The Gettysburg Zone Part 14

Paul didn't want to open the letter from Angus. It was addressed to Karen. But he wanted her to be home when she read it. That wouldn't be for another couple of weeks. Heather was doing fine and would probably be released very close to the same time. For the first couple of days Karen had no sight in her left eye. Paul panicked but Karen didn't. She had her mother bring her her glasses. Another thing he didn't know about her; she wore glasses. Gradually her eye strengthened itself and her sight returned. It was a little weaker than before but it didn't seem to bother her. Over all she was taking everything very well. She didn't ask for her father and Richard Hampton didn't seem to have the guts to come to her right away. When he did finally ask to see her, Paul felt sorry for him. He was a broken man. Paul was having his wife give his appearance a final inspection for a job interview. He was applying for a job at the Lutheran Home as an orderly during the day. At night he worked at the beer distributor. The rent was paid for the next nine months. It took very nearly every dime he'd made in Philly, but he'd made a home for his wife and daughter. And he'd work two jobs to support them until Karen finished college if need be. She wasn't going back to Virginia. She was going locally and she was going to be a teacher.
The door creaked open and Richard Hampton stuck his head in. "Can we talk, Karen?" he asked sheepishly.
Paul felt her hand grip his. When he turned, she pulled him down and gave him a long, lingering, sweet kiss. "That's for luck. Go get a job, ya bum!" she joked. She hoped she'd pulled that off. Soon it was obvious that she had because her husband left. Her father came in but didn't come close. "Sit down...please."
As soon as he sat down the words started tumbling out. "Karen, I'm sorry...."
"I don't want your apologies, Dad. I want my son! Alive and healthy just like his sister. Can your apologies give me that?" Her voice was even and her eyes tearless. He shook his head. He wasn't tearless. She pushed the button to lower her bed a little. Her head was starting to hurt a lot. "I...I've prayed on this for days. My common sense says that I should hate you. My broken heart says that I should walk away with Paul and my daughter and close the door on you and me forever."
He saw a lone tear escape from her blue eyes. "What can I do, baby?"
"Nothing. For years I watched you on the pulpit and I thought you could walk on water. You saved souls. You were a man of God. But someday every child learns that there is no Santa Claus and no Easter Bunny. I see you for what you are now and I'm not impressed."
"What do you see?" Richard Hampton actually feared her answer.
She wiped away that lone tear and pressed the button for a nurse. She didn't often ask for pain medication but the pain was blinding. The nurse put a shot into her I.V.. That would go the next day and then she'd have to endure the shot in the rear. She wasn't looking forward to it. The medicine zeroed in on her pain and it started to fade as she started to float. But she kept focused on what had to be said. "I see a man. A man who pedals God like tacos for a paycheck. You don't walk on water." The medicine made her thirsty right away and she poured a glass of iced water. She took her time drinking it. She wanted her words to sink in. "But you do teach. My teaching...what you taught me... tells me that I have to forgive you or I'm no better than you."
"But?"
"You have no right to judge me. I will not justify anything I've done. You have no say in what I do, what I wear, who I sleep with or how I raise my daughter."
He smiled weakly. "You and Paul will be getting married so who you sleep with isn't a concern...is it?"
"I'm not marrying Paul until I finish college. Then our daughter can be in the wedding party. And we'll be married in the Catholic church because Paul is Catholic. Our daughter and any other children we have will choose what religion is best for them when they're old enough."
Richard felt a little of his old controlling self start to surface and he shoved it back into the farthest recesses of his brain. He was walking a fine line with Karen as it was. "And if you should get pregnant?"
"I don't plan on that but if I do, I do. It's not open for discussion, Dad. I love you. I forgive you. Let's start over." She held out her hand and he gingerly took it. "I want Heather to know her grandparents."
"Can we do that?" he asked softly as he dabbed at his tears.
"That's up to you, but I warn you. My life, my rules. No exceptions."
"Okay, honey. We'll do it your way. I promise."



