Wicked Dream

Echoes in Eternity

What We Do in Life …

Part Six – Wicked Dream

by

Reagan Kavanagh

This work of adult fiction, loosely based on characters portrayed by Russell Crowe, includes adult language and experiences; you have been warned. No copyright infringement on the original work is intended. ©Reagan Kavanagh 2006.

Author’s Note: “Wicked Dream” by Elton John was the inspiration for this story. If you want to purchase it for your computer files, it’s available here http://music.allofmp3.com/r2/Elton_John/The_Big_Picture/group_16/album_318/mcatalog.shtml?albref=14
Do understand that when Maximus uses the Latin anatomical terms in describing Reagan’s genitalia, it is because those are the terms with which he is familiar, i.e., Latin is his native tongue. Maximus thinks in Latin and translates his thoughts into English. He may – on occasion – use terms such as ‘cunt’ but when doing so, it is in reference to women he has used simply for his sexual gratification, never in reference to the woman he loves, has married, and hopes will one day be the mother of this child.

It’s written clear across the room
In silent words the blind could understand.
I came here to relax and find
A sleep that soaks me up
Like surf and sand.

And you appear as I descend,
A soft outline all poised and feather light.
I come into the darkness now
To conjure up a dream and close my eyes.

Don’t disturb me if you dare,
Join me if you have the nerve.
I’ll show you where the best of me has been.
Behind my eyes, I’ll wait for you,
Imagine just what we could do,
Come join me in my Wicked Dream.

Wicked Dreams, Elton John, The Big Picture (1997)

The week before Christmas, 2006

REAGAN
I lay my legs down and flat on the bed, moving out of the knees-up position that tipped my womb into a more favourable position for conception after having laid that way for the prescribed half-hour, then rolled to my side and got out of bed; unfortunately, there was no smile on my face. There wasn’t one on his either. Christmas was a week away. I wasn’t pregnant. I hadn’t honestly expected to be this soon, but Maximus was growing increasingly uneasy with each of my passing cycles. Entering the bathroom, I pulled on my robe, washed my hands, splashed water on my face, and pulled a brush through my hair before returning to the bedroom.

Maximus was sitting propped against the headboard, a lit cigarette in his hand. Now that shocked me. I hadn’t smoked since the day Maximus took his ill-advised skiing lesson in Banff and didn’t plan to until such time as our child was born …assuming I ever got pregnant. Having smoked for years had made quitting the habit difficult for me; his choosing now to smoke in my presence did nothing to help my already tetchy mood.

“When did you start smoking?” He inhaled and blew the smoke out, placing the cigarette in the ashtray beside the bed. He’d obviously gone to the lounge and retrieved it – as well as cigarettes and lighter presumably in his briefcase – whilst I was in the bathroom.

“About two weeks ago. Does it bother you?”

“Yes, it does. It also surprises me. You’ve gone so far as to ask Terry, Dee, and Dino not to smoke in my presence for fear of second-hand smoke. I was under the impression you didn’t want me around tobacco of any sort until we had a child. Apparently, I was mistaken.” His eyes narrowed as he looked at me.

“At this juncture, it seems that is not likely to occur in the foreseeable future. Given that premise, I doubt you – or a child – will be in any immediate danger.” I felt my temper begin to flare.

“Are you blaming me for not having conceived?” He shook his head.

“I do not blame you any more than I blame myself. I am aware these things can take time. It was more than six months before Ileana conceived, but she was very young; however, Ethelinde and you – in that first life – conceived within weeks. I am perplexed and more than a bit disheartened.” I crawled onto the bed and sat beside him.

“Neither of us is as young in this life as we were in that earlier one. Give it time.” He exhaled again and looked at me.

“Cara, I am painfully aware that we are no longer young. If we are to have a child or children, it must be soon else we will be too old to be proper parents.” I shook my head at him.

“That’s not true, and you know it. Women today routinely have children into their late 40s, sometimes into their 50s. Men father children well into their 60s and 70s. Further, older parents are more patient and better situated both emotionally and financially to raise children. You know those things …you’ve read the literature.”

“I have, but I do not wish to be following my child about whilst on a walker.”

“Well, if that’s how you feel, we can scratch pregnancy off our list of things to do in this life. Attitude is as important in trying to conceive as it is in any other endeavour. If you don’t think it’s likely to happen, it probably won’t.” I got off the bed and went to the kitchen, pouring myself a glass of wine – what the Hell difference did it make at this point? – sat, and turned on the TV to the noon news. He walked in a couple of minutes later and scowled when he saw the wine glass.

“What are you doing?”

“Having a glass of wine. As you said, it isn’t likely to make a difference in the foreseeable future.” He picked up the glass and took it to the kitchen and poured the contents down the drain and put the glass in the dishwasher. That lit the fuse on the powder keg. I followed him, probably with blood lust in my eyes.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

“Protecting our as yet unborn child, on the off chance that you have just conceived.”

“If you’re so worried about our as yet unborn child, I’d suggest you stop smoking in my presence.”

“I doubt my smoking in your presence is likely to be as injurious as your consuming alcohol …based on the current data.” I glared at him, speaking one word as I turned on my heel and stalked back to the bedroom.

