[March 2003 Home]             

DINO

Another year passed.  It was better than the last, something that I still find surprising.  It's also more than a little ironic.  I can't tell you how many years I spent avoiding this very thing- a wife, responsibility, commitment.  Footloose and fancy free, thinking the weight of the old ball and chain would smother me.  And yet, now, in the thick of it... I have come to understand that instead of smothering my spirit, it feeds it.  My family is like this wellspring feeding all those parched places inside me, making what was barren and cold, rich and warm and verdant.

Maybe it's just that I'm getting older.  I'll be forty next year.  Somehow, though, I don't really think it's that.  I think maybe it's just I was finally ready to let those good things in.  Or maybe it's just I found the person I was supposed to share them with. 

Man, what a year it has been.  The business is really beginning to take off.  My son is now a little boy, not a little toddler.  My wife is... well, she has become all those things she told me she wanted to be to me on our wedding night; my woman, my wife, my lover, my whore, my partner, my best friend.  And now, we are ready to add to the list.  We are ready to have a child together.

She got off the shot shortly after my birthday.  We gave it a fine sendoff, I have to say.  Terry and Annie threw me this fantastic birthday party.  We danced and laughed and drank and laughed some more.  It was this night of friendship and family and excess.  Heather drank more than usual.  She told me later she did it on purpose, that she wanted to be out of control.  I was pretty lit too when we climbed into the cab that night.  She had on this long skirt and no panties.  Jesus. 

You know what happened.  

She climbed in my lap on the way home and I fucked her right there on the back seat of the cab.  It was dark.  Her skirt hid everything.  She doesn't remember much- but I do.  She was wild for it.  Not in how she moved.  She wasn't even loud.  I mean in how she looked at me.  No hiding.  She stared into my eyes the whole time.  And that look on her face?  I have seen and done some pretty wild shit over the years and I've never, ever seen anything as openly erotic as the look in her eyes that night.

It blew my mind.  I remember thinking to myself- Oh my fucking God!  This is MY wife!  I get to wake up with this woman every day of my life.  How lucky is that?  Heh.  It was like she knew we were on the eve of her become something else to me, this woman who wanted my baby to grow inside her and she was reminding me, in the most eloquent way imaginable, that she would also be this other person to me too.  This wild uninhibited creature who at times could want me so badly she could disregard all the things good little girls are taught and fuck me in the back of a cab like a slut.  It was so hot.  And dirty.  You know I loved it.

Damn.  Talk about the stuff of legends.  

That night was definitely one for the record books.  Of course, she was mortified the morning after.  Which just did it for me.  Heh.  My good girl was back... and that little blush she did when I told her what happened?  Man, I just love to see that.  I'm definitely smart enough not to tell her everything though.  She would die if she knew what she whispered to me at the moment of her coming.  And that's one memory I'm never giving up.  So, I gave her the K and R version instead.  I sure don't want to embarrass her enough to put her off ever doing that again.  'Cause you know?  When the moment's right?  I'm just as dirty as she is.  Heh.

Life went on.  We worked hard.  Played hard.  Began to attend a few of the Family gatherings.  I'd never be totally fine with Curry, but the leap of faith I'd made with her was just that- a leap.  We went to the gatherings.  Had a good time mingling with the Family.  I worried less and less about Curry the more times we crossed paths.  He is a doomhazel.  Never once so much as a flicker of recognition.  I never stopped watching her though.  There will never be a time when I am not standing guard over her.  Never.    

Things at home were good.  She went to work, starting to transform what had once been her bedroom into a nursery.  I started noticing pregnant women.  Were they always around me and I'd just never noticed them before?  They were there when I filled the cars with gas or when I stopped at the corner grocery or when we went to the park.  And every time I saw one, I'd get this little glow inside thinking of my wife round with a baby I gave her.

Just before our second anniversary, we were given the green light by her doctor.  I booked a room at the same hotel we stayed in for our honeymoon.  Andy was thrilled.  He got another sleepover with Uncle Terry and Auntie Ann.  We got a sleepover of the romantic sort.  Time together alone.  What a gift.  We walked under the cherry trees that line the walk to the Washington Monument.  The petals would drift down from the braches like light snow every time the wind blew.  She was wearing the earrings I gave her and the butterfly pin in her hair.  She looked like springtime, fresh and quiet and glowing with life. 

