Freeing Kirsty Ch. 08

"You look a little over-warm," he said smoothly. Shall we go out to my hired limo and sit with the air-con on?"

Without waiting for a reply he walked out of the outdoor reception area into the darkness. She gave him a thirty second start and followed.

Thirty minutes later Spiro returned unnoticed, and stood in a shadow by the dancing area.

Gail returned moments after that and sat at her original seat. Spiro went over and asked her to dance.

"I've just sat down," she complained.

"That's true, I'll dance with you if you wish," said an older woman at the table.

"No thank you. You are very kind, but my choice is this one."

Spiro held out his hand. The six other people at the table (Gail's husband Stan was still at a male gathering at the bar) watched silently, expecting to see the man humiliated.

"Very few women receive this opportunity," Spiro said, teeth gleaming.

"Well then, I really must accept this honor, my lord."

Gail held out a hand, Spiro pulled her to her feet and led her to the dance floor leaving most of the onlookers at the table agog.

"What is your name, lovely one?" Spiro asked. "We have been introduced but forgive me; your name went from my head."

"Gail, but my father always called me Tinker Bell and sometimes when he's drunk Stan calls me that name."

"Ah, a pretty little fairy with passion -- that pet name suits you rather well."

Spiro smiled as Gail pressed against him harder and harder. He knew she could feel him as he was half-aroused. There was not quite a full barrier of clothing between them as he had her panties in his pocket.

As the dance came to an end she sighed: "You were wonderful out there in the car."

"You surprised me -- so much energy, so much noise," Spiro grinned. "I must go now and find my Meg before she begins to feel neglected.

"What about me -- I shall be neglected?"

"My limo will be at the end of your street at noon tomorrow. I shall ask the driver to wait no longer than fifteen minutes.

"I don't expect you will come as you are probably a rather quiet little fairy when you are sober -- but you will have this final opportunity to allow me to sample your honey pot again. Meg and I fly home tomorrow evening."

Spiro turned and walked away without waiting for her response. He didn't need to know it. She would now fret about whether she should do such a daring thing, sober and in broad daylight. He knew his words 'honey pot' would dwell on the mind of the fairy, giving her perhaps a fifty-fifty chance of succumbing to his rather off-hand proposal.

Spiro grinned. It was the quiet ones who liked to be treated masterfully.

* * *

The prospect of a baby was the perfect wedding present for Kirsty. Late morning on her wedding day she had been at the hairdressers' with Meg. She was finished first as she'd had her nails done the previous days. "I'm going for a walk -- Meg. I shan't be long."

Kirsty went outside and noticed the premises right next door housed a medical centre. On impulse she went inside and asked if she could book in for a pregnancy test.

"I can take you right now," said the nurse, seated behind the receptionist and filling out a form. "Our morning rush is over. Just complete the paperwork with Dolores here and pay the fee. Dolores will bring you through to me."

Kirsty returned to the hairdressers.

"My, you look very flushed," Meg drawled, exaggerating her New York accent. "Did one of these beach hunks look at you? Or did you see an old man jacking off?"

The salon erupted into laugher, Kirsty joining in. This was very embarrassing but it relieved her tension. She wanted to tell someone, but Merrick had the right to know first.

"Your hair looks lovely Meg; you look ever so princess-like."

Meg bowed; her mind now far removed from her enquiry about Kirsty's flushed face. She was happy to be the centre of attention, even happier to be complimented by the centerpiece of the day's big event.

Hullo daddy, thought Kirsty as she went up to Merrick on their wedding day. He was standing, assisted by Brian. He looked straight and strong, just like his usual self.

"Oooh," she said.

"He probably looks better than he is, Kirsty. Old Merrick has been through severe trauma. Remember the hospital's estimated time for virtual complete recovery -- four to six weeks. It's only been ten days since his operation."

"Yes, I accept that."

"Hullo, you two. Don't ignore me -- I am here!" Merrick said, miffed.

"Hello, darling. Mrrrrhhhh; how's that for a sexy welcome. You look fine back on your feet but that's it; down boy!"

Late that afternoon, from the back of the reception gallery, Kirsty watched Brian push Merrick out from the alcove to stop in front of the marriage celebrant. She felt happy, at peace, and stood hand-in hand with Meg and Marg -- feeling their slight tremors of nervousness.