Paul watched his wife enter their apartment for the first time. She wore a Penn State baseball cap to hide the blond fuzz. As he'd predicted, she wasn't happy about being shorn of her long blond locks. But it was growing back fast. Not fast enough. She thought she looked like Sluggo from the comic strip "Nancy". He still found her incredibly sexy and desireable. She walked with the help of a walking cast and a cane. Tradition said that he should've been carrying her over the threshold but she wasn't much for traditon. So he carried the baby's things while his mother-in-law carried Heather. He'd cleaned the cradle and replaced the old hand sewn feather mattress with a hypoallergenic substitute. Karen took one look at it and had to sit down. Marjorie sat down on the couch with Heather while Paul handed her daughter a very old letter. Paul's hands lovingly massaged her shoulders as her shaking hands broke the wax seal for the first time. When the envelope came to rest on the floor, Marjorie could clearly see her daughter's name scrawled on it along with the date: 1863. Paul read over his wife's shoulder. Karen looked at her mother and decided to read aloud.


"Dear Karen,
'Tis Christmas and the gift I made ye goes ungiven.
Lass, this old man can't understand why ye and your friends
would just leave without a word like a thief in the night.
I know ye not be a mean spirited lass. But none of ye belong-
ed here from the start. For one short moment in time ye were
my daughter. An old man's heart that had had become accustomed
to the cold grew warm. And it wasn't the scotch. I felt some-
thing for the first time in years. Ye were the damnedest, headstrongest lass I ever saw. But at least ye didn't go to
the altar with that scalawag, Paul Jefferson, with a bundle under
the skirts. I feel that ye are well and happy, even
though I miss ye more each day! I hope that Paul is good to ye,
but I hope ye will be a little more careful about when and where
ye call for the Lord! May God look after all of ye and may the
babe ye carry be healthy be it a son or a daughter. I love ye,
lass, and I will til the day I die.
Sincerely,
Angus MacTavish
December 21st, 18 and 63"


Karen saw her mother's eyes widen. Paul stayed firmly behind her massaging her shoulders. She handed the letter to her mother. It was on very, very old parchment leaving no doubt to it's authenticity. "Paul tried to tell you, Mom," she said simply.
"B-B-But that's impossible!"
Paul kissed Karen's cheek. "Einstein didn't think so. It was Einstein, wasn't it, babe?"
"Uh-huh. Paul and I were married by a preacher at a house on the Taneytown Road on June thirtieth, 1863. Heather was conceived shortly thereafter...if not that night." She felt her stomach tense as the most unpleasant of those memories. "Your great, great uncle...John Issac Franklin..almost succeeded in raping me in the barn. George killed him with a pitchfork."
"The black guy?"
"Yeah. He was, for all intents and purposes, my property. My own ancestor attacked me and rendered me unconscious for awhile I got doctored by Jennie Wade. I watched Abraham Lincoln give his Gettysburg address...from a discreet distance...because in those days pregnant women were confined after they started to show."
Marjorie handed Heather to Paul. He really was her son-in-law! "This sounds nuts!"
Paul laughed and cradled his daughter. "You don't think we know how crazy we sound?"
Marjorie remembered the barn with the mournful hinge in the pasture by Wright Avenue. "The barn is..."
Karen nodded. "That barn."
"I was there. I put my hand in the bloodstain where everyone assumed you died. I could feel you, but..."
Karen put her arms around her mother's shoulders and stroked her hair. "I was there, Mom. Just one hundred thirty plus years in the past. Angus took good care of us. And Lincoln really did like the song 'Dixie'."
"I thought you were a ghost. I made myself believe that I could hear your laughter. Was that possible?"
Karen shivered. "Mom, up until June, 1994, I didn't believe in time travel. But I nursed the wounded from the second day of the Battle of Gettysburg! Maybe you did hear me." Heather snuggled down comfortably in the cradle. "One minute we were running for the Charger down Wright Avenue in the rain and then lightning struck. Karen hit her head. That lightning sent us back. At Christmas we were all walking beyond Angus's barn when that moron, Chris, threw a rock and it hit an unexploded cannonball or grapeshot cannister...we think...and it sent us forward." He went to the kitchen and brought out a bottle of champagne and three glasses. Heather never stirred when the cork popped. He handed around the filled glasses. "To my wife and daughter.I've loved you both through two centuries and I'm looking forward to the next."