Tradition.  We celebrated with port, not champagne, and exchanged our gifts over a private dinner in our room.  I'm an old romantic.  We do the traditional gift thing.  First anniversary- Paper.  I gave her an album I'd put together from the mementos I'd kept.  Letters we'd exchanged.  Movie stubs.  Airline tickets.  Candid pictures.  The little scraps of paper from the fortune cookies we shared.  She gave me a watercolor rendering of my favorite wedding picture of the two of us.  She'd painted it in tones of sepia and plum.  It hangs in our bedroom. 

Second anniversary- Cotton.  Now, this one took some thinking on my part.  'Cause, come on!  How sexy and romantic is cotton?  She loved it though.  It had it installed in our back yard while we were at the hotel.  A cotton hammock for two, stretched between two cedar posts I'd had carved with a Celtic knotwork pattern.  Strange how her gift reflected mine.  She came to me that night wrapped in a length of the O'Leary tartan.  Deep green plaid on a field of creamy white. 

When I touched her, it was like unwrapping springtime.  I loved her on the plaid that night.  It made me smile.  O'Leary under her.  O'Leary over her too.  Heh.  It was the perfect backdrop for her pale skin and dark hair and it seemed to fit the slow, dreamy mood that had been growing between us since that afternoon at the doctor.  It was a different rhythm for us.  Softer.  More tender. 

I had never before lay with a woman hoping to make a life while we made love.  The thought that we could, that this incredible feeling we felt for each other might actually someday be a person with a mind and heart and soul all its own all because of this one act between us... god, it just moved me beyond words.  It infused my every touch.  I have never been as soft and gentle with a woman as I was with her that night.  I felt so much love for her swelling in my chest that it hurt to breathe.  I couldn't get close enough to her.  It was like I wanted to crawl inside her and live there forever. 

Laying with her that night unleashed in me an overwhelming tide of emotions I'd never even known existed.  Thirty-nine jaded years on this earth and I touched a hundred new things in her arms that night. 

It was like those nights when we make love so intensely.... but it was also different.  Softer.  I wanted her under me not laying on her side next to me.  I put a pillow under her hips because I wanted to go so deep but I didn't want to hold her down or hold her to me.  I wanted my hands free to touch her face and hands. 

I wondered at the miracle that was her body.  That warm wet place between her legs that sheltered me.  Breasts made to nourish a child.  A heart made to nurture my own.  I marveled at my body too.  Hard and thick and strong.  Wet, like hers was, helping us fit together so perfectly.  This act, done so many times for so many different reasons and in so many different ways was suddenly new and awesome.  We could make life. 

God, all those times I did this and worried.... what if?  Kicked myself for not being able to pull out in time.  Cursing the condom that broke.  Scared I'd fucked up my life because I was too drunk to be responsible or too far inside my own pleasure to care about the consequences.  And now... to feel this amazing feeling?  It was this huge life lesson for me.  This is why we've got all these feelings.  Love.  Desire.  Lust.  Passion.  Drive.  Instinct.  It's so you can lay there with a woman you love and have that incredible chance to turn how you feel about each other into something that might be infused with that divine spark of life.

And in all of that, we were still us.  She was still my honey and I was still her Dean and we smiled and laughed and touched, familiar with each other for all the exciting newness of what we were trying to do tonight.  We never lost that simple joy in each other.  There was this element of grandeur... but also this earthy, primal element too.  I needed come inside her. 

It excited me.  Our lovemaking would be a little different tonight, in deference to what we were trying to do.  I didn't tell her what I had planned.  I wanted to be in charge.  And just the knowledge of what I was about to do with her was enough to charge me up in this way with her that was so hard to control.  I buried my face in her throat and managed to hold back until I felt her grow close.  Felt those little flutters she makes deep inside that tell me she's about to come. 

