tagRomanceCanon Ch. 03

Canon Ch. 03


Geoff woke up on the third day with a curious sense of completeness.

Usually he awoke with the feeling that there was something missing - something he had forgotten to do, or needed to do and had not done. Some responsibility unfulfilled, some project uncompleted. There was usually nothing, and he had long since learned that the feeling was just a manifestation of the emptiness of his life.

But today he felt - complete. That everything was in its place, neatly squared away and properly finished and folded. As a military man, that was a feeling he appreciated. And he knew why he felt it.

He opened his eyes and looked down at the lovely face of the naked girl sleeping beside him.

His life had meaning again. He had a reason to live. He smiled, his heart full.

My world is right here, he thought. And it's perfect. She's perfect. He looked at Amy and marveled.

The love of my life, he thought. She came late - but she's here.

He loved her with all his heart, with everything he was and had ever been; and that love was as deep and certain as his love of honor, and valor, and of his country - the lights by which he had always found his way and known who and what he was.

But today and from now on, Geoff loved Amy; and that was the star he steered by now.

Then he remembered; there was, indeed, one thing he had not done, and that he very much needed to do.

He smiled. Perhaps that would happen today - if she was ready.

She opened her eyes, and as always, he fell into their infinite depths. Cool, innocent blue and warm, promising brown - her sweet dual nature, girl and woman at once, there in her marvelous, mysterious, compelling eyes. His tough old heart melted, as it always did when he looked at her face.

"Good morning, Punkin," he said, his voice a deep, foggy rumble - Geoff's morning voice.

Amy smiled. "Good morning, Geoffie," she said sleepily. "I felt you watching me."

They looked at each other for a moment, she with her sweet and smooth young face and he with his lined and craggy old one - but both were wearing the same warm and contented smile.

Her smile grew wider, and her eyes gleamed. "Wanna fuck?"

He laughed and hugged her, feeling her soft breasts against his chest. She lifted a leg and rubbed her bare thigh against his hip. He stroked it and kissed her. "I was just thinking about that," he said.

"Mmmm." She snuggled into his arms contentedly. "Whenever you want me, Geoffie," she whispered. "I'm your warm wet pussy forever."

He chuckled, warm thunder, and held her close. He kissed her again. "I love you, Punkin," he murmured softly. "Later. Let's wake up and have some breakfast. I need to work out."

She leaned back and looked up at him, her lower lip thrust out in a mock pout. "Okay," she said, "if you're not interested..."

He laughed. "I didn't say THAT," he said. Then he leaned close and whispered in her small pink ear: "You'll see how interested I am," he breathed. "And you'll feel it, too."

She whispered back: "Today?"

"Tonight. I promise." He kissed her again, his lips gentle on hers. "I want it to be very special. You'll see."

Amy felt a subtle thrill of excitement run up her spine and down again, and she shivered. "At the pool? Outside?"

He blinked, then smiled. "No. That's for later. You'll see," he said again.

"Come on, get up," he said, rising. "And put on something modest for a change. Don't let me see you till it's time."

He smiled, kissed her once more, and left the room. She watched his hard, muscular butt as he walked to the door and out, and she shivered again.


A short time later, Amy was walking down the hall toward the kitchen, wearing, as instructed, a modest, oversized college sweatshirt - with a bra - and wheat-colored jeans. She had slipped on a pair of sneakers; she knew how Geoff loved her bare feet, and decided to cover them too. Her hair was tied back in a long ponytail.

She heard a small clank, then another, from the other wing of the house. Curious, she walked a few steps down that hall, and stopped beside a door that was only partly closed.

Her eyes widened in fascination. It was a weight room, a small gym with exercise equipment; a treadmill, a rowing machine, a rack of dumbbells and weights, and a weight bench with an overhead bar and cable. She noticed a boombox in the corner, silent for the moment.

Geoff, wearing gym shorts and nothing else, sat with his back three-quarters toward her, pulling down on the wide-spaced handles of what she would later come to know as a "lat bar." His body was shining with sweat, and she watched the muscles of his scarred back working beneath his skin with an admiring gaze.

His eyes were closed, and his lips moving; she guessed he was counting. She watched him for a few moments, unable to tear her eyes away from his body.

She smiled in wonder. Seventy, she thought.

Not below the neck, no, sir. His face was that of an old man, but the rest of him...