Marjorie read and re-read the letter and shook her head. "I just can't grasp this. What did he mean about you crying for the Lord?"
Paul choked on his champagne. Karen had to swallow quickly to keep from following suit. Her blue eyes were wide. "Don't ask, Mother! Please...just don't ask!"



Before Karen started her studies, she took Paul to Richmond and Leesburg, Virginia. Her grandparents in Leesburg were more than happy to take care of their great granddaughter while they visited the sites in and around Richmond. He learned a lot about her heritage by visiting the Confederate White House and the historic sites surrounding it. She took him to King's Dominion and showed him a "Rebel Yell" when they got on the roller coaster by the same name. Then she showed him her own private version at a Best Western that night because it was too far to drive back. Then she took them to Metarie to meet the maternal grandparents. He got a true taste of the bayou that she craved so much back in 1863. She was so free and so at home.
And her grandparents on both sides worshiped her and Heather. They welcomed him with open arms. It seemed like they respected her choices in just about anything she did. But when she took him to New Orleans he started getting the ooog factor. It was creepy. They kept their dead in cement tombs above ground. There was a lot of history but there were also voodoo shops and mystical places that Karen instinctively avoided like the plague! She could hold her faith better than the Rebels had held Atlanta! There was never a question about even getting a souvenier from one of those places, though many did. It was against God and her beliefs and she didn't bend them. But when she deliberately went to the family plot, he hought she'd lost her mind!
She'd bought flowers and placed them on her great, great, great uncle's grave. He was amazed. She was on her knees in prayer so he didn't disturb her. When she rose to her feet he put his arm around her waist. "You are honoring the man who tried to rape you? Karen, I know he's your ancestor, but I pissed on his body before I buried him! How can you..."
"You did what?" she asked, turning those blue eyes on him.
"I-I didn't know then that he was your relative."
She broke out in peals of laughter that echoed through the graveyard. "That explains it!"
"Explains what?" He was totally lost but a wind whipped through the graveyard that chilled him through and through. And it wasn't even cold! It was July!
She pulled him to her and kissed him with everything she had. "You asked me about the white light."
His jaw dropped. "You said...nobody...honey..."
She held him close. "He was there. I saw him before the war had ravaged him...when he joined up...like the picture in my grandparents living room. I was terrified."
"So he scared you back?"
She put her head against his chest and listened to his heartbeat for a short while. "He told me that you were the love of my life and vice versa. He said that I should go back to you and our daughter. It wasn't my time. I had so much more to do. Maybe he meant teaching. Maybe he meant that God wasn't done with me...or you. Yeah, it's spooky, but it helped me to come back. Paul, even he saw that we we meant to be together."
"Did he...say anything about what happened? What almost happened?"
"He was sorry. And then he sent me back."
"And if he hadn't been there?"
" I had to come back, honey. Your Paula Abdul was terrible...straight up! Somebody had to teach you how to sing. And you're getting so much better."
"So there is a white light and all that?"
She shook her head. "It's not so much a white light as it is a kind of a platform between planes. It's the last stop before the point of no return. Step beyond it and no amount of medical science can pull you back. I believe that. "
He held her a little tighter as he remembered how close she'd come to going past that platform. "Now you know that there's something beyond this here and now."
"Honey, I always have known that. It's you that needs the work," She paid her last respects and took Paul to Bourbon Street and the French Quarter. He learned to eat alligator, crawfish, po'boys, jambalaya and...with all respects to Maryland, Virginia and the Chesapeake Bay...Louisiana had Cajuns and Creoles which made for a totally different world of seafood preparation. Even the coffee was different!