I joined our hands and let myself go.  Felt that intense pressure in my pelvis turn warm and fluid as I pushed deep.  Felt the tip of my cock brush up against her womb and then caress me in these pulsing throbs as I came in this warm wet rush, so strong it made my eyes water.  Now, for her.... 

Her eyes opened.  Time slowed.  She was so close.  I slipped a hand between us and touched her.  "Make a baby with me."  A plea?  A request?  A prayer?  Maybe all of them, I don't really know.  It just felt right to say the words.  Her eyes fluttered shut and her body arched, muscles clenching so tight around me; those muscles that would one day push our baby into the world.  "C'mon, honey.... make a baby with me."  Soft words, whispered reverently against her flushed skin. 

She made this soft little cry.  My name.  I felt like the strongest, luckiest, most powerful man alive in that one moment.  God, she was beautiful.  What we'd just done was beautiful.  We lay there afterwards, wrapped up in that tartan.  Kissing.  Touching.  She had the sweetest, softest little smile.  Man, but that's a good look on her.  Heh. 

I felt so close to her.  Safe.  Happy.  We didn't do anything crazy after.  There wasn't any of this sort of 'Oh no!  Stand on your head so no come leaks out' kind of moment.  I just cuddled her close and put my hand between her legs like I always do.  Not to keep my come in, but just because I like to touch her there after.  To feel her wet with me.  I've always liked that. 

We talked and laughed and were just our usual selves.  Argued over what movie we were going to watch on TV.  Shared a glass of port.  Ordered up some dessert and smeared each other with this tart lemon mousse- which made for some tangy, sticky, enjoyably decadent lovemaking in the wee hours of the morning.  We took a long hot bath together after.  She rubbed my feet.  I rubbed hers.  We slept in.  Woke up about noon, sleep rumpled and starved.  She went down on me.  I could hardly walk by the time room service had arrived with lunch.  We had a naked picnic in the middle of the room on the floor.  She had another orgasm.  I got another rug burn!  We took another nap.

Strolled up Terry's walk just after sunset.  Floating on air.  Both of us were.  Heather and I, I mean.  Terry and Annie looked a bit haggard.  Heh.  They adore Andy to bits but I know they were glad to see the back of him that night.  We must be crazy to want another, huh?  Or maybe just crazy in love.

[May 2003 Home]             

DINO 

Three months.  Three months of trying and no luck.  We both thought for sure this time....  God, I fucking hate to hear her cry.  There isn't enough scotch in the world to make that sound any easier to take.  Worse, she tries to hide it from me.  Comes to me so soft.  Gives me this hug and tells me she came on.  I always know when she's been crying though.  Always.  I think she's afraid if she lets me see her cry that I'll blame myself.  I don't need to see her cry to do that.  I can't help but take that on.  That's my one fucking part in this whole process.  Just give her the baby.  Why can't I do that?

But I'm not one for sitting on my ass when things aren't going right.  This time, I made an appointment for us both with her doctor and we went together.  Not one of the highlights of my life, but sometimes you just have to swallow down your pride and do what you need to do.  We got this huge-ass list of dos and donts.  No alcohol.  No caffeine.  No smoking.  No masturbation (for me) during or before her 'fertile period'.  Limit intercourse to the 'fertile period'.  Translation: five days a month- I get it carte blanche; the other 25, Mr. Wiggly and I are on fucking bread and water.  Limit movement after intercourse to retain sperm in the vagina.  Try to keep the stress down.  Yeah, wasn't this a barrel of laughs?  Oh yeah, and did I mention that part where I had to jack off into a cup and hand it over to some goddamn teenage lab flunky? 

Reduced to beating off in a sterile bathroom with a stack of crappy substandard porn on this little metal table.  I didn't touch it.  Closed my eyes and thought my wife in the back of that cab.... 

So, bottom line?  She's fine.  I'm fine.  Which, for all its embarrassment, was kind of a relief to know.  I'd wondered if maybe the crossing hadn't fucked with my boys or something...  How can there be so many people in the world if it's so hard to conceive?  Something just didn't add up there, you know?

