2 comments/ 22014 views/ 9 favorites Sweet Dreams Are Made of This Ch. 01 By: Innuendos Chapter: January "Starting the Year with a Bang" "Hey, asshole." Isn't it funny how some things never change? First and last impression, like mirror images. Those were the first words Greg Bartels had ever spoken to him, and despite not having seen the guy for nearly two years, were the first to spill out of his mouth again. It wasn't unexpected, but Jahn hadn't liked the guy since the beginning; he came off a cocky bastard who had none of the physique to back up the unspoken threats of violence that he always seemed to carry with him. Bartels had that unpleasant demeanor of someone who would happily pick a fight and make a miserable ear-biting mess of it. The kind of scrappy little prick who might lose the fight, but would guarantee you regretted ever being in it. The man had a problem, though in perspective Jahn really couldn't blame him. It wasn't just any problem. It was Andrea Dunlap. Jahn's girlfriend.Greg's girlfriend. Doing the math, it added up to "What the fuck?" Any man would leap at the chance to hook a woman like Andrea. Nice rack, nice legs, nice ass, hell – nice everything, for anyone who was into just the surface. That, and more – Andrea was the total package: looks, brains, and money, most of which she'd built by hard work and simple determination that life owed her something, and that she was going to take it by the balls if it wasn't given to her. Unfortunately she was also a bit of a bitch, as if she felt she had to live up to some sort of ice queen stereotype. Years ago, he'd made the first move, prepared for outright rejection, and had been pleasantly surprised when she'd said yes to a date. From that point on, he was smitten. Perspective and hindsight were the watchwords, he guessed. Little things could be overlooked. Her materialistic outlook could be forgiven; he had enough money to afford nice gifts now and then. A lack of physical intimacy other than the occasional blowjob could also be ignored, as she'd made it clear that she was waiting for marriage. When it came right down to it, Jahn Halvers wanted to be the guy she married. //I'm so sorry for all the things I put you through, she whispers up at him, glittering green eyes swimming with regret. Can you ever forgive me? Andrea lifted her arms beseechingly to him from where she knelt, sheer robe falling back on her arms, exposing that beautiful flesh she always kept so well hidden behind pretty clothes and sparkling jewelry. Make love to me, and say that everything will be alright?// Then Greg showed up, and everything had been fucked up ever since. Despite the little man's visible desire to take a swing at him, Andrea had shown up for her date with him at just the right time, and the Tough Guy demeanor fell apart. And all of a sudden, she was sweet-talking the pair of them like a car salesman. Before they knew it, both men had walked away convinced that their expectations of what was clearly a casual relationship were utterly wrong, and they should be more accepting of Andrea's lack of commitment. In retrospect, he got the impression that maybe she'd manipulated things so that she could play off the inevitable competitiveness that had sprung up between them. But that was hindsight. Here on New Year's Eve, dateless in some dump of a bar, he couldn't help but think he'd lost whatever head-butting contest he and Greg had going on. All the jewelry and gifts, romantic dinners and overtures, all of it had counted for exactly shit. He wasn't a drinker, hadn't ever been drunk in his life, but goddamnit, he was ready to tie one on and call an end to this bullshit year. Even the solace of that self-pitying thought was interrupted, however, by the ringing of his cell. "Hey, asshole." The words came out in a slur, and it was pretty obvious not only who the caller was, but that he was well into his own bottle. Annoyed, he snapped off, "Not really interested in whatever shit you've cooked up for me, Greg. What is it?" A pause and then the rough slurring continued. "Just called'a tell ya Andy's all yours. I'm tired'a gettin ditched like this, man and I really, I wanna spend my holidays with someone what ackshully gives a shit." Shocked, he responded, "Thought she was with you tonight? Told me she had other plans..." Silence met his reply, and he thought Greg had either hung up or passed out. "Wha tha fuck. Anotha asshole?" Probably, he thought, anger rising like bile. "No idea. She's had better things to do for the holidays." "Y'know, just ain't worth it anymore. Y'know how much money I blown on that bitch, tryn'a to getter ta love me, y'know? It'sh, it's like tryn'a hug a block'a wood. Y'know?" That was one too many "y'knows" for Jahn, and he replied, "Yeah, I guess I do know. I'm done with it too. Think I'll stop by her office tomorrow and drop the good news." A coughing bark of laughter greeted that, "Yeah, that'll piss'er off. I might just do that too. Later, asshole." Dead air. He considered that Greg might actually try to use the opportunity to get clear with Andrea but did he really care? No, he supposed he didn't. Andrea had been serving them both a steaming pile on a shiny silver platter for nearly a year now. Ready for something new. Staring at the glass in his hand, he made his resolution. ------------------------------------------------- Give the little bastard credit. He had followed through. When Jahn arrived at Andrea's office, she'd had a sullen look on her face that did nothing to complement her looks. More importantly it was an expression that also meant she'd failed to get her way on something serious. The little things didn't matter to her – she wormed her way around them. Like water on the window, the scowl slipped away as Jahn walked in. Perhaps she thought he'd heard about their confrontation and was there to be her shoulder to lean on. Again. How fitting. Being a real asshole about it hadn't strictly been necessary, and the smugness on his face probably been uncalled for. Before he was done announcing their split, she dissolved into screaming hysterics that followed his hasty retreat to the other side of the office floor. Never expected that out of her, he thought with a self-satisfied grin. "Ugly split?" The low, throaty voice came at him from nowhere, and he turned, startled to find himself face to face – well, chest to face, with a rather short woman he was sure he'd met before. Short, but very attractive, he thought. Petite figure, smaller breasts, but fantastic legs, and shoulder-length brown hair. Freya? Freida? Oh yeah, the high cheekbones. "Fiona from Accounting, right?" //Of course I recognize you, Fiona sighed. I haven't been able to stop thinking about you since the last time we met. Her slender fingers stray to the buttons of a silk vest, fabric slipping soundlessly aside expose her breasts. Have you been thinking of me?// Fiona smiled, lips curving in pleasure that he'd remembered. They'd only met a few times during his visits to the office. "That would be me. And you're Jahn... Andrea's former boyfriend, if the screams are any indicator?" Suddenly, the whole scene seemed a little awkward and not quite as satisfying. "Yeah," he said, somewhat embarrassed. "I think I had a little too much fun with the break-up." "Understandable. The other one was here earlier. Don't know his name." "That would be Greg," he muttered. More awkward by the minute. Perhaps he was justified in being a jerk, but he was also now the guy whose girlfriend had been cheating on him. He'd considered for a second that he might like to ask Fiona out, but now... "You don't need to be embarrassed about it. Everyone here knows what kind of person Andrea is: total user. Still, she does her job, and does it well enough that nobody's going to complain as long as she keeps making the company money." Nothing he shouldn't already have realized, he supposed, mentally kicking himself again for taking so long to figure it out. The brunette interrupted his internal self-abuse with a hopeful "Maybe you'd like to go out sometime, now that you're free?" Realizing that had come out poorly, she tried to backtrack, "Not to sound like an opportunist or spiteful or anything..." Jahn laughed. "No, I'd love to. Time to move on. How 'bout dinner?" Inwardly, he speculated that he probably didn't need another girlfriend so soon, but he couldn't let Andrea wreck any chance of having a normal relationship with women. He wasn't bad-looking, pale and almost effeminately slender, but he'd only ever met a few women forward enough to make the first move. He should probably enjoy the opportunity while it presented itself. Besides, even with the appreciative look she was giving him, it was probably a bit... no, face it: a lot premature to think Fiona would be interested in anything beyond the first date. Dinner was an enjoyable affair, and he found he really did like her. Fiona had a quick intellect, worldly and insightful in a way that was utterly different from his ex's sharp and calculating mind. While not as hot as Andrea (he knew that was an unfair standard, because very few women were) the accountant was fresh and pretty, far less severe and not so hard-edged that you were afraid she might cut you if you put a finger wrong. Fiona seemed to dig him as well, but would trail off from something she was saying in a way that he was sure meant she was distracted by other thoughts. Was he boring her, or was she trying to figure out whether he was interested in her? He could empathize with the awkwardness, as it'd been far too long since he'd been on a date last and he just couldn't work out the signals she was sending. God only knew if he could actually pull off proper flirting anymore without coming off as a complete tool. When they'd finished eating, Fiona invited him back to her house to watch a movie, and his heart did somersaults in his chest. Was he going to get lucky already?!? Slow down, idiot, he cautioned himself. It's just dinner and a movie. Her house was surprisingly large, two stories, maybe three or four bedrooms, if in somewhat poor repair. Jahn supposed it was the family home, one she'd inherited from her parents, and asked her about it. The answer was a mumbled response, and he turned his attention from the wheel briefly enough to realize that she was scowling at a sporty little car sitting in the driveway. Oh shit, he thought. Does she live with her parents? This was gonna be a short, uneventful evening, he lamented inwardly. Their entry into the house was greeted by the blare of a television in the living room and a lilting voice that came from a blonde head just above the couch, "Left-over take out on the table if you want it." Still scowling, Fiona coughed pointedly, saying "Company." The blonde mane whirled around and wide, pretty blue eyes stared at him, immediately followed by a yelped, "Shit!" as the girl sitting there popped up like a jack-in-the box and fled for a staircase that led up to the second floor. A treat – the girl, whoever she was, was wearing ass-hugging jeans and nothing but a bra that emphasized a sizable bust. Fiona snorted under her breath, "Jeezus Jenny," and moved towards the kitchen to begin clearing a bunch of take-out cartons from the table, busying herself with the task of clearing a number of dishes from the table. "Housemate?" he speculated after he'd hung his jacket by the door and joined her, enjoying the view as she leaned over put some dirty silver into the dishwasher. "I should be so lucky." After dumping the remainder of the trash, she turned her attention back to him. "She's my sister." He raised an eyebrow. The brief glimpse he'd caught didn't indicate they looked anything alike, but you never knew. "Wouldn't have guessed by looking." "Because her tits are so much smaller than mine?" piped up a high voice from behind him, startling him shitless. As he turned, he saw Fiona raise a middle finger at her sister, and flush slightly in embarrassment when she saw that he'd noticed her doing it. He was greeted by a lovely spectacle: the blonde girl... no, definitely a woman... leaning against the doorway with a wide grin, arms crossed beneath her breasts, wasn't much taller... or older for that matter... than her sister, but had a spectacular figure, nice hips and breasts complemented by a slim waist and toned limbs. Unlike the tan skin of her sister, she was pale, with lovely blonde hair that looked natural. Lips pursed in thought, she stared at him with intent blue eyes for a moment, then spoke, "Half-sister. The better half, of course. Older, wiser, prettier and all that." //And we share everything, the nameless blonde tittered at him suggestively. Would you like to watch?// "Only by a year," came the retort from behind him. "Yeah, yeah," the blonde laughed. "You've reminded me of that ever since you finally got old enough to buy your own booze." Jahn got the distinct impression that Fiona was the more mature of the two, whatever their age. "I'm Jenny, or Jen if you like. Are you into Scientology?" Baffled by the question, he blurted out, "The fuck? Not in this lifetime..." She seemed to be making fun of him, but he didn't get it. "How about acting?" Frowning, he shook his head at her question. Seeing that he was taking the question seriously, she laughed at him. "I'm just teasing. You look kind of like a young Tom Cruise, except skinnier." "Oh." The light dawned. "Scientology? Fuck you." She raised a hand to her mouth, stifling a giggle, and said to Fiona, "Yeah, I bet you picked him up just because of that, didn't you, sis?" Turning her attention back to him, "She totally had a crush on him in Top Gun even though he's like, insanely old now." He turned his attention back to his actual date, expecting to the scowl to have turned into something angrier, but instead found her grinning at Jenny. "Maybe I did. And maybe we should pull all those old posters out and see how many of the same ones you have, hmmm?" Jenny's pale cheeks reddened, and she muttered something that was probably meant to be a scathing response, but was inaudible. The back-and-forth banter petered out from there, and so did Fiona's good mood. He wondered if he'd been ogling her sister without checking himself or something. When the movie finished, he was surprised to receive a lingering peck on the cheek, and an indication she'd be up for a second date later. He liked her, and hoped it would go further from there – she had the kind of lively intelligence and acerbic wit that promised engaging dates and at least a shared interest in what was being discussed, rather than elaborate sighs and thinly veiled condescension. They even had a few interests in common that she could go on for hours about on the phone. Maybe he could take her on a bike tour to photograph some of the local landmarks if he could keep her interest that long until the weather got nice again. That hope seemed to be doomed. Oh sure, he got the second date after a week of cell tag, but there was a definite disconnect with her over the course of their conversation, as if she had more important things on her mind. Evening's end, he finally decided to dispense with the guesswork, preferring to move on to greener pastures if she wasn't interested. After he'd voiced his concern, she gave him an apologetic smile. "It's not you, just me. I've a lot of... work-related stuff rolling around in my brain. Let's go out again sometime, okay?" Jahn gave a grunt of assent that earned him another lingering kiss on the cheek, but his heart really wasn't in it. Not you, just me. The kiss of death, the kissing cousin to Mr. Friend Zone. Just his luck. Staring at his computer, watching animated robots beat each other to death, he wondered just what the hell was wrong with him. At least a few women dug his looks. He wasn't rich, but he had money, a car, solid employment, an apartment, and most important in his eyes, a big dick. What's this bullshit, mainstream media, he thought crossly. According to you and the porno mags, panties should be dropping like flies whenever I walk into the room. Instead, he kept getting stuck with girls who didn't seem interested even in the things that women supposedly dug, like romance and relationships. At one point, he wanted nothing more than to get married to Andrea, raise a few kids and live a model suburban life. It might not be exciting, but it was a pleasant future. The way things were going, he'd probably just replaced Andrea with a counterpart that would spend the next couple years- The buzz of his cellphone caught his attention. A deft flip of the cover revealed - a call from the Reed residence. Sighing, he opened the call, and said "Hey Fiona, what's up?" "Hey Jahn, this is Jen!" Oh, well that was unexpected. "Everything okay over there? Didn't realize you had my number." There was silence on the other end for a moment, and he thought he'd lost the connection. "Oh, you're on our whiteboard with all our other contacts. I just wondered, well... are you and Fiona still dating?" Man, what an awkward question that was. Carefully, he said, "No idea, really. She doesn't seem all that interested in me, but... okay, I gotta admit, this is a weird conversation. Maybe I'm just old-fashioned but, is it normal to ask something like that these days?" "Ummm," came her voice over the phone, sounding as if she were hedging. "Maybe not. But I noticed that she'd stopped calling you all the time and I think you guys only dated once or twice anyway, right? I was thinking that if the two of you weren't still going out, you might like to go out for coffee or something with me sometime...?" "Oh, sure, I don't see any problem with that. Like I said, I get the impression that I'm not her type." In a voice that seemed, at least to his hyper-active imagination, dripping with innuendo, "You're definitely _my_ type, Jahn." Yea, he thought hysterically. That's what she said. Holy shit, not even a daydream. Or was it? Fuck, he thought, frantically backtracking in his head. No, she'd said it. The week that followed was like a drug-induced dream sequence. Not only did they hit it off on the first date, but Jenny couldn't seem to get enough of his presence, and had an idea for something new each evening. After a bite out, it was the Solarium one night, a movie the next, a fancy dinner, she kept coming up with stuff. He was baffled to find himself agreeing to go to play lasertag with her. Andrea would probably have kicked him in the teeth for suggesting something like that. And all that time together, it might have been tedious with anyone else, but Jenny was genuinely _fun_ to be around, making stuff he ordinarily would have disliked or been bored shitless by, an entertaining experience. She came off as naïve one moment, dropping an incredibly dirty joke the next. Bright and cheery, she exuded charm and personality the way her sister seemed to radiate intelligence and wit. You couldn't call her bubbly or vapid, like some sort of stereotypical dizzy blonde, because she was better than that, smart enough to hold her own in conversation if chatter strayed in that direction. Still, she was one of those people who lived in the moment, taking everything life had to offer. She'd even convinced him to go dancing, practically dragging him to the club, though he'd desperately attempted to convince her that he had no idea how, and probably didn't have the dexterity to pull it off. Yet here he was, bouncing around to a beat by some hip hop star he'd never heard of, throwing his hands up in the air like he just didn't care. God almighty. The blonde danced, and kissed, and danced some more like it was going out of style. That's how it was with Jenny – a virtual roller-coaster ride, free-wheeling straight up one hill and screaming down into the next valley. A corner of him nursed a grudge, wondering why he'd wasted so much time when there were women like this. Women, yeah: no matter how girlish or immature Jenny acted, everything about her was every bit her age, just cast in sunshine shadows. Like paradox, except it worked for her. Sweet Dreams Are Made of This Ch. 01 As the evening wound down, melting into what seemed to him a clumsy slow dance, Jenny nestled into his shoulder, whispering flirtatiously into his ear, "Y'know, I'm still a virgin. Want to pop my cherry?" Startled, caught completely off-guard, he blurted out, "Bullshit!" It seemed inevitable that the topic of sex would come 'round with her, as she'd dropped more than a few hints, but he knew that she'd have to make the first move. Jenny was great, and he didn't want to train-wreck what was turning out to be an outstanding friendship just for a single night. Oh sure, he wanted her – she always wore clothing that accentuated her curvy figure spectacularly, shirts that showed off her large breasts, jeans or skirts that hugged her hips, and she possessed an undercurrent of sexuality that he felt sure indicated far more experience than he had. Virgin? No way. Pulling back, she glared up at him, her eyes seeming to darken. "What's that supposed to mean?" Back-pedaling lamely in his skull, he grasped wildly about for an explanation, then realized the easiest way was the obvious: "Seriously, you're twenty-four, incredibly sexy and have an amazing personality. I can't believe that you've never had a boyfriend who wouldn't leap at the chance to fuck you. Uh, not to be crude or anything..." Jenny didn't seem to catch that last bit, her cheeks flushing slightly with embarrassment. "I've had boyfriends. They just never seem to stick around long enough to get to... that." "Okay, fair eno- wait, you've never actually done the deed, but you talk dirtier than a lot of guys I know. How does that work?" As soon as the words came out of his mouth, he realized how stupid they sounded, and those pretty blue eyes narrowed. "I'm not dumb, you know. I've watched porn, I know how it all works." Too much info, and she realized it, but blew it off with a laugh. "Yeah, now you know my dirty little secret." Tracing a finger underneath his chin, she asked challengingly, "What're you gonna do about it?" Sweet merciful Jenny, he was off the hook at last, but having another piece of bait dangled in his face. "Seems like the only sensible thing to do would be to take you somewhere and fuck you senseless." An approving smile crossed her face, until he continued, "Want to make a date of it for the weekend?" A trace of her irritation resurfaced. "You're making me wait? I don't just go around offering myself up to just anybody - you know that I had to work myself up to propositioning you like that, right?" He raised a hand defensively, "Just exhausted from throwing myself around all evening, and the alcohol's not sitting easy. It would kind of suck to pass out before I can even enjoy ravishing the hot little virgin offering herself to me so willingly." Jenny rolled her eyes. "Smooth talker. You're lucky I really, really like you." "And that I look a little bit like a certain actor from days gone by?" "Especially that," she confirmed. "You better have something _really_ special planned." With a sharp fingernail, she punctuated her point on his chest. ------------------------------------------------- As they got out of his car, stepping out into the cold air of the parking lot, she laughed. "Okay, you had me going there for a bit. When you said "hotel" I totally figured you meant some sleazy little joint. This is really nice," she said critically, examining the Mariolille's spacious lobby, replete with upscale furnishings. It certainly was, but he didn't like the leer on the receptionist's face, as if the greasy little shit knew exactly what he and Jenny were up to. Sure, it was probably obvious, but what ever happened to service with a smile and a knowing wink rather than a smirk? Jenny gawked in disbelief when they got to the suite he'd booked for the weekend. Every bit as open as the main lobby, the room seemed to be a perfect arrangement of bed, Jacuzzi and wet bar, with all the accessories one could possibly need for any of them. This was a special occasion and he hadn't seen fit to spare expense. "Wow," she said, turning to him, blue eyes wide. "You're totally forg-" Pressing forward into her, he slipped his arms around her waist and lowered his mouth to hers., The comic 'o' of surprise on her pursed red lips begged for kissing. Whatever else might be said of his skills as a lover, he knew he could kiss like a roguish devil straight out of the black and whites, damn it. So he went in for the kill. Eager and responsive, she melted into it, letting him take the lead. When he