He stopped, and turned. Seeing her watching him, he smiled, but got up and moved to another bench, where he lay down and took the grips of a barbell in his veined and knotty old hands - old, but strong. He lifted the bar from its rack and began to do bench presses. She marveled at the amount of iron on the bar; no wonder he can pick me up so easily, she thought. That thing weighs more than I do.

"Do you mind if I watch?" she asked.

He shook his head, but did not speak; he was puffing in rhythm with his lifts, concentrating on the effort. She went in and sat crosslegged on the floor.

He stopped, replaced the bar, and rested for a moment; then picked it up and began again.

After the third set of repetitions, he sat up, breathing deeply but not gasping. His chest and arms were gleaming, and he seemed to glow. "One more," he said, and went to the dumbbell rack.

Amy saw that he chose a set from near the bottom - 40-pounders. He sat back down on the bench and began to lift them alternately, his biceps swelling as he curled one, then the other, up to his shoulders, over and over.

She counted with him. Three sets of twelve repetitions each. Finally, he rose, put the weights back, and turned and smiled at her. "So, what do you think?" he said. Grinning.

He knows exactly how good he looks, she thought. He's proud of his body. And he has a right to be.

"You're the most handsomest and most sexiest man in the world," she said, from her heart. "I love you, Geoffie." To her astonishment, she saw a hint of color in his lined old cheeks, and he looked down in embarrassment as he rubbed his arms.

He looked up again as she rose from the floor. "Shower for me now. Alone," he added with a smile as she began to speak. "Go fix breakfast. I'll be out in a few minutes."

She nodded, then moved toward him. "Don't hug me," he said. "I'm all sweaty."

She looked up at him with a twinkle. "That's why I want to hug you, Geoffie," she said. "I want to smell you, too."

He gaped at that, and stood still as she hugged him and inhaled deeply, her nose inches from his armpit. She nuzzled his wet and greasy chest and clung to him for a few seconds. He stroked her hair, tentatively, then bent down and kissed her head.

She looked up, her chin on his chest. "Thank you, Geoffie. I love how you feel. I love how you smell."

Then she let him go and giggled. She looked at him, both eyes filled with a teasing promise. "And if you think you're all sweaty now...."

With a girlish laugh, she disappeared down the hall, leaving him standing there amazed.

He shook his head in wonder, then headed for his shower. In his bathroom, not hers.


Geoff walked into the kitchen, wearing fatigue pants and a well-worn Marine T-shirt. Amy blinked to see his footwear, then realized he was wearing Vietnamese sandals. He took his seat at the table, and she set his coffee before him.

His scalp was shiny. On impulse, she stroked it as he sipped. It was silky-smooth.

"Ooo! Fresh shave?"

He nodded. "Every few days. And for special occasions." He grinned up at her.

"I like it." She kissed his head and went back to the stove.

"Mmm. Pancakes," he said. "Smells good."

"These are special," she said without turning as she flipped them expertly. "Pecan pancakes. With link sausages and real maple syrup."

He shook his head. "You're spoiling me," he chuckled, watching her move. Even in jeans and a sweatshirt, she was incredibly sexy.

"I want to," she said. "I want to spoil you rotten." She turned and smirked at him. "And I haven't started yet, Geoffie..."

They ate with relish, and Geoff marveled at her skill in the kitchen. "You're an amazing cook, Amy," he said around a mouthful of crunchy, maple-sweet pancake. "You'll make some guy a wonderful wife someday."

She put down her fork and looked at him steadily, smiling but somehow solemn. Her eyes - both of them - were warm, but hard as steel.

"I don't want to be anybody's wife, Geoff," she said, her voice level. "I want to be your cook, your lover, and your naked slave girl forever. I want to feed you every day and fuck you every night. I want to dance for you and hold you and sleep in your arms and cream on your cock and eat your cum and make you happier than you've ever been, every single day of your life.

"That's what I want," she finished, and returned to her pancakes.

He stared at her as she ate. When he said nothing, she looked up.

He was just sitting there, his mouth hanging open. "What?" she said. "Eat your pancakes before they get cold."

He took another bite. "Talk about an offer you can't refuse," he muttered, and she giggled.


Midmorning, the phone rang. Geoff picked it up.

"Hello?... Oh, hi, Ellie... Yes, everything's fine. Amy's turning me into a fat slob. Just a minute."

He handed the phone to Amy, who winked at him repeatedly as she spoke.