Karen had skated through prep school with a "B" average. She could've done better. She knew that. But her father would've found something else to be dissatisfied with. It was a stupid teenage rebellion that would only haunt her later years. And, as she studied for her teaching degree, she wished her long legs...the ones Paul was so enamored of...could reach her own rear to kick herself. Paul had cut his hours at the beer distributors to Friday night and from open to close on Saturdays. That made finances a bit tight, but they managed. And Paul spent a lot of quality time with his family. Marjorie Hampton kept Heather during the day while Karen attended classes and Paul worked. Everything was working out just fine. As Karen cracked the books on the living room couch, she couldn't help but see and hear the love and joy that flowed between father and daughter like static electricity. She would run at her father screaming like a banshee as soon as he came home from work. He read to her, played hide and seek with her and spoiled her in general. That's not to say that Heather didn't adore her mother, too. Karen knew she did. But Paul made a game of Karen's study time. How quiet could they be? What could they do to give Mommy her much needed study time without having to interrupt to ask where something was? Snack time became a scavenger hunt and so forth. The Jeffersons would always grieve for the son they lost. But Karen's faith once again helped them through it so they could concentrate on the child they were blessed to still have. And neither Paul or Karen wanted Heather to suffer the childhood they both had survived. "Why does Mommy read the same books?" Heather asked one evening. She was four and busy coloring with her daddy.
"Mommy's studying," Paul replied, putting his finger to his lips and lowering his voice. "She's already smart but sometimes her head leaks. And she has to read it again."
Heather gave him a disbelieving stare. "Heads don't leak, daddy."
Karen giggled behind her book. Their daughter never accepted anything as absolute fact...no matter who provided the facts. Paul was undaunted. "She has ears doesn't she?" he asked seriously. Heather nodded. " Well, ears have holes to let the sound in. But sometimes what goes in through the eyes doesn't stick...and it rolls right back out through the ears. But if she passes this test, she can put the books away for good. She'll be a teacher. She'll be teaching little kids just like she teaches you."
Heather broke out into giggles. "With a leaky head?!?"
Karen was finished studying anyway. She was certain that she'd cinch finals. Anything beyond that very moment was overkill. She slammed the book with a thunderclap quality tone. She glared at Paul in a good natured sort of way. "A leaky head, huh?" Paul was laying on his stomach. She slowly got off the couch and pounced on his back. "Okay, Heather. I'll hold him...you tickle him!"
Before long the three of them were in a tangled heap, breathless but still giggling. Paul held his daughter close and stroked her dark hair as he kissed his wife. Heather would be sound asleep in thirty minutes or so. Even though Paul knew about Karen's finals the next day, he knew he would close their bedroom door and make love to her at least once that night. Maybe twice. It was hard for him to believe that he could've ever turned her away a century ago because she didn't have her pills and he didn't want to wear a condom! He'd wear three of them now if she asked him to, but she was thankfully on the pill. It kept her relaxed enough to enjoy their time alone because she didn't worry about an unplanned pregnancy. She was open to experimentation, except to what she would only refer to as "that" and anything remotely associated with Sodom and Gomorrah. They had it all planned out. She would get her degree and go to work at an elementary school in Gettysburg. He would work part time and go to long haul trucking school. So there could be no unplanned pregnancies. She was meticulous in planning what she wanted for her family, she knew how to go about getting it. He could not only live by her rules, he'd enjoy worshipping his queen who set them in invisible stone.




Karen's graduation made Richard Hampton happier than he'd been in a long time. He was proud of her and her accomplishments. He'd learned how to let her know, too. But she'd given him little choice in that respect. Somewhere between June, 1994 and June, 1999, Karen had grown up and gained a backbone of solid steel. So it didn't matter where she was in her class percentage-wise. He didn't care about her major or minor. He didn't even care if she had a job, although it took no time for her to get employed for the fall as a third grade teacher at Eisenhower Elemmentary School. Yes, his daughter was a success but she always had been. No, what made him so hysterically happy was that she had no more excuses. She was free to marry the man she so obviously loved, who worshiped the ground she walked on, the man to whom she'd given a beautiful daughter and with whom she'd been living with openly for better than four years. If he counted the six months prior to Heather's birth...and he did!