finally broke the kiss, she gasped slightly and was about to say something when he grasped her more firmly about the midriff and hefted her up over his shoulder. Not an easy task, despite her size, but he managed it without dropping her, and a squeal of startled laughter indicated he was doing it right. Carrying the slender blonde to the bed, he hefted her onto it in an effort that left him somewhat breathless from exertion rather than arousal. He was in full-on mode, though, no chance of that slowing him down. Moving into the bed beside her, he slipped his arms around her again, moving in for another kiss. Shorter though, and marked by her impatience, so he turned his attention to her blouse, undoing the buttons of her blouse to give him access to her chest. Grinning like a fiend, she accommodated him, raising her arms, so that he could pull it up over her head, her large breasts spilling free. No bra, thankfully, because he doubted he could have managed the fastenings the way the adrenaline was pumping. Taking a moment, he leaned back and admired the view of her pale breasts, tipped with stiff pink nipples. "You can admire them later, you jerk. Stop screwing around!" she protested. With a resigned sigh that earned him a giggle, he moved in again, unsnapping the button on her skirt, and sliding it down her toned legs. No panties either, and she'd shaved her down there. Lying before him, she spread her legs to bare the moist flower that lay between them with all the eagerness in which she'd kissed him. He fiddled awkwardly with his belt for a moment, then gave up and got off the bed. She watched him undress, lips pursed in a hungry smile as he quickly took off his shirt, jeans and underwear, revealing his personal pride and joy, fully erect. Confusion and irritation crossed her face as he began digging around in his pockets, until he pulled out the condom. Jenny looked somewhat more understanding, but shook her head. "Don't worry about it, I'm on the pill." He tossed the condom aside flippantly and slid back into the bed. Through the windowed balcony behind him, the sun had begun to set, casting the room with its flaming orange and violet hues. Under other circumstances, he might have liked to lie and watch the sunset with her, but her impatience was palpable and he moved between her legs and up toward her. Foreplay seemed unnecessary, her lips already puffy with arousal, and she was breathing heavily even though they'd made very little contact other than the kissing and light fondling. As the girth of his cock brushed against her thigh, she gave a moan of frustration and reached for it, sending an electric thrill through the length of him. Placing it against the damp lips of her pussy, she mouthed, "Do it." Nodding, he pressed forward gently into her, parting the silky flesh of her labia, probing until he found her hymen. Her tightness seemed to inflame him, and his dick felt swollen beyond belief as he tested the barrier. She whined at the slowness of his ministration, and he finally scrapped gentleness for a swift, harsh penetration. Her eyes widened at the sensation of her cherry being taken, moaning only in pleasure, seemingly without pain. As she took the full length of him into her, she suddenly shuddered in climax, uttering a low cry of pleasure, staring at him with wide blue eyes. Jahn attempted to pull back so that he could begin a rhythm of fucking, but she suddenly reached up and grabbed his shoulders, pulling him down onto her, bare bodies grinding against one another as she wrapped her legs around him, trying to force him deeper and cumming again as she did so. The tight, moist pleasure of her body seemed to engulf not just his cock but his brain, and he felt himself losing control as he stared down at her, supported only by his hands on the mattress. Heat knotted up in his groin, and he felt his entire body tense as his orgasm took hold of him. Buried as far into her as the grip of her legs could force him, he could feel her cervix seem to pulse against his cockhead as his semen forced itself between her womb and his cock. She cried out, something that sounded like words, but was too incoherent to him to have any meaning or be heeded, except that it probably had something to do with the fact that he'd lost his balance and fallen on her. That thought registered with him as his orgasm subsided and his dick softened within her. Taking stock, he realized he needn't have worried; she lay there with a blissful smile on her face, staring at the open sky through the window beyond him, before turning her gaze to his. Lips parting, she whispered at him, "You better not be done." Jenny certainly had no problem with vocalizing her demands, her pleasures, profanities, and everything else, as loudly as need be He most definitely was not done, years of pent up frustration finally in release, though he quickly found that his enthusiasm was no match for hers. She wanted to do it all, try it all - oral, anal, the works - as if screwing their brains out over the weekend was going to make up for lost time. Maybe it did, maybe it didn't, and maybe he was spending way too much time over-thinking it and not enough time – as she put it – giving her some sugar. So he stopped thinking, and gave her what they both wanted. -------------------------------------------------- When what seemed like a honeymoon weekend was finally over, it felt like they really had tried everything, though she made it clear that she still had plenty of things to try yet. Wasn't sure how she could manage – he felt sore from legs, to groin, to lower back, as if he'd been in an entirely different kind of wrestling match. Jenny was even hinting at a little parting sex when he dropped her off at her house. He supposed he could make that sacrifice. Barely. The weekend should have ended on that note, somewhat sore but satisfied, as he took his moaning girlfriend from behind over her bed. Not with a bang, but a whimper of pleasure. Instead, Jenny enthusiastically yelled his name and moments later the door banged open behind them, matched in volume by a piercing shriek, "What the fuck, you bitch!?!" As that last word resounded back and forth in his head, he couldn't help but think that it sounded strangely like 'asshole'. ~ to be continued ~ Sweet Dreams Are Made of This Ch. 02 Chapter: February "Love (and Lust) is in the Air" Ever get a feeling of intense guilt when you're not sure exactly what it is that you're supposed to be guilty of, a sense that an apology is demanded in a situation where you're dead certain an apology would only make things worse? Oil on water, Jahn thought, gaping at the shrieking girl before him. Woman, he mentally corrected himself. Both of them, however small and slender they were, could not be mistaken for anything other than women. That had been a draw for him; so many of the girls he'd met made themselves up to look like that... girls who'd never moved beyond high school or college, trying to recapture their glory days by hanging out with younger friends, gossiping about things they didn't really care about, wearing clothes that didn't really fit them. Some of the guys he knew from the U were the same. Sad. Like a refusal to accept adulthood and the responsibilities that came with it, a failure to understand that some of the greatest perks came with it too. Accomplishment. Respect. A sense that you were part of the world around you. So here he was, cock out and philosophizing like a pretentious prick on the nature of adult behavior while the half-sister of his cowering and nude girlfriend screamed at him. Focus a little, he thought. Not actually screaming at _him_, he realized... the ranting was directed entirely at Jenny. Largely incoherent, a tirade of invective and accusation that, with no little discomfort, called to mind his experience with Andrea a month back. Different, though. There was some anger in it, but when he looked at her face, at the creases of skin at the corner of her high, delicate cheekbones and expressive brown eyes, he saw what seemed to be a great deal of hurt in her face. Sense of betrayal, he wondered? Why? They hadn't gone out much, and their last few dates had carried an uncomfortable level of distraction, as if she was anywhere but with him. Jahn had liked her a great deal, of course, but felt as if whatever small relationship they'd developed had no chance of going anywhere. Little wonder that he'd accepted Jenny's overtures without a second thought... Turning his attention back to his girlfriend, he saw that Jenny had retreated onto the bed, pulling up a sheet to cover her nude body, knuckled fist to her mouth, staring at Fiona with wide blue eyes. Pink blossomed on her cheeks, which was different – Jenny wasn't prone to embarrassment. Shame? Why? Something Fiona was saying.. something about her father, he thought... hit home, and tears began brimming at the corner of the blonde's eyes. He hadn't the slightest idea of how to reconcile this situation peacefully, and it seemed to be reaching an ever nastier meltdown point. Reaching for his shirt, he ducked his head beneath it for a too-short time, and pulled it down, covering himself at least marginally. Fiona's yelling hardly abated, and she threw of something about "... supposed to be my first" that left him mystified, until she stopped cold, her lightly tanned skin going a dusky scarlet of mortification as her attention shifted to him, only now realizing that he was still in the room. Oh fuck, he thought, pieces of their conversation the first time he'd come to the Reed home flitting back to him. A lot of things about the way she'd acted on their dates suddenly became clearer. It occurred to him that while she was more mature, she was a lot like Jenny – they had the same taste in men, and they were both really into him. And apparently both virgins, for some inexplicable reason, waiting for the right guy. Who happened to be him, he supposed. Jenny, however, was way more outgoing and charismatic. All over him almost from the start, it had only taken her a little alcohol to broach the subject after they'd dated for a week. Fiona, though... she was a lot more introverted, a trait he'd put down to being more thoughtful and less impulsive. Maybe more like Jahn - she was hesitant about making the first move, afraid of being too forward and putting him off, or simply fearing rejection. Wasn't that she didn't want to be around him, but that she was unsure how to move their relationship forward from the casual dates they'd enjoyed together. How much of that had she told Jenny? Too little? He knew they were close, and that didn't seem likely. Maybe just enough that Jenny wasn't willing to wait around while she figured it out. Jahn hoped he wasn't just rationalizing his girlfriend's actions, because it felt... cruel... and the look on Jenny's face told him she'd intended anything but cruelty toward her sister. Whatever stray fantasies might flash through his brain, he desperately wanted Jenny to be The One, and while some insensitivity could be accepted, he didn't want to think she could be that callous. A guy he'd thought was a good friend had done that to him once. Listened to him pour his heart out over a beer, about Amber from Psych class, then proceeded to sleep with her two days later. Prick. Scratch one friendship. Wandering thoughts dispersed like quicksilver as Fiona stalked out of the room, brunette tresses whipping behind her with the motion. Jenny was openly sobbing now, her face screwed up with humiliation and shame, and he moved forward to place a comforting hand on her shoulder. "I d-didn' mean t-to," she rattled out, tears running down her cheeks. "Wasn' like that. I m-mean Ahg-guess I kn-new that she liked you and tha, that she might like to keep going out with you, but she said she wasn' sure you liked her and..." she trailed off, biting her lip. "I just, you were so nice, and fun, and cute, and I really liked you too. I'm n-not a bad person, am I?" She looked at him appealingly, and he fidgeted in discomfort. With a squeeze on her shoulder that he meant for reassurance, he offered, "You're not a bad person, Jen, and I don't like you any less. I don't know if whatever you did was wrong or not, but I know that we all make mistakes. That's something you have to work out with her, not me." Jenny stared down at the bed, tear-streaked face still working, but somewhat more composed. "She's my b-best friend, Jahn. The 'half' doesn't mean anything; she's my Sis. N-neither of us really had a father around the house, but we had Mom and each other. Even when Mom went travelling after we entered college, we still had each other." A sniffle escaped, and she rubbed at her face. "I don't want to-, I can't lose her. Family's more important than anything. I l-like you. So much. Not just the s-sex.. I don't want to lose you either, but..." His heart seized up in his chest, because he could feel the train coming, warning bell ringing in his head. "...b-but if it means losing my Sis, I don't want to see you anymore." Fresh tears stirring in her eyes, she looked at him, whispering, "P-please don't hate me." Vice-like, his chest seemed to constrict further, but he managed anyway, pulling her to him in a one-armed embrace, "I'll never hate you, Jen. Talk to her, and do whatever you need to do. I don't want you to be hurt over me." He thought of his older brother, off in college while Jahn was still young, doing those mysterious adult things, but always coming home with a little advice or just to spend time with his little brother. "I couldn't hate you for that, ever." Great sentiment, he thought bitterly. Movie-of-the-week moment, for sure. Was he even able to have a relationship without it turning into a complete train-wreck? Clothing himself, he left the Reed house, glancing at the cloudless sky. Gonna be a cold, lonely winter, he thought bleakly. Even the neighborhood seemed to have taken on a dark and unwelcoming pall, a heavy-set man across the street scowling at him as he shoveled snow from his driveway. ------------------------------------------------- Jahn had long told himself that he wasn't going to be a drinker, but if this kept up, he might just fall into the bottle with whole heart. The stupor of animated violence just wouldn't carry him anymore, and the drudgery of the working week didn't seem to dull the anxiety that had taken root. When his cell finally rang nearly a week later, he recognized the Reed number, and felt that familiar sense of constriction grab him. Thumbing the talk button clumsily, he croaked out, "Yeah?" A tentative voice that took him a moment to identify – Jenny – responded, "Hey, Jahn. Can you come over and talk for a bit?" Not an outright rejection, then. Let it not be so, the curiously stilted thought tripped through his head. Of course he could, yes. When he arrived at their home, there was no sign of Fiona's vehicle, and Jenny let him in, gesturing him to the kitchen table. Her expression was a little peaked, as if she hadn't been getting a great deal of sleep, and she looked a lot more serious than usual. Crossing his hands on the table to still them, he ventured, "So..." Jenny bit her lip, and then started. "So we fought, some." He winced, but she continued, raising a hand dismissively as she looked at him. "Not that much, at least not that much more than we normally do. We got over it, and we talked a lot." From the expressions on Jenny's face, Jahn suspected there had been some crying and apologizing along with the talking, but didn't interrupt. "The short of it is that she and I are okay again." That was something of a relief, but didn't answer an important question. "And..." he prompted. Looking at him, face suddenly flat of emotion or expression, she said, "And then there's you." Blonde hair falling into her eyes, she looked down at her hands and asked, "I know it's something that some guys might think weird, while others would consider it a total turn-on... so I guess... I'll just say it straight. Would it be a problem for you, going out with Fiona, while you and I are together?" Shocked speechless, he could only stare at her, and she looked up, blue eyes searching him. What the fuck, he thought. Not that he objected, but... as tactfully as he was able he asked, "I'm really not sure what to think. That wouldn't bother _you_?" Eyes flashing sapphire, she said, "I'm not thrilled with it, no. But it's better than nothing, which is what I expected before I actually talked to Fi. That's what _we_ worked out, the best solution _we_ could come up with, because it's going to be a problem otherwise. We're willing to settle for this, but you have to make a choice too, both of us or neither of us." "And," she continued as she held up her hand to forestall his response, her posture tense, and expression slightly harder. "I don't want you saying yes out of charity. If you don't really like Fi, then it's done. I won't put her through that." He considered, but it really wasn't so difficult a choice. Ten thousand wet dreams are made of this, he thought wonderingly, but said far more tactfully. "If she'd given me a better indication that she actually liked me, you and I might never have gone out; I do like her and enjoy her company. This... arrangement... would be okay with me." Nodding, she said, "I thought you might, but it's awkward, having you as my boyfriend, and the two of you having a thing on the side. I get that it means you and Fi going out, and maybe doing ... the other stuff... as well." He hadn't really thought that far ahead, but it made sense, and hmmm, wow, he thought. //Jenny and Fiona lay on the bed in front of him, clad in nothing but shadows, lust for him and him alone on their lovely faces. Sister laid hand on sister's breasts, alternating whispers, 'Join us...'// Suddenly, her voice took on a dangerous tone. "And don't even think for a second that I'm going to dyke it out with my sister, half or not." Busted, he realized, his mind furiously backpedaling from the stray thought. "I know _exactly_ how creepy some guys' fantasies get," she concluded. Oh, right. She'd mentioned a porn collection when he expressed some surprise at her creativity in the hotel room. Shifting uncomfortably, he asked, "So Fiona already knows we're having this conversation?" Jenny nodded. After some consideration, he ventured, "Alright I confess, I'm not really sure how to pick back up with her. Like you said, this arrangement is strange." Smiling brightly, she said, "Already thought of that, and I hope you won't think I'm overstepping by giving you these..." Rising, she hurried over to the counter where her purse had sat unnoticed and pulled out a pair of tickets. "Friday's concert. You know how much she loves the Julyus, and the Chevriez are supposed to be there next week," she finished, setting them down on the table. Jahn looked up at her, mentally trying to work out all the dark corners of this rabbit hole he'd stumbled down, and then decided on simplicity. "Thanks. I appreciate what you're doing here. I think... that I can imagine what it's like to be in your shoes." "You mean that thing with your ex and that guy, Greg?" Jenny hesitated for a moment before continuing. "Maybe that's what prompted me to try that idea on Fi. It's... different for us, I guess, since I know you like us and actually care." Jahn shook his head. "It is, but it isn't. I'm not sure I can really explain it." He'd resented the hell out of Greg, but even in hindsight wasn't sure if it was simply because he was blaming Greg for Andrea's lack of affection, or because he didn't want to share. Maybe both. It _was_ different in the ways that mattered, he told himself. Sliding his hand forward, he gently took hold of hers. "We haven't been together that long, but I'm glad you're still with me, Jen." She stared down at him, her eyes suspiciously moist around the edges, but she said firmly and somewhat fiercely, "Yeah, me too. Just remember that I have dibs." The tender moment might have stretched out painfully, but she dispelled the somber mood with a cheery "Wanna go upstairs and fuck?" ---------------------------------------------- "Hey, Fiona." "Ah, hello, Jahn." An awkward pause ensued, silence waiting on the other end of the phone. "Good to hear from you again..." Hell with it, he thought, diving right in. "I came by a pair of tickets to the Chevriez and was wondering if you'd like to go with me?" "I'd love to! I can't imagine where you came by those on such short notice..." The hint of amusement in her voice told him that she already knew exactly where he got the tickets from, but she didn't seem to think any less of the date for it. Good sign. "Next Friday, right?" He gave her the specifics and she continued, "Fair warning, the Julyus charges really pricy rental rates for their jackets and ties. You'll want to bring something of your own." "Ummm...," Jahn murmured, hedging. He owned both, of course, but they were accessories for work. Slightly embarrassed, he said as much. "If you'd like, we could go shopping this weekend to find you a better suit?" she suggested, her voice becoming somewhat... shyer? Damned cell, he thought irritably, trying to read her over the line. "It's more expensive, of course, but formal wear is more an investment than a luxury." Fiona went on to explain why when he expressed confusion at the sentiment, and he was surprised to learn just how much of an impression _exactly_ the right clothes could make. He wondered why Andrea had never told him that; she'd always dressed to kill, and made him feel drab by comparison. "Sounds great," he agreed. "Let's make an afternoon of it on Saturday, and I'll buy you dinner when we're done." Ending the call, he considered just how different dates both Jenny and Fiona were going to be. Saturday's excursion turned out to be just the icebreaker they needed. It wasn't as if they hadn't gone out together already, but the awkwardness was an ever-present shadow. From start to finish, the afternoon swept away all of that – starting with one of her trademark lingering kisses upon the cheek, a search for a black dress to go with his suit, and conversation late into the evening after dinner. The addition of the dress to their shopping itinerary had been a real bonus – Fiona had chosen to model some of her choices for him, and she had as much an eye for effect as his ex had, finding pieces that complemented her looks stunningly, each conservative and elegant, suiting her body and personality perfectly. No little challenge, with her small stature and petite frame, but one she passed easily. Fiona was nowhere near as overtly flirtatious as Jenny, and he'd half expected both the modeling of her dresses and the choice of his jacket to be a blushing affair. Instead, she simply plucked at and arranged his tie, shirt and jacket like a fussy wife and conducted her own little display with a beaming smile for all of the compliments he lavished upon her. Jahn's world felt settled and right again when, at the evening's end, she announced that she'd had a wonderful time and was looking forward to the concert. Eyes shining with dark luster, her face lifted to his for a proper kiss. It had always seemed to him as if these kisses should be a difficult task, as both Jenny and Fiona were so much shorter than he, but when it came right down to the heart of things, it was... natural, a simple matter of leaning into it, and enjoying the full measure of whichever girl's lips he happened to be kissing. Jenny kissed the way she made love, vibrant and full of almost electric energy, but Fiona's lips were feather light, and no less enthusiastic for their gentle warmth. Butterfly kisses, came the pained thought as her mouth fluttered across his, the almost dusky hue of her skin seeming to melt between them. God save us all from Country. As an international song and dance troupe, the Chevries were all the sensation that Fiona had promised. Arts and theatre had never really been his bag, but she was bringing him to realize that he'd been missing out. Better still was the opportunity to watch her in rapturous audience to their music and show, completely lost in the talents of the performers on their stage. Jahn wasn't sure what it was about her face that appealed to him so much... her skin a shade or two past Caucasian, high cheekbones that put him to mind of some foreign culture. It'd taken him awhile when they'd first dated to realize that it was some element of Native American heritage, and she'd named some obscure tribe when he'd asked. For some reason, Fiona had been uncomfortable about that subject, so