“Fine.”

MAXIMUS
“Fine.” Her voice was cold and hard as she turned on her heel, walked to the bedroom, and returned less than five minutes later. She was fully clothed and had her keys in hand. She did not speak, simply walked to the door and out, closing it behind her. I followed, catching her as she was getting into her car.

“Where are you going?” She turned to look at me.

“I’ve no idea, and at this point I doubt you’d care unless it was with the intent of doing an injury to our as yet to be conceived child.” I managed to remove my fingers from the door just before she slammed it shut and engaged the lock. I know she heard me speaking over the starting of the engine but ignored me; she reversed and backed rapidly out of the drive before accelerating down the lane. If I am given one hundred years in this life, I still will not understand the workings of a woman’s mind. It is also now quite clear to me that the word ‘fine’ has different meaning for her in this instance than that which I am accustomed to attribute.

Terry answered on the second ring. I had waited an hour to call, giving her time to reach their home.

“May I speak with my wife?” He sounded confused.

“Reags? She’s not here, Mate. Something wrong?” I sighed.

“We had a disagreement. She left in anger, and I thought she had likely gone to your house to speak with Diana.” I paused for a moment before asking a question.

“Terry, when does ‘fine’ not mean fine?” He sighed.

“She said ‘fine’ after you argued?”

“She did.”

“When a woman says ‘fine’ after an argument, it means you’ve lost the battle – as well as the war – and you’re unlikely to hear the end of it any time soon. Mate, you’re fucked unless you can talk her round by grovelling at her lovely feet.” I sighed as he spoke again.

“How long has she been gone?”

“Ah hour, no more.”

“If she’s angry at you, she’s likely gone shopping with the intent of spending a wad of your money.”

“She does not shop when she is angry, Terry. She does not shop unless forced to do so by some exigent circumstance.” He was silent for a moment.

“Right …I’d forgotten that. Well, she’ll likely turn up soon. Let us know if she isn’t home by nightfall.”

I looked at the clock. It was just past ten, had been fully dark for several hours, and Cassandra had not returned. She had not called, though her cell phone had been clipped to her belt when she left just after noon. I had called the number numerous times, getting the message that her phone was turned off on each occasion. At first I had been annoyed; now I was worried. I called Terry again.

“Thorne here.”

“Terry …she has not come home and has now been gone ten hours. I am worried. Has she called you or Diana?”

“Not a word, Max. Jesus, Mate, what did you two argue about that has her so angry that she’s not checked in with anyone?” I had no wish to disclose so personal a matter but am not prone to prevaricate or dissemble.

“Our failure to conceive.” I heard his sharp intake of breath.

“Max, tell me you didn’t imply she was to blame.”

“I did not blame either of us. I am frustrated – as is she – and simply spoke my mind.”

“I see ….” Clearly, he did not ‘see.’ “You want some company? Diana’s on the computer and likely will be for a few more hours. She can survive without me and will be here if Reags calls or comes by.” Did I wish companionship at this time? I was not sure. He spoke again. “Max, if you’re not sure, then you likely don’t need to be sitting there alone. I’m on my way.”

“Thank you, Terry. If she returns whilst you are in transit, I will call.”

TERRY
Diana looked at me as I put the phone on the base. “She still isn’t home?” I shook my head.

“No …and Max is worried. Can’t say I blame him. Have you ever known her to just take off with no indication of where she’s going?”

“Never …but then I’ve never known her when she was trying to get pregnant either.”

“Do you have any notion where she might have gone?” She thought for a tic before answering.

“Terry, the only time I’ve ever known her to go AWOL was after Max walked out when she thought she was pregnant last year. She didn’t go anywhere then …just holed up in the house and didn’t answer the phone or the door. I suspect the only reason she let me in when I went over there was because she knew I had a key and would come in anyway if she didn’t open the door. This is really out of character for her.” I picked up my keys, cell, and cigarettes and headed to the door.

“That’s what I thought …I’m going over and hold Max’s hand until we hear from her.” She followed me to the door.

“I think I liked it better when one or the other of them would show up here unannounced. At least we got to stay together.” She sighed. “Go on. I’ll miss you, and I love you.” I leant down and kissed her.

“I love you, too, Lady.”

REAGAN
It wasn’t so much that I was angry at Max but at the situation in general. I’ve made an effort to start thinking of him as Max now as if we ever do have a child, I don’t think I’m going to be equal to the task of explaining to ‘Junior’ why Mummy calls Daddy ‘Maximus.’ I hadn’t quite gotten round to actually calling him ‘Max’ yet, but that day was fast approaching.

It pisses me off that people who don’t want children or can’t support them seem to get pregnant every time they have sex. Max and I wanted children. God knows, we could afford them. Yes, I know that most couples try actively for six months to a year before they conceive, but patience has never been one of my virtues when I really want something. The only thing I’ve ever wanted as much as to have Max’s child was Max himself. Where Max was concerned, I’d done the time-honoured Southern belle thing …I chased him until he caught me, and that hadn’t proven particularly difficult; I just slowed down a bit more each time he ran a bit faster. Getting pregnant was proving a formidable task.

