was being so kind. I kept wondering when he'd realize what a pig he'd let in his apartment.

Our first couple months were strained. He agreed to go to Lamaze classes with me. He even read up on things ahead of time. He did nice things I never expected. In the bathroom he folded my towels when I left them a mess. He cleaned the shower stall. He even helped me when I felt sick. Those were all niceties I never expected, but he did some other things that really threw me off.

A couple things he did really upset me. I used a couple different perfumes. He must have noticed he went out and bought a new brand. He said I ought to try this new brand because he said he'd checked a lot of different smells and thought this would suit me best. Jesus what he bought cost a hundred dollar a bottle; it was top of the line stuff. Why the fuck would he buy me perfume? We didn't go out or do anything together. Of course, the perfume he picked was terrific. I used it from then on.

There was the time I came out of the bathroom. I was wearing my thick heavy terry cloth robe; it wrapped all around my top and hung way down below my knees. I mean I was about as sexy as a sack of potatoes. My hair was wrapped in a towel and it was still wet. He told to me come over; he wanted to help me with my hair. Jesus he dried my hair, went and got a comb and brush and brushed it out for me. He started talking about how thick my hair was, but I should let it grow a little longer. He said it looked naturally curly to him, and it would look real pretty if it were longer. He said it could like curl and waft around my face and be pretty. I admit I blushed. I also started to let my hair grow out.

One day I came home from work and there was a gift wrapped box on the kitchen table. It had my name on it. It was more shoe box than gift box. I opened it and there was this manicure kit and some nail polish. The nail polish was clear. I always used colored nail polish, mostly red. Later I asked him what he was doing; he only told me he thought I had delicate hands and he saw the manicure set at the store and thought of me. He added he thought the clear polish might be a change of pace sometimes.

I didn't say anything or argue with him, but it got me to thinking. Men had bought me things before. They'd bought me things lots of times. I had a couple bra and panty sets, a pair of handcuffs I never used, a butt plug I tried once and didn't like, and I had a negligee or two. Chase was buying me nice things. Something else too; the perfume and the manicure kit weren't things he would have just happened to come by, he had to have gone out of his way to find those things. By the way I switched to the clear polish.

Chase was thinking about me. I figured sure at first; he was thinking about what was between my legs, but if he was then why wasn't he hitting on me? Ok, I admit it; he was getting inside my head. I started thinking about him; I started thinking about him in ways I knew would only get me in trouble. This was all very worrisome; if I kept thinking about him I knew I'd end up getting hurt.

We sort of alternated fixing dinner. I was lazy and usually went for the pizza or microwaved stuff, but once I thought I'd do something a little better. Now see I'm short; he's tall. A lot of the dishes and stuff were stored in the high part of the kitchen cabinets, and I just couldn't reach them. I pulled out a chair to stand on. Guess what Chase did; he came round behind me and held me by my waist so I wouldn't fall. His hands were so warm and reassuring. I felt silly, silly and uncomfortable. I squirmed around so that I was facing him. He had his hands up around my chest under my armpits; he was more holding me then steadying me.

I looked at him and he looked at me. Chase has blue eyes, but right then all I saw was how big his pupils were. His face was white. I knew he probably had a hard on. He gently helped me down and walked away. I knew then. I knew it then for sure; he liked me, the dumb son-of-a-bitch really liked me!

I felt this surge of confidence, but it lasted for maybe two seconds; it was replaced by these scary feelings of foreboding. I realized I liked him too.

There were a couple times when we watched TV together. Once there was this maudlin movie about love and shit. Well my hormones were working overtime. I cried. Chase reached over and held my hand. He comforted me; it was really awkward. I sort of knew something extra was up with me that night. There was something about this relationship.

Then we had my day of reckoning. We went for the sonogram. Chase already knew from the placental fluid the baby was truly his; that I think was a big moment for him. We went in for the sonogram. We both actually got to see the baby, our baby. I watched him. He looked moved, happy, excited even. I knew at that moment I'd fallen in love. I knew right then I had to have this man.

Have to go. Girls are home. I'll write back later tonight.

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Entry Sixteen:

Dear Diary.

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I know it's 4:00 a.m., and I only just was writing to you earlier yesterday afternoon, but I had to get up and write some more. I don't want to tell you about Chase and me when I was first pregnant, not right now. I want to tell you about just last night.

OK, I was writing about some of things that happened while I was pregnant with Mai; what the perfume, the manicure kit, and the sonogram and all. I guess all that thinking back got to me. Last night I did a terrible thing. I know I was being bad and very manipulative, but I'm glad I did it anyway. Let me tell you what the bad thing was that I did. Gee my grammar sucked on that one.

I got the girls in bed; that's awful, they're too big to be all sleeping together in just a queen sized bed. His mom was already in her room; she sleeps all the time now anyway. But I got the girls in bed; then I went and found Chase. He was downstairs in the living room. I slipped in the kitchen, took off all my clothes, put on my apron, it was a wraparound apron, put some homemade cookies on a platter and went to see him. He was watching the local news.