he'd stopped asking. Hers was a pretty face, one that took on almost otherworldly beauty when she was in what she called her "groove." Fortunate that she had so much love for the band; while he didn't think she'd mind him staring, there was the problem of explaining away the thoughts that accompanied those looks. The evening was a fine one, heady with the light wine they'd shared, and promising more conversation with Fiona at the restaurant. Though they seemed to talk endlessly, it was never dull or idle, mindless chatter. Dark eyes sparkling with good humor and a lively intellect to match, the conversations never lapsed into tedium. He supposed the brunette knew more about him than Jen did, never monopolizing conversation towards her, eager to know as much about him as he did of her. Inevitably, conversation strayed around to the subject of Andrea. The topic was like an Achilles hell, and not one he cared to discuss, but Fiona had a knack for defusing the more bitter aspects with a dry comment or some deeper insight than he'd been able to find. "At one point, I was absolutely certain that she would be the woman I married someday. The lack of physical intimacy never really mattered to me, and it took me a long time to figure out there was nothing there emotionally. Kind of pathetic, huh?" Staring at his fork, his mind strayed back to celebrations missed and times not shared. Why am I dwelling on that shit, he berated himself, and turned his attention back to his date. Sweet Dreams Are Made of This Ch. 02 "No, there's nothing pathetic about it. We all want to be loved." Fiona replied, somewhat dreamily. He realized that she was lapsing into that state of distraction, and she seemed to realize it too, catching his stare. Her cheeks seemed to darkened like twin shadowy flames with embarrassment. Almost, the thought came back to him that she just wasn't interested, before he realized he'd been down that path before, and been completely wrong. Remembering that strange comment back in Jenny's room, things clicked. Really clicked and fell into place, like the last pieces of a puzzle. The heat of his own cheeks was suddenly all-consuming, and he could tell from the slight twist of mirth to her mouth that she'd guessed the course of his thoughts, his spontaneous understanding of what was going on in her head. Day-dreaming, just the way he did. Casting her eyes downward, she said. "All of us." Words full of meaning, rich with unspoken promise. When he finally escorted her to the door of the Reed home, she pulled him down to kiss her, but it was not a kiss of farewell. In that moment, it seemed as if the lit houses up and down the street were eyes upon him as he traced a hand down the curve of her spine. Fiona shivered against him, asking, "Will you come in?" Mutely he nodded, and followed. Night seemed to take on a surreal quality, and her home, which he'd been to a good number of times within the last month was strangely unfamiliar to him, made more foreign still by her room, a place he'd not yet visited. Even with the light, it seemed insubstantial and ethereal, her slender body the only real thing near to him. She was the first to act, her hands roaming over his body, pulling him down for another kiss. No hesitation for his own part, he eagerly responded, enjoying the feel of her soft curves. Fiona pulled away briefly, eyes wide and anxious at the growing tension between them. "You know..." He knew, she'd said it once, and he only dimly heard her say it again while he nodded understanding. Jahn would be her first, as he'd been Jenny's, but she wasn't didn't want the rough sexy sex her sister liked, she wanted gentle sexuality. Making love, not fucking. No problem. Clothing seemed to fall away, and he enjoyed each exposure of unexplored skin with new enthusiasm, fingers and lips eager to claim all of them. The brunette's response was the same, exploring his flesh as if it were clay to be shaped in her hands. They moved together as one to the bed, nude in the half-light of the room, their shared arousal evident, when a stray thought occurred to him. He didn't have any condoms with him. Jenny didn't like them, and he really hadn't expected the night lo lead here. Whether it was the stricken expression on his face, or his sudden halt that alarmed Fiona, he didn't know, but she reacted with the same hurt expression that had struck a chord with him before. "Don't you want to...?" she asked, voice trembling. Stumbling over himself to assure her that he very much _did_ want her, he explained. "I ah, don't have any protection." Relief washed over her face, and her eyes cut toward the bathroom, a flush of embarrassment rather than arousal on her cheeks. Following her gaze, he saw that she was not actually looking within, but at the dresser next to it, where a small bottle lay. Oh, oh damn. She had planned for this, had decided that she would be ready even if he wasn't. "It's... taken care of" she said, faintly, dark hair shifting around her face as she looked down. He lifted her chin, tilting her face upward, kissed her again, and took her to bed. His entire body seemed to have entered a state of relaxation, with the exception of his cock, which was more than ready for her. Her touch upon it was as light as her kisses on his lips, and she almost seemed to look as if she were wondering whether that were for her. She allowed him to guide her, taking control of her flesh, hands sliding from her bare breasts, to her hips, and then legs, gently pulling them apart. Breath quickening, she grasped his wrist as he manipulated her body to the place he would take her. Her cleft, sparsely populated with brown hair, glistened invitingly. Fiona watched him examine her with eyes and fingers both, spreading her there just slightly as he positioned himself. A single question was obvious on his lips, and she nodded with a confidence that was not reflected in her tension beneath him. Drawing himself forward, he pushed into her, his cock pushing through the tightness of her labia, and seeking the virgin barrier close within. Her tension increased noticeably as he penetrated her, breathing growing more labored, and he lifted a hand to the base of her neck to massage her shoulders as he worked his way into her. Expressive brown eyes stared up into his as he took her, and her lips, shadowed in darkness, parted to release a gasp as he began to pierce her hymen. Fiona flinched, a low cry of pain emerging from her throat as he broke it with a pronounced thrust. He started to withdraw to relieve the pressure on her, but she grasped his wrist again, intent to draw him back into her clear. Encouraged, he thrust into her fully, claiming her formerly virgin pussy with the full girth of his cock. Lying side by side as they were, she was unable to wrap her legs around him, but still spread herself as fully as she could, hiking the left up and over his kneecap, attempting to bring him more deeply into herself. Her hand had released his wrist, and now sought his back, manicured fingernails digging sharply into him. With another low cry, she suddenly began to quiver against him, finding her own pleasure in climax. He began to move within her, just forcefully enough to remind her of his active participation in their fucking, and she went rigid with tension again, lithe body arching, small breasts jutting from her chest, tipped with nipples as hard as his erection. Fiona took as much as he would give her and more, coming once again and once more, body seeking everything. Her gentle insistence, the aroma of her perfume permeating his nostrils like opium, drove control from his cock, and he found himself coming with her, cum spilling hotly within. "Oh... oh..." she gasped, gazing up at him with a wide-eyed adoration that made him feel more manly than he had at any other time, even when Jenny was going down on him like he was the last man on earth. Don't go flexing your arms, he told himself, thoughts a pleasure-filled stupor. ----------------------------------------------- Jahn couldn't believe how high his star had been rising, and it seemed to him as if it had to end soon. He was fucking two beautiful women who not only knew about t, but loved him despite the conflict. It seemed as if his run of luck had to die agonizingly, and days after taking Fiona, he would recognize that guess for truth. Jenny answered that question for him, though she had no idea. "My daddy wants to meet you." She said, eyes betraying some anxiety at the idea. He should have expected that, really. Unlike him, the girls still had at least one of their parents, though Fiona's father had died in an automobile accident. Jahn hadn't thought to ask about Jenny's dad. "Sure," he said, more enthusiastically than he felt. "I'd love to meet him. Should I get reservations somewhere?" A pained expression crossed her face, "He can't do that, he's... he's at the Johannes Penitentiary. Maximum security, he knew. Some of the worst offenders in the state were housed there. He had no idea what to say to that. Sometimes, there are no words. ... to be continued... Sweet Dreams Are Made of This Ch. 03 Part: March "Between the Bars" There are moments so uncomfortable that you wish you could be anywhere else, like being face to face with someone calling you an asshole, or a post-sex confrontation with your girlfriend's shrieking sister. An invitation to meet your sweetie's father shouldn't be one of those, of course, but when her daddy just happens to be locked up in a prison with a reputation for its inmates, just what is the right response? Staring at you with eyes that practically weep conflicting emotions, lower lip trembling slightly as she nibbles at it in anxiety, he's probably looking for a decisive response, and 'Can I change my mind?' just isn't 'Oh, hell no?" Sure. Depends on whether you want to keep your teeth. Answering, "Okay, when do you want to go?" was Jahn's only real option, of course. Slower and less reassuring than he'd intended it to be, but relief flooded Jenny's face as soon as the words left his mouth. Visibly relaxing, his girlfriend moved forward to hug him tightly. "I know you're probably thinking he must be awful," she said softly, as she leaned her head against his shoulder. "What he did _was_ really bad, unforgivable even, but he's still my daddy, and he always tried to do right by me. I love him, even though maybe I shouldn't." Something left unsaid there, but the intuitive grasp was cut short when she continued, "He killed a guy in a fight way back. I was too young to get any details at the time, and I haven't asked since. I just know it was ugly." Jahn patted her shoulder awkwardly as she went on, but she pulled back to look up at him. "Also, you need to know -- he's racist. Not like the watered down stuff you hear about on the news, but like out of the old days." Sheets and slurs and crosses a'burn, he thought. Likely not KKK around here but there were plenty of supremacist organizations to catering that party. Fuck. Jahn had a long history of antagonizing bigots online; he'd have to moderate his instinct for smart-ass remarks. "It's hard for people to deal with. I understand if you don't want to come." Of course Jenny understood, but it was also clear in her eyes that she really wanted him with her, to have Daddy meet her boyfriend, see that his little girl was doing well for herself with someone he would approve of. Whatever history Mel Donovan possessed, his daughter kept her eyes firmly to the future. Jahn didn't like the connotations of Donovan's approval, but he was aware he possessed qualities the man would appreciate -- hard work and a determination to succeed in a society where people didn't always. And white. Devotion to Jenny. And white. It kept coming back to that. Snide comments also kept associating themselves with his thoughts, but he knew that if he was gonna go, he'd have to focus. Because fuck, he'd be better off simply not bothering, than insulting her father in front of her, prison guards, and all creation. Jahn wanted to hedge, but instead said, "Don't worry about it, Jen, I'll come along." She nodded, leaning her head against his shoulder again. "We can go Saturday, long as you don't have anything else going on." Of course he didn't. Jenny ... and later, Fiona... had fully owned his weekends for nearly the full two previous months. ----------------------------------------------- "We're going down to see Jenny's father tomorrow morning." Jahn didn't understand the dynamic that existed between the two girls and their respective fathers. Uncomfortable was putting the response to Fiona's question about his plans for Saturday mildly, and the anxiety was apparently visible on his face. Fiona studied her hands, expression inscrutable. "You don't need to tread lightly around the subject. I'm well aware what Mr. Donovan is like, and I don't think any less of Jenny for going to see him. I'd do the same, in her place, I think. Mom wasn't with my father very long after she found out that he was a hopeless alcoholic, and even though she tried to be nice about it, she told me once that it was a wonder he wasn't the cause of the crash that killed him. Our parents are what they are, we can't change them." "So what are your plans for the day?" "Our threshold choir will be singing at the Corazon Retirement Home tomorrow. Several of the residents have asked us for our consideration, and that'll take us the better part of the day." "Threshold choir, eh?" he murmured in curiosity to Fiona, as he dabbed spaghetti sauce from the side of his mouth. His ... girlfriend... the idea of having two girlfriends still jarred him disconcertingly... nodded, going on explain how she and this odd singing group she'd joined years ago would sing for the dying, those in hospice care, or other stages of illness that left them bed-ridden. All of it was an event that was sometimes as much for the family, as for the patient. A concept that he had never heard of before, and one that seemed strangely ...holy... though he knew neither of the girls were practicing members of any religion. A choice of hobby that seemed exceptionally fitting: the brunette had a lovely voice, low and rich --mellifluous, that was the word-, flowing like honey whenever she spoke about something she was familiar or comfortable with. "That's incredibly cool that you're able to do that for people who need it the most." She flushed in pleasure with the compliment, a dusky rose shade that deepened when he continued, "Any chance you might sing for me?" "Maybe some other time? It's kind of awkward, singing by myself." Jahn waved a hand dismissively. "No big deal. Maybe I could come along sometime, and watch your group sing?" A delicate hand twitched across the tablecloth. "I... don't think so. Respecting the family's privacy is an issue, and spectators are discouraged." After a moment of consideration, she suggested, "Perhaps you could sing with us sometime?" Jahn laughed uncomfortably, matching her blush with one of his own. "It's been a long time since high school choir, and I don't think I ever had anything like your talent." This praise earned him a dazzling smile. "Talent is appreciated, but not required. We don't have to be superstars, just provide people with compassion and a measure of serenity." "I'll work myself up to it sometime," he promised. "Not soon, though. Stage shy, really." She eyed him speculatively, but didn't say anything to that. He wondered what she was thinking about that, if she was considering the fact that when he'd been with Andrea, he'd always been at a kind of center stage in any social situation, something he'd never been comfortable with. That was where he'd met Fiona the first time, he was sure, some company Christmas party. Long ago, and not something he wanted to embarrass himself asking about so late in the game. "We've got the house to ourselves tonight," Fiona said, cheeks still pink. "I didn't really have much planned for the evening. Maybe we could watch a movie or... something?" She wasn't being coy, just shy on the subject of sex, even though she obviously enjoyed it a great deal. To date, he'd only had her twice, that first time and maybe a week later when she'd gotten tipsy and loosened up a bit on one of their dates. Most of that was probably due to Jenny, who devoured his time and occasionally himself with a voracious and seemingly endless appetite. Attention from Fiona never seemed to waver either, and the two-sided siege was exceptionally soothing, providing a sense that there was always someone waiting for him no matter which way he turned. Another person might have found that cloying. Not Jahn. He loved the scent of the light perfume Fiona wore while they lay together on the couch, the intimacy of just being with her there, head resting on his chest, some tune he didn't recognize humming very quietly from her lips. Jenny thrilled him with her ever-present sense of adventure and good humor, a little blonde bombshell waiting to go off or get off, wherever the mood took them. She was white hot fire that seemed to sing with life, a constant spark in her eyes, simmering laughter on cherry red lips. Images flickered on the screen, but he didn't feel a drive to make sense of them, instead enjoying the peace and heady sense of companionship as he massaged the crook of Fiona's neck. Hands straying down to his midriff, his girlfriend's long slender fingers found the buckle of his belt, and slid lower to his groin. Erotic, that deft and teasing touch, but Jahn wasn't reacting where it counted most, and sighed inwardly for it. His stamina seemed to be improving, but a sexual Olympian he was not, and the time with both women had been taking a toll. Displeased, he shifted his attention from himself to her, lowering his hand from her shoulder to her waist, gently tracing a labyrinth of lines and circles upon her body. Fiona sighed softly as she nestled against him. Exploration of her firm little waist had been entirely been without skin contact, a gentle press upon the silky material of her blouse. A few surreptitious tugs upon the tails of the material remedied that lack of access, and he slipped his hand beneath, making skin-to-skin contact, his hand upon her flesh, repeating the ministrations he'd given her before. Fiona's body arched against him as she was distracted by his touch, her own ministrations not getting much response. He was fast resigning himself to this night being one-sided, but for some reason that didn't seem so bad. Her body was responding to every touch, and there seemed to be a bright sense of getting something back on an entirely mental level, the physical be damned. Despite her movement to accommodate him, his attempt to slide his hand into her skirt stalled by the form-fitting denim. Attractive skirt on her, showing off her slim hips and tight bottom to devastating effect, but it also clung to her body in a way that frustrated his efforts. He desperately attempted to recall how this one fastened. Realizing his difficulty she clasped his hand, her own guided his to the buttons, allowing him to manipulate and work them open. Obstacle removed from the path of his fingers, Jahn refocused on the original goal, smoothly slipping his hand between the sheer fabric of her panties and her skin. Finding the familiar patch of hair, he slid his hand deeper, seeking her moist and swollen lips, and then reverted back along the groove to find her equally aroused clitoris. A sudden jerk of her body against his own proved success, and he began to manipulate the button of flesh. There was something inherently exciting about her murmurs of pleasure as she squirmed beneath him, even though his own body still showed not the slightest hint of physical reaction where it mattered. Imagining himself plucking the strings of a harp, then tapping a light beat on a drum, and then... simply letting his fingers play upon the hidden flesh, Jahn teased her through a series of orgasms, taking what might have seemed under other circumstances a perverse delight in her breathless gasps and moans. In a strange way, it was better than the act of sex, and departure from the Reed house that night was accompanied by a sense of satisfaction and fulfillment. ------------------------------------------------ As Jahn drove back to their house the following morning to pick up Jenny, it occurred to him just how little time he spent at home these days, and he wondered just how much gasoline he was burning on the daily driving, work, their house, the ongoing dates. His finances were in good shape and he had no worries on that score, but the nonstop commute seemed somehow inefficient. Too soon, surely, to broach the subject of moving in together, but it seemed like the natural next step. Jenny stepped into the Taurus, and he immediately noticed that she'd dressed far more conservatively than normal, as if ready for work. Wordlessly, she slipped her pale fingers into his free hand, and he gave them a squeeze as he backed out of the driveway and began the long drive to the prison. Nothing had quite prepared him for the experience of visiting an actual prison, and even looking at a few sites online that explained just how Johannesberg was set up didn't have the nerve-rattling impact that walking into the place did. Stark, sterile walls gave Jahn the feeling of being locked up in a bank vault made up entirely of office cubicles. God, now there was an idea that might someday be his personal existential hell. Jenny knew where to go and led the way, but he had the bizarre impression that the guards were shepherding the pair to their final destination. Off-guard, every bit of sensory input was a revelation, the stale odor of the human body distant but present, a stray noise that might have been yelling, the ever-watchful eyes of men in uniform on them. When they were finally ushered into the divided room, there was a curious sense of déjà vu, every movie he'd ever watched about visitors meeting with convicts by talking on a phone while separated by plate glass springing to mind. The room seemed to darken in his head, just like every one of those scenes, placing an unseen spotlight on the people talking to their incarcerated friends or family. Jesus, get a grip, he thought. This is the real life, not a fantasy. Jenny practically danced forward to the chair in front of the window, a bright smile on her face as she saw the jumpsuit-clad man being ushered in by guards on his side of the wall. While the loose orange material went a great way towards concealing the man's physique, Jahn couldn't help but feel like he was looking at a bull. No horns, but he was _huge_, shoulders spanning a width that looked like two of himself. Couldn't tell if Donovan was taller, but with that brute size, it hardly mattered. As the man drew close, Jahn's gut clenched. He'd always thought that those stock phrases in books and movies that never lived up to the reality were just trite expressions. Donovan had the stone-hard face of a killer. Not just that, but he really had killed a man; Jenny's loving father was a convicted murderer. Staring at the back of his girlfriend's head, her blonde tresses a distraction even now, he thought with wonder that she looked past that rock facade and only saw the man that was her daddy. Oh sure, she knew, but she'd placed the knowledge in some mental back compartment and filed it, to be opened at a later time. The words of greeting that bubbled off her lips into the phone as her father picked up the device's twin on the other side were nothing but love. Strangest of all was the metamorphosis on Mel Donovan's face. Not ten seconds before wearing the disaffected, expressionless visage of a killer, it was now something alive, the creases of age around his eyes deepening with pleasure, thin hard lips curving with the same. Those eyes... yes, that was where Jenny's lovely blue eyes had come from. It was bizarre to Jahn to think of a man in that way, but Donovan really did have striking blue eyes, pretty if not for that granite face. //You shore do got purty lips, bo// Oh fuck you, brain, he told himself, shooting the stray thought down execution-style, rigidly turning his attention back to the convict, who, he was uncomfortable to note, was reciprocating the examination. At least it wasn't a look of ruthless calculation, merely the curiosity of a man considering whether this kid his daughter's seeing might be worth keeping around. Whatever horrific failings the man possessed that leading him to commit cold blooded murder, it seemed that Jenny was his heart and soul. Jahn could relate, and when she