I looked at my watch and flipped on the TV. It was past midnight, and I hadn’t called Max, Dee, or anyone else. I’d stopped at Wal-Mart and stocked up on Diet Coke and bought a couple of paperbacks then checked into the Holiday Inn just down the Interstate from the house, asking for a room in the back so that my car couldn’t be seen from the road. I figured Max would probably start driving round looking for me if I wasn’t home in a couple of hours and hadn’t answered my phone and at that point, and I really didn’t want to be found. I wanted to pout and be pissy and didn’t want anyone disturbing me whilst I did so. I realised that he’d be really worried by now and called the house. He answered on the first ring.

“Max Espan.”

“It’s me.”

“Are you all right, Cassandra? Where are you?”

“I’m fine, I’m safe, and I’ll be home in the morning. I just need some time to myself.”

“I did not intend to anger you, Cara.” I sighed.

“And I didn’t intend to anger you, Maximus. I’m just frustrated and rather than staying there and taking it out on you, I left. When I get like this, I’m really not suitable for human companionship.”

“Where are you? Let me come to you.”

“No …not tonight. Just let me get this sorted out in my head, and I’ll be fine tomorrow. Don’t worry. I’m not drinking, and I’m not going to harm myself. I just want to be alone for a bit longer. Go to bed. I’ll see you first thing in the morning. I love you.” I hung up before he could answer. I really did need to talk to someone, but not Max and not Dee nor Terry. I hit a speed dial number on my cell, hoping he was home and alone.

“O’Reilly.”

“Hey, Dino, it’s Reags.” I could hear the surprise in his voice and mentally pictured his wrist flying up so he could look at his watch.

“Reags! You okay, Honey? Something wrong?”

“Are you alone?”

“Yeah …Ellie’s got a major case starting Monday and needed the weekend to prepare. Hey, you’re not at home are you?”

“No.”

“Where are you, Honey?”

“In a room at the Holiday Inn just down the road from the house.”

“You and Max have a fight?”

“Yes …no …shit, Dino, I don’t know.”

“I’ll probably regret asking this – particularly if Max ever finds out – but do you want company?”

“…yeah. I do.”

“What’s your room number?”

“Two-twenty-three …upstairs, in the back.”

“See you in about 45 minutes.”

DINO
Yeah, yeah, I know. Donning my armor and jumping on my ever ready white charger and rushing to Reags’ side probably wasn’t the smartest thing to do, but this is Reags we’re talking about. She’s like a sister, and one of the few women I’ve known about whom I don’t have erotic fantasies …well, not all that many, anyway. If she was upset enough to have left the house after a set-to with Max, she didn’t need to be alone. We were drinking buddies and great friends. Like Terry, I’d held her when she cried while Max was missing, and she’d listened as I worked my way through my feelings for Ellie. We understood each other. I knocked on the door to her room 47 minutes after hanging up the phone. She stood aside and let me in as I looked around the room. No scotch bottle, but there was an empty two-liter bottle of Diet Coke in the trash can and an open one on the dresser beside a glass and a bucket of ice. I pulled my hip flask from my pocket and got the second glass, poured, and sat at the little table in the corner. She poured more coke into her own glass and flopped across the bed on her stomach.

“So, you planning on telling me why you’ve cut-and-run, or do I have to drag it out of you?” She grinned.

“I’m not pregnant …well, not that I know of anyway.” Oohhhh.

“I take it the Old Roman is less than pleased.”

“We’re both less than pleased.”

“He blaming you for it?” She shook her head.

“No …he knows its no one’s fault, at least not that we’re aware of at this point. If I don’t catch in the next two to three months, we’ll go in for a consult. Dino, he has three children that he’s sure of, so it’s highly unlikely he’s the reason, and I’ve been pregnant, so I don’t think it’s me. I know it takes time, but when you want a child as much as we do, it’s hard to wait. I know age is a factor. Women my age don’t conceive as easily as younger women, but I also have friends my age who’ve gotten pregnant within a couple of months, and they weren’t even trying! We’re both just so bloody frustrated at this point.” That was as plain as the nose on your face. Three kids? I thought he only had two …wonder what got lost in the translation?

“When did you two get into it?” She looked at her watch.

“About 11 hours ago.” Jesus!

“Have you at least called him so he won’t worry?”

“Yeah …right before I called you.” I took a sip of my drink.

“Other than the obvious, are you two getting along okay?” Now she smiled.

“Yeah …he’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me, Dino.”

“And you’re the best that’s ever happened to him. Honey, give it time. Maybe stop trying so hard? I understand it happens when you relax.” She finally laughed.

“Well, I guess living by a basal thermometer and temperature chart isn’t exactly conducive to relaxed and spontaneous sex, is it?” Thermometers and temperature charts? Christ!

“Jesus, Reags, I don’t think I’d be able to even get it up under those conditions!” We both laughed before she answered me.

“Well …that’s the one problem we don’t have!” I groaned …there are some things a man just doesn’t need to hear about one of his partners.

I looked down at her as I stood in the open door of the hotel room, then leaned over and kissed her on the cheek.

“You gonna tell Max I was here?” She shook her head and shrugged.

“Probably not. It doesn’t concern him. You’re my friend, and I’m yours. We don’t need his consent or his blessing to see each other alone.” I nodded.