And then the best part- which just fucking made me laugh.  Her doctor tells us to not be stressed and just have fun with it.  After the appointment we were kind of elated that nothing was wrong but bummed as well.  I took her to dinner.  We were naughty boys and girls.  She had wine.  I had scotch.  I smoked four cigarettes and she didn't stay immobile twenty to thirty minutes after I fucked her 'cause she had to get out of the cab.  I doubt it was a night that did great things for our fertility, but it sure as hell helped with morale. 

[September 2003 Home]             

DINO 

This whole 'just have fun with it' thing is getting harder and harder to do.  I'm starting to feel like a studhorse.  If I'm even home during the time she's fertile- and believe me, it's hell with my schedule trying to plan trips abroad around that.  (Once I even arranged for us to meet in London when I couldn't get away.)  Everything is different now.  I used to get these calls from her during the day to say she loved me or to breathe heavy in my ear or to light my fire about what she had planned for us that evening.  Now I get these calls.  Can you come home on your lunch hour?  I'm ovulating. 

Jesus.  The last time that happened, I almost couldn't get it up.  Drive home in heavy traffic- my mind on work and some contract I'm supposed to be negotiating in a business meeting later on in the day and I'm supposed to just be able to put all that on hold?  I know they say men think about sex all the time- and they do.  It's true.  But we also think about our job.  Our mortgage.  The tune up that I need to do on her car so my family is safe while they're out and about... 

I love my wife.  I do.  But it's been for-fucking-ever since we just made love for fun.  Because we wanted to.  God, twice in the last month I've stopped at a titty bar on my way home just because I wanted to remember what it was like to think about a woman as a sex object, not as a vessel for a child.  Been a long fucking time since I did that.  I only went twice though.  The second time, I put a bill in this hot little dancer's G when she went by and it made me hard.  Harder than I'd been with my wife the last time she'd called me home to play studhorse during lunch.  It made me feel dirty.  And ashamed.  And powerful.  

Both of us, we were tying ourselves in knots because we wanted a baby so badly.  It was absolutely insane.  I would see her do something simple like picking flowers in the garden and get hard.  I thought about her at night, fantasized about making love to her, touching her little round tummy.  Thought about how amazing it would be to hold her hand while she pushed our baby into the world.  Wondered what it would be like to taste the milk from her breasts.  And I had a whole slew of other fantasies about her that didn't include a baby at all.  She was still the soft, innocent girl I fell in love with.  We could just never seem to get on the same page. 

We'd have a fight over something stupid.  I'd go to bed with my back to her and in the morning, wake up to find we were holding hands.  But then the day would start and we'd find ourselves dragged apart by life and our own stubbornness... and God, hearing her cry still tore my guts out. 

She still tried to hide it from me and it still made me feel like less than a man.  Her old Dean had been potent.  Looking at Andy every day was both a beautiful and painful reminder of that.  He had no problems giving Gen a baby.  Why the fuck couldn't I give Heather one?  Jesus.  Half the men in the Family had kids.  Max.  Bud.  Hando.  Fucking Curry had two.  It ate at me. 

Every time we tried and failed, I felt worse.  I know she did too.  Sometimes we talked about it.  Our fears.  But those times became fewer and fewer as the months wore on.  It was like this ride we couldn't get off of.  Our good times were so good.  And the bad ones were so fucking shitty.  I'd be away for a few weeks working.  Thinking about nothing but how badly I wanted to hold her, smell her scent, touch her, make love to her... and then I'd come back and something would go wrong.  All that stuff I wanted to do just didn't ever seem to happen.  Sometimes when we made love, she wouldn't even come.  She'd whisper to me that it didn't matter.  That she didn't need to come to get pregnant.  I'd feel worse than ever.  And more like a studhorse than ever too. 

I loved her.  I resented her.  I felt like a failure.  I felt frustrated.  We wanted a baby so much and it was tearing us apart.

[October 2003 Halloween.  Home]             

DINO 

I love Halloween.  Was a bit worried that something with Heather would go wrong and we'd have some stupid fight that would spoil the day for Andy and Terry and Annie... but we were having a good streak.  She loves Halloween too, and I think it helped that we both had this other thing to focus on for a while.  Blow off a little steam.  I certainly intended to.