Marjorie didn't seem the least bit bothered by the fact that their daughter was so obviously having sex outside of marriage. He'd seen the way she kissed Paul, the way his hands went to her breasts when he thought no one was looking. Didin't they ever do anything else? How was she able to graduate with motherhood and such a randy young stud like Paul Jefferson? He remembered one afternoon when she had picked Heather up from the annual church barbecue wearing a T-shirt that said "Freaknik University" He'd been dumb enough to ask her about the meaning. She carefully secured Heather in her carseat, stroked his cheek and flashed him a smile. Then she calmly replied with the words that he would never forget. "It
means I'm a graduate with a PhD in feel good. I'm damned good in bed, Daddy." He was absolutely mortified and was very careful about asking her anything from that moment on. On afterthought it came to him that that was her intended effect. She had told him in the hospital that he had no say in the workings of her life anymore. But he even thought her answer stunned Paul who was behind the wheel. He shifted in his seat but didn't take his eyes of Karen. But Marjorie brushed it off by saying that they were already married in the eyes of God and man. She just didn't have any proof and didn't seem interested in finding it. She repeatedly told him that he should chalk it up to mother's instuition.
When Paul looked up from the altar to see her walking toward him on her father's arm, time just seemed to stop and reverse itself all over again. Her parents wanted a formal wedding. She resisted at first but Paul knew just how much she'd missed her father giving her away the first time. Finally he convinced her to go through with it because Heather would look so damned cute in a formal dress. The men didn't have to wear traditional tuxes and there were no ridiculous taffeta bridesmaid dresses. Paul was certain that Traci and Robin were thankful to have such a rational friend in Karen. Of course, she wouldn't wear white, despite her father's request. Heather had not been an immaculate conception, she'd been quick
to point out. Naturally, that closed the discussion. She wore an ivory gown instead and he couldn't take his eyes off of her. He made up his mind that they would renew their vows a third time on their twentieth anniversary...whether she wanted to or not. One wedding for each century. She would probably object. But he knew how to win her to his side and that was half the fun. Smiling at that thought he took her hand from her father. On June 30th, 1999, she consented to be his wife yet again. This time their daughter was a somewhat bored witness to the whole thing. Paul hoisted Heather onto his shoulders as they walked back down the aisle toward the door.
Karen had purposefully stayed out of most of the wedding planning. She thought it was all overkill. She'd married Paul once and that was enough. But she knew that her father needed the proof and she could at least give him that. So she said yess at the right times and nodded her luke-warm approval when necessary. The only thing she balked at was a band at the reception. She hated live music with wannabe rockstars. She insisted on a D.J.. Paul picked the song that they would dance to first. would be "Just A Little Love" by Reba McIntire. He was adamant because he knew that Reba was one of her favorite singers. He didn't know that she also liked Gloria Estefan. She discreetly slipped a song onto the list that she knew he was unfamiliar with. Everybody knew "The Rhythm Is Gonna Get You". But Karen liked the words to "1-2-3" . She would've counted forever to win Paul Jef-ferson's heart. She was long on patience if it got her what she truly wanted. And she had wanted him from their first meeting. If she had known the song "Anything For You" back when he'd almost let her go, that would've fit, too. But that wasn't on her mental play list back then. She hoped that he could always look into her eyes and know that she loved him beyond reason, beyond her self-discipline and that she always would. She didn't want the word obey in their vows because she didn't believe that one person should obey another. It had to be a give and take or it wasn't worth the effort.
Paul was surprised to see his mother sitting in the back of the church. He wasn't surprised that his father and sister weren't there. As they stood at outside the church briefly before getting into the car for the reception Paul felt Karen's elbow nudge his ribs. He looked at her and was pretty sure that he knew what she was going to say by the look in her blue eyes. "Karen, I don't..." he began in protest.
"She's your mother and Heather's grandmother. She made the effort to be here for you. You be there for her. Invite her to the reception."
"I don't want you to be hurt."
Karen laughed and took Heather from him. "I don't insult easily. She's your mother. But I'm your wife and you have to live with me. Just who are you more afraid of right about now?" Paul kissed his bride's cheek and started off toward his mother. Karen knew that she would never hold back from him in any way as punishment, but it was fun to let him think so on the right occassion. And she knew in her heart that getting him back with his mother was the right thing to do. His father? Well, that wasn't going to happen. Realistically speaking, she might never again see her mother-in-law, but at least the effort was made.
