The Heart Shaped StormbyNigel Debonnaire©
6/11/06 This story has always bothered me: I liked the concepts and challenges at this stage of Charlie's life, but the execution and flow of the story didn't satisfy me Since I'm pushing on to a fourth chapter in this story, I felt compelled to improve this one. The relationships are still the same, and I think this chapter now flows better.
The stars beamed brightly down through the still green branches. A cantata of crickets and frogs filled the night as the last few wafts of summer floated on the September air. Our blanket rested gently on the soft grass, keeping its slight damp chill away from our bare bodies. It brought me back to many such magic nights with Charlene: lost between her thighs as I looked up over her stomach at the trees and stars above while listening to her wobbly love song in the reverberant night.
"The baby loves it when you do that," Mal gasped, "and I'm rather found of it, too."
Mallory's legs embraced my ears as I savored her nectar; my arms were looped under her hips and around her torso to place my hands on her nipples. It was a time to be extra gentle: her blossom and her breasts were very tender in the seventh month of her third pregnancy, but with practice over the years I found the right butterfly touch and occasional bee-sting tweak that brought her respite from her burden and carried her to the peak of exaltation. I couldn't see more than the outline of her sweetly swelling form that resembled her grandmother's in budding, but I could hear her breath in its jagged acceleration, taste the delicious nectar that flowed from her engorged petals and felt the occasional shake and quiver that told me my lady was happy. Not bad for a fifty five year old Santa impersonator with half-grey hair who had the good fortune to land a twenty six year old strawberry blond goddess that only Rubens would have found skinny.
"Oh, my God, I'm so close, I'm so close. Ah, ah, ah, ah, ah. . ."
I redoubled my pace. She arched her back and shrieked for several long moments: her love song bouncing from tree to tree and over the lake of my private piece of paradise. The neighbors told me that occasionally they heard her and wondered what the sound was; I always returned a sly smile that discombobulated as their imaginations tried unsuccessfully to cope with the image of us together. That was nothing new either: my Charlene's love songs in the night bothered their imaginations similarly. It is odd being in the middle that way, going from seventy three year old lover Charlene to her nineteen year old granddaughter in a couple of months, but that's how my life transmuted seven years ago. I licked Mal's thighs as she subsided, giving the occasional playful nip that I knew she loved before switching around to an L shape. Leaning on my elbow beside her, I rested my head lightly on her diaphragm with my baby just behind. I looked up through her cleavage at her beatific face, my forehead on her right breast and my bushy chin on her left.
She slowly came to her senses, cradling my head with one hand while cradling her stomach with the other. "That's the best anniversary present I've ever gotten," she said.
"My pleasure, to be sure." I reached out and cupped her face, stroking her cheek with my thumb.
She moved her hand from my face to my groin, giving it a playful tweak. "I think you have a most eloquent way of confirming that here." Stroking the fullness of my forked radish, my response stiffened and damped for her. "I think your last book of your poems communicated it, too. You're not getting older, you're getting better, Charlie Fredrickson."
"Thanks, but I don't believe it," I said as I took the Heart Shaped Pendant that hung from a necklace now draped around her right breast. Seven years ago today that locket changed my life radically, and I was happy to be part of its legacy.
She tousled my hair and stroked my beard. "You'll be all right with the kids and I being gone for three weeks?" she asked with her frown of concern.
I nodded my head. "Sure, you're overdue to visit your aunts with the kids; Jessica's been bugging you to come up north for months. Your grandmother and I took long trips without each other over the twenty years we were together: we did beautifully on our own and picked up right where we left off when we got back together. No problem."
She shook her head. "When I get back, my sex drive will be almost nil until after Sylvia is born. Your big beautiful oysters here may pop before I can take care of you again."
I chortled. "Babe, I survived it the previous two times and I've had lots of long dry spells over the years. Please don't worry about me." We lay there stroking each other for several moments. "Speaking of the kids, don't we have to rescue your cousin Morgan from them shortly?"