stood, handing him the phone, he tried to keep that thought firmly in mind. "So, you're Jahn Halvers. Jenny's... boyfriend." Jahn wasn't sure he liked how that was added on at the end like an afterthought, but braved forth anyway. "Yes sir. You prefer the first name or the last?" "Sir works just fine, kid." Jahn was only a few years shy of thirty, but didn't think it wise to point out the distinction to the now flat and expressionless face before him. "Yes sir." "So tell me about yourself. Tell me what you do, and why you think you're good enough for my little girl." Jahn began to sweat. Exactly like meeting Gianna's father, he thought, recalling a long ago prom date. Except Mr. Charter wasn't the sort of guy to raise a swatter to a fly, let alone a pipe or gun to someone's head. Suddenly, the wall of glass between them didn't seem like enough. Think of it as an interview, he thought, trying to desperately to bolster himself. Tell him what you do and why you're not the sort of dick that would pump and dump. Just not in those words. So he did. Slowly and with a great deal of hesitation at first, but he worked up to it, and felt a sliver of success. It would have been more helpful if Donovan's face had given him some feedback to work with, but that flat expression never changed a whit as Jahn rattled off his personal biography. At last the man interrupted, "That's enough." Jahn stuttered to a halt. "Okay..." Unblinkingly, he said, "You seem like an ambitious kid, and pretty smart too. Got the blood to back it up, or are you one of them exceptions to the rule?" It took a moment for Jahn to figure out what the hell Donovan was talking about, and when he finally got it, he had to bite back a scathing retort. Use your brain, man, he thought. No family tree cracks. Jen's right behind you. Stiffly, he replied, "Dutch ancestry straight back to the motherland." Donovan nodded in a manner that was so approving he wanted to puke. Instead, he waited for 'Daddy's' next question. Half of Jahn's brain called him a pussy for not following up with something like "and probably purer blood than yours", while the other applauded his restraint from that course of stupidity. "So, nice smart white kid like you... Jenny know you're seeing that little half-breed girl on the side, or are you really that stupid?" The hostility in his voice was undisguised now. Oh, shit. Jen hadn't told Donovan that. "How do you even know-" A biting interruption was returned, "Don't fuck with me, boy. I have friends on the outside that keep a close eye on my little girl for me." Okay, so the prick had people watching Jahn coming and going. Wonderful. He'd have to go with straightforward then, and hope he didn't piss Jenny off in the process. "Of course she knows. It was her idea." A sharp intake of breath issued behind him. The convict's eyes narrowed, no longer blue, but a steely flint. That broad face seemed harder still, but softened again when his glance moved past Jahn. "Never should have let her mother keep that kid." From what both women had told him about their mother, Donovan's suggestion seemed an unlikely proposition. Those eyes turned back to him and the voice came over the phone once more. "You know what miscegenation is?" You fucking asshole, Jahn marveled inwardly at the man in front of him. Aloud, he said, "Yes, I do know what that is, and what it means to you personally." He loaded the word 'you' with as much venom as possible, though Donovan seemed oblivious. "I won't tell you to stop seeing Jenny, 'cuz it's obvious she's real sweet on you. I won't do anything to break her blessed heart. Neither will you." The threat was implicit, every bit as venomous as his own. "If you have to keep seeing that Indian girl, then that's how it's gonna be. You watch it, though. What I'm saying is, I know what guys who got two or three girlfriends get up to, and if I hear you've been talking Jenny into that kind of shit, I will have your arms and legs broken. You hear me?" It took Jahn a minute to puzzle out what the convict was hinting at. Threesomes, he thought hysterically. He thinks Jenny and Fiona and I might start a threesome. Stupid asshole, came the thought, and this time he let his mouth wander. Sweet Dreams Are Made of This Ch. 03 "Give your daughter some credit for the intelligence we both know she has... sir." The last word dripped ice. "You might not see Fiona as a real person, but that is her half-sister." Emphasizing the last word, "Her sister, get it?" He didn't want to invoke the word 'incest' in front of Jenny without context, but Donovan's expression flickered enough that it seemed he understood. The silence on the other end of the phone stretched interminably, before Donovan finally responded. "Okay, you're talking sense. We're on the same wave-length, kid." "And..." "And nothing. You treat my little girl right, and make sure you don't do anything to her that would make me regret not adding you to a long list of kids who got shown the door." Jahn had no idea what he was talking about, but let it rest. "Yes sir." "Put her back on." Jahn stood, passing the handset to Jenny, who had an apprehensive look on her face. He was unwilling to eavesdrop, but the shift in his girlfriend's overcast expression to her usual sunshine demeanor told him all he needed to know. Donovan might heap that bullshit on Jahn, but he wasn't going to do that to his daughter. Maybe love could work miracles. Or maybe he was just a romantic of idiotic proportions. ------------------------------------------------- The ride home was not as silent as he might have wished for. When he saw Jenny's face return to the cloudy expression she'd worn after hearing his words to her father, he should have known the verbal left hook was coming, but he wouldn't have been able to dodge it anyway. Tone unreadable, she asked, "What were you saying to my father about me and Fiona?" A loaded question, with no dodge available, no place to retreat to. ... to be continued... Sweet Dreams Are Made of This Ch. 04 Chapter: April "Dirty Dancing" If you have any talent for bullshitting, there are some torpedoes you can see coming and prepare for them with a little well-intentioned manipulation. Evil questions like 'Do these pants make my ass look fat?' or 'Do you think that girl's hot?' can be deflected with a casual compliment to the fine derriere of the former, or the snarky comment about dime-a-dozen looks to the latter, because unless she's really looking for a fight, she'll accept the validation. That's what Jahn liked to tell himself, anyway, because the rule had always seemed to apply with his ex. Fiona had dropped a similar grenade on him, anxiously asking after their second time together whether he thought her breasts were too small. He liked her tits just fine, in fact: dark-nippled and delightful domes of flesh that gave her womanly curves even if they didn't seem to satisfy whatever inferiority she felt towards her sister's far larger rack. Blue-sky lob, that throw was, and he'd managed to cover his ass by asking what she thought of Reanna Chevriez's figure. Inspired remark, it turned out, as they both knew she had a girl-crush on the songstress, a tall, dark and beautiful woman.... who just happened to be flat as a board. He supposed that could come back to haunt him if she really wanted to make an issue of it, but she'd laughed and let it lie. There was no such inspiration for Jenny's question. What were he and her father saying about her and Fiona? Jahn couldn't very well lie about it. Jen had been standing right behind him while they were talking, and while he'd done some beating around the bush in an attempt at being circumspect, the inference was clear. So he told her, attempting to explain why he'd responded to her father the way he had, why he'd given the man that much information. Truth or not, it wasn't what she wanted to hear. Glancing at his girlfriend from the corner of his eye while driving, he could see the pale skin of that pretty face darkening, and knew it wasn't a blush but real anger. Directed where? No illusions: choice curses peppered between a stream of 'How could you?' and 'That's my father you were talking to!' made it clear that he was the target. Closest they'd gotten to fighting, and he couldn't really defend himself, because while he might have the truth on his side, it sure didn't feel righteous. Pulling the Taurus onto an off-exit, he found a place to park and turned to her. "Look, I'm sorry, okay? It's not an excuse, but I couldn't think of the right thing to say, and I'll admit – he was pissing me off, the way he talked about Fiona. You said he's racist, I get that. But for fuck's sake..." Long blonde locks fell forward as Jenny ducked her head, and it took him a moment to realize that she was crying. Reaching out, a hand on hers, he waited for her to subside. When the tears had finally ceased, she said, "I love them both, but Daddy always hated her so much. I used to try and tell myself that it was just because she wasn't his daughter, but I know. It's why Mom threw him out. He never raised a hand to Fi, but the words... hurt so much more. I tried to stick up for her, be a peacemaker, but I was like... 6. Mom knew, knew that he was hurting all of us with his hate." "He's a bad person, I know that, but sometimes I think it's because of the way he treats Fiona. Not because he killed someone." Fresh tears flowed. After a moment, Jenny got hold of herself again. "It's so fucked up. There's something wrong with me, I know it." Squeezing the smooth flesh of her fingers tightly, he said, "No, Jen. You love your family, and family doesn't always make sense. They don't have to; they are what they are and we love them anyway." Consolation wasn't enough, and he could sense that there was still an undercurrent of anger at whatever presumption he'd had in explaining the situation to Donovan, but for the time it was directed elsewhere. The remainder of the drive took place in silence, and when he dropped her off, he said, "Give me a ring when you're feeling better, we'll go dancing or something." Jen nodded wordlessly, and he couldn't help but notice how much like Fiona she seemed as the door closed in her wake, quiet seriousness that was utterly unlike her. God help me, I hope I didn't hurt her by running my mouth, he thought, invoking an unspoken prayer. -------------------------------------------- A week passed without a word from either of his girlfriends before the phone finally rang again. "Hello, Jahn. Sorry I didn't get back to you sooner. I talked to Jenny on Saturday, and she said she wanted some alone time. I figured we could all use a break from each other. Things have been a little... tense, here as well. I just don't want you to take it the wrong way." Fiona's voice echoed over the phone with her usual confidence and self-assurance. Working her words over in his mind, he responded, "Yeah, I guess we _have_ been seeing an awful lot of each other over the last couple months." That was an understatement. Jahn could count on one hand the number of days that he hadn't been with one sister or the other. Mostly Jenny, now that he thought about it. Potential problem? He made a mental note. "I'll let Jenny work out her funk first, but we'll set things right again," she concluded. "Sounds good. Say, a question while I've got you on the phone..." "Yes?" Hesitating, unsure of how to phrase what might be considered unnecessarily snoopy, he asked, "Jen's father said he has a friend outside who keep an eye on her. What does that mean?" There was silence as she considered the question. "Margrave." "I don't know the name...," but damn, it sure sounded familiar. "Big man across the street. I'm sure you've seen him around." Ah, name on the mailbox. Heavy-set man. "He's got an unpleasant disposition, but he used to run off any kids that gave Jen a hard time." "Okay, got it. Wanted to make sure I wasn't dealing with a dangerous asshole rather than just some nosy but otherwise harmless bastard." "Mom told me once that Margrave was one of Mr. Donovan's buddies from way back and that we should stay away from him. She said they were a bad influence. You can probably guess why." "Yeah, I can. Thanks for the call, Fiona. Take care, both of you." There was no response for a moment, and it seemed she'd hung up. Instead, a heartbeat before his finger cut off the call, he heard the faint reply "I love you, Jahn. Be well." --------------------------------------------- One grenade after the next, Jahn thought, absently studying the cellphone nestled in his palm. I love you, Jahn. What am I supposed to say to that? He already knew how strongly he felt about Jenny, though he wasn't sure she felt the same unless the insatiable sex streak was her strange way of expressing it. Fiona, on the other hand... there was an increasingly warmer spot in his chest for her each time they were together. The prospect of eventually having to choose between them... that felt like sacrificing a family member. Goddamnit, he thought, squashing the thought ruthlessly. There's gotta be a way to ensure this works. Mulling the problem over his head as he took care of the cleaning he'd been neglecting since New Year's, he found himself at a loss. It wasn't like he had anyone he could ask for advice. Despite their usual bragging about sexual conquests, he knew none of his work buddies had anything useful to offer on the subject. Either married, or perpetually single, that was their lot. The internet? Desperate times call for desperate measures, he thought grimly. I'll probably get nothing but trolling, but whatever. After some searching, he was able to find what looked like a reliable forum for relationship advice. A little hesitation at first, but he finally typed out: ~Luckystarz: Hey people, newbie looking for some advice here. I've got relationships with two great women who know about each other and are okay with it... for now. How do I maintain this? How do I make it work? Leaning back, he waited for a few minutes before replies started popping up. ~Guest12: fuck em both lol ~AdonisLives: tits or gtfo Die in a fire, he thought with a spike of irritation. ~Ladiesman42: bullshit, get out troll "Karma," he sighed resignedly. How many times have I posted something like that when some dude started ranting about his supermodel girlfriend? ~ModGod: Cool the flaming, kids. You know the rules. Real advice only, even the requests seems unreal. Love takes many forms. Things got quiet after that, and the wait lasted what felt like eternity, stretching to an hour. Bored, he took a break to take care of his bills. When he got back to his computer, nothing much had changed, with one small exception. ~Birdwatcher: LS - speaking from experience, here – balance is part you part them. Treat them with respect and love always, but you have to know that if they feel the situation is unfair or wrong or something else entirely w/e your best intentions there's nothing you can do. You cant make them change. It didn't work out for me and I couldn't choose so they both left. Sad story boo hoo sure but do what you can and pray for the rest. Is that really all there is? He wondered, bookmarking the site. Love them as best I can, and hope they feel the same? Could it last, like that? Jabbing a button, he cut the power. ----------------------------------------------- A rollercoaster. Up 'n down 'n away we go, screaming into oblivion. As Jahn pulled into the Reed driveway, he recalled the surge of sheer pleasure and adrenaline when Jenny had at last called him the previous evening. A full two extra weeks of moping around his apartment, waiting for advice from people that didn't seem to have anything worthwhile to offer – depression to exultation, that's what this was. Jen had told him that she'd made reservations, though she wouldn't say exactly where, and that she wanted him to see her dress before they left. Excuse for a quickie, he was betting, but he'd settle for admiring a new dress too, if that's really all it was. Snatching up the rose he'd gotten for her, he let himself into the house. "Knock knock?" he shouted, not seeing any sign of the blonde in the kitchen or living room. A faint, "Yeah, come on up," greeted him. Quick negotiation of the stairs led him to her room and he paused with a frown. What the hell was that smell? Sand? Incense? Was she burning something? Alarmed, he yanked open the door to her room. What he saw stunned him into paralysis. //Minarets cast in shadow against a burning horizon of orange and red sun, hazy with the coming twilight. Bells tolling like vespers signal the day's end and a call to worship. A woman stands before him, hourglass figure presenting the same contrast against the landscape, dark curves clad in translucent, diaphanous material. A stray wind whips past, colorful and clear material fluttering alike.// The entire bedroom was cast in dim and flickering light, illuminated mostly by a circle of candles. With wonder, he realized that Jenny was standing in front of the bed, clad in something certainly, but no dress. It was some sort of... costume... that brought to mind a dozen old and dusty fantasies of harem slave girls clad in revealing silk veils, blouses and pantaloons, colorful and well-placed sashes the only nod to modesty. //Haunting music that evokes the sense of great loneliness, in a vast and empty desert only sparsely populated with oases such as these, plays on unfamiliar instruments. Accompanying the piping notes is a woman's voice, high rich and beautiful. While she sings, the lone dark figure standing here begins to dance.// An odd clicking noise sounded and exotic music had begun to play. Arabesque? He speculated. No, that's stupid.. This is truly _foreign_ music, the stuff you hear on TV specials or from singers in other countries. Jahn had no idea, and it only tugged at his ears with a sense of déjà vu rather than real recognition. Jenny... he recognized that it was her, despite the strange garb, long blonde hair tied up in a ponytail and feature-concealing shadows of the room... began to move in liquid sway, first raising her hands skyward and then unleashing a rhythmic dance that flowed like undertow, seeming to pull his feet from beneath him. Holy smoke, he thought, aware of a growing erection in his pants. This is what really erotic dancing is about. Not overt and raw sexuality, but hinting and teasing at the delights that lay concealed behind a thin veneer of beautiful music and sinuous motion. His girlfriend's face was unreadable in the darkness, but she was communicating with him in an different way, entirely nonverbal, using her body to speak to him. First gesturing to him with open palms, keeping him at arms length, turning and whirling dervish-like in place, kneeling, bending, twisting, always in motion, while never losing that graceful and rhythmic dancing. Colorful sashes drop away, fluttering into darkness. Cupped hands, outstretched, pulling just slightly inward, an invitation to approach, then spreading outwards as if to encompass the room's small horizon. Jahn embraced her about the waist, but she still did not stop moving, the smooth rhythm of her slim body serving only to excite him further. There is a roughness to the material as he pulled it away from her body revealing the pale candle-clad skin beneath, but it is no bar, was never meant to be, for what she is offering is his and his alone. He slid into the delicious tightness between her shadowed legs, and while he has her firmly within his embrace, it is she controlling him with her movements. A low cry of pleasure escaped him as she moved, towards, away, gyrating, within and without, the contact of bare outer flesh against slick inner flesh secure, but never the same from one moment to the next. His release was like an explosion of light, surging from his loins to hers. ------------------------------------------------ A glass of ice water was all Jahn really needed; he knew he was done for the evening. Jen's little ... ambush seemed to have drained him of every last bit of energy he'd possessed, leaving only a dim glow of satisfaction. He'd understood the blonde was far more sexually aggressive than her sister, but she'd always expressed it in raw, purely sexual acts rather than eroticism. This was, well, wow. Setting the glass down, he wiped residual sweat from his forehead. The sound of movement from the doorway caused him to turn with a smile. "Hey..." "Hey, yourself." A small, slender woman stood in the doorway to the kitchen, and for just a second, she looked just like Jenny. No illusion though, this woman was dressed in a flattering skirt and blouse that were far more conservative than anything his girlfriend wore, and she was much older. Crow's feet touched the corners of dark eyes, feathered silver-grey hair framing her forehead, putting her somewhere in her fifties if he had his guess. He could see something else in her too... both Jenny and Fiona Cocking her head in curiosity, as if she were an inquisitive bird studying something new, she asked, "Fiona's new boyfriend, I presume?" Unthinkingly, he nodded politely. "Jahn Halvers. You must be Mary Reed?" Their shared attention was drawn to a muffled oath immediately behind Mrs. Reed, and she turned to see Jenny, still clad in her harem girl outfit, clutching a bruised leg, blue eyes wide not just in pain, but surprise. ... to be continued... Sweet Dreams Are Made of This Ch. 05 Chapter: May "Reality Check" Meeting a girlfriend's parents is a defining moment in a relationship; theoretically, you'll make a lasting impression on your honey's parents that won't make them go for the shotgun. Yes, ma'am. I do think your daughter is a lovely, talented young woman and I think the world of her. No sir, I wouldn't consider for a second bringing her home even a hair past eleven. Not that easy, of course. Oh hell, no. Every gesture is significant and every facial expression speaks a thousand words, none of them good. Is there a hint of disapproval in that quirked eyebrow? Or is it a trace of suspicion in what sounds like an awfully pointed question? Or I could just take that storm cloud on Mrs. Reed's face as a giant-sized clue. Jahn decided, as his girlfriend's mother got a good look at just what Jen was wearing and made the logical deductive leap on the significance of where she was wearing it. He couldn't think of a single thing to say, and from the palpable surprise on Jenny's face, he understood that her mother's return had not been announced. Not that Mrs. Reed's comings and goings required broadcasting, of course. He understood from Fiona that their mother had turned over the title to the house for a token sum that would ensure financial responsibility on their part, and security on hers. What otherwise might be converted a guest room was reserved for their mother when she took a mind to visit. According to what he'd been told, those visits were infrequent as the woman had taken a liking to travel and spent most of her time going cross-country. And here she was... "Ummm. Hi. Mom." Jen squeaked out awkwardly, a touch of panic clear in her wide blue eyes. Bruising momentarily forgotten, she gave an odd little sideways wave of her hand and said. "I need to change, I'll be right back." In the harsh light of the kitchen and living room, the reason was abundantly clear – the outfit his girlfriend wore could only leave anything to the imagination in a shadowy room. All of her goods were on display. "Please do," the silver-haired woman said frostily as her daughter hurried away to find something more decent. Turning her attention back to Jahn, she now examined him with greater scrutiny. Her stare was not like Donovan's. No idle curiosity; her brown eyes were knives that pared the flesh from bone like skin from a potato. Likely the only question in her mind was where to dispose of his body when those sharp brown eyes finished eviscerating him. "Mrs. Reed, this really isn't how it seems..." he began awkwardly, before realizing that the explanation might be even worse to her than what she already thought. "Do tell," Mrs. Reed said coldly, and he started to continue. She cut him off. "On second thought, don't. I'd rather have the explanation from my daughter." "Yes, ma'am." Bug on a windshield, yep, he thought as he waited silently with the silver-haired Fury staring bloody death at him Jen returned a few minutes later, clad in a loose-fitting sweatshirt and jogging pants, greeting her mother somewhat lamely, bright spots of pink on her cheeks, "Hadn't heard you were coming home..." With words that seemed to cut stone, Mary Reed