Kirsty was grateful that her time had come. Perhaps twenty-two would have been the perfect age to marry, but the wait had been worth it. She was now mature, worldly, complete with the basic skills to be a good wife to a man with marriage experience and to be a good mother to a baby boy who'd probably be incredibly forward, personable and talented. Oh yes, he'd be a boy.

Suddenly they were playing her tune.

"Let's go, girls," she said, giving the hands of both women a squeeze. "I hope you'll both still love me when I'm married."

Meg and Marg stared at her, shocked.

"Why wouldn't we?" they chorused in whispers.

The words of the celebrant would -- Kirsty had expected -- be carved into her instant recall memory for life.

But inexplicably, she heard few of the woman's words -- repeating each stage only after the celebrant had patiently repeated them a second time.

"She's awfully nervous," whispered her mother.

"I don't think so," smiled Sam. "I think she's on another planet. Either that or she's experiencing an euphoric over-dose; perhaps she's found she's pregnant.

"Sam Fallon," shouted his shocked wife.

"Goodness, what is Sam up to?" commented a friend very audibly, causing most eyes to shift from the wedding ceremony to the bride's parents.

"Pregnant" was the buzz word spreading through the congregation.

"Bess pregnant? I don't believe it," said her friend Shona MacLean. "Her ovaries closed down years ago."

A bigger buzz went through the assembly while the celebrant continued on, now only fully heard by Merrick, Meg, Marg, Brian and Merrick's mother Linda.

Linda had come all this way to attend her son's latest wedding, not to hear his bride's parents carrying on about some phantom pregnancy, she told Kirsty later. She turned to remonstrate with them and found them tight-lipped and looking shocked, realizing they had careered out of control.

"I do."

"You are now man and wife. You may kiss the groom."

"Sit back in the wheel chair first," commanded Kirsty, and for the first time in her short married life was obeyed by her husband.

As soon as he was seated Kirsty leaned over him, and they kissed sweetly. But as she was straightening up Merrick pulled her back down with his good arm around her neck. They kissed passionately, ignoring the clapping assembly.

Looking deeply into Merrick's eyes, Kirsty said: "I love you, I love you profoundly."

"Me too," responded Merrick, squirming a little with embarrassment. This sort of soft stuff was usually spoken in moments of intimacy or whispered across a restaurant table or in peaceful isolation in the backyard or on a mountain range -- not in front of almost two hundred people.

"Stay still, dear one, don't go wheeling away from me," Kirsty chided, noting that his eyes were flickering - looking for an escape route. I've got some fantastic news for you."

She saw she had Merrick's complete attention: "I had a pregnancy test earlier today -- Little Goldie and the egg did their stuff -- our son is on the way."

Merrick had already guessed by the overture that this was the news he was getting. He beamed at looked proudly at Kirsty and let out an excited whoop and kissed her.

"That's great, that's fantastic." But then he paused, looking pensive. "So the testers were able to confirm it is a boy?"

"Kirsty ruffled his hair, and kissed it. "No, silly. It's a little early for medical confirmation. But I told you before that I knew I would have a boy."

"Of course you did darling," said Merrick, rolling his eyes.

"Having your first married tiff already," Brian joked, arriving to kiss the bride and punch the shoulder of the groom.

"No, anything but -- I've just told Merrick that I'm pregnant."

"The honeymoon," said Brian, apparently not hearing her.

"Ah, the honeymoon," echoed Merrick without enthusiasm, while Kirsty bit her bottom lip watching Brian's face for a promising sign. But the normally expressive face was found wanting.

"Well, my agreement with Kirsty on that first day after the attack was we should not discuss the question of a honeymoon until here at the wedding breakfast. It was a practical decision as it kept the pressure off, though we all knew that the proposed wildly romantic romp through Mexico was a dead duck.

"Yes Dr Raymond, whatever you say Dr Raymond -- I know I would be stupid to ignore your wise counseling."

"Thank you, Merrick; Kirsty?"

"Yes, of course -- the medical well-being of Merrick comes before everything else. We've had heaps of trial honeymoons anyway," she laughed, a little hollowly.

"I thought we'd leave in the morning and honeymoon ad hoc in Southern California -- traveling and stopping at will, nothing planned," sighed Merrick. "Kirsty and I have already decided on this, subject to your approval."