Mal shook her head and pulled my crotch closer. "Not before I repay a favor. Besides, we always have to pry Morgie away from them with a crowbar." I moved to make things easier for her, lying parallel and stroking the big beautiful belly that held my second daughter. It was bliss being lost in the starlight, the tree shadows, the chorus of frogs and crickets, the grass and my dearest Mallory as her electric tongue she worshiped my phallus and coaxed my world into a rainbow explosion .
I came to awareness in my bed alone the next morning. Mal lived in her grandmother's grand old house and I kept my identical one story painted lady: Edgar Allan Fredrickson's room was next to mine, and Elizabeth Barrett Fredrickson's room was next to their mother's in her house. I asked Mal several times if we shouldn't sell both houses and get one big house together, but she felt the history of love these houses held was too priceless to relinquish and our little family could cope. The kids were happy and we bounced back and forth between the houses easily in all kinds of weather, rearranging the sleeping accommodations on whim: it would work for a while longer since Elizabeth and Sylvia could share a room. We managed to keep our artist's niches of solitude and taught the kids to respect them as best they could.
Last night the kids slept with their babysitter/cousin Morgan in Edgar's room, so it was no surprise two little strawberry blond heads and four little blue eyes peeked over the edge of my bed that morning. He was almost five and she was two and half. I feigned sleep and emitted a few cartoon sized snores, which brought sputters of giggling from below the horizon. Suddenly, I lunged over the side of the bed and hauled the squirming little bodies up, tickling them to the verge of hysterics. They retaliated and it was several moments before we wound down. I asked my children: "Where is your Aunt Morgan?"
Elizabeth piped up: "Aunt Morgie left very early. She had to go to Seattle."
Edgar picked up the story: "She put the coffee on the timer for you and Momma. Momma said she would have breakfast ready by 8:00 so we would have plenty of time before we left for Minnesota."
"Well, since it looks like it's about 8:00, I guess we'd better go get breakfast before it's too late." They were bundles of unbounded energy and a real pain at times, so I tickled them again before carrying them, one under each arm, into the kitchen to find their mother and breakfast.
They left on a Monday and after seeing them off, I spent the next few days reviewing galleys of my latest adventure novel and Mal's second book of poetry. Puttering around the houses provided physical activity to break up the intellectual work: I've never enjoyed exercise for its own sake and my rotund body is witness to that. On Friday I went over to the University where I taught for ten years: I was speaking at a conference and judging a poetry contest the next week and needed to pick up a file of submissions to evaluate.
When I got back, there was a message on my answering machine: "Hi Charlie, it's Morgan. I'm back in town this weekend and wondered if you'd be interested in dinner tonight. There something important I need your advice about, so please tell me you can make it." I was tired of meals for one in my little kitchen, so I called back and told her I'd be glad to join her, especially since she needed my sagacity.
Morgan was Charlene's only niece; Mal's first cousin once removed. She worked for Mal's mother Dora and traveled a lot for Dora's company, moving up the corporate ladder on merit rather than nepotism. At age thirty five, she had gone through several boyfriends, but marriage never seemed be on her radar. A little apartment in town was her home base, but she was around our houses frequently, helping Mal and I with the kids.
We met at a nice Middle Eastern restaurant and Morgan was an eye catcher: five foot six, beautiful long strawberry blond hair like Mal, almond eyes, a beautifully toned body that featured exquisite legs and wrapped in a light blue dress that coaxed a mouth watering cleavage. Mal and I never married and never talked about it, but if Morgan wasn't family it would have felt like cheating.
We settled into hummus, felafel and ouzo, making small talk and catching each other up on the week we just had. Some people mature late and I thought Morgan was just coming into full bloom: her face was serene and her attitude much wiser than a couple of years before. Savoring a couple of pieces of baklava, I asked her what she wanted advice about.
"Yes. You were happy with my aunt Charlene for twenty years. It was the best of both worlds: you had solitude and you had a safe relationship since she was past menopause when you started dating. Then she passed away, we had our little competition and Mallory became your woman. You have two small children and another almost here. Would you do it again?"