addressed her daughter. "I hadn't planned on it, but I got a call last month from Fiona about a charming young man she'd been seeing for the last few months. Given that I can't recall either of you girls having had a boyfriend that lasted more than a week or two, I thought I'd drop by and meet the special man that caught my daughter's eye. A young man named Jahn Halvers," she said, anger still providing an edge to her words. Her daughter winced. "My question should be rather obvious. Does Fiona know about _this_?" Mrs. Reed said, gaze shifting to the clothing Jen now wore "Well, yeah." Jenny hedged and shifted around on her feet, trying to work out her next words. "Jahn's my boyfriend." Uncertainty crossed the silver-haired woman's severe features, and she asked. "Pardon? Fiona was rather explicit about this young man being her boyfriend, even describing him in depth for me." Mirth very briefly touched her lips, and died there. "She's not prone to telling stories." "No, she's not." Jen agreed, still refusing to meet her mother's gaze. "We're both going out with him." From the thunderstruck expression on Mrs. Reed's face, Jahn guessed her ready to keel over, and he reached out to steady her elbow only to be completely ignored. Having raised two daughters on her own, surviving one husband and the other in prison, Mary Reed was made of far sterner stuff. No heart attack, no fainting. "I... see. Fiona will be in tonight, or is she gone for the weekend?" "She'll be back later. Choir at that rest home," Jen said, still shifting around on her feet. Gaze still sharp, Mrs. Reed paused for a moment then said, "Stop fidgeting, Jenny. I'll make dinner and we'll have this conversation when she gets home." Grudgingly, she extended invitation to Jahn. "I suppose you should be here for that discussion as well." ---------------------------------------------- Fiona had the benefit of some forewarning; she saw her mother's car in the crowded driveway when she pulled in, and took a noticeably long time to get in the house. Obviously not enough warning, though, and with light rose coloring her cheeks, she came into the kitchen looking like a deer caught in the headlights. "Hi, Mom. It's good to see you again; I didn't expect you'd be dropping by again so soon." "So, I'm told," Mrs. Reed returned coolly, glancing at Jahn and Jen, who were busy setting the table. "I just had to meet this young man you spoke so enthusiastically about. Imagine my surprise." While the sisters had made it an unspoken rule to not be in the house for each other's "dates", Fiona knew perfectly well what her mother was referring to, and wisely didn't ask, though she did shoot her sister a few questioning glances. Jen nodded grimly at her while Mrs. Reed's back was turned and Jahn gave her an apologetic shrug. Jahn was granted the dubious honor of being seated directly across from Mrs. Reed at the four-cornered table and kept his head down as much as possible, keenly aware of her withering gaze on him. The hot seat... this was going to be great, he thought bleakly. Just swell. The lasagna, while delicious, went down like cold clay and sat like it in his gut. When they'd finished eating, the silver-haired woman turned her attention to Jen. "So, I've heard all about Fiona's boyfriend, and how they met at Vander & Porter," she commented acerbically, referring to the sisters' shared employer. "Perhaps you should tell me about your new boyfriend and how you met." "Ah, heh heh." Jen hemmed, in response to her mother's request, diverting a glance towards Fiona. "You've probably heard all about Jahn from Fiona, no need to go into all the gory details." Mary Reed's smile could have frozen the fires of Hell over. "No, I'd really like to know _all_ about it. Perhaps it would shed some light on this ... arrangement," she finished, gifting Jahn another shot of that penetrating stare. She got the whole story, of course. It was never in question, and both Fiona and Jen had rather hunted looking expressions on their faces when she was through interrogating the pair. He could empathize; he was dead certain the next target on the woman's shooting range was him. Sure enough... "So, Tommy," Mrs. Reed began, the name setting Jen's face to scarlet, and Fiona's to an unhealthy mahogany, "from what the girls are telling me, I understand that you've made quite the ... impression on them. Do you make it a habit to encourage arrangements like these for yourself? Live the playboy lifestyle?" Well, he reflected, if I were that damn sexy, it might have occurred to me... Fiona jumped in. "Now mother,, he's nothing like that. Jahn's wonderful: considerate, sensitive, intelligent..." Jenny rattled on in similar vein at the same time, interrupting her sister, "...totally hang around with, not a jerk like the guys at V&P. Daddy doesn't hate him, either..." Color rushed into his cheeks at the flood of virtues that the two sisters each attributed to him. He understood that they both felt strongly about him, but neither of them had really put it into words before now, other than Fiona's offhanded 'I love you.' His chest felt uncomfortably warm beneath the outpouring. It might have been his imagination, but Mrs. Reed's expression seemed to soften as her daughters talked over each other in a rush to assure her that she was totally wrong in her impressions of Jahn, and that bit about Donovan caused a definite flicker of... something... in her eyes. The matron forestalled any further praise with, "Yes, girls, I understand that you're infatuated with him, but I want to hear what he has to say for himself. You have the floor," she said to Jahn, tone challenging. "Right, okay." Jahn began hesitantly, first telling her a few things about himself and his family, how he'd come to date Andrea while vying with Greg for her attention, and expressing some regret about how he'd handled the breakup. Jahn noticed that she was paying very close attention to his explanation of the situation with Greg, and wondered how that information boded for him, given how it in some ways mirrored his arrangement with Jen and Fiona. Continuing, he told her about his initial meetings and impressions, first with Fiona, and later Jenny, explaining the strange and heady brew of emotion and reaction to receiving the attention of two lovely young women who were both equally interested in him. Going on to detail all the things he found fascinating and special about each of them. "I do understand why you might find this situation unacceptable, ma'am. I might have accepted the situation with Andrea, but I hated Greg, and hated sharing her with him. If I thought for a moment that they felt about each other and this situation the way I did about that... I couldn't keep doing this. I respect them both too much for that. I... love Jen and Fiona a lot, and would even marry them both someday if I could." The revelation of his feelings made Jen's eyes widen and turn suspiciously wet around the edges, but Fiona merely radiate satisfaction and wore a content smile. From the bottom of my heart, lady, he thought as he stared back at Mrs. Reed, attempting to broadcast his sincerity. She traded stares with him for a while, unconsciously touching her cheek in a way that reminded him of Jen, before sparing a glance for her daughters. "You seem to have genuine feelings for both my girls, and they feel the same about you," Mrs. Reed finally said. "You have something special, and I hope you keep remembering in the future just what it is you feel right now. Understand this - if you break their hearts, I'll cut your balls off." Fiona and Jen seemed unfazed by the announcement, but ... holy shit, the threat was testicle-shrinking in delivery. Mrs. Reed had the look of a kindly woman well on her way into her senior years, and the same diminutive height of her daughters, but the cold finality of the threat seemed even more intimidating than Donovan's had and the man had to be nearly four times her size. "Yes ma'am," he said meekly. For the first time, she smiled with something like warmth. "Call me Mary." Mrs. Reed's acceptance of his role in her daughters' life seemed to be the switch-breaker that opened up the better half of her personality; Jahn found over the course of the following weeks that she was a genuine pleasure to be around. All of the traits he found most appealing about both Jen and Fiona were present in their mother. The woman was charismatic to a fault, with a skewering wit, and could be counted on for a seemingly endless mix of alternating hilarious and touching stories about her travels. In fact, she seemed only to have acted so reserved and chill due to the circumstances in which they'd met. Couldn't really blame her for that, he supposed. When they had the opportunity to talk without her daughters present, Mrs. Reed was more than willing to open up with all sorts of well-intentioned, though occasionally embarrassing advice. He suspected she offered the outrageous lines she summarily dropped on him because she liked to watch his face turn red. "You three are using protection, I hope. It's a bit soon for grandkids." Right out of the blue sky. Thanks, Mary. Still, she had the occasional gem of good advice to offer, and had already set Jenny straight on the subject of her daughter's 'first dibs' mentality towards Jahn and Fiona, reasoning that being treated as equals meant equal time. Strangely, that attitude adjustment cut down a lot of the petty bickering they'd been prone to since they'd worked out the accommodation. He didn't get it, but it seemed to make sense to Mrs. Reed, and brought positive results, even if both girls had been terribly embarrassed by the regurgitation of a sensitive subject. She also gave him a boot to the rear on the subject of living arrangements. While out shopping, he'd asked her advice about matching jewelry and birthstones. Neither girl had shown Andrea's inclination towards that sort of stuff, but he wanted to do something special, and wanted to make it just right. Mrs. Reed offered him some insight, then raised took the conversation in a totally different direction. ."Jewelry's nice, but sometimes the intangibles are more substantial. Have you thought about asking them to move in with you? You spend enough time together that it wouldn't be too forward." Blinking in surprise, he turned his thoughts back to ideas he'd had about the situation before, but eventually shook his head. "My apartment's way too small for that, and both of them seem really attached to the house." He can't even begin to fathom the reason for her change of heart. "There are two guest rooms if you include mine, and an unused bathroom," she said reasonably. "Doesn't feel right to ask to move into their home," he said, uncomfortably. "Of course, of course," she said reassuringly. In hindsight, it wasn't terribly surprising that both sisters hit him with a two-sided siege the very next day, insisting that it was time to move things forward, that he should totally move in and take the spare room upstairs, that he could contribute by helping with some of the repairs the house really needed. Jahn suspected his contribution was going to have to be with a credit card rather than a hammer and nails. Mr. Fixit, he was not. With their combined enthusiasm, even had he voiced an objection, he'd never have stood a chance. ----------------------------------------------- Jahn stared at the unfamiliar ceiling with wide, unblinking eyes, arms outstretched on a bed he'd never slept in before, thinking about a future he might only have considered in fantasies. //Laughing children playing on an open lawn as their mothers and father watch over to ensure that no harm falls. Breathing life into a quiet neighborhood that has known too few families and too many isolated adults.// A pretty blonde lies on one arm, hair tied back in a ponytail. Pale skin almost luminescent in the dim light of the room, along with her snub nose and almost terminally cute features give the sleeping woman a cherubic appeal. She is almost weightless on his arm, a cushion of feminine softness, between which the only barrier is a long and loose-fitting t-shirt. A lovely brunette lies upon the other arm, her shoulder-length locks spread like a mane over the pillow. Dusky skin cast in shadows makes the high curve of the sleeping woman's cheekbones similar to a crescent moon where it reflects the room's dim light. She too, is almost weightless on his arm, a cushion of equally feminine softness despite her lack of generous curves, between which the only barrier is the downy flannel of well-worn pajamas. There is something sexual in this moment that brings him to hardness, yet so pure and chaste that he can't even summon a fantasy. Warmth, and peace, and love abide here. This is home. ... to be continued... Sweet Dreams Are Made of This Ch. 06 Chapter: June "Ties That Bind" In a parallel universe, anything is possible. A world might exist where you're the president, a prize-winning journalist, a loud-mouthed radio host, or maybe just a homeless bum. An ideal you might even exist, a you that never had any regrets, made all the right choices, and walked through life with a song on your lips. It's an appealing fantasy for those who are sure there are worlds other than these, and that a better place can be found in amongst their number. Jahn had bookshelves full of the stuff in the old apartment, and had an odd certainty that he must have stumbled into one of them. Sweet dreams are made of these, he thought, the rhythmic beat sliding through his head like liquid mercury, as he breathed in the lingering perfumes of the women beside him. It seemed only natural that one of them might join him that first night, in the bedroom they'd given him. Fiona had been the first, slipping through the half-open door with a light knock to announce her presence, a slight smile on her face as she silently moved across the room and embraced him. Raising her lips to his cheek for a lingering goodnight kiss, she whispered, "Would you mind if I stayed with you tonight?" making the request shyly, as if the act of sleeping together in one bed were somehow more intimate than the sex they'd already enjoyed. Of course he didn't mind, and as he lay down, she settled her small slender frame next to his on the spacious bed, nestling her head into his shoulder, and tracing a finger across his chest in a possessive gesture. With all the subtlety of an elephant in a china shop, Jen spilled into the room less than ten minutes later, halting at the sight of her sister and her boyfriend already lying together on the bed. There was nothing to interrupt, as they'd only meant to sleep, but the sisters stared at each other like unfamiliar stray cats trying to work out the ownership of new territory. Finally, and without a word, Fiona lifted a hand, gesturing to the other side of the bed. His other shoulder, he realized. A sigh of relief escaped him, prompting the brunette to give him a reproving knuckle to the ribs. Her sister seemed to have decided that the unspoken suggestion had merit and circled the bed, taking a seat, and drawing her long legs up beside him, before finally lying down. Total chastity, safe within each sister's boundaries, because nothing more than a loving embrace was needed. Darkness was slow to draw in through the blinds, but it was a long while before he slept. ---------------------------------------------- With Mrs. Reed in town, he was reminded of what little family he had left. Both his mother and father had passed nearly a decade back, and Jahn hadn't spoken to Roger in nearly a year. Natural, of course: his brother had a wife and a kid, a life of their own. He should contact his brother about his plans, but needed a good excuse... no, he really didn't. Roger was family. Pulling out his cell, he keyed in the number, still familiar to him even after so long. His brother picked up on the second ring. "Holy shit, Jahn, that you? Been awhile, bro." "Yeah," Jahn responded uncomfortably. "Time flies..." "It's cool, buddy. 'Shell and Joey keep me busy here. Need anything, or you just call to shoot the breeze?" The cheerful goodwill of his brother seemed to exude from the device in Jahn's hand. "Actually, yeah. You have everything you want from Mom & Dad's stuff in the storage unit?" "Everything except the mahogany dresser, yeah. 'Shell wants it for the extra room when we finish it.. Sayyyyyy, you finally got Andrea to soften up and move in with you?" "Ah, no. Ended that a few months back, found someone new." A low whistle sounded from the other end. "Sorry to hear that, I know you were really into her." Jahn replied, more curtly than intended. "The relationship ran its course." "Yeah, got it..." He'd had a few conversations with Roger about his ex early in the relationship, but it always left a strain, so he'd dropped it. "So, just a few months back, huh? Quick worker. Who's the lucky girl?" "Ummm, Jen and Fiona Reed. You wouldn't know them." "Geninfiona? That some sort of Germ- Wait, did you say 'them'?" The surprise in Roger's voice was clear. "Well, it's like this..." Filling in his brother on the details, he waited nervously, hoping Roger wouldn't think he was some kind of idiot, or gone cultist, or worse, pull the same drooling routine some of his friends from work had given when they found out he had not one girlfriend, but two. Jahn shouldn't have worried. Roger was a rock to lean on, always had been. "It sounds like you really dig them. I'm glad for you, bro." "You don't think it's weird, then? Or like I'm taking advantage of them or something?" "I've met men and women and seen all kinds of relationships all over the world. An extra girlfriend is like... nothing here in the USA. You could shout random shit nd show them off like arm candy, and nobody would bat an eyelash. Far as the personal judgments go, you've never been the kind of guy to treat a girl like that. If you believed you might, I trust you'd do the right thing." "I guess I would." "Damn straight. I'll come down this weekend and give you a hand with moving anything they want out of the unit." The offer came at him so fast, he didn't think to turn it down, before wondering why he would have. Roger had given his seal of approval. That was what mattered. ------------------------------------------------ "Oh ho ho ho ho," chortled Jen, as they made their way into the bedroom of his old apartment. "Finally, I gets to excavate ze hidden secrets of ze master's lair!" Rolling his eyes, he dropped a stack of packing boxes onto the floor. "Like you haven't been here at least a half dozen times already?" The blonde gave him a wicked grin, tugging at the neckline of her t-shirt. "Sure, but when the only view I get is your ceiling or the mattress..." Laughing, he returned, "Yeah, yeah, point made. Dig to your heart's content. I've already seen your dirty laundry." A whole closet full of it, in fact; she hadn't been joking about her porn collection. Probably why she was heading straight for his closet, he figured, as he began the tedious process of unplugging his work center. "Hmmm, lotta magazines in here..." she piped up impishly. The shuffling of paper was audible, but he ignored it. "Pretty tame compared to _your_ collection," he shot back with good humor. "Just some Playboys and some other assorted crap. You can toss 'em in the trash." Jen might not appreciate the girl-on-girl stuff hidden at the bottom of those stacks, he reflected, and turned to give her a hand, maybe dump them on the sly before she got that far. "Here, I can do that for you..." "Dream on, sucker, you're not slipping anything past me." Damn, she was quick. A small stack of magazines thudded onto the bag by the closet, sliding askew on the floor. "Hah! That explains it. Trying to slip your pervy girl-on-girl stuff past me..." "Uh yeah, I think you mentioned something about that sort of thing bothering you." Jahn couldn't think of a thing to change the subject to. "What?" She was silent for a moment, but a snort of laughter followed it. "I was talking about my sister. Not girls in general. Big difference." Jen had a thing for girls? That was news to him, if useless. No way in hell he was going to risk losing Fiona over a threesome with some random chick. The last of the magazines was pitched onto the bag. A comfortable silence fell as they worked on packing his belongings.. Absorbed in his work, Jahn was abruptly and painfully brought back to reality by an overjoyed squeal from the closet. Muttering as he rubbed his head from a bump against the desk, he turned his attention to the closet where Jen appeared to have regressed to juvenile spasms of delight. "If dirty magazines turn you on that much..." "Fuck you, jerk! You've been holding out on me!" A look of rapture had come over her face as she held up his bomber jacket. It took him a second, and he couldn't help but laugh as he made the connection. "Oh please, it's not a replica jacket, and hell, it doesn't even look much like the one in the movie. No need to drool on it." "Totally _not_ the point," she said emphatically. "You're not the only one with an imagination, you know! And after I set up that harem girl outfit for you!" Her mouth widened in a Cheshire grin. "I think it's only fair that you make it up to me." "Sure, sure," he said agreeably, though he'd never been in a drama club like she and Fiona had, and wasn't sure how he was going to pull off pretending to be a pilot. Vroom vroom, he thought distractedly. "Right. Now." The blonde pressed, still grinning wolfishly down at him. "Take me to bed or lose me forever, is how it goes." "There's something I'm supposed to say to that, right? It's been a long time since I saw the movie..." Jahn said, as he rose from the floor. "Just put on the jacket and lose your jeans. We can do the really fun stuff later." Fun was relative in Jenny's World, painted in a rainbow of degrees. //On the dimly lit landing strip, a woman in uniform stands, her blonde curls windblow by errant jetstreams. "Watching in slow motion, as you turn to me and say... take my breath away..."