Brian looked at Merrick sternly. "You should stay quiet, in clean surroundings. Your body is still recovering. Plenty of rest, free of stress, will speed recovery. You have a repaired artery, veins, nerves and muscle and healing tissue to consider. My feeling is that every day you stay here in 'pottering around' mode is a bonus to you. You are due for a hospital clinician's assessment of your progress on Monday. That, of course, can be carried out at any suitable facility. My feeling is that you will then be released from your wheel chair."

Kirsty reached for Merrick's left hand -- his 'good arm', squeezed it and held it against her cheek.

Brian added: "I must say that if you took great care and went about it slowly the trip south would probably do you no harm.

"It's your decision," Brian said, turning away to let them chat privately.

Kirsty nodded to Merrick and he said, "I'm staying on here; it's the right thing to do."

Merrick wanted Kirsty to go south with Marg, Linda and Bella for five days when Linda and Bella were then due back to fly to Sydney. Kate wanted her daughter back in time for the start of the new school term.

"I'll be happier here, close to my darling," she said. "Besides, I want to go out with Bess -- she's itching to show me the best baby-wear shops and outlets that cater for women with expanding bellies."

"I thought pregnant women these days just wear larger size normal clothes," Merrick said. "Christ, some expectant mums are now even up with the bare belly craze; it's revolting."

"Just because we go shopping to look at one type of thing, that doesn't limit us to just shop for that type of thing," Kirsty said defensively. "In fact we might not even follow our original plan and instead go off in another direction. That is what makes shopping so interesting."

"And that's why men find women so interesting at times," muttered Merrick.

* * *

Brian returned from the gym to relieve Sam, who'd given up his game of golf to keep Merrick company. Merrick, however, was restless and simmering -- wanting to get out and about.

"These walls are my prison," he growled to Brian, who was not at all sympathetic.

"What walls -- you're sitting outside by the pool?"

"You know what I mean."

Brian suggested to Sam that he head off to the golf course and either play the last few holes with them or else set up the drinks.

"Good idea," said Sam, and was off, without revealing which option he favored.

Brian looked at Merrick, who obviously was restless.

Before leaving Brian checked Merrick's pulse-rate, temperature and examined his leg -- a procedure which he'd done every eight hours since Merrick had been discharged into his care. "OK -- let's go," said Brian, and thirty minutes later they were in a bar at Venice Beach.

"This is the life, cobber," Merrick said to Brian cheerfully. He wiped a beer froth moustache from his top lip after dipping enthusiastically into his big glass of Budweiser.

Brian had allowed his 'patient' a beer. He intended it to be a low alcohol beer but there was no information about its alcoholic strength and neither of the two bar people could assist and appeared shocked at the idea of supplying lowered alcohol beer to a customer.

"I'm sure the brewery would not risk its reputation by weakening the strength of its beer, sir," said the balding, pot-bellied elderly barman.

Merrick said to Brian, "You've got no idea how grateful I am for your assistance. You saved my life. I don't really think Kirsty's realizes that, and perhaps that is all for the best."

Brian rubbed his nose. I suspect she knows, and I suspect she just doesn't want to talk about it. After all, she was there, covered in your blood. She was bloody good -- her eyes revealed her panic yet she kept her cool remarkably well. She's a great woman."

"Yeah, I know. I'll never be able to thank you enough, Brian. I probably would have been dead within minutes have you not been there."

"I dunno about that; Kirsty may have saved you."

"Nice try, Brian." Merrick leaned forward in the wheelchair, pressing his fingers together. He cleared his throat. "Listen, Brian. There is something I must say to you; something beyond my control. But you've got to know -- although I'm between a rock and a hard place in raising this, as cross loyalties are involved. I'm probably dead in the water from either you or Marg -- perhaps both of you -- over this, but here goes..."

"Are you planning to tell me Marg's got the hots for you?"

Merrick sunk back in his wheelchair, sighted deeply and lifted his glass to his mouth. While taking a gulp he looked at Brian with his face devoid of emotion.

Seagulls mewed, a group of passing women on the boardwalk laughed and the every-present dull hum of heavy, fast-moving traffic provided a mixed background infill. Finally Merrick replied: "It's that obvious, huh?"

"Not at all, but I see it in the occasional glances, hear it in the intonation when she voices your name -- which is often. I thought this minor infatuation would diminish and eventually disappear when she became pregnant. It did, but since the arrival of Avon it's bounced back again.

Merrick sucked in his breath and said: "I really don't think I've done anything to encourage her."

Brian seemed to appreciate that comment. He smiled and patted Merrick on the shoulder. "Thanks for telling me that -- it underpins what I think, which is it's a classic case of fixation. Because of the long hours I work, she sees me as being boring; never on hand it seems to her when she needs me. So she buried herself into books, mostly fiction, and through that has become a romantic. She sees you as being exiting, repeatedly taking the main chance, doing things romantically -- like going to New York City to release the shackles on your sweetheart. You represent what she dreams about -- and not only that, you are seducer material. You are charming, rather ruggedly handsome and you have a bedroom manner about you. What more could any woman want?"

Merrick sat pondering that.

Brian had responded without any sign of aggression or self-pity; he remained very affable -- seriously affable, and this cheered Merrick. Indeed, Brian had expressed himself so clinically he could have been talking about someone else's wife. This was so unexpected.

"What do you want me to do?"

Without hesitation Brian said: "Whatever you wish. Let her grow out of it, or give you what she wants. Go live somewhere else perhaps. It's over to you -- but I make this one request: don't move away as it wouldn't really help anyone, me included. Good mates don't just materialize: they seem to be thin on the ground. Thanks for raising this; it must have been difficult for you. It marks you as a true friend."

"Thanks mate," Merrick said humbly, aware that such declarations man-to-man are rather uncommon.

"Oh, another thing, Merrick. Say nothing to Marg about this and don't withdraw from her. It would seem that she needs you emotionally. Can I get you another soda?

"Lime, please."

They chatted, watching the passing parade on the boardwalk, as the bar steadily filled. The subject of lunch was raised by Brian when two women in their late thirties/early forties walked up to them and one of them asked without embarrassment, "May we join you guys?"

Merrick appeared diffident but Brian surprisingly took charge and felt very confident: "Please, sit down. We welcome the opportunity of being in the company of two beautiful women." Actually he thought neither was beautiful, but neither did they look like hookers -- they had an up-market manner about them.

"We were interested watching you two talk -- you appeared to be so deep into it, so animated," said the darker woman who'd introduced herself as Melissa Lynch. "It's rare to see men talk head-to-head without hearing their bouts of obscene laughter as the joke or story unfolds."

Merrick entered the conversation, rather stiffly. "Have your husbands gone over the mountains to the car racing?"

"No," replied Karen. "That's my Cory over there at the bar -- he owns this joint. Melissa's Jerry is out somewhere on his fishing boat."

"So, is must be handy having a husband who owns a bar?"

"Yes and no -- he also owns another bar and a restaurant. He once owned more, inherited from his father, but had to liquidate a bit to give his first wife a going away present."

This casualness of Californian women in talking about relationships with the opposite sex slightly unnerved Brian, so he blurted, "Holy smoke; then what are you doing talking to the likes of us?"

"We want somebody to take us to lunch -- we'll pay."

"Er..."

"We'll be honored to escort two charming Mesdames to a refueling station," Merrick said jauntily.

"Have you been crunched? Karen asked. Both women stared at Merrick's right leg elevated on the wheelchair extension, and his right arm in a sling.

"No, he's just had a reversal of a vasectomy."

Both women shrieked with laughter and the two men grinned.

"My God, can they do that? Melissa asked, wide-eyed. "How do you know if it's successful?"

"We probably need a half dozen volunteers," Brian said.

"We can quickly round up four other girlfriends."

Merrick gaped at Karen until she blushed. She laughed, saying that she also was a leg-puller.

As they were about to leave Brian said, "I guess I better tell your Cory where we're going -- perhaps it would be couth to invite him to join us?"

Grinning, Karen said: "Tell him if you wish, but do you know where we're going? He'll assume that we are in safe hands, although he won't know that Merrick here has had his tubes rejoined. If he knew that he might be really worried. How many years is it since you last shot a full load Merrick?"

Merrick colored. Karen and Melissa stared at him, waiting for his answer presumably with academic interest. Belief in the vasectomy reversal appeared to have taken hold.

"Eighteen years," croaked Merrick.

"My God, some little bob-tailed bunny is going to get the surprise of her life very soon!" Karen said. She clutched Melissa and they convulsed in laughter.

They went passed Cory on the way out. Karen leaned over the bar, kissed him and said: "We're taking these English guys over to Beachcomber. You can join us if you wish."