I scratched my beard and thought for a moment. "Well, I never expected to become a parent: Mal wanted children while she was young and I couldn't deny her. It's a lot different than my life with Charlene; kids change your whole perspective. Charlene and I used to daydream about having children together, impossible as it was, but we always concluded that we'd screw them up beyond belief. Mal and I have managed all right with them so far, with your kind help, keeping our space and solitude when really we need it while being there when they need us. I'm not the best of fathers; I wish I could be more active playing with them."
"You do all right. I think you've lost weight in the past few years; they've been a good exercise program for you."
"Oh yes, right. That's really why I became a parent: to lose weight." We laughed. I grew more reflective: "I'll be an old man, if I live that long, by the time they're teenagers. I may never see them as adults, or my grandchildren. They're hard work; harder than I thought they'd be. There are times I wish I had my carefree life with Charlene again, but I love my kids, I miss them and I can't imagine my life without them. If I could repeat the last seven years of my life, I'd do it all over again, and if Mal wants more children, so be it."
Morgan drank this in, and looked more pensive than I'd ever seen her. She sipped some ouzo and peered into my eyes. "I'm thirty five and I hear my clock ticking. Every time I visit your place to sit the kids, I don't want to leave them. I want to become a mother."
I grasped her hand as it lay on the table. "I'm happy for you, Morgan. You will be a spectacular mother and the man you marry will be as lucky as I am."
Morgan gulped a little ice water, and looked away before looking back at me intensely. "This is where I'd like to take a road less traveled. You have a different relationship with Mal: you're not married, technically you're not even living under the same roof. I know you work at your relationship, though it's different than any married couple I know, and if you wanted, you could teach the married couples I know a few things. I want to do things a little differently, too."
Something about her demeanor set off an alarm, but I didn't know what she was getting at. "Tell me more," I said. "I'd like to have a baby, but none of the men I ever dated are people I'd like to marry or have father my child. I'm happy without a man in my personal space; I'm not looking. Don't want artificial insemination with an anonymous donor; I'm too good a businesswoman to take a gamble like that with no track record. There's only one man in the universe that I want to make my baby: you."
Fortunately I wasn't drinking anything right then, or I would have almost drowned for the second time in my life. I shot my remaining ouzo, ordered another, and looked at Morgan. She was more earnest than I'd ever seen her, and I'd known her for much of her life. "I'm flattered beyond belief, Morgan, but I'm not sure about this. I don't want to jeopardize my relationship with Mallory for anything in the world. We might be able to keep a secret like this from her, but it would be a millstone on my heart and I couldn't bear it."
"Knew you'd say that." She handed me an envelope from her purse addressed to me that was clearly in Mal's handwriting. "Here's a letter." It said:
I know you love me more than life itself and I am the luckiest woman in the world to have you. You have proven your fidelity to me over and over, and I am as secure in your love as my grandmother Charlene was. Morgan told me what she wants and I agree: she could choose no one better to make her babies. Do it with a clear heart, my darling: enjoy making love to her and give her a baby. The only person we need to keep this secret from is my mother. Morgan will tell you why.
Love, Your Mallory"
Dropping the letter to my side, I slumped in my chair. When Mal called me Charles, I knew she was deadly serious. Morgan looked at me hopefully. "I love how your children turned out; you have a great portfolio. You can father my babies, too; we'll live close by and be one big happy family."
"I never pictured myself a paterfamilias." It was several moments before I continued, "Let me borrow your cell phone; I need to confirm this."
I called Mal: she quickly confirmed everything in the letter, but wouldn't tell me the story about her mother. Hanging up, I looked at Morgan's pleading eyes. I said at last, "This is more than the Pendant competition asked from me. You know, if I weren't already committed, you would be a regular in my fantasy love life."
Morgan's eyes perked up. "Why thank you, Charlie, that means a lot to me even though you've never used your password on my website. Does this mean you'll do it?"
"How about artificial insemination?"
"Only 15-20% chance of conception, costs a bundle, and not as much fun."
I shrugged my shoulders. "Would your Aunt Charlene have approved of this?"
She nodded eagerly. "Auntie C. always said you should father a baseball team." Charlene frequently used baseball metaphors: a life long Cubs fan.
"The Pendant competition took a lot out of me, but I survived it and I guess I'll survive this. Yes, I'll try to give you a baby."