As Paul held his wife in his arms for that first dance with their daughter on the sidelines cheering them on, he didn't think life could get any better. But it would. Within a year Paul was graduating from trucking school. He got a job right away with a firm in Harrisburg, the state capital. He would never be on the road for more than a week at a time and the money was good. Karen didn't like the idea at first. She was worried for his safety and it showed. But soon she went back to her roots and her Bible and found the faith to do what she'd always believed. Let go and let God. And soon it was obvious that she would have far more to occupy her mind. In addition to her teaching duties, she discovered in October, 2000 that she was pregnant. No twins thankfully. But on May 3rd, 2001, Paul and Karen Jefferson got their son. Paul David Jefferson, Jr. was delivered by C-section. He was promptly nicknamed Davey by his big sister. Karen feared that Heather might take a bit of sadistic glee in being the older sister, but she had nothing to worry about. Heather loved her little brother and enjoyed helping to feed and bathe him. It seemed as though the perfect life with the devastating beginning was finally nearing completion.




Paul begged and pleaded halfway through September of 2002 for his wife's permission to buy a Harley. His birthday was twenty eighth. She didn't like or trust motorcycles. They had two children that didn't need to be orphaned. And she was an elementary school teacher, for heaven's sake! Weren't those enough reasons? He was willing to make promises to her that he would never make to any woman...and keep them! They wouldn't ride in the rain and he's never have more than two beers and no liquor! When he said they wouldn't ride in the rain, she slammed a frying pan down on the kitchen counter. He knew it was time to manage her anger or he'd never get the bike. And, it didn't hurt to stroke the female ego from time to time, did it? Well...no, as long as your buddies didn't find out about it. Maybe if he told her she'd .look hot in boots and on the back of a bike? Nah! She never realized that she entered a room in slow motion! Just like Bo Derek in "10". But she didn't do it intentionally. It didn't matter what she wore...the jeans
that were slung low around her hips when she was home or the teacher duds she greeted her students with. Heads turned when she entered a room. Paul knew that from the day he first met her on the Post Office steps. But it was never more evident than when she came down the stairs of Angus's house in that blue gingham dress!
"Honey, I would never put you at risk! You know that. I just want a chance at a dream that I've had since I was a teenager!" he said finally. She glared at him. Wrong words. He knew it immediately. "Now, baby, you are my dream. You know that. But you don't have chrome exhaust and that Harley rumble."
Her one eyebrow went up just as the other went down. "Maybe not. But I function on all eight cylinders and I've been giving you a rumble or a long time. Now it's not enough?" She was making beef stir fry and she saw him jump when the cleaver cut the beef with a crack. She knew that he had earned that bike by graduating first in his long haul trucking class and getting on with a fairly decent paying comapany. With her salary and his, they could afford the house payments and drive two different, fairly new vehicles. And he didn't want a new Harley. But there was a logical order between men and women and the whole house of cards would fall if it wasn't followed. She put the cleaver down and washed her hands. Leaning against the butcher block island, she took one of her legs that she knew intrigued him so much, ran it up the back of his two and pulled him to her. His chest was pressed against her and she let herself be breathless. Heather was in front of the TV. "You can have your bike, Paul. But if you ever call me bitch or refer to me as your "hot mama'... the only rumble you'll get is from the engine. Got that?"
"But you are such a hot mama," he said in his little boy voice.
Her eyes flashed. "We've been over this. I'm not your mama. And thanks to your father the word bitch isn't something to even joke about. And I know about what you told Mike Nichols way back in 1863. About my legs? It's like having your own personal stripper. I took it as a compliment. Be glad." He tapped the CD player and slid in George Michael's "Faith". It was preprogrammed to "Father Figure". He sang along, completely in key and pressed against her. That song could get him damned near anything if he worked it just right. He didn't dare use the popular term 'who's your daddy' because she'd freeze him like liquid nitrogen! Anything by George Michael could melt those steel reserves. He reached over her to switch the track from "I Want Your Sex" because she wouldn't allow him to play it in close proximity to their children. She put her hand over his and then just turned it down a little. "Let it play," she said with great difficulty. He had her pinned to the kitchen island and she wasn't ready to give that up just yet. She also wasn't quite ready to finish supper either.
He saw an opening. "So...if you took the stripper comment as a compliment...can I..."
She groaned. "Oh God! Now what?"
"Can we get a pole?"