“Whatever you think best, Honey. But if you do decide to tell him, give me a heads-up, would you? And you do know I’ll tell Ellie? It’s part of that full disclosure thing we agreed on right after your wedding.”

“Absolutely and on both counts.”

MAXIMUS
Terry left just before six, and I lay on the couch awaiting her return. I heard her key in the lock and looked at my watch. It was 0623. She closed the door and came to sit on the floor beside the couch.

“I’m sorry, Maximus.” I sat, taking her hands and pulling her up and into my lap.

“I apologise to you as well, Cara. It was not my intention to make you feel that I blamed you in this matter.”

“I know …and I didn’t intend making you feel that I blamed you. You have children …we know you’re fertile. I’ve been pregnant, so there’s no reason to think I’m infertile. It’s just the situation that’s so frustrating.” I nodded and pulled her closer as she continued to speak.

“I think what discourages me so is that getting pregnant seems so easy for some women. All Bill’s sister had to do to get pregnant was let her husband hang his pants on the bedpost. They had three children within five years after she went off the pill. Women in third world countries drop babies like a bitch whelps puppies …it just seems to happen so easily for them. We’re half killing ourselves – and not even enjoying the process lately – and having no luck at all. We want children, we can afford to raise and educate them, and we can’t get pregnant. People who could care less seem to breed like rabbits, and we’re getting flat, fucking nowhere. I hate whingeing, but Maximus, it isn’t fair.” I kissed her head where it was now buried in my chest.

“No, it does not seem fair …but we both have ample evidence that life is not fair nor has it even been. It will happen, Cara. As you said …give it time. When the Gods will it so, we will have our child.” She didn’t speak, only nodding into my chest where I could feel the moisture of her tears.

REAGAN
I called Sharon Fletcher early Monday morning. She’d just arrived and didn’t have an appointment until ten. I gave her my tale of woe, and she laughed just as I’d known she would.

“Reags, throw away the damned chart and thermometer and try enjoying your husband for a change. Neither of you has reason to think infertility is a problem, and you know it takes time. Most of my patients try for four to six months – some as long as a year – before hitting the lottery. Give yourselves that latitude. If you’re not pregnant by then, come in – bring Max with you – and we’ll talk about testing. I’d rather start with him than you, as it’s a lot easier on men than women.” I thanked her for listening and hung up. Max was at work, and I was on winter break. I’d finished my Christmas shopping before Thanksgiving; my annual baking was done and in the freezer. All the gifts were wrapped and under the tree. I had nothing productive to do with myself and didn’t want to call Dee and cry on the shoulder of she-who-doesn’t-do-young-of-any-species.

I walked through the house, doing the white-glove test …nothing there either. Celeste – my housekeeper since I moved here – keeps the place immaculate. I could take the dogs for a walk. It was a crisp, clear day, the temperature in the mid-40s. They would enjoy getting out of the house and yard for a change. As soon as they heard me taking their leads from the hook in the utility room, they scampered to the front door and sat waiting expectantly. I put the leads on them and chastised Pandora who had begun bouncing up and down as if she had springs on her feet. I dubbed her the Golden Leaper when she was about six-months-old and have never seen reason to change the descriptor.

We walked down the lane as their noses worked overtime. They spend a lot of time in the fenced-in part of our property but rarely get out of the yard. Having the opportunity to be out in the larger world was obviously a treat for them. If I’d intended this outing to offer me exercise potential, I’d been sadly mistaken. They stopped every three feet to sniff at something only they could discern. Bailey bolted forward, to be brought short by the ten foot lead. Unfortunately, it got him close enough to whatever had caught his nose to be able to reach it, and he grabbed it, bringing it proudly back to mom. A dead snake. At least it was dead, and I was glad Dee wasn’t with me. That woman is the worst ophidiophobe I’ve ever seen. She won’t go near the herpetarium at a zoo, and I’ve teased her mercilessly about how much fun she missed by not having grown up in the deep south and having the opportunity to stop at the snake farms beside the roads whilst on summer vacations. She turns green every time I mention that. One of these days she’s going to slap me silly when I mention snakes, and I deserve it. Of course, she can counter with that fact that I’m somewhat of an arachnophobe. I’m also a pathological acarophobe because a cockroach will send me screaming in the opposite direction and up onto the first elevated object I can find. She’s always teasing me about that, because neither spiders nor cockroaches cause her to turn a hair.

I got the dogs back into the house and took them off their leads, returning them to the hook on the clothes rack above the dryer before walking to the bathroom. I opened the drawer and stood looking at the temperature chart and basal thermometer, sighed, and committed both to the trash bin. Glancing at the clock as I walked through the lounge, I was surprised to note that it was only one in the afternoon. What could I prepare for dinner that might serve as a conciliatory dinner for Max? It had been several days since we’d argued, and I still felt guilty. Preparing a special meal for him might assuage some of that self-inflicted angst.