Morgan leapt into my lap and gave me a long, deep kiss. I gently pushed her away and tried not to look down her dress. "Let's keep some decorum here in public. We'll pay the check and head to the lake cabin, if you'd like. That will give us some privacy and the neighbors in town won't have to see anything that might start tongues wagging."
She dug her corporate card out of her purse. "Let me put this on Dora's account."
******************** The evenings were starting to get chill by the lake, and I built a roaring fire in the hearth at the cabin to warm us. Morgan settled me in a sturdy chair beside the fire facing at a right angle so I could see her body as she was silhouetted in the red light. She began humming Bolero in a reedy voice as she began to sway her hips, swishing the blue dress eloquently as the fabric played back and forth in the crimson light. The dress descended gradually, gracefully, slowly to uncover proud breasts held tightly in a black bra. Black panties appeared as the descent continued and the reedy hum grew sporadic as she immersed herself in her dance.
This was more seductive than the pole dance she did trying to get the Heart Shaped Pendant. Wandering over to my chair, she pulled off my shirt and t-shirt, rubbing her hands over my lap and my radish, before pulling off my pants and pulling off my briefs to lick me once slowly. She then stood up and unhooked her bra, teasing me strap by strap before flinging it into the corner as she resumed humming. Her panties came off the same way and she came to me to grind her pelvis into mine.
She started talking: "You like that, don't you? Yes, yes, baby, your cock is getting so hard. Mal must love that cock, jacking it off, sucking it, fucking it. I'm going to suck you now, but save your sperm to make my baby." Stroking me rhythmically, she knelt before me on the wood floor to demonstrate the oral heritage that Charlene had tutored her.
After a few moments bliss, she pulled off and stroked again, resuming her commentary: "You taste so good, Charlie. You're going to come in my mouth before the weekend's over, I promise you. I will drink you down, I will drink every drop of your sweet come this time. Let me put my legs through the arms of chair as I get ready to lower myself down. Oh,oh,oh, it feels so good, I can't go too fast, have to let you in slowly. Mmm, your cock feels so good in my cunt, like how I can squeeze your cock with my cunt? I thought so, Charlie, I can tell by the look on your face." It did feel good: her technique was dynamic and stimulating. We did our variable speed conjoined chair dance for many enjoyable minutes as she gave commentary. Clouds and Rain approached: "I'm going to milk you dry, oh it feels so good, uh,uh,uh,uh, oh yes, oh yes, let's come together, let's come together, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, aieee!"
As I subsided, sitting on the chair underneath her, I was grateful that she took all the athleticism on herself. I never realized what a mystery it was to take on a new lover: in the beginning you think you know how it will work from previous experience and then you realize you have no idea what works. Wasn't sure that I wanted to live with running instructions every time we had made love, but if it told me what she liked and wanted, I could put up with it for while.
We made love again that night and the next day in different ways; she continued to give me direction. Morgan was good company walking through the woods and other non-sexual activities; she appreciated nature as a city girl freshly discovering the wonders of the forest, and I was glad to be her guide. During a long Sunday afternoon stroll through the cathedrals of green, I asked, "What's the story with Dora? Why do we have to keep this secret from her?"
Morgan stopped abruptly, looking down. "It's about my brother Justin." Justin was ten years younger, was never around the extended family much and I could never figure out his parentage. Charlene didn't say much about it; he was around her house regularly growing up, not as much as Mal, but often. "My father died when I was two years old, and Mom always wanted more children. She dated several men but couldn't find anyone she wanted.
When Mallory was born, Mom thought her time might be running out, so she seduced Mallory's father Harry Morris while Dora was still in the hospital. They carried on for a couple of months until Mom got pregnant, then broke up. Dora found out about it right after Justin was born: Harry was too proud of himself and revealed it one night after a couple of drinks. She hit the roof and kicked him out of the house. Their marriage was in bad shape before and this destroyed it. You know Harry: he could care less about his children. Dora wouldn't speak to us for years and when she finally thawed she still couldn't look at Justin. The year we had the competition for the Heart Shaped Pendant was about the time Dora and Mom started making contact willingly."