// Fortunately the jacket still fit, or he might have had a rebellion on his hands. Jen eagerly pushed him to the bed as he unzipped and lowered both jeans and underwear.. As contagious as ever, her enthusiasm infected him, and he reveled in the sensation of her lips making contact with the flesh of his cock, practically setting it aflame with transient, plush sensation. His girlfriend had possessed even less experience with this than he did, but in the few months they'd been together, she'd acquired her own little sphere of expertise, switching from tongue to lips and back again in a teasing flurry that stoked the fire in him to raging hardness, amplified again by the lowering lids of her shining blue eyes that sparkled with pleasure, as she had her way with him. Her tongue slid from the head of his dick to the base of his shaft, and he groaned with pleasure. "Oh fuck," he muttered, trying to support himself on the bed as she took him deeper into her mouth. "Fuck!" The last expletive was not directed at the intense pleasure she was giving him, but at the sound of knocking at the apartment door. "Cock-blocking fucker!" he swore, feeling himself shift from 60 to 0 so fast that the rush of blood dizzied him. Jen looked disappointed as well, but he knew she'd take it out of him later. Too bad he'd forgotten about this jacket. Maybe he could get something more like the real thing for her. ---------------------------------------------- Funny how fast goodwill could drain out of you, and flood right back in again. Like a rollercoaster, Jahn thought, as he gave Roger a heartfelt hug. The sight of his brother, his only surviving family, was a tonic. "Good to see you again, man." "You too, Jahnie boy. I'm guessing this one is the lovely Jennifer Reed?" Jen beamed up at him, no small feat. Jahn had been blessed with his father and mother's height, but Roger stood a good few inches even above him. "Jen, or Jenny, if you like." "My wife would rather I not be too familiar," his brother said, winking. "But it's a pleasure to meet you, Jen." He took her hand in a casual handshake that he deftly turned into a kiss on the back of the hand. Jahn had always envied his brother for his adult mystique, and seemingly endless talent for making a good impression on women. If he'd been closer to Jahn's age, he'd have had to worry about being in his brother's shadow, but Roger was more like a cool and much older uncle, always coming home first from college, and later from the military, with a story to tell, and just the right insights and advice for his clueless younger brother. The blonde's eyes widened briefly at the unexpected gesture, unsure how to react. Old school has its downsides, no matter how cool it looks in the movies, he realized. Roger turned his attention to Jahn. "I've got the truck. Should be just enough space for all of us if you want to pick up your... other lady, first." "No, we're going to need a second vehicle. Their mother is staying for a few weeks. Got a game plan, though. I figure we'll stop at the house, let you have a look around and meet Mrs. Reed, then introduce the womenfolk to the storage unit." Jen gave him a sharp poke with her elbow at his use of the word 'womenfolk', but her smile never wavered. "I'll cover dinner at Flannagans, let Jen and Fiona figure out what they want to take home, while we do the lifting. None of it's particularly heavy." The introductions had gone easily enough, though Mary Reed had shown a wolfish grin uncomfortably reminiscent of Jen's when Roger pulled that smooth little hand kissing trick on her. His brother might be pushing forty, but still possessed the fitness of youth, and he had looks that were starting to trend toward what was referred to as 'distinguished' as age finally caught up. She's just flirting, she's just flirting, Jahn assured himself, in response to Mrs. Reed's attention to his brother over dinner. He was remembering the jealous streak Roger's wife Mishelle reputedly possessed. And because the sexual tension just wasn't enough to put a damper on his evening, Margrave also had to be out and about, working on something in his driveway and paying plenty of attention to the proceedings with what Jahn like to think of as beady little rat-like eyes. He shot the man a friendly wave that was ignored. Fuck you too, he thought, sighing audibly. Bringing Mrs. Reed along had been a stroke of outstanding luck. Finances had always been tight around the Reed household, a single mother raising two girls without a breadwinner's help. While her own small income had ensured they kept away from welfare, there were any number of things she'd wanted for her home and to pass on to her girls when they grew up. A keen eye and appreciation of some of the furniture his folks had left behind had their mother pointing out items for her daughters that they probably wouldn't have thought to ask for on their own, and would never have occurred to Jahn to recommend. A hutch with a glass display case certainly looked nice, he'd admit, but he never really understood what his mother did with the thing. Glorified dish rack? Damn, he realized. My sense of household aesthetics really does suck. It occurred to him that if things ever broke down with Jen and Fiona, he'd either have to haul all this stuff out again or leave it behind. Somehow, the latter didn't seem to matter. Everything was gathering dust here. What was the point of leaving it in a storage unit somewhere or pawning it for a few extra dollars? The women made their choices, a process that was like a weird shopping spree, albeit one that involved intense debate over the merits of placing end tables by a couch and adding a coffee table to the living room. In the end, when all the lifting, and moving was done, there was a strange new companion in Reed household. A sense of nostalgia was present, the past and present merging and creating something entirely new. Something better. Was that it, he wondered? Was it because he was bringing something with him, rather than just moving in? These are the memories that last. This is the reason for scrapbooking, he thought suddenly, an odd flash of insight striking him as the chatter of family circulated through the living room. Mark the moment. Excusing himself, he retreated to his room to find the camera. It was going to be a long, hot summer, and he didn't want to miss a thing. --------------------------------------------- His camera turned out to be the aphrodisiac for Fiona that the "dress-up" sessions were for Jen. Pale enough that she burned easily, the blonde preferred the air-conditioned environment of a gym for her exercise, and usually begged off of biking trips, leaving he and Fiona to enjoy long rides together. They'd been doing that off and on for the last month, and the camera was a constant companion on their outings. Jahn's photographs were strictly amateur, but he had a skill for recognizing good landscapes or other scenes to shoot, and was starting to acquire a sizable collection. Incorporation of his girlfriend into the pictures had been a happy accident. Both of them were usually focused on enjoying the trips as much as the other's company, and it hadn't really occurred to him to take any photos of her other than those he kept for the family scrapbook. A hot day of biking on a back trail through one of the state parks had them stopping for a break. As Fiona leaned over to unpack their lunches, he admired the firm curve of her butt through the material of her shorts, and raised the camera almost unconsciously to snap off a picture. It was an old model, not one of the new digital jobs with all the fancy features, and the camera made an audible click as he did so. She whirled with a blush on her face to confront him, but there was no heat in her words. "That's a dangerous weapon you've got there. I hope that's not going to find its way on the internet..." "Wouldn't dream of it," he said flippantly. "Can't promise it won't find its way into my private offline collection, though..." His girlfriend's teeth gleamed brightly in the sun as she smiled. "I'll trust you to that, Jahn. Just remember that reasons for castration vary from woman to woman in our house." She winked, to allay any concerns, but it wasn't like he had any intention of doing that to her. While Fiona could be a charming woman, comfortable in the company of others, she was intensely private about personal matters, preferring to keep them among family or close friends. He'd begun to develop some regret over the way he'd confronted Andrea in their breakup, and knew he couldn't ever do that to Jen or Fiona without hating himself for the rest of his life. There had to be boundaries. He raised the camera again. "So, a few more?" Again, a dazzling smile lit her face. Fiona turned out to have a knack for playing to the camera, as if it were some sort of sub-set to her skill of dressing to kill. Nature forgotten, they spent the rest of the day having her pose for him at various locations, egging each other on to ever more risqué shots. Shenan Oaks Park was isolated, and there was little chance of being caught. Just a hint of danger, but no real risk. That seemed to be Fiona's kink. She played to it with gusto, showing off her sun-darkened nut-brown skin at his prompts, figuring out poses of her own that were far more erotic than anything he might have considered, tantalizing with the hidden rather than the explicit. Fiona knelt before him on the boulder, eyes half-lidded beneath the afternoon sun, arms behind her head, fingers in her hair as if she were bathing in light. Back arched, small breasts thrust outward on her nymph-like frame, dark nipples glistening with sweat. The smile on her face wasn't dazzling, but sultry, evoking pure sensuality. "Dear lord, that's hot," he croaked, throat drying from one heat as much as the other. She made a beckoning motion with her hands outstretched that he mistook for a pose until she crooked her finger at him again, eyebrow raised. Oh. Right. No further prompting was necessary, he approached her quickly, ready for whatever she had in mind. Fiona liked for him to initiate, usually throwing off cues of varying subtlety, but this time she was the first to act, leaning forward to slide her thumbs into the elastic waistband of his shorts. An exotic scent that was a mix of the surrounding pine trees and the light perfume his girlfriend wore combined to waft into his nostrils, momentarily dazing him with strangeness. Sweet Dreams Are Made of This Ch. 06 When his head had cleared, he found she'd already removed his underwear, and was beginning to stroke a finger along the base of his shaft. The delicate motion, as light and teasing as any tongue, caused his body to react with a violent shudder, blood surging through his body, making him erect within what seemed like a heartbeat. Her breath on him, the light vapor of her mouth on his cock made him want to strain toward her, to take her head in his hands, but she held him at bay with splayed fingers upon his midriff, taking her time with the light ministrations. A finger slid along his length or about his girth at one moment, a flicker of her tongue did the same at the next. She was not suckling on him, not even nibbling, but heaven help him, what she was doing was every bit as good as a real blowjob. She continued until her own arousal was evident in her uneasy breathing, and he moved forward to lay a hand on her smooth brown flesh, to share the offer she was whispering up to him. The moment was a spell, and it broke like glass as laughter sounded in the far distance. Cheeks tinged with a red that was definitely not arousal, she grabbed her shirt and dressed. It was some consolation that she would eagerly pick up where they left off when they got home, but really. Was someone upstairs laughing at him? ----------------------------------------------- It seemed like they must be, because not only was Jen back, but within ten minutes after getting home, a knock sounded on the door. Fiona went down to answer it, and he could hear a number of voices through the open window of his room. Both Mrs. Reed and his brother had long since left, his girlfriends' mother to visit a gentleman she'd met in her travelling, his brother back to his family the same weekend he'd come down. Some of Jen's friends, maybe? No, too masculine. Curious, he descended the stairs to see who'd come to visit. He froze when he saw the people standing at the door talking with Fiona, and the man who was standing there did the same as soon as he caught sight of Jahn. Silence like a blanket encompassed the room as Jahn Halvers faced the last person he had expected, much less wanted, to see. Yes, definitely mocking laughter, laughter that sounded like words, words that sound suspiciously like "Asshole." ... to be continued... Sweet Dreams Are Made of This Ch. 07 Author's Note: For those that have wondered, this is the seventh chapter in a twelve part story. Chapter: July "Stars in the Sky" Imagine a jigsaw puzzle. Not just any puzzle, but one of those multi-thousand piece monsters littered with detail and colors. Getting started is no chore, all you have to do is start with the border and corner pieces, set the structure for the big picture. Sort the colored tiles, find a few of the more obvious pieces. Problems quickly become obvious for the uninitiated... crossover colors, similar images in three or more spots, any other challenges the creator dreamed up for the truly devoted jigsaw enthusiasts. To paraphrase a Gumpism, life is a lot like that box of puzzle pieces – you might have an idea of the structure, the people in your life, and how those relationships connect, but working out the details can take a lifetime. Greg Bartels stood in the doorway of the Reed home with a woman Jahn had never met before, and he couldn't begin to imagine what the hell the man wanted with him half a year since they'd seen each other last. They weren't friends. They weren't co-workers. They had almost nothing in common. At worst, the pair had been nemeses unable to stand the sight of each other, at best united only by their inability to successfully resolve a relationship with a woman they both wanted. Truth told, for all Jahn cared, Greg could have dropped off the face of the earth. From the expression on Fiona's face, it was clear she'd already made the connection whenever the scrappy tool had been introduced to her; and the brunette looked ready to forestall an argument between the two men. There was something else at play here, and he didn't like not knowing what it was. Unable to mask the hostility in his voice, or even keep from raising it a notch, he asked, "What do you want now, Greg? Hell, how did you even know where to find me?" A reaction was immediate, but it didn't come from his former competition, it came from the woman at his side. For the first time, he took notice of the woman. She looked to be a few years older than Jahn, bearing an oddly tired look, as if the years had taken a toll. Her hair fell in long curls of a light brown that complimented round, dimpled cheeks. She was curvy in a classic way, though not overweight, and he thought she could be beautiful under the right circumstances, if it weren't for her eyes. Lord, those eyes. Colored a light green that looked like they could sparkle with laughter... but there was no laughter in them. Only stark fear, and of Jahn, of all people. All his fights had been grade school scraps, and he'd never raised a hand to another adult. A deep, cold sensation twisted his gut. Jahn had never worked at a center for victims of domestic violence, didn't know for sure that anyone he knew was a victim of it, or how to read the signs. But a nasty certainty dawned on him; he was sure this woman had been abused, and badly. He hoped that Greg wasn't the piece of shit who'd done it, because it would change a lot of things he thought he knew about the man's relationship with Andrea. Greg's mouth turned downward, as if he was working up an angry response to Jahn's outburst, but strangely he held his tongue, though his eyes broadcasted sheer outrage. Instead, he raised a calming hand to the woman's shoulder. The fear in her eyes subsided, and she seemed to relax. Jahn backtracked, with an apology that was as sincere as he could make it. "Sorry miss, Greg and I have some history. She nodded faintly, and he turned his attention back to the man. "Why are you here?" Fiona said gently, "Relax, Jahn. He's here to see me and Jen." Disbelief washed over his brain. What the hell was this, now? Late to the show, Jen's voice piped up behind him. "What's up?" Peering over his shoulder at Greg and the woman beside him, she commented to his companion, "Say, you look familiar. You work at V&P?" She said nothing, but shook her head. Fiona, ever diplomatic, took charge of the situation and said, "Greg has some things he needs to say. Let's have a seat, something cool to drink and talk about it, alright?" After getting everyone a chair in the kitchen, she poured lemonade, and got introductions out of the way. Greg's companion was Amelia Collins. Visibly more relaxed, Greg kept a constant and reassuring hand on Amelia's arm as he began to talk, his story coming out haltingly. "I wouldn't have dragged Amy along if I didn't think she needed to be here. I don't know either of these ladies..." he nodded towards Fiona and Jen, in turn, "... and I wanted to make sure they understood I'm not just talking a lot of shit. Amy will verify everything I tell you." "Here it is: Amy's been in a couple of real bad relationships. You know the type, macho fuc-"he cut himself off, moderating his language, "-macho tools who like to use their fists, who think its okay to treat a woman like a punching bag." There was anger in his voice, but his blue eyes were an expressive apology as he looked sideways at Amy, obviously not keen on sharing her personal affairs. Thank you Greg, Jahn reflected silently. "I'm telling you this for a reason, not to get sympathy. Her latest boyfriend-" Jen cut in suddenly, "Jake Edwards, right? I thought I'd seen you before." Unsure just who she was talking about, Jahn looked at her curiously, but Fiona beat him to the question. "That's the skinny guy with the long dark hair, isn't it? Works with you in Records?" The blonde nodded, her mouth twisting in distaste. "He used to hassle me for dates all the time, hinted to people that I was his girlfriend. Stopped bugging me a few years back. Guess he got a gir-, right, okay," she stumbled over the response as a flush of embarrassment crossed Amelia's face. Greg's hand tightened comfortingly on hers. "Yeah, that's him," he agreed. "I ran into Amy in Vander & Porter's cafeteria the day I broke up with Andrea. Recognized Amy – we both went to the same high school, though she was an upperclassman and we didn't really know each other. We talked for a bit, reminisced about the old days, all that good stuff, you know? She was the life of all the parties...," he trailed off in embarrassment, then took up again. "Macho shows up, makes a big deal about his girl chatting with guys he doesn't know." Venomous contempt began to creep into Greg's voice, though he kept his tone even. "Seen that shit before, would have just backed off and went my merry way, rather than making trouble for Amy. But no, something she said set him off and he slapped her. In the middle of a _public_ cafeteria, for fu- goodness sake. You could have heard a pin drop in there." He locked eyes with Jahn. "I've never hit a woman in my life, but when I saw him do that, I knew he'd done it before. Whole lot. Seen people do that before, know ladies who've let it happen to them. Pissed me off." "I've never backed down from a fight in my life, even picked a few. Called him out, said a few things, he took a swing. Flattened that little shit, right there." No pride in his voice, just a flat statement of fact. "Nobody said a word. He had it coming." "Took the rest of the afternoon off, told Amy that unless she wanted to live the rest of her life like that, she needed to let me help her. She agreed, thank God, but Edwards made that part pretty easy. She didn't have anything to lose by leaving everything behind." "We got a restraining order against Edwards, and I'm giving her a place to stay while she gets her life sorted out." Jahn interjected. "That's like... six months ago. How do Jen and Fiona fit in?" Greg grimaced. "I went over to their place while Edwards was at work to collect her clothes. I guess he expected that. Some of his friends were waiting and beat the shit out of me. Lost a couple teeth, and they told me I'd lose more if I ever came 'round there again." Amelia's face contorted with unhappiness, tears forming at the corner of her eyes, and she ducked her head. Jen rose and went to her. "We don't need to stay for this, Amy. Let me get you some Kleenex, and help you with that mascara." The blonde got up, and the others waited in uncomfortable silence as the pair climbed the stairs. When they'd gone, Greg picked up where he'd left off. "... so I left. Told her it was fine, we could get her some new stuff real easy. She wanted to know what happened, made me tell her. So I told her he'd had some friends watching the place and let her work out the rest." "Ever seen one of those movies, where someone delivers a creepy line and you know bad shit is probably gonna happen? It was exactly like that." "He watches the girls too, she told me." The bottom dropped out of Jahn's stomach, and he heard a low noise like rumbling that it took him a moment to recognize as bile rising in his throat. Fiona must have seen his expression change, and turned to him with a look of concern on her face, "Jahn?" "And the 'girls' were Jenny and Fiona," he croaked. "Right? Who were his friends? Skinheads?" Greg eyed him. "Wouldn't have known by looking, but yeah basically. I pressed her for details, asked her who these pricks were, who the punk was watching. Amy said they were part of some Purity group that Edwards was in and doing somebody a favor Jahn closed his eyes, a wave of nausea roiling in his gut. "I told her we needed to let these girls know about it, so they could get a restraining order or something. Don't know why he was watching them, what he wanted. Maybe he's just a pervert, but you can't take chances with a guy who pounds on people he claims to love." "That's why I'm here. I'd have passed it along to you instead, if I'd known Fiona was your girlfriend." Jahn didn't care to explain the relationship, and let it go at that. ------------------------------------------------- Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Puzzle pieces suddenly begin to fall into place, a picture begins to form. "got friends on the outside keeping a close eye on my little girl for me." "long list, kids who got shown the door." "Margrave" "used to run off any kids that gave Jen a hard time" "Jake Edwards" "asked me for dates all the time" "watches the girls" Donovan had friends, good friends who knew he wasn't ever getting out of prison. He asked them for a favor, and what greater favor could somebody do for a friend than make sure his little girl had someone looking after her? Sure, the half-breed was a fly in the ointment, but if his kid adored her half-sister, allowances could be made. There was something about that that didn't quite fit, but the picture was there. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Two attractive girls lived alone, not just any girls, but sisters. Both charismatic and intelligent women, both well into their twenties. Virgins, too. One as lusty as any guy, the other somewhat reserved, but not so shy as to be a wilting lily. Falling for and falling into bed with a guy just out of a failed relationship, after only a few weeks of dating. The guy looked a little like an old movie star, but really? What were the odds? "had boyfriends before... they just never seem to stick around long" "was supposed to be my first" "hinted that he was my boyfriend" How many people did Jen and Fiona have looking out for them? A neighbor across the street. A co-worker. Perhaps fellow students or a teacher? Somehow, Jahn had slipped under their radar, but had passed whatever test Donovan had concocted in his head and was left be. Someone to look out for you, that was a good thing, right? Friends who cared, kept an eye on family to make sure things were alright, but Jake Edwards was another matter altogether. What kind of crap could he get up to, if Donovan's friends decided he'd make a good boyfriend for Jen? Fiona... how would someone like Edwards look at a woman like her? Another punching bag to add to the list? Gotta keep the girlfriend in line somehow, right? Even Donovan only showed her the barest respect. Click. Greg talked for awhile longer, speculating on what Edwards was up to, but Jahn was pretty sure he already had all the answers that mattered. Amy and Jen finally returned, and while there was still some pensiveness on the older woman's face, she looked far more positive and Greg's expression softened at the sight of her. As he got up, ready to leave, Jen hustled over to his side to whisper something in his ear. The look he gave her was odd, but when he turned his attention back to Amelia, color was high in her cheeks, a smile on her face. After they'd gone, Jahn turned to Jen. "What was that all about?" Breezily, she responded, "Oh, Amy just wanted him to make a move and was a little timid about asking him to do it." "Whatever. She could probably find better than Bartels." In an unexpectedly sharp tone of voice, Fiona interjected, "Don't be a dick, Jahn." That language was surprising from her, and hurt too. Before he could say anything, Jen piped up indignantly. "He's been a perfect gentleman to Amy. He's given her a place to stay, made sure she has whatever she needs, got her a job. She has no friends left, and he's been everything the two assholes she went out with before weren't. Both of them were awful to her, treated her like trash. Greg's the only one that showed her any kindness _at all_. Amy knows he's sweet on her, but he's left her alone because he's afraid to hurt her. She feels the same way about him." "Okay, fair enough," he said slowly. Greg was beside the point. There was a bigger issue at hand. Emotion boiling over inside him, he continued, "We need to discuss your father." Jen's naturally pale skin went a shade whiter with outrage, as the blood drained from her face. "Don't you talk about my daddy-" Looking on in silence, it seemed that Fiona had made some of the same connections as Jahn and she finally spoke up. "Jenny - chkt." Jahn wasn't sure what that meant because it didn't even sound like a word, but it stopped her sister cold. Folding her arms angrily beneath her breasts, "Okay, say what you have to say." So he did. ---------------------------------------------- It took them nearly an hour to get Jen to calm down after _that_ fiasco. Denial, rage, tears, the gauntlet. Two more hours burned before he could convince her that he should call Donovan. Jen had suggested they confront Edwards, but he was pretty sure that would