"Hi, Mom!... Everything's wonderful! I love my room, and Uncle Geoff loves my cooking.

"We're getting along fine, Mom. We're very comfortable together.

"He's a dear. I love him to death.

"Yes, registration is day after tomorrow. We're going over to the campus today so I can get oriented and know where I'm going.

"I'll let you know as soon as I have my schedule. I haven't got my laptop set up yet...

"I don't know. Just a minute." She covered the phone with her hand. "Geoff, do you have Internet?"

"In the study," he said, indicating the other wing with his thumb, "and in your room. I'll set you up."

Amy turned back to the phone. "Yes, he does. I'll email as soon as I get online.... Okay.

"No, I'm good. If I need any more I'll call. I'll be buying books later this week, though, so maybe.

"Okay. I will. I will... Don't worry, Mom. Everything's fine, I promise.

"Okay. Tell Daddy I love him. I love you, too.

"Okay, Mom. 'Bye."

She hung up and giggled. "How did I do?"

Geoff grinned. "Butter wouldn't melt in your mouth," he said.


Geoff showed her the high-speed connection to the Internet in her room, and helped her get her laptop and printer set up. "Sorry we haven't done that already," he said.

"We've been busy," she said with an innocent smile.

He laughed. "That we have, Punkin. Want to run over to the college?"

"Sure! Can we take the Jag?"


They toured the campus, referring to a map that Geoff had obtained the week before. There was some little activity; they saw parents helping their kids carry boxes into the dorms, professors striding busily around with their briefcases and bags, and trucks unloading food at the dining halls. The Administration building was a hub of activity, with people coming and going dressed in everything from three-piece suits and business dresses to jeans and cutoffs. Still, Amy knew the campus would be much more crowded and busy later in the week.

She took notes, and when she was comfortably sure that she knew how to get to everywhere she needed to go on Wednesday, they turned and headed for home.

"Did you go to college, Geoff?" Amy asked as they drove back across the campus.

He shook his head. "No, it was straight into the Corps for me as soon as I was old enough. My folks had a hard time convincing me to finish high school. Glad I did, though. Made it easier to get promoted."

"Do you ever wish you did?"

He thought as they waited for a group of boys to pass in front of the car. They were all staring at the Jag, and he smiled at their comical doubletakes when they saw Amy.

She didn't notice. "I don't think so," he said. "All I ever wanted to be was a Marine." They drove on, leaving the boys staring at the beautiful girl in the beautiful car.

"Did you see a lot of fighting?"

It was so long before he answered that she added, "Mom and Dad said you don't talk about it much..."

He shook his head. "No, I don't."

After a moment, he smiled at her. Don't want to make her feel bad, he thought. "I saw some things I don't like to remember, sweetheart. I - did - some things I don't like to remember."

"I can't imagine you doing anything terrible." She looked at him innocently.

He patted her hand. "I was different then." He was silent for a moment. "War is ugly, Amy. Changes a man."

"Are you over it?"

They were stopped again, at a red light. He looked at her. "That's not something you get over, Punkin." He looked forward, over the long hood of the car. "I have ghosts," he said. His face was still, and hard.

She blinked at him, her strange eyes big behind her glasses. "You mean - real ghosts?"

He shook his head. "No," he said quietly, his deep voice reflective. "I can still see the face of every man I ever killed." He drove in silence for a few heartbeats. "I'll carry that till they put me in the ground."

She squeezed his hand. "I love you, Geoffie," she said. She could think of nothing else to say.

He smiled at her, his face soft again. It was, it seemed, enough.


They stopped at a hamburger stand for lunch and talked of other things, and soon the mood lightened.

"So have you decided on a major?" asked the old man, sipping his coffee over the remains of his chiliburger.

"I've decided on a sergeant-major," she said with a smirk, and he laughed. Her right eye teased and her left eye beckoned, and he looked at her warmly.

"Seriously, Amy. Have you given it any thought? Your folks said you were leaning toward English."

"I love literature, and I love to write," she said. "But there are lots of jokes about English majors waiting tables. About all you can do with a BA in English is teach, and I don't want to be a teacher."


"I'm thinking nursing," she said. "There's a shortage now, the money is good, and I'd always have work..."

Geoff noted the wary look in her eyes - and then he understood, and raised an eyebrow.

They looked at each other, and he saw the unspoken plea on her face. He finally smiled and nodded.