I microwaved a cup of coffee from what we’d not consumed this morning and sat in the lounge as I thought. When in doubt, go for the mindless …I turned on the television and flipped to one of the food channels, laughing out loud when I realised what I was watching. Some Italian woman was actually doing a show on “What They Ate in Ancient Rome.” That took care of my problem, and I walked to the kitchen bookcase – I have many of my cookbooks in a case in the kitchen – and pulled down the three I have on the foods of ancient Rome. Several times since Max came into my life, I’ve prepared a Roman meal for him with the same result each time …he was both amazed and delighted. After going through the various books for half-an-hour, I’d developed a menu and had my shopping list ready. Of course, I was going to have to drive into Dallas to the nearest Whole Foods store, as they’re the only markets I knew of likely to carry the more obscure items on my list. You try finding pennyroyal, fresh coriander, Baian beans, and whole sheep’s milk at your friendly neighbourhood Albertson’s. I was out of the house and on my way by two.

MAXIMUS
The day passed slowly as it was Christmastide and little was happening at the office. Promptly at five, I turned off my computer and collected my briefcase, pausing as I passed Dino’s door to reach in and snap off the light. He had left a bit after two, as Ellen Hughes was coming to Dallas for two days on business and would be at his flat by the time he reached home. I paused in the open door of Terry’s office to say good night; he looked up as I lingered a moment.

“Things a bit better today, Mate? You and Reags sort it out over the weekend?” I shrugged.

“We have talked and agree it is in the hands of the Gods. If we are intended to have children, we will …if not, we will consider other options.” He nodded.

“Adoption – if that’s your thought – is a good choice, Max. There are a lot of kids out there needing a good home. You and Reags could certainly give it to them.” I smiled. He was correct, and that was the essence of Cassandra’s and my discussions over the weekend. Whilst we wished desperately for a child of our own bodies, we could certainly love and care for a child either unwanted by someone else or from a woman unable to properly care for her babe. “And, Max …stop on your way home and get her some flowers. It’s only a token, but those things mean a lot to women.”

“That is my intention, Terry. I shall see you tomorrow.” I had called Appletree Flowers earlier in the day and would pick up the arrangement on my way home. When I pulled into the drive, I could see her in the kitchen – she had the blinds open in the dining room, allowing passers-by to see through to the kitchen – and she appeared quite busy. Though the sight of her brought a smile to my face, I must caution her to close the blinds before nightfall; not all who would see her would have good intentions. She looked up and toward the window before I cut the lights on the car, and I saw her move toward the front door. She opened it before I could put my key in the lock, smiling up at me as she leant in for my kiss.

“Welcome home, Soldier.” I smiled at her greeting. She uses it on occasion when she knows that traffic has been trying or when she suspects I might have had a difficult day. The reference to traffic is a function of her referring to the morning and evening traffic in the Metroplex area as ‘Car Wars.’ She took my briefcase and placed it on the stand by the door and smiled at the flowers, taking them and held out her hand for my coat as I shrugged out of it. Her mood had been sombre this morning but had lightened considerably over the course of the day.

“Your mood is lighter than when I left this morning.” She tilted her head before replying.

“It is, and the flowers are lovely. Thank you, Caro.” She sniffed the blooms before taking the vase to the mantle and turning back to me. “I had a chat with Sharon Fletcher …a reality check, and that helped my mood. It will happen when it’s meant to happen and in the interim, we need to just relax and enjoy it. I tossed the temperature chart and thermometer today.” May the Gods be praised! I ventured an observation.

“That is likely a good idea. Perhaps if we return to our former spontaneity, we will be more successful in our efforts. I rather doubt relations by a clock and temperature chart are conducive to the relaxed state I suspect would contribute to conception.” She laughed as she looked up at me, perfectly mimicking Terry’s Australian accent.

“Too right, Mate!” She does have a flair for mimicry.

She forbade me entering the kitchen whilst she completed preparations for our dinner. I asked what she was preparing, as the odours emanating from the kitchen were ambrosial.

“It’s a surprise. You can wait a bit longer.” She looked over her shoulder at me. “Would you set the table for me? I’m ready to dish up, so sit …I can seat myself for once.” I did as she asked. “Close your eyes.” Again I complied. I felt her at my side and heard the soft thunk of the plate meeting the table, a second thunk and then felt her sit and move her chair to table. “You may open your eyes now.” I did and must have stared in amazement and delight. She had prepared a traditional Roman meal for me. Columella salad, fried veal escalope with white raisins, green and baian beans, and lentils with coriander. I was so taken aback that it was several moments before I could speak and reached across to take her hand in mine.

“You must have spent the entire day planning and preparing this meal. I do not know what to say, Cara, other than thank you.” She laughed softly.

“It actually didn’t take as long as I’d thought. The good news is that once having learnt to make garum and the other sauces, I keep them prepared and in the ‘fridge. All I actually had to do was make a run to Whole Foods to pick up a few spices and other items I didn’t have on hand.” I leant over my plate, inhaling the aromas. Now she laughed. “Are you going to sit there and titillate your olfactory bulb all night, or are you going let your palate go to work?” My response was to pick up my knife and fork and try the columella salad, then the veal. The salad was a delight and the veal perfect. I chewed and swallowed before speaking.

“This is as good as what I recall from my mother’s table when I was a child. If I did not know it impossible, I would think you had somehow obtained her recipes.” She smiled as she tasted the veal.