end about as well for him as it had for Greg and told her so. With some reluctance, she agreed. Turns out that getting a prisoner on the phone without a drive-up appointment was a real pain in the ass; he made the mistake of not having Jenny make the call and got a ridiculous run around before contact was arranged. When Donovan finally picked up, Jahn was seething. "Why the hell are you calling me?" "You ever raise a hand to your wife? Make sure she knows her place, that kind of shit?" Fortunately, Jen wasn't in the room, and he let his mouth run. "Black eye to remind her she's been told once already?" The other end of the line got quiet, and he could practically feel a chill radiating from it. "Kid, I don't know what the fuck your problem is, but say what's on your mind and be done with it." "It's about these people you have "looking out for" Jenny." Warily, Donovan responded, "That's not your business, kid." "I got one in particular in mind. Name of Edwards, Jake or Jacob." "Randall's boy? So what?" "So he beats the shit out of his girlfriends." There was a moment of silence. "That's personal, kid. I don't hold with that kind of crap and it ain't right, but that's not your business either." "Stow it, Donovan. He's told people in the past that Jenny's his girlfriend. You like the idea of Jenny being this shithead's punching bag? Or traumatizing the hell out of her when he decides to do it to her little half-breed sister instead? What do you think of that, Donovan? I think I'd like to kick his worthless ass, but I have it on good authority that he has 'friends' covering for him." The silence extended well after Jahn's rant ended, but he could hear the man's breathing. Still there. Chew on it. Then finally: "Okay, I'll see to it that he stays away from them." "Do better than that, man. Get him a transfer out of V&P to another branch in another city, and make it clear that if he ever goes anywhere near the girls, it's his head on a platter." "Kid, your mouth is gonna get you... no, you're absolutely right. Edwards is gone, and they'll keep an eye on him to make sure he keeps his hands where they belong." "Mind this, boy,you aren't off the hook. That's my girl, and I don't trust you enough to watch her by yourself. Clear?" "Clear. Sir." ------------------------------------------------ Confirmation came from an unexpected source a few days later. As he pulled into the driveway, Margrave appeared, though there seem to be no change in his typically sour disposition. Jahn waited as the big man crossed the street to approach him. A bass rumbled that took a moment to register as a voice issued from the man. "Edwards got his transfer. Gainesville. We got people there, but he shows his face 'round Jenny, you let me know." Grudgingly, Jahn nodded. "Thank you, and tell Donovan I said thanks as well." Margrave gave him an unreadable look, but nodded and left. I don't speak their language, but the message seems to have gotten through, Jahn thought, the burden of worry finally beginning to lift from his chest. ----------------------------------------------- A few weeks of reflection seemed to be the prescription for easing the tension that had arisen in the house, but it wasn't that easy. Sniping and arguments had taken place at first, not between Jenny and Fiona, but between himself and them, and in retrospect, he'd been embarrassed to admit that he was at fault for most of it. His unwillingness to simply let the matter of Greg's apparent decency as a human being drop, coupled with Jenny's resentment of the situation with her father had created a toxic atmosphere. Over time, though, Fiona had finally gotten fed up and told him point-blank that had Greg not intervened, something could have happened to her, Jenny, or both of them. That stopped Jahn cold, because there had been a certain low-level fear in his gut that he'd refused to acknowledge since the first time Donovan had threatened him with broken arms and legs, one that had sharpened into outright terror when Greg had told them about Edwards. Self-preservation could be overlooked, or ruthlessly shoved aside, but an inability to protect people he loved could not. A wire had tightened around his heart, and it relaxed when that problem had been corrected, but it took Fiona's sharp insight to cut it loose. The understanding seemed to lift a dark cloud from his perception of his former nemesis. "You're right," he admitted, with sincerity this time, rather than grudging reluctance, though the heat of embarrassment over his behavior seemed to inflame his cheeks. "I should thank him for that, but I deleted his number after Andrea." Fiona's mouth curved in a satisfied smile. "Jenny's got Amy's number. Guess you should go talk to her, hmmm?" Oh. You clever little minx, he marveled inwardly. ----------------------------------------------- When he knocked on Jen's bedroom door, he got a grouchy "Come in" for his trouble, but she seemed to brighten when he came in. "Hey," he said awkwardly. "I figured I owe Greg some thanks for what he did for us. Fiona said you have Amy's number...?" "Y-yeah. Hold on." Standing, she moved to the dresser to pick up her cellphone, hunching over the device as she pressed buttons. He saw her shaking, and thought it the movement of her hands for a moment before he realized she was crying. Sweet Dreams Are Made of This Ch. 07 "Hey, Jenny, it's okay, I'm here for you. I'm not going anywhere." Moving forward, he embraced her tightly, holding her to him. Unable to contain whatever emotion she'd built up over the weeks, the reservoir broke. Jahn stood with her in his arms until she finally subsided. What seemed like hours later, she spoke, stumbling over the words between sniffles, "I know I never g-get around to saying it, b-because it's so much better to show you how I feel. Y-you turn me on, and I l-love being with you. I l-love that you care, that you try and show it as much as possible, even with Fiona in the picture. I might not say it, but I _love_ you Jahn. I really do." "I know," he said quietly. "You already told me. I saw it on your face when you told your mother about me." "But I love my daddy too, and it tears me up that you hate each other." "I don't hate him, Jen. Whatever world he's made for himself, whatever hatred he wraps himself in, is his problem. But it scares that hell out of me that his world could get either of you hurt." "I kn-know. I've never had to face the dangerous side of his life, but I know it's there. It's why he's in prison." His girlfriend stared up at him with vulnerability in her large watery blue eyes, and he leaned in to kiss her on the forehead. Wrapping her hand fiercely into his t-shirt, she pulled him further downward, to kiss her on the lips instead. Not one of their usual tongue-wrestling matches, or passionate lip-lock, but an exchange of intimacies. "Make love to me," she whispered. He understood what she was asking for. Like the kissing, not their usual bedroom antics and wild sexy play, but togetherness. Their clothes seemed to be swept away like dust on a breeze, and he touched her over and over, his hands gentle travelers, not exploring new territories, but natives walking through well-known and loved homelands. From hills of her lips, to the gentle slope of her throat, the steep mountains of her breasts and flatlands of her stomach, they made their meandering way to the wet valley between her legs. Jen responded in kind, her hands everywhere, not groping, but touching... _feeling_ every part of him. There was a tightening, his arousal as hardness overtook him, and yet more of that tightness, his entry between her legs. The blonde gave a low cry of pleasure, pulling her head back as he penetrated her, and he could see a smattering of tears on her face. Concerned, he began to withdraw, but she clutched him all the more tightly to her. "Good, it's so good..." she murmured. Embracing the fullness of himself within her, he set a rhythmic pace that was slow and gentle. There were sounds that might have been the occasional groan from himself or a breathless moan from her, but the coupling was comfortably quiet, he in her, taking incredible pleasure from the motion of his sex within hers. When they finally came together, there were no words, only an explosion of breath and release, his seed spilling into Jen, mingling with her own liquid passion. ------------------------------------------------ The difference had to have shown on their faces when they came downstairs, because Fiona looked up from the mail, contemplating the pair only briefly before gifting them with a smug, self-satisfied smile. The brunette casually displayed what appeared to be a pair of cardboard tickets. "Mom sent us our birthday present a bit early so that we could plan ahead. What do you think about a trip to Florida?" ... to be continued ... Sweet Dreams Are Made of This Ch. 08 Chapter: August "The Sun and the Moon" Life is as full of treasured moments as it is of hardship, though the challenges and obstacles that must be overcome can seem insurmountable, weighing so heavily that it seems even Atlas must be crushed under its mass. When those special gifts keep coming, it is easy to be desensitized or to focus on them to the expense of missing greater opportunities. And if you do see them, what then? Will it be eyes on the prise to reach for something that might just be a mirage? You can choose one over the other, or simply pretend the choice never existed and be on your merry way. Each decision carries a price. For every gain, there is a sacrifice. Making the choice is a leap of faith. As a premise for making a decision, it kinda sucked, but these were the thoughts running through Jahn's head as he stared past a sleeping Jen into the blue sky beyond. At least the distant drone of engines, and constant idle chatter by other passengers on the plane disrupted his makeshift philosophy. He didn't want to dwell on it too long; he'd already made his choice, and all that was left was to take the final step. A sharp elbow poked him in the ribs, interrupting his train of thought yet again. "Hey, Jahn," Fiona whispered. "Hey Fiona," he whispered back, with a smile, turning to look down into her lustrous brown eyes. "'Sup?" "I was just thinking... ever heard of the Mile High Club?" Choking back laughter, he asked without thinking, "You sure you can afford the membership fee?" The brunette's mouth widened in an alluring smile that told him she got the joke and wasn't going to hold it against him. As well she might, the suggestion _was_ atypical of the slender brunette's personal mores. Sex outside of the house had been a tentative thing, a touch of risqué, but without any real risk of exposure, allowing her to maintain a protective reserve without embarrassment. Chance didn't favor them doing that on the plane without notice, unless they were careful. Stories and movies always made like the sly exit to a restroom was an easily achieved task, but there was such a sense of claustrophobia on these planes that he didn't see how people could really do that unnoticed. That's not to say Jahn wasn't game for some hanky-panky. After working out a code with his girlfriend, he slipped out of his seat and past her into the aisle, making his way to the restroom. As he settled in to wait, he could tell this was not going to be easy. It felt like his long legs took up the entire cubicle, his back pinched uncomfortably by a lever. A gentle and sporadic tapping came from the door, and with a little nervousness, he unlatched it. Sigh of relief, not one of the other passengers, but the slender fingers of his girlfriend as she opened the door and let herself in. It was a... experience, one that inundated his brain with visceral terms he didn't usually think of Fiona in, and only slightly less rarely, Jenny. He supposed he was idealizing his sexual experiences with the two women, thinking of the experiences as something more than they really were... simple acts of sexual congress. But it felt vulgar to think of sex with Fiona that way, to thrill at the sensation of the brunette lowering her panties and then straddling him in such an exposed restroom, lowering her already wet pussy onto his newly freed and entirely erect cock. She sat astride him, impaling herself on and riding him, the walls of her pussy gripping his dick like a vice due to her inability to relax. Bruising on his hips and back in the morning, he was sure of that now, and the tension of the situation didn't help to keep the raw sensation of fucking from causing him to erupt within her prematurely, his body shuddering as cock twitched deep within her, expelling his semen. Rocking up and down on him, it took her longer to achieve her satisfaction, and when she did, she put a hand over her mouth to stifle the cry of pleasure, cheeks suddenly mahogany with the intensity of the moment.. When they'd finished, hastily redressing, their return to the seats was quick and furtive, but they had escaped notice, nothing more than his own guilty pleasure causing him to think that perhaps the old man back there was staring a little too long, or the kids were pointing out the creepy couple to their parents. As he scanned the passengers, a growl dripping with mock threat came from the seat next to him. "You better have _my_ membership card ready for the return trip," Jen said, amusement dancing in her half lidded blue eyes as he turned and caught her grinning at their discomfort. ------------------------------------------------ Touch down and arrival went unremarked, their search for the Playana del Sol hotel relatively uncomplicated, assisted by limitless droves of tourist-hungry business people. Jen seemed to have an instinct for direction that, coupled with a GPS and that friendly advice, got them exactly where they needed to be, with time for a few stops along the way for sightseeing. The trio had spent a great deal of time beforehand working out their schedule for the places each of them wanted to go, and every extra second was more time to enjoy the scenery, opportunities that Jahn leapt at with his camera camera. Six days and nights just didn't seem like enough. He'd come loaded for bear, ready to shoot anything that moved. The sisters seemed willing to indulge his constant need to stop-and-click, though they dragged him on if he lingered too long. Ordered chaos, the tour was, and so much so that the first two days were exhausting enough to forestall any arguments on sleeping arrangements. Simply _sleeping_ in the same bed was easy enough, but the large, spacious rooms weren't designed with privacy in mind, killing any chance for either woman to get some alone time with him. Life with the pair was so sex-saturated that not getting much of it on vacation didn't seem a huge sacrifice, but he wasn't sure how they felt about it. Let them work it out, he supposed. Unsurprisingly, it was Jen who managed that odd arrangement, alternating an hour of breakfast time for the remainder of their week together. Where there was a will, there was a way, and the blonde had enough will for all three of them. One of their side-trips had taken them to an insane botanical garden that doubled as a theme park... and man, those things were everywhere, even if you didn't count the Big D. Jen had even talked them into visiting a small water park for an afternoon; it had been fun, but he'd felt a touch out of place, with most of park goers being pre-college age. It was flattering to the ego to be the dude with two giggling, bikini-clad young women on his arms, but... it made him feel old. Man, he was turning into a boring twit, constantly thinking back to the special packages he'd hidden away in the hotel safe. Live a little, he told himself. Not that he had any other choice. Jen kept them on their toes, making sure that even the long walks while sightseeing didn't turn dull. He should have realized that she was setting them up for a sucker punch when the blonde got sketchy about their destinations for the next day. Oh yes, that had been a doozy. As they pulled into the vast and rather crowded beach parking lot, Jen hunched over the wheel, looking for an open spot. Somewhat late in the day, most people had already chosen spots up by the ocean's side. Slightly off... he couldn't put his finger to it, but Fiona put words to it first. "Jahn, was it you or Jenny that chose this beach?" "Jen did, why?" Snickering, very soft but audible, came from the driver, and he looked askance at her. "There are naked people here...," realization dawning on her, Fiona continued in scandalized tones, "Bitch! This is a nude beach!" "Ahem. 'Clothing-optional," her sister corrected her. "There is absolutely no requirement for wimpy people to go without suits." In the rearview mirror, Jahn could see Fiona shooting a glare of death at the back of her sister's head. "Easy for you to say, Blondie McBigTits. Not all of us have such _awesome_ self-esteem," she said, words dripping sarcasm. "Or lack of modesty." Rather rudely, Jen pointed at a morbidly obese man some distance away. "He's got bigger tits than me. Clearly, neither modesty nor self-esteem is required. Wimp!" Laughing to herself, she pulled her t-shirt over her head, shaking out her hair. "I also know for fact that you don't have any tan lines. Ah-hem," she said, coughing pointedly into a delicate fist. "Privacy fences and tree cover," the brunette muttered by way of explanation. Curiously, Jahn asked. "We don't have an umbrella. Why not the hotel pool? More shade, you're less likely to burn." "Nudity is not an option at Playana del Sol. Besides...," Jen gave a throaty, borderline obscene laugh and reached below the seat, withdrawing a moment later to show off an industrial-sized bottle of suntan lotion. Hadn't even noticed that, but it explained why she hadn't had any complaints over the last few days. "... guess who's getting a rubdown?" "Certainly can't argue with that," he said, smiling and envisioning the task already. "Glad you agree!" Jen piped cheerily as she got out of the car to remove her bikini. Pointedly, she added, "Of course, only _nude_ people are allowed to participate in the rubdown. I would _so_ hate to have to do it myself." He eyed her as he got out of the car. "You are a manipulative little wench, Jenny Reed." "Yes, Jahn Halvers. I certainly am. What's it gonna be?" she asked mockingly, as she picked up the cooler and her carryall. "Going to show off 'Big Jahn' with pride?" Wincing, he accepted the remark with the grace he could muster. During an unasked for moment of dominance, he'd rather egotistically (and foolishly) told her to take it all, every last inch of his beast , and she'd called him out on it afterward. Only slightly longer than average according to her stats, but he had far better than average girth, damn it. He did have a big dick. Fuck the porn-star statistics. Should have remembered that just because he was her first and only, didn't mean she didn't have a stick to measure by. Grudgingly, he undressed and collected his belongings for the trek to the water's edge. Turning, he saw Fiona had already done the same, and was giving him a baleful glare. "What are you staring at," his girlfriend said in flat monotone, more statement than question, crossing her arms over those lovely brown breasts in a defensive posture. "I've got my own lotion in my handbag." He knew better than to respond to that. It was wisdom that paid off in the end, because applying lotion to the bare bodies of his girlfriends trumped everything else they did that afternoon. Sun hot in the sky, shining down on white sands and blue waves, giving his girlfriends an erotic, if amateurish massage... the day was ideal. He'd had to limit his exploration to keep within those unspoken boundaries, but it was worth it. Fiona eventually loosened up, and even got a measure of satisfaction when three different people, two men, one woman, stopped by the group's blankets at random intervals to chat up Jen. Not at all subtle in their propositions, they sent the blonde into uncharacteristic blushing fits. Not that she covered up after. ------------------------------------------------ "This trip was an awesome present," Jen enthused as the trio ate dinner that evening. "I totally thought Mom was fucking with us when you showed me those cheap cardboard tickets with the fill-in dates." "It's not like she could have got us the tickets outright, with different work schedules and nothing set in stone," Fiona pointed out reasonably. "Not really surprising that she chose this gift either, since her current gentleman's a travel agent, but you're right... I've had a lovely time." When they'd finished eating, they exchanged gifts, Fiona and Jen giving each other some forgettable electronic i-thingies that they'd both wanted. Jahn had gone for a more personalized touch for them: both of his gifts were delicate silver necklaces with a hand-written cards. To Jen, he had given a sunburst pendant with a stylized 'J' at the center of the piece, the card reading You are my sun, burning bright even in forests of day, giver of life and light and happiness, uplifting my heart whenever you are with me. And to her sister, a waxing moon with a stylized 'F', the card reading: You are the moon in my dark night, a bright light against shadows, giving me peace and serenity, reminding me that I am never alone even when I am not with you. They'd loved the jewelry, though Jen had immediately popped off with a cackling, "Going to get us tattoos next?" He genuinely hoped the gifts didn't come off _that_ way, because Fiona had given him a strange and inscrutable look. Maybe she was picking up on what was in store, perhaps he'd inadvertently dropped clues. It was hard to sneak anything past her. Better that then having her believe I'm some kind of possessive freak marking my territory, he thought. ----------------------------------------------- Glowing a fiery orange and casting the hotel's scattered palms in shadow, the sun set on Playana del Sol, and as well as their vacation in a state half a nation away from home. It was to be their last evening here, and if Jahn was totally wrong about what they felt for him, perhaps the last night he would share with them at all. Let it not be so, the thought echoed in his mind, the odd turn of phrase calling itself to mind from some dim and forgotten memory. No butterflies in his stomach for this, only a low hum of anticipation and some little fear. Jen and Fiona had already seated themselves for dinner when he arrived, tugging nervously at the nape of his shirt. Seeming to turn as one, they smiled at him, Jen saying something as Fiona gestured animatedly to the food already laid out. Jahn felt his heart tighten in his chest. Breathe, he thought. Just breathe. Taking in the tropical scents with a deep release and then intake of breath, he closed with them and took his hands from his shirt, lowering them to his pockets, and withdrawing the final gifts. Two sets of eyes, one set sparkling blue, one set lustrous brown followed the motion of his hands, and again, like one, the two women seemed to freeze, their stellar orbit stopped in time. Breathe, he thought, and went down to one knee. A practiced motion, he'd gone over the follow ups again and again when he could find the time alone, because of the awkwardness of presenting both gifts at once. "I've been going over this question in my head for a long time, and every time the answer is the same. I have to make a choice, because to do anything less is to lose you both without ever having tried. I love you too much to do that." "The way the world supposedly works, is that I have to choose between you, one or the other, and I can't do that. I love you both, neither any less than the other, and to choose like that would feel like demeaning you. It's all or nothing. You told me that once, Jen." The blonde unconsciously raised a knuckled hand to her mouth, eyes almost impossibly wide as he opened the small ring cases in his hands with a deft motion not unlike juggling. Slipping index and middle finger over the diamonds, he captured the gems with both hands, allowing the cases to fall to the floor with matching thuds, palming the rings. Kneeling before them, he spoke to one, then the other. "Jennifer, you have one of the most open and loving hearts I've ever had the pleasure to witness in any person. You are filled with unconditional love, and just being with you fills me with joy and laughter. I can think of no reason why I would not want to have you by my side for the rest of my life." Jen's throat worked, almost convulsively, as if she were trying