I walked in, knelt down in front of him, held up the cookie platter and asked, "See anything you want?"

Chase looked at me, then at the cookies and said, "Mm cookies," he took a cookie and started to eat it. He smiled at me and added, "Wow, this is scrumptious. What is it?"

I put the platter on the floor and climbed in his lap, "They're a new special sugar raisin I invented."

"My God, that's delicious," he said.

I sat on his lap and waited. He knew of course.

He laughed and pulled me in close, "And just what is it you want?"

I started unbuttoning his shirt. He cradled me in her arms, stood up, and carried me upstairs into our room. He dumped me on the bed, climbed on, grabbed my hands and used one of his to hold mine out over my head. He started nibbling and kissing my breasts. Before I could say anything he told me, "You can't move your arms."

He let go of my hands, knelt back, undid his pants, dropped them and his drawers down around his knees, and then he got back on top of me. He started sliding his already hard thing up and down my outer labia. Then, before I knew what he was doing, he slid down and started using his mouth and lips to nibble and munch on me. I was trimmed up, he preferred a trimmed puss to one that's shaved, and he really went to work on me. I used my hands to cover my face while he did me.

Everyone knows how a kid will make a fart sound by blowing their mouth against an arm. Chase started doing this up against my slit. It tickled my clit and my labia like crazy. I kept twisting and turning trying to get away, but he held me by my waist and kept blowing and snuffling against my clitoris. I was afraid to try to use my hands to push him off because he'd told me not to. He got me so excited my laughter turned to tears; to say the least he got me off.

When he was done I expected him to climb back up and finish me off. He didn't; oh he climbed back up, but he rolled over beside me and asked, "All right what do you want?"

I was so aroused I wanted him to get inside me. I kept having vaginal spasms. They weren't orgasms; I don't know what they were. The bed was soaked from my fluids.

He took his hand and started squeezing my labia; he'd squeeze them shut real tight, shake them around, then he'd let loose, slide in his fingers, wiggle them all around, take them out, squeeze me closed again and start all over again. I kept bouncing around on the bed. He started kissing me on my neck. While he was tormenting me like this he asked again, "Well. What do you want?"

I could hardly breathe. I'd had a plan, but I'd almost forgotten what it was. I'd been calling all around about things in different towns, and I'd been getting offers about my mom's, or my grand-mom's writing. I wanted to suggest something, but I wanted to ask him something too. I tried to push him away from my neck but I felt so weak.

I admit I was flustered. I remember how stupid I acted. I went to the 'ask thing' first. I said, "Chase I was thinking maybe...oh stop that...stop kissing me...if you wanted to...please stop squeezing my...oh come on...Chase...please...I...Chase maybe...oh honey please stop. Chase will you marry me again?" Just like that it slipped out.

He stopped touching me. I held my breath; it hadn't come out right. Worse, I'd expected to ask that after I'd gotten him off, not him doing what he'd been doing to me.

He sat up. He pulled away and sat on the side of the bed. I watched him, and I got very afraid. I panicked. I knew it; I was only here because he pitied me and he wanted me to be with our kids. He didn't want me back, not really, not that way.

Chase made me wait, then he said, "This is serious Eugenie."

He'd used my formal name; that was always a sobering sign. I was sweating like the pig I used to be. My vagina was still gushing water.

He said, "It's a big step. I'm going to need to get some advice first before I make another decision like this."

I cringed. I sort of pleaded, "We could go to counseling. I have that old life insurance policy. It's paid up. We could use that for the counseling."

I needed relief. I reached down with my right hand so I could squeeze my lips together and maybe squash my clit in my fingers. He took my hand and pulled it away.

With my hand trapped in his he shook his head back and forth, meaning no and said, "I don't need counseling. I need real advice." He looked at the clock; it was just after 11:00, then he completely wiped me away. He released me; he cupped his hands at his mouth and called out, "Mai, Lea, Sophie! Can you all come in here?" He jumped up and yanked his pants back on.

I was on top of the bed and I didn't have any clothes on so I real quick got under the covers. At least now I thought I had a chance to get some relief. I twisted my clitoris all around as hard as I could. I started to get this massive orgasm, but then Chase grabbed my arms and pulled my hands out from under the covers.

He scowled at me, "What ails you woman? The girls are coming."

I was trapped right in mid-orgasm!

The girls all shuffled in. I looked at them, my whole body was in turmoil, and my pussy was throbbing. I didn't think they'd been asleep. I was sure they knew I was a physical and emotional wreck. There'd been a time I wouldn't have cared who knew if I was screwing somebody, or like tonight just having a little foreplay, but not anymore, not with my girls just a room away. I was so embarrassed and ashamed. I glanced at Chase. He knew! He had this snarky smirk on his face. He'd deliberately done this to me.