“It is good, isn’t it? Tell me what you think of the beans.” I sampled them, and they, too, were delightful. I tried the lentils, and again, it was if I were transported to my childhood. I looked at her in admiration.

“This is wonderful, Cara. What inspired you to this effort on this night?” Now she became humourous.

“My mom always said that whilst there was a more direct and less messy route, one way to a man’s heart is definitely through his stomach!”

Whilst we did finish our meal, it was a good deal later before we got round to the nut tart she had prepared for dessert.

REAGAN
The dinner I’d prepared for Maximus that night wasn’t one designed to elicit sex, but it did have that result and – for the first time in weeks – we actually enjoyed it. Remember that sex swing the office gang gave us as a gag wedding gift?

Maximus had set up the – for lack of a better word – device the day after we returned from our wedding trip, but we’d been so preoccupied with trying to get me pregnant that we hadn’t tried it until tonight. Well, we’d made a couple of attempts, but the bloody phone rang both times and given Max’s profession, you do NOT let a phone ring and not answer it. Max had warned me that he’d told Terry we used it frequently, and I was sworn to uphold his polite lie if ever asked about it. You can only imagine the near hysterical laughter from both of us as we got me into the thing. I’d never considered myself a contortionist, but there you go; sometimes I surprise myself. What I’d not imagined was the reality that the position I occupied once in the swing would bring forth a side of my husband I’d never seen. Yes, he’s always been erotic and sensual, but this gadget brought him to a level entirely new to my experience.

He had helped me into the various straps and then stopped, taking a step back to look at me. This contraption is on a free-standing floor support rather than hanging from the ceiling over the bed. I’m not sure dangling is the correct term, but the position that’s natural once you’re in the straps is pretty, well, revealing. My legs were spread wide, and I was totally exposed to the smouldering gaze from his now glittering green-blue eyes. The expression on his face raised chill bumps on my skin, and I could feel the burn of desire deep inside me. I could also feel myself getting wet. I managed to find my voice.

“Ummm, Maximus, have you ever actually used one of these things before?” The look on his face answered my question, but the rough edge in his voice brought my passion and heat even higher.

“Oh, yes, Cara, I have.” To me, the indignity of my position surpassed even that experienced by women on a gynaecologist’s exam table, but it was clearly an incredibly erotic position in Max’s perception. I was suspended, knees pulled outward forcing my legs apart with my vulva clearly exposed to his hungry eyes. His tongue came out to lick his lips; they must have been as dry as my throat. “I can see your moisture …it trickles from you.” Oh, God. He knelt in front of me, his hands on my inner thighs as he spread me wider. Even as much as I trust Max and know he would never harm me, this was an appallingly vulnerable position in which to find myself. Somehow, I doubt Terry, Dino, Dee, and Sooze ever considered that reality. I certainly hope that thought never occurred to any of them.

I’ve never understood why men are so fascinated with looking at women’s genitalia, but it obviously fascinates and arouses them. I’ve looked at myself with a hand mirror; I think all women have at one point or another. I think we’ve tried to figure out what it is that men find so fascinating about our anatomy. Personally, I think female genitalia is far from enticing; fortunately for us, men appear to think just the opposite.

For Max, reading me and my body was as simple as reading a book of erotic poetry. He savoured me, as a man savours a good cigar or fine wine or erotic words. Kneeling before me, his eyes moved to my face before returning to my genitalia, and he licked his lips again. His left hand remained on my inner thigh though now it stroked my skin softly. His right hand moved to my outer lips, caressing them, one finger stroking softly over the outer folds as I felt myself open to him. His fingers stroked more purposefully, separating the outer lips from inner, that one finger now circling my opening. I could feel the moisture slipping from me as his fingers scooped it from my body, taking to his lips. He licked them slowly before looking back into my face. I could feel the heat in my belly as it radiated outward to my skin.

“You are my wicked dream, Cara, all my erotic fantasies become one in you. Your body welcomes me like the flower welcomes the warmth of the heavenly orb.” Now both his hands went to my vulva, spreading me open and wide as his head dipped to meet it. I felt his hot breath, and then his tongue touched me. He licked between the inner and outer lips, first one side, and then the other. I gasped at the sensation, needing more. His tongue moved to my opening, and he inserted it about an inch …it was hot, making me long for his penis, hard and burning inside me. Removing his tongue, he licked up my slit to my clitoris but then circled round it, teasing me. My voice was hoarse when I spoke.
“Please ….”

“In time, Cara, in time.” Now his tongue flicked lightly over my swollen and pulsing nub, sending tiny shocks through me before he began to suckle me. The roughness of his tongue and the pulling sensation were so welcome, so needed. For the past six weeks our love making had been perfunctory, goal oriented, neither of us truly taking time to ensure the satisfaction of the other. Now I could feel the spasm of the muscles in my legs and belly, the heat radiating through me as he licked and sucked and played with me until he knew I could stand no more without fulfillment. He suckled faster, stroking my belly with one hand as he inserted two fingers deep inside me, reaching and stroking that sweet spot. The orgasm crashed over me like a tidal wave, and I cried out in my release. He didn’t stop sucking me immediately, first removing his fingers before bestowing a kiss on my mons and standing, moving his large body fully between my wide spread legs. His penis was huge, erect and purple with engorged blood at the tip, the foreskin fully retracted with the head fully exposed, his pre-cum oozing from it in a pearly stream.