"If that's what you're really committed to doing," he said softly.

Both her eyes looked into his levelly. "I am," she said.

They both knew the reasons for Amy's choice. They would never speak of it - not then, nor later.

"What do you think of the campus?" he asked.

Before Amy could answer, a third voice spoke.

"Hey, baby."

They looked up to see a tall and beefy young man standing over their table. He was obviously an athlete of some kind, probably a football player; broad shoulders and muscular arms, a narrow waist. He was superficially good-looking, with a shock of wavy hair that hung over one eyebrow and an unpleasant smile that was almost a sneer. He thinks he looks like Elvis, thought Amy.

"I'm sorry - were you speaking to me?" she asked sweetly.

"Why don't you get rid of Gramps here and you and me go somewhere and party?"

She looked up at the boy curiously, and Geoff saw his mouth drop open. He had noticed her eyes.

"Do the girls you hit on ever actually respond to that kind of demeaning crap?" she asked, just as sweetly.

Geoff was surprised yet again. This lovely young woman had a bit of steel in her. The old man watched the exchange, to all appearances relaxed and unconcerned; but his gray eyes glinted like a predator's.

The young man snickered and said, "You'd be surprised, baby."

She smiled yet again. "Please go away. I'm not interested." She returned her attention to Geoff.

The burly boy grinned and said, "I'll bet I can get you interested..." He brushed her cheek with the backs of his fingers - and an instant afterward, he was falling to his knees and crying out in pain. Geoff had seized his hand, turned it palm up, and bent it backward.

"Oww! Lemme go!"

Geoff had not even risen from his seat. There was no trace of rage or anger on his face; he was perfectly calm, and even lifted his coffee cup with his other hand and took a sip before he leaned forward and spoke in a deep, but perfectly level voice.

"Listen carefully, son. The lady said to go away. Are you going to do that, or do I have to break your wrist and take you out for the season to teach you to be polite?" He bent the young man's wrist a fraction farther. "Say 'No, sir.'"

The boy, grimacing in pain, quavered "N-no, sir."

"Good." He leaned closer and hissed like a venomous snake:

"Touch her again... And I'll kill you."

Geoff's face was an inch from the young man's. He was smiling, but his old eyes were as cold and hard as gray ice.

Then he leaned back and let him go. "Don't fuck with people you don't know, boy," he added with a good-natured smile. "It's bad for your health."

The young man stood up, rubbing his wrist, opened his mouth to reply - then thought better of it and fled.

Several patrons of the diner, who had been watching with interest, gave Geoff a short round of applause. He ignored it and returned his attention to Amy.

She was not staring open-mouthed. She was smiling, her eyes warm. "Thanks, Geoffie.," she said. "That was pretty cool."

"The wrist thing?" He waved a hand, it's nothing. "You can do that. I'll teach you."

"That would be cool, too," she said with a grin. "You can't be with me all the time."

He looked at her thoughtfully. "You're right," he said quietly. "I'l teach you some other things, too. You may need them someday."

They both knew the subject had returned to the one that would never be openly discussed. They left it in silence.

Amy smiled. "Let's go home, Geoffie. Today I want you to teach me-" Her strange eyes glittered, one teasing, one smoldering. "-something else."

He grinned broadly, and they rose from the table. On the way out, the balding, heavy-set manager apologized - and thanked him. "Come by anytime, sir," he said. "Semper Fi." He had noticed Geoff's USMC T-shirt, as the young thug apparently had not.

Geoff grinned at the man's globe-and-anchor tattoo. "Semper Fi," he said in reply, with a respectful nod. "Gunnery sergeant?"

"Good guess!" said the man. "You an officer?"

Geoff shook his head. "Nah. Enlisted. Sergeant-major."

The man blinked, then offered a hand. "That kid didn't know who he was messing with," he said.

Geoff shook it. "Nice place you've got here," he said. "Good burgers. We'll be back." Amy smiled at the man, and they left.


In the car, Geoff glanced at Amy and said, "That young punk didn't bother you at all, did he?"

She shrugged. "All mouth," she said. "If he was anything more - well, I was with you, Geoffie."

He smiled.

When they pulled into the garage, he put on the emergency brake, turned off the engine, and said, "Don't get out."


He smiled, walked around the car, opened her door, and lifted her from her seat. She giggled as he carried her to the house. "What's this about?" she asked, her arms around his powerful neck.

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