I already had the makings of some good pranks out in the garage..... and a bet for fifty bucks riding with the old man on how far the pumpkin launcher I built would hurl one of those babies.  Heather was excited about having family in our home.  She loves the old man to bits.  Likes razzing him almost as much as I do.  She was looking forward to carving pumpkins.  Bit of lightness in her when she teased me about the Halloween costume she'd made for herself.

A mermaid.  God, I hoped Mr. Wiggly and I got a reprieve from bread and water for that.  Jesus.  I saw it hanging on the back of our bedroom door and nearly came in my pants.  Heh.  Well, OK, I admit.... it was thinking about what it would look like on her that had me feeling that way.     

It was just a good day.  Andy was worked up.  I was too.  Terry was chasing Annie around in the back yard like a fool.  It was good to have them over.  I figured Heather might nab Annie for some girl talk.... which couldn't hurt.  She doesn't have many close friends and I know keeping all this crap bottled up in her isn't helping any.  Especially since the one person in the world she can usually talk to about anything - me - doesn't seem to be much good for anything these days. 

We cut loose a little.  Broke the rules and made some drinks.  I knew I'd probably pay for it later somehow..... but I was getting a charge out of seeing her a little buzzed.  Bit of color in her cheeks.  Not wound quite as tight as she'd been lately.

I was taking a piss in the bathroom off the garage while Terry and Andy wrestled in the living room when I heard something that drew me up short. 

"And how are things on your hunt for motherhood?"  Annie's voice.

"No luck yet."  This long pause where I imagined her sighing and avoiding eye contact.  "You know me though... Never could resist a good challenge."  Oh, honey...  Her voice was doing that thing it does when she's trying not to cry.    

"Okay. Now how about the truth?"  Annie again.  Sounding concerned. 

"What do you think? You have no idea what it's like to feel like you have sex by the calendar and the thermometer."  Bit of heat in her voice.  Tongue loosened a little from the booze no doubt.  "I think we've forgotten how to have fun, y'know? It never feels like it's for love anymore... I miss Dean. I miss the way we used to be. I miss when it was fun and light."   

My head dropped lightly to wall and I stood there with my eyes closed.  Me too, honey.  Me too.

It took two more beers and about three pumpkins giving up their lives up for the cause before I felt my good humor return.  There's just something about launching a pumpkin that just does a body good.  Well... OK... I admit... it's more about watching the thing disintegrate on impact.  I just love to blow shit up.  Always have.  Expect I always will.  And you know?  Putting one through the neighbor's window was an accident.... but it was just what I needed to blow off a little steam.  Heh.

Later, the old man and I escaped and headed down to the corner store.  Terry claimed it was for more smokes but my wife knows us both well enough to hear what wasn't said.  We wanted a bit of space and a place to talk where little ears wouldn't overhear.  So we walked.  We talked.  We smoked.  I usually keep my cards pretty close to my chest, but Terry's my best friend and the truth is, I needed him to be a friend just then.  I was feeling pretty low.  I know he knows things have been off lately.  He's trained to notice the details.  I don't think I was really looking for answers so much as to vent a little with someone who'd understand.  Someone who'd back me no matter what. 

Turns out he had a few things on his mind too.  This shit with Annie taking that promotion?  I wanted to say 'What the fuck's wrong with her?  What the fuck's wrong with you?!'  But I held my tongue.  Held it about that adoption thing too.  He knew I was in his corner- that my first loyalty was to him.  But I also knew how prickly he can be when I give it to him straight up.  I might be his best friend, but he shuts down on me just like he does with everyone else when he doesn't like what I have to say.  Just like he did with that Alice shit in Tecala.  So, I just let him talk.  Played a bit of devil's advocate.  Partly for him.  Partly for me.  I had too fucking much on my plate.  The last thing I needed was for him to clam up on me when I needed his ear. 

So, we talked.  Were about as honest as two men can be.  Sober.  Gave each other a little pep talk.  Our version of one, anyway.  Gave each other a ration of shit too.  We fall back into that familiar pattern and things are just easier.  I don't know why.  By the time we left the corner grocery, we were done confessing and ready to blow off more steam.  At least I was.  I was going to milk this holiday for all it was worth.  Pumpkins.  Pranks.  Candy.  Wife in a sexy costume.  What's not to love?