to speak, but she accepted the ring from him mutely, cradling it in her hand. Reassuringly, as much for himself as for her, Jahn smiled, then turned his attention to Fiona, who watched with equal silence, fingers lifting to brush a cheek, a strand of her hair, anything to keep her hands occupied. Her nervous tics, he knew, and rushed to address her as well. "Fiona, you are one of the most intelligent women I've ever met. I can't help but feel intimidated by that sometimes, but you have the grace, wisdom, and compassion to know that what you possess inside is not a weapon, but something beautiful. If only you believed you were as beautiful outside as you are within, but I would stay with you as long as it takes, tell you every day until you finally believe it. She accepted the ring from him in silence, looking down at it with what must be stunned disbelief, motioning one moment as if she meant to put it on, the next, not quite following through. Anxiety swelling in his heart, he continued. "You two have something amazing. Sisters, and best friends. For over twenty years of your life, you've uplifted each other and helped each other past the many obstacles this house has thrown your way. Whether in helping your sister to overcome introversion to be more self confident and seek the friendship of others," he said to Jen, "or to extend your skill in teaching others to help your sister succeed in school," he said to Fiona, "you've always been there for each other, fighting together, if the situation called for it. A small smile played on his lips as he recalled stories of the numerous detentions the girls had taken together for fighting in grade school.. Jen had been Fiona's stalwart defender, but Fiona had always had Jen's back. "I won't, could never be, the one to break that. It's something precious." "The gifts I gave you yesterday weren't just a token of affection, they symbolize what I truly feel about you -- you are the sun and the moon to me, the light in my sky, my night and day." "For all the books I've read, it seems like I could better express my feelings for you both, and go on for hours about what wonderful women you are, and how you've changed my life for the better. Being with you has made me a better person. There are still shades of the narcissistic introvert I used to be to overcome, but with you, I know that I can do it." "All I can say is that I love you both and ask..." "Jennifer Marie and Fiona Anne Reed, will you marry me?" A leap of faith. ... to be continued... Sweet Dreams Are Made of This Ch. 09 Chapter: September "The Glow of the Moon" Decisions vary in scope and intensity. We make them all the time; their making defines us as people, tells others who we have been, what we are, what we might be. Maybe you like pina coladas and getting caught in the rain, or hot summer nights with a tall glass of cold lemonade. A slender girl with legs that climb all the way to heaven, or one with curves that don't quit, promising to send you freefalling into love. The high-paying stressful job that will line your pockets with green and face with stress, or something more menial, impacting the lives of others in such a meaningful way that one can't help but love the work they do. Decisions deeply rooted in every sphere of life. Family. Lovers. Friends. School. Jobs. Marriage. Jahn had spent a lot of time over the previous months thinking about his future. Somewhere along the line, he had finally realized that what he was doing wasn't just an attempt to retain a sexy, thrilling relationship with two incredible women, but he'd actually fallen in love with both of them. A slow revelation, chiseling away at his defenses like a miner's pick with a slow and steady tapping, It came to him that what he thought was love in other relationships was just commitment, but without an emotional bond. Not that all fault could be laid at his doorstep, but there was a recognizable element of self-involvement. Together, Jen and Fiona were stronger than any one woman and had managed to drag him out of the shell he'd erected. That former solitude, the loneliness of it, held no appeal for him. He'd looked to the heavens and found his sun and moon. He wanted to reach out, draw them close, and never let them go, to marry them. Jen examined the ring cupped in her palm with wonder, but Fiona stared at him as if he'd suddenly grown a second head. "That's... polygamy," she said, words tumbling from her mouth as if forced. Her sister half-turned to her, listening quietly. "You're absolutely right. People judge it harshly for a lot of good reasons. I don't think any of those reasons apply to us, do you? What you think matters to me, not others." "It's not ... legal." Flatly delivered, her response's meaning was unreadable. ."Of course, the marriage would be strictly ceremonial. I can give you my name, my commitment, my... self. The tax breaks, all the rest of the things that go along with so-called real marriages? They're not what _matters_. You and Jen matter." Fiona's voice was strained, but she continued. "How could we possibly arrange the wedding?" "Entirely up to you. We could take our vows separately, or together. I like the latter, since all three of us would be in this together, but it's your call. Whatever makes you most comfortable." "The ... other things?" A subtle emphasis on the word 'other' framed her question. Of course, there was always the specter of sex to haunt the relationship. A touch of humor tinged his response. "Jen's done a fine job of arranging that, and we're not even married." The blonde's cheeks colored a light pink, but she was smiling. Fiona, on the other hand... was he losing her? "I... what would Mom say? I don't think-" Jen looked up sharply at this reply from Fiona, another more obvious realization having the blonde. He knew what that was -- her father. Mary Reed was an entirely different matter. During the short time Jahn had spent with her away from her daughters, he'd managed to get across to the woman just how much both of her daughters meant to him. Last month, he'd called her again, looking for some advice. After a reminder about his testicles being on the line, she'd answered. "I already spoke to her. If this is what _you_ want, we have her blessing." Turning briefly to Jen, he said, "However, if you want this too, you're going to have to talk to your father. He'll never accept it from me." The blonde looked back, blue eyes appealing, before lowering them in tacit agreement, returning to examination of the sparkling ring in her hand. "And the people at work? I have to ... deal with that." Yes, there was a slight complication due to her position in the company; she was upper management in V&P's billing department, and had to maintain far more professional standards than lower level Records workers like Jen. Still, he didn't think that would be a problem. "Remember all those long talks we had early on, when you told me about your job? V&P is a family-owned corporation, you said. One that believes family matters, and that family isn't defined by traditional norms. It wasn't chance that both you and Jen work there, or that several of your co-workers have cousins and even parents in other departments. All of those big social events, the reasons why people seem to marry in-company so often." Jen stopped him from continuing. "Can I say something?" Turning her full attention to Fiona, her voice gentle, she said, "You're my sister and my best friend, Fi, but that's not enough anymore. I've been waiting.... like my whole life for someone to love... hell even _like_ me. It's lonely, and I don't want to live like that anymore. I love Jahn, and I can't think of anyone I'd rather share him with than you." Holding up her hand, eyes filled with determination, she slid the ring onto her finger. Desperately, Jahn reached out with, "We've made it this far, Fiona, past family and the obstacles that matter. The rest is love and commitment. Am I wrong? Don't you feel the same? Or is living like that too much to deal with? I want to think that I've moved past being so narcissistic, but if I've completely misunderstood..." Brown eyes flooded with tears. "Of course I love you, Jahn, and I'm well past any resentment of Jenny. It's just... I never could have wished for anything like this. It seems like there are so many reasons we shouldn't, like this is wrong or something. I love you, but..." "We all need somebody to love. This is about what _you_ want. Will you marry me?" "I..." Staring at the back of her hand, she examined the ring, tears sliding down her cheeks. Her gaze shifted aside to Jen's worry-filled expression before cutting back to his, and some of the luster returned to her eyes. Whatever concerns that exceptional mind of hers could raise, she left them unspoken, resolve in her features. She slid her own ring into place. "Yes." *** Hard decisions had to be made in the first weeks after the trio got home, and Jahn, like it or not, had to be at the center of all of them. Mary had accepted the arrangement, and even seemed pleased when he told her both of her daughters had said yes to the proposal, but Donovan was now the paramount issue, and Jen seemed to understand that if they were going to go through with a wedding, her father's approval was absolutely critical. It was a cool and confident young woman that approached her father's booth at the Johannesberg prison, not a vulnerable little girl praying for her daddy's approval, though Jahn was certain that at least some part of his fiancée still craved it. Donovan sat with the phone in his hand, a huge bull of a man attempting to discern exactly what had changed his daughter's attitude so dramatically. A steely stare that got no visible reaction from Jahn gained the man nothing, but the ring on Jen's finger told him a great deal. Those blue eyes looked briefly approving then narrowed. Not stupid, Jahn thought. He knows damn well that something's up and that it probably has to do with Fiona. "Hi Dad! We just got back from Florida a few days ago, and I wanted to give you the good news. Jahn proposed!" With a bright smile that seemed a little forced, she raised a hand to show off her ring. "We're going to get married, come spring!" Donovan said a few words that Jahn couldn't make out, seeming to give Jahn a nod of acknowledgement, though not quite approval, because he was still waiting for the bombshell. Was that a question he was asking? Jen obliged with a response, though hesitantly. "Yeah... about Fiona. I know it's not something you want to hear, but he's marrying her too." A shadow seemed to fall over the big man's face and it hardened into something like the granite cast Jahn had seen when they first met, but darker. From where he stood, the harsh words the man was speaking were only a drone, but he could guess. "No, daddy. I _am_ okay with it. I'm not doing this because it's what he wants, but because it's what _I_ want. I love him, and so does Fiona, and he loves us both. Do you understand that?" Donovan spoke again, most of it unintelligible from what Jahn could read of his lips, but the last looked something like "It's not right." Jenny flared up angrily, voice thick with emotion. "Maybe not, but _you_ made it this way, _you_ made this situation different, Daddy. You and your friends! Did you think I wouldn't figure out that the people you've got looking out for us have been chasing off any guys that we might have been interested in, or showed the least bit of interest in us? Do you know what that's like, how lonely that is? Mom told me how you used to be this big ladies man, and how you fell in love with her instead. You had them, then her; and we had nobody. Nobody!" Donovan seemed to reel as if punched, and Jen continued, "Don't take this away from me, just because it doesn't seem right to you! You made it "wrong" because you wouldn't let _me_ have a normal life, and now you want to take what I do have away! Do you hate me because I'm not like you? Is that it?" Jen sounded as if she were losing her composure, close to tears. Reaching out, Jahn laid a reassuring hand on her shoulder. Something like panic replaced the darkness and hostility on Donovan's face, and Jahn was reminded again of the odd mix of love and hate at war inside the man, as if he were some sort of mutant representation of that yin/yang business. Leaning forward, the man spoke urgently into the phone, indiscernible chatter nearly an octave higher than his usual base rumble. Reassurance. Letting her know he did love her. Trying to fix the colossal fuck up that had been his interference in his daughter's life and was now threatening to take the one thing he did love in life away from him. Whatever dark principles the man held, they were losing the war against the one thing that mattered most to him. Good. In the end, Jen had her way, and while her behemoth of a father looked beaten, he also appeared much happier. The hot seat didn't seem quite so hot when Jahn finally had to sit down and speak to the man, though Donovan immediately put him on the defensive. "Hope you're sincere, boy, that you really do love her, because you know the consequences if you hurt my girl." All cold menace, delivered under a veneer of calmness for Jen's benefit. That would be terrifying under other circumstances, but for some reason their mother was still more intimidating. "Or you'll cut my balls off, right?" Jahn delivered the line without a hint of sarcasm to discourage any suspicion of mockery. "I do love her, yeah. With all my heart." Donovan stared at him coldly for a moment then gave a short bark of a laugh. "You've been talking to Mary." "Wouldn't be where I am without her approval, sir." "No, don't s'pose you would. Mary's a beautiful woman, all class, but she's got a firebrand temper. Mess with her little girls, either of 'em, and she's like the wrath of God. Didn't take shit from me, or any of the guys." The guys. "Your 'friends,' I take it?" After another uncomfortable stare, Donovan said, "I don't care if you don't like what they stand for; they've done right by me. Pick up a paper. Wasn't right for me to have them shielding Jenny the way they did, but that's on me. Not them." "Including Edwards?" "He's to his old man what Jenny is to me. That's all I'm gonna say on that." "And this neighborhood watch program of yours?" Carefully delivered, treading that fine line of sarcasm and respect. "They'll make sure Edwards stays where he belongs, but otherwise... I'm ending it. I trust Mary's gonna keep a real close eye on you, but it's _your_ job to make sure nothing happens to my girl." "'Til death do us part," Jahn said softly. Donovan looked taken aback at the quote, but nodded. "Just like that, kid. Now fuck off and put Jenny back on the line." Resolving the conflict with Jen's father had brought all the sunlight back into her disposition, and she spent the ride home gushing over the fact that things seemed to be working out just right. There was a touch of shadow over her newfound enthusiasm, as if she feared that it couldn't last. He'd have to work on changing that, and spent most of the afternoon making good on the attempt. "Agh!" Jen gasped out as Jahn went down on her again, nibbling lightly at her clit, enjoying the musky scent of her arousal. "God, I love the way you love me." The teasing motion of his tongue around her swollen lips and then back to their original target caused her to arch her back and surge against him, clutching at his head with her thighs, fingers digging tightly into his skull to grip what she could of his head. Her climax was a frantic thing, violently pulling him into her, encouraging him to partake more deeply of her most personal essence. When she finally let him up for air, the satisfied expression on her face could do no less than bring a smile to his. "You get to look forward to this for the rest of your life," he whispered in her ear, after he'd moved up the bed to lie down beside her. The beatific look on the blonde's face was all the repayment he needed. *** September days seemed to start flying by as the trio began to carefully let out the news of the impending wedding. Fiona had already spoken to Vander about the matter, confirming what he'd already suspected: the company had absolutely no problem with what her boss termed an 'alternative marriage' The man's choice of expression had an uncomfortable feel to it, and Jahn was glad he didn't have to deal with the flack that those who led other 'alternative' lifestyles had to. World was an ugly place sometimes, and he didn't want that for Jen and Fiona. Donovan's advice to pick up a paper had haunted him for a while, and he eventually took a trip to the local library to search their archives. The man's conviction predated most of the library's online resources, and Jahn had to kill most of an afternoon, but eventually found an old scanned copy. Jen had been right in her assessment -- the assault and resultant murder had been nasty pieces of work, and by all witness accounts, racially motivated -- a deadly assault on a Native man drinking at the same bar Donovan and some friends were hanging out at. Jahn had stumbled over that bit, looking for the name of the man killed, but it hadn't been Fiona's father, who he knew by name, if nothing else. While the attack happened long before hate legislation had been instituted, the circumstances had been sufficient to put away anyone involved for most of a lifetime: Tate Harding, the dead man, had left a family behind, and the only man who'd been successfully fingered for the murder had taken the rap. That was the important part, what Donovan had been referring to. Several men had been pointed out as being with Donovan that evening, and it was believed that they'd been directly involved but the police had nothing to implicate them. Donovan was the one who went away. A Margrave was named, though it didn't appear to be the same man as their neighbor across the street. Click. Donovan's people weren't just doing looking out for a friend, they were doing it for a friend who'd sacrificed his entire life for them. It was the darkest examples of loyalty Jahn had ever heard of, and he wasn't sure how he felt about that, but it ... made sense. More importantly, he didn't feel like he had to worry they might take exception to their buddy's little girl sharing her man with a half-breed. Those friends would do what _Donovan_ wanted. Case closed, he thought numbly, turning off the computer. *** Life's never that simple, though. Just when you think you've fixed all the problems, another pops right up. "It's wonderful that Jenny was able to work things out with her father," Fiona said serenely as she put away the last of the dishes they'd been washing together. "But... there's still some unfinished business we need to take care of." Glancing sideways at her, he noted the emphasis she'd placed on 'unfinished,' and said, "I already called Greg. He was pretty cool about it, and seemed a lot more relaxed when I talked to him." Apparently, Jen's intervention had helped Greg and Amy's budding relationship over a major hurdle, and the man had been shockingly friendly when Jahn spoke to him, treating their previous grudge as long dead past. Though, it seemed Jen already knew all the details..." I guess Amy's been hanging out with Jen and her friends since then." Fiona nodded as they headed into the living room to relax. "On top of everything else, Edwards was a control freak. Amy didn't have any friends of her own. I'm told she used to be a lively, outgoing person before things fell apart for her, and Jen has been helping her get some of that back Amy needs someone who actually cares about what she feels to look out for her, and friends to uplift that battered spirit. She has that now, she'll be okay." Taking hold of his hand, Fiona said quietly. "Greg isn't the ancient history I wanted to talk to you about." Only one person came to mind, and he felt his stomach lurch, because he was sure there was only one person she could be referring to. "Andrea? Look..." "Hear me out, Jahn, okay?" she interrupted. His lips felt tight and bloodless as his mouth thinned into a disapproving line, but he nodded anyway. "I'm not sure if you've realized it, but Andrea and I don't just work together. We're in the same department, and though you might not be able to tell from the titles, she's the head of A/R and I'm moving up to a similar position in A/P." Receivables and Payables, he thought. Billing. Right. "We don't just work together, we have to work as a team, and if my promotion comes when Jordan retires, I'll have to work a lot more closely with her." Somewhat bluntly, he asked, "Okay, so how do I fit in? As you said, it's ancient history." Quietly, she said, "I've seen how you react whenever her name comes up. You're bitter about that breakup, even if you've mostly moved past it since then. It's a toxic issue for you, and if I'm going to be around her more often, the subject of work would have to be off-limits. You know how important my career is to me; I don't want the two poisoning each other." He did know this. While he and Jen could best be described as low-level functionaries, Fiona was an expert at what she did, and had the potential to become regional manager someday. Mulling the thought over for a few minutes, he finally asked, "Okay, I understand the conflict here, but what am I supposed to do? Confront her, have another shout down? I had my fun the first time, and ultimately it just turned out to be an embarrassment, and made me look and feel like an asshole. On some level I know she wasn't solely at fault for the way things turned between us, even if that sideshow with Greg was a major factor." Fiona nodded. "Right, you and I discussed that. Andrea's rather bitter about how things turned out as well. There's a lot of good reason behind her feelings that have nothing to do with you. You weren't meant for each other." A note of sarcasm entered his voice, "I'm sorry _she_ feels that way, but-," Then he picked up on the rest of Fiona's response. "What the hell? Since when do you have any personal insight into Andrea's affairs?" Calmly meeting his confrontational glare, she replied, "We were friends for a long time. Our friendship cooled off a lot over time, and these days it's a friendship of mutual professional respect." Noting the look on his face, she reassured him. "That's well before you came along." Sweet Dreams Are Made of This Ch. 09 "Doesn't seem to jibe with what you told me the first time we met. What was it you said? Something about her being a user?" "You don't remember how you and I first met, do you?" She delivered the question matter-of-factly, as if it were of little consequence. In an even voice he said, "You're changing the subject." "No, this is relevant." "Wellllll," Jahn hedged. "I'm sure we met before the first time you asked me out, at a party or something..." Fiona gave him a slight smile, squeezing his hand as she did so. "Don't be embarrassed about it. You wouldn't remember, but I do. It was Christmas of 2008. That was one of V&P's parties, remember. Couples such as yourself and Andrea were present, of course, but plenty of singles looking to meet somebody." He did remember that part. He'd had more than a few half-drunk women hitting on him. Eyeing his fiancée, he asked, "You weren't one of those girls pawing at me, were you?" Laughing, she shook her head. "No, but I distinctly remember what a gentleman you were about the whole affair; that made a huge impression on me. More relevant to what I'm getting at, though, I remember Andrea treating you like a well-trained puppy. Not the first time she's treated one of her boyfriends that way. There's a reason she does it, and I understand and sympathize with her feelings, but it's still a terrible way to treat someone you're supposed to care about. It's using." "This doesn't make her any less capable as a professional, or a horrible person. Andrea's got a wickedly sharp intellect that she's put to great use for the company, and as a person, she's the friend others can look to for sound advice and a shoulder to lean on." Jahn studied her for a moment, considering the insights she'd offered. "Okay, so the reason she acts the way she does is..?" "That's her story to tell, not mine. We may not be best friends anymore, but I won't do that to her." A slight smile tugged at his lips. "Seems to me that what you're really saying is: we need to have a talk with Andrea." "People don't communicate with each other often enough," she confirmed. "And she already knows about us? If I show up with you on my arm, it's not