“Now, Cara,” and he thrust into me, hard and suddenly, his large hands holding my buttocks so that I couldn’t move away from him. I felt his entry into my wetness shoot through every fibre of my body, welcoming him. He withdrew and thrust again. If he’d not been holding me in position, I’d likely have flown backwards like a child in a swing, but he held me and began to thrust with intention. The position in which the swing offered me to him was perfect; it allowed his cock head to hit my G-spot with every thrust. The pleasure was all but unbearable; so recently stimulated to orgasm and ready for the next, I spiralled higher, not even hearing his grunts as he pounded into me. I felt the muscles in my belly tense moments before I exploded into ecstasy, feeling as if I had shattered into a thousand starlit pieces of joy, dimly hearing Maximus’ shout as he climaxed only seconds behind me.

He stayed inside of me, softening slowly, and at last withdrew, pulling me up and holding me close to his body as I wrapped my legs round his waist for a time before he moved away to help me disengage myself from the swing. First my left leg, then the right, before slipping the straps from my arms and helping me from the seat and letting me put my feet on the floor. Had his strong arms not been supporting me, I’m sure my knees would have buckled. They were weak, and I was shaking from the physical and emotional aftermath of our lovemaking. I looked up into his face, smiling, now becoming aware of tears streaking down my face.

“Have I hurt you, Cara?” I shook my head.

“No …the tears are because that was the most incredible thing I’ve ever experienced.” His voice was soft in my ear as he held me close.
“And for me, Cara …I did not know loving you – anyone – could be so wonderful. I have never known such release …such fulfillment.” Max may think he isn’t ‘good with words of love,’ but I have a news flash for him …he’s doing just fine.

I saw the tears in his eyes as he looked at me before pulling me more tightly into his arms. I looked over his shoulder as he held me and saw the wall calendar …I was right in the middle of my cycle. I almost giggled at my next thought. If spectacular, world-shattering sex had anything to do with conception, tonight had likely been the best shot at it I’d ever had.

MAXIMUS
She took my breath away. I am a man; even more, I am a Roman. Our attitudes regarding sexuality were those of open enjoyment. Whilst many of my time indulged themselves with various perversions, I did not care for that aspect of coupling, preferring the company of women and where my wife is concerned mindful of providing enjoyment as much for her as for myself. It has been my experience that taking care to insure the enjoyment of the woman gives even greater pleasure to the man, as her reciprocation enhances the act, making it transcend the physical and taking it to a higher plane. That belief had served both of us this night.

It began in amusement. We had not yet given the sex swing given us by our friends as a comedic gift two nights before our marriage a thorough try-out. I had assembled it the evening after we returned from our wedding trip, but our intention to have Cassandra conceive as soon as possible had quickly taken the joy from our physical union. On the few occasions we had sought to explore its possibilities, the phone rang before we had completed our activities, and I had to answer. As a result, the swing stood largely unused in the corner of our bedroom. Coupling had become a duty for both of us, rapidly relegated to the category of something that must be accomplished rather than enjoyed.
We had exchanged bitter words over the preceding weekend; she left our home in anger, disappearing from noon until early the next morning. I had called Terry and Diana; she was not there nor had they heard from her. She called late that evening, well after dark, saying she was well but needed time alone, that she would return on the morrow. We had reconciled on her return; I apologised for having angered her, and she apologised to me. We spoke of our frustration with our fruitless efforts to conceive our child; our discussion ended with her weeping into my shirt front.

On my arrival home from work Monday evening, she advised me she had discarded the means she had employed to attempt conception by use of temperature and calendar. I was vastly relieved; perhaps now our life could return to some semblance of normalcy. Though I am as anxious as Cassandra for a child, our repeated and scheduled efforts had left both of us angry, tense, and taking little if any pleasure in our union.

She had prepared a Roman meal for me, an effort I felt sure had taken her most of the day though she denied it. After dinner, we were both relaxed and in better spirits than since our wedding trip. When it was time to retire, I followed her to the bedroom. She stopped a few feet in the door, looked at the swing standing in the corner, and looked back at me. I smiled. Our bitter mood was over; perhaps a bit of sport would be a good end to the evening. I moved to pick up the device and put it closer to our bed, away from the wall lest one of us do ourselves an injury by banging into it should we become too animated. We disrobed, and I assisted her into the contraption, taking care to insure the soft side of the straps was turned toward her tender flesh. Once she was situated, I stepped back to look at her and could see the distress on her face. She was embarrassed at what she perceived as a lewd display of her genitalia. I could find no words that I felt would make her less ill at ease, but I could show her that I considered her the most beautiful and desirable of women.

Cassandra’s pudenda was fully exposed to my eyes, and whilst she would have liked to make the usual feminine gesture of covering herself with her hands, she could not because of the outward pull of the arm restraints. I knelt before her, between her spread legs, placing my hands on the inner surface of her thighs. Her skin is soft as a babe’s and as clear; it is as flawless as Carrara marble. I stroked her lower lips, tracing a finger between her folds before circling her opening to gather the moisture collecting there and bringing my fingers to my lips to taste it. She blushed like a maid before I began to love her with my mouth. Her taste is sweet and slightly pungent, and one I find incredibly erotic and female. Most women of this time erase their natural scent with soaps and sprays, thinking a woman’s natural scent unpleasant. They seem not to understand that the odour of their sex is one of the more arousing things about them for a man.