The prank didn't come off too smoothly, but I enjoyed myself nonetheless.  Ann seemed to enjoy getting an eyeful of us kneeling in surrender on Col. Higgins front lawn.  Heather's face held something entirely different as our gaze met.  God, how I'd missed that sparkle in her eyes.  Andy had a blast trick-or-treating.  I had a blast watching him.  And checking out my wife in her costume.  Damn.  Mermaids get me every time.  By the time Andy was asking Terry to read him a bedtime story, I was ready to do a little trick-or-treating of my own. 

Annie was a bit pissed as I carried my wife off down the hall.  She was all set to take Uncle Terry home and give him a treat... but I wasn't about to let this chance get away.  Not with the way things had been going between Heather and I lately.

I kicked the bedroom door shut.  Put her down and then just took a moment to look at her.  My wife.  So beautiful.  And that costume... the green of the sheer scarves she'd layered to make the tail... the pearls woven in her dark hair.  I took her top off so I could see her as she was when she was the mermaid in my fantasies.  Bare breasted and beautiful with her hair flowing loose and free.  I caught our reflection in the mirror over the dresser.  A mermaid and an old soldier dressed in a scarlet jacket. 

In my mind, we were suddenly under the sea.  I was a drowning man and it felt like if my mermaid didn't breathe the kiss life into me that I was going to die.  Looking back, I think that sentiment was a little closer to the truth than either of us realized.  I wanted to drown in her.  I kissed her with all those feelings that had been bottled up in me for so long.  Kissed her lips.  Her face.  Her eyelids.  Trailed them down her body.  Knelt before her.  So different than how it had been earlier on the lawn.  Kneeling in a different kind of surrender this time.  So much better for both of us.  She hates seeing me humbled by anything but love. 

I wrapped my arms around her and held her so tight, my face pressed to her belly.  Not because I was thinking about babies but because sometimes, I just need it for myself.  I need the comfort touching her like this brings me.  She raised her small hands and stroked my cheek.  I lifted my head and saw her eyes were closed and she was crying these silent little tears that slipped from under her lashes. 

What we thought was going to be this fun little sex romp turned into something else entirely.  So long since we'd touched each other this way.  So long since it was just for us.  For love.  It hit me hard.  How long had it been since we'd really made love?  When did we stop kissing?  When did I stop talking to her heart?  How long had it been since we'd felt sanctuary with each other instead of frustration and resentment? 

I stripped away our costumes and just held her while she cried.  After a while, I started touching her.  Intimately, while our walls were still down.  Another sexual first for me- making love to a crying woman.  It never ceases to amaze me how I keep experiencing new things with her, as jaded as I am.  She came on my fingers with her face pressed into my throat.  I could feel the salty trickle of her tears on my neck.  She pushed me over to my back and went down on me.  I think both of us wanted to keep this as far away from the idea of making babies as we could.

That was almost automatic for us now.  Did it by rote.  She would blow me to get me hard and then we'd fuck and I'd come.  Neither of us really enjoyed it anymore.  But God, I enjoyed this.  And I was already so hard before her mouth ever even touched me.  Still, tears seeped from under her lashes.  From mine too, to tell the truth.  I had missed this so much.  Not the act itself, but receiving the loving touch of my wife.  Getting to give her a loving touch in return.

There was no pressure.  No worry.  Just pleasure for pleasure's sake and it felt so goddamn good.  The best thing wasn't the orgasm.  It was feeling my wife's hand in mine when it took me.  That's where the real pleasure is.  I kissed her right after, so hard and long and deep.  Shared my taste with her.  Proof of life on so many different levels. 

The world intruded.  We had to get up.  She was subdued but reluctant to give up my touch.  It had been a long time since she'd taken solace in my presence and it made me feel powerful, like a man again.  More than the sex had.  Even more than making her come had.  We redressed.  Jeans and t-shirts instead of our costumes.  They'd served their purpose.  The drowning soldier had indeed been infused with the breath of life when kissed by his mermaid.