She laughed and ran her fingers over his lips. "I have a pole, thank you." She'd made him blush and it was fun. "But they say stripper aerobics are great for that whole cardio thing. Maybe...next year. Can you wait?"
He saluted her from a very close proximity. "Yes, ma'am!"
"And the answer is yes. I did take two years of dance starting in my freshman year."
"I thought ....what in the hell?" With his chest pressed so tightly against hers and
knowing that she never wore a bra at home, he was stunned. She dropped her head and he could tell she was trying not to laugh. He grabbed her chin and she met his eyes. "What the hell is that?"
"Submit...remember?" she asked. He'd always teased her about that Biblical verse that said a woman should submit to her husband. Damn! He was just so close!
He kept his voice low so Heather wouldn't make the trip to the kitchen. "Submit? You? When you damned well want to!" He slipped his hand inside her shirt and touched her nipples...one and then the other...and his eyes twinkled. The delicate wirelike contraption in each nipple could literally take her breath away! He peeked to see two gold hoops, one in each nipple and he grinned. He wanted her to pierce something for his birthday and she'd done it! He felt his knees go weak! "You fuckin' pierced 'em!"
"Keep your voice down." She felt his thumb through the thin shirt and she couldn't control herself no matter how hard she tried. Her breath was ragged and she felt like she'd almost peaked right then and there! "Oh...Paul...don't. Not now! I...I can't control it! Stop!"
"Still tender?"
She nodded. "You said something...I couldn't see doing my tongue. I...oh, damn! I teach and I don't do...that so..."
He wiggled his eyebrows. 'What about down below?" He tweaked her and practically had to catch her.
She licked her lips. "Y-You see what this does to me. Everytime that hardware...oh, God! brushed against my jeans...I-I'd be a walking...Please stop!"
He played it so-o-o cool. "A walking what?" Another thumbing. "Say it."
"Sadist! I'd be a walking....oh....oh... a walking orgasm! I had that when I got the damned things done...twice! It's embarrassing! Oh, damn! Don't do that to me... please, Paul!"
"Finally! A word from you I can understand!" He looked down into her eyes and saw domething that made him uncomfortable. "Does it hurt?" He backed away from her and stopped torturing her. She really had to lean against the island for support. Damn! She was super sensitive. That could be interesting, he thought to himself.
"No. Yes. It's hard to explain." She took a deep breath. They had to stay in for at least another twelve days before she could change them or remove them. "It's like an electrical charge going through me and it makes me weak and wanting. I don't understand it. I just know that I can't control it."
"Okay. But tonight? After the kids are asleep...you are in so much trouble!"
"No, I'm in trouble now." She sucked in her breath, pulled him back and leaned into him. "Let me put this stuff up for about an hour."
He was intrigued and it showed. "And if I say no?"
"You can't do that now. These damned things do things I can't turn off. I have to put tape on them when I go to school. My bra rubs and...I have to do something you know I didn't do! So I tape them with gauze." She slowly slid her finger up the center seam of her jeans. His birthday present was going to torment her, but she was going to torment him in return. Yes, she'd learned the art of self manipilation and she was going to show him. Let him watch, so to speak. That PhD in feel good was going to come in handy for a short while. She hated the fact that her body was betraying her! "I'm hot and it hurts! So...oh..if you tell me no now, I'm takin' 'em out!"
He weighed his choices. She never broke her schedule before. She was standing in front of him with a need he hadn't even seen at Little Round Top! And it was definitely a stimulating site. He carried her upstairs and had the best sex he'd ever had. He was completely in shock to see her hand do what she'd always thought was a sin! And then she'd put his hands on those hoops and it started all over again! She still had some reserve but those soft moans blew his mind and he was as out of control as she was. When he came to rest beside her, he was very careful not to touch the hoops! They were dangerous but so wildly exciting. He couldn't keep her in a constant state of sexual arousal, as most married men envisioned. Oh, yeah. She could handle it just fine. She would never do anything improper in front of Davy or Heather. But he could see the tense line of her jaw and the shakey hands. If he had the discretion to slip his hand into her jeans, he could feel the desire. No, it wasn't just out of consideration for her, that he didn't mess with the gold. It was for him, too. He didn't think he could rise to the occasion everytime she wiggled that gorgeous forefinger!