Cassandra has told me that she does not comprehend why men are so desirous of looking at female genitalia, asking why that might be. I gave her the only answer I had …I do not know. I know only that – generically – we do enjoy looking. Perhaps it is simply that women are so different from men. The labia, both greater and smaller, fold in upon themselves, covering the birth channel entirely. Perhaps it is the fact that when a woman is aroused, her labia fill with blood, becoming pinker and fuller, then expanding open and outward like the petals of a flower, until fully open and exposing the channel like a long lost and dearly held treasure.

I know that in Jack Aubrey’s time a woman’s virginity was called ‘that pearl beyond price,’ the gift a woman may give but once, to only one man. Yet each time I take Cassandra, it is as it was the first time. She is always new and fresh to me, each lovemaking a blessing as it was that first day.

In an effort to satisfy my own curiosity, I have asked her why women find the male penis so fascinating or if that is the case only with women I have known. She laughed, saying our penes are a miracle of physiology, and the watching of it engorge with blood and change from its usual flaccid state to rigidity was always a delight to see. She also opined that as I am uncircumcised, American women may find my penis more interesting than others they have seen. I countered by acknowledging that the experience of moving from flaccidity to full tumescence was fascinating to us as well, though we take it largely for granted. To see the change in our bodies as our passion rises is an affirmation of our masculinity. She asked if men feel about their genitalia as do women, that it is somewhat distasteful to look upon; I assured her that was not the case. Perhaps that is because by the very nature of their bodies, women’s sexual organs are hidden from view, protected by a covering of hair, whilst a man’s penis is always on display if he is unclothed. Boys and men are accustomed to the assessment of others, as we disrobe casually in locker rooms and – in my time in the baths – and urinate in each other’s presence in public restrooms. Those men with penes larger than those of their peers are necessarily proud of their size, often holding in disdain those lesser endowed.

I licked and suckled her feeling her desire increase and inserted two fingers into her vagina, finding and stroking that spot that increases her pleasure in my suckling her bud and brings her quickly to her climax. She shuddered in my hands, her moisture flooding my mouth as she came for me, crying out in her release. I rose from my knees, cupping her buttocks in my hands before thrusting into her. For a moment I feared I had hurt her with the force of my entry, but I could wait no longer lest I explode and spill my seed on the carpet.

I held myself in check for a moment, clenching my jaw against coming too soon, and withdrew to thrust again before setting a steady rhythm. She clutched at my arms, panting and urging me onward. I tried to restrain myself until she reached her fulfilment, and when she cried out and shuddered, digging her nails into my arms, I let myself go and attained my own release only moments after hers. Her body went from rigid to relaxed in mere seconds, collapsing back against the harness supporting her. I remained inside her until I softened and slipped from her body then reached round her and pulled her tight to me. Her legs went round my waist, and I held her close until our breathing slowed to a normal state.

I assisted her in loosing herself from the harness and again held her. She was still weak from her release, and had I not been holding her, I fear she would have slipped to the floor. When she looked up at me there were tears in her eyes, and I asked if I had caused her pain. Her response – that it had been incredible for her – brought tears to my eyes …it had been the most fulfilling sexual experience of my life. She is truly an erotic and wicked dream, a woman the sort of which populate men’s fantasies …and she has pledged herself to me for all time. I awoke during the night to find my arm under her shoulders, her head on my chest and one leg thrown over and between my own as I held her close to my heart. I have never known such peace.

Though I wish ardently for a child or children, if it is not to be, then the Gods have willed it so. I ask no more than to share my life and love with this one woman, in the same manner she shares her life and her love with me. Truly, the Gods have blessed me.

Don’t disturb me if you dare,
Join me if you have the nerve.
I’ll show you where the best of me has been.
Behind my eyes, I’ll wait for you,
Imagine just what we could do,
Come join me in my Wicked …
Come join me in my Wicked …
Come join me in my Wicked Dream.

NOTES

AWOL	Military acronym for Absent WithOut Leave
Ophidiophobe	One who fears snakes. See ophidiophobia.
Herpetarium	A portion of zoological gardens that houses reptiles and amphibians.
Arachnophobe	Someone with an irrational, pathological fear of spiders.
Acarophobe	Someone with an irrational, pathological fear of insects, or of some insects.
Baian Beans	Fresh, whole soybeans
Metroplex	The area encompassing the cities of Dallas and Ft. Worth, Texas is referred to by locals as the Dallas-Ft. Worth Metroplex, i.e., the Metroplex.
Pudenda	The external organs of procreation. Of Latin origin, pudenda is from pudendus that of which one ought to be ashamed, fr. Pudere to be ashamed.
Vulva	The visible external female genitalia, i.e., mons, pubis, labia, clitoris, vaginal orifice, vestibule, and vestibular glands.
Penes	The Latin plural of penis.

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