The Girl, the Guy and the Angel

"Optional? That's a relief," I admitted. "So why did he leave me, Angel? Dinner, the play, the whole night was perfect. I invited him in!" Her smirk softened.

"Silly girl. He had to leave. Don't you know babies drop in at night! A little girl. You should see her. Dimples, pink cheeks! Her mom calls her Doon!"

"Babies..." I whispered longingly.

"Anyway, I need you settled with a nice guy - a real one. He's been out there doing four girls! Four! Chases white rabbits down holes all over New York! Not nice. Now he's torn between all his girl bunnies...so funny, don't you think...and settling for your honey-bunny. Anyway, he's about to walk through that door because he has feelings for you."

"What should I do, Angel?"

"Be different! Your sex has to differ from other bunnies. If you make it happen, he will stay for breakfast."

"Breakfast? Are you sure? But I don't know the other girls he's seeing, so how can I be...different? Girls are girls, right? There's only so much we can..."

"Wrong! Girls are not just girls! Each is dissimilar. Besides, he's not coming back for sex, at least not completely. You're in his head now. He's smitten. And it can't be those little titties now can it?" I was about to scrutinize my flat chest again, when my phone jingled.

"Sheila? It's me, Patrick. I'm down in the street."

"Dear Lord," Angel ranted, springing to the window. "Will you look at this? You're doctor's in scrubs! His cab's double-parked. Get him up here before some girl kidnaps him!"

Angel seized my phone and testily ordered, "Young man. Ditch that cab and come upstairs this minute!" I bit my nail harder as she handed me the phone.

"Patrick?"

"Who was that?" He asked.

"She's...she's a neighbor. I'm buzzing you in." I watched as he headed for the stairs.

"Now it's up to you," Angel said. "I must go. I shan't be far. Make it work, Sheila." Twirling about, she vanished.

"Sorry I had to run before. A baby..."

"Doon," I acknowledged.

"How did you know?"

"A good guess? Kiss me!"

Our lips locked and we collapsed into each other. Pulling at him, we fell backward, a single, clumsy lump thumping hard against the wall. An out of control gymnast, I leaped onto him, locking my knees around his perfect butt.

Like some sexually improvised explosive device, our mutual IED detonated, unleashing the mother of all kisses, a torrent of pent up heat. Holding my arms with strong hands, his tongue stabbed at my mouth, my frantic breath filling his lungs, in seconds fusing our respiration. Our blood boiled in lust, neither aware nor caring which body kept us this side of suffocation.

In the chaos of it all, I managed to pop two snaps of my blouse, the rest of which he ripped away. Tearing himself from my mouth he found the hot embers of my nipples and sucking hungrily, his lips moved in a blur from one to the other. In a moment, I was topless, displayed, self-conscious, excited. I pulled at his scrubs, exposing his muscled body. Nails raked his chest, creasing the white skin, leaving trails of crimson.

With a backward kick, he slammed the front door shut. "The bed," he panted into my mouth. "Where's the fucking bed?" Pointing to another door, I bit hard at his earlobe.

My thoughts scattered like a shower of bullets as he swooped me up and carried me to the bedroom. There we fell together, his nimble fingers lifting my skirt, forcing the panties to my ankles. Soaked in ravenous confusion, I kicked my feet, freeing the meddlesome fabric.

His fingers plumbed my sex. I opened and he whispered, "You're so wet. I love how you feel."

I gasped at him. "Do you, sweetheart? It's what you want? Am I too wet? She's ready...she's needs you - there."

"So wet," is all he said.

His fingers, strong, exact, versed, probed me. I didn't know - and didn't care - how many he slipped in. It didn't matter. I wanted them all!

"I forgot to tell you something," Angel interrupted. "He fists! You haven't allowed it before, but this time, you must. I looked up at her apprehensively. Motheringly, she caressed my hair. "Open now. Open for your guy. All is fine," she reassured.

"But what if I can't take him?" I asked uneasily. "He'll be disappointed."

"Do as I say. If you can have a baby, you can take his fist." Guardedly trusting, I thought back to the ever-bungling Steve Pickwick whose attempt hadn't ended well. Angel detected the memory.

"Last time's past time, this time's new!" she sang happily. "Besides...what's his name?"

"Steve."

"Steve, yes. Well, Steve did another girl too. Complete klutz. Poor darling, she hurt for days. Patrick's not Steve, Sheila, and good thing. GYN's know about opening girls. Anyway, this time's your time, phew, phew, phew! Now loosen those tensed muscles!" I pulled at his hair, drawing his lips to mine, all the while keeping an eye on Angel.

"Such a good kisser!" she exclaimed happily. "Spread. Wider now." Patrick placed an ear against my heaving chest. "Soooo Sweeeet! He's checking your heartbeat!"

With my vital signs acting as guides, Patrick alternately stretched me, drew back, listened, then stretched me again. "Push, girl," Angel cautioned. "Show your love. Do it like you're having a baby. Now push!" I pushed. "Harder!" she urged.

He was an aggressive lover and I moaned in pleasure as he worked his thumb into the raw breach. "Open for me girl," the guy exhorted.

I didn't hesitate and with startling suddenness, I felt him lunge. My eyes shot open. My sore birth canal opened too, then closed around his buried wrist, shutting him inside. He stopped and lifting his ear from my heart, he searched my eyes. Satisfied I was all right; he smiled contentedly, and lowered his head back to my breasts.

The broiling heat of before, simmered. I'd done it! I'd taken him! Ignoring hurt, awash in euphoria, I turned to Angel, who, showing total calm, smiled affectionately. "Told you you could," she said matter-of-factly.

Tenderly, Patrick wiped away a tear. "I'm hurting you," he whispered, pulling his arm back slightly.

I seized his wrist. "No, Patrick! It's what I want. Stay."

Angel nodded approvingly. "It's done," she whispered. "Good girl. I can leave now."

"Angel?"

She smiled. "You want to know how he's going to get out, don't you. Don't be silly." She giggled heartily. "Obstetrics, Sheila. He pulls out babies, remember? A lover so versatile! Enjoy him."

THE FINAL PART - FINALLY!

Late the following morning, just as I was finishing the breakfast dishes, Angel came along. Dressed in zippered leotard, white tutu and toe shoes, she was stunning. "Such a big omelet!" she remarked, glancing at the half dozen broken shells. "I must have a talk with your new doctor friend about cholesterol intake." She picked up a clean dish towel, dried his coffee mug and looked into my eyes. Her bright smile faded. "I've been reassigned, Sheila," she announced.

"Reassigned? But, but why?"

"I don't know. It's not like they tell us anything! Orders come down from on high and we obey."

"But Angel!" I protested.

"You don't need me now," she said. "Other girls do." Her face was tender. "Look at you, all grown up. Your guy will shield you from life's dangers now and I have other work to do."

"Will he? Are you sure?" Moving on toe, she stepped en avant and taking my face in her soft hands, she planted a kiss on my forehead. Gazing deeply into my eyes, she added, "Yes pretty girl, I'm sure. He stayed for breakfast, didn't he? You made him eggs? Bacon? Orange juice? Fresh squeezed?"

I blushed as she touched my welling eyes with the cloth. "But maybe he always stays for breakfast afterward," I said over-skeptically.

Angel shook her head, no. "It is otherwise, Sheila," she affirmed. "Fact is he never stays. And just think! You can trust now and don't need to be with bad boys anymore. Good men are few and far between these days, you know? Anyway, it's all up to you now. Make it work. Above all, be happy. Promise me?"

"I promise, Angel. I wish...I mean I'll miss you..."

Smiling warmly and moving sissonne en avant, she turned in attitude en pointe and offering a ballerina's delicate pirouette, she winked, she bowed, she vanished.

Alone and holding back my tears, I whispered into the emptiness, "Thank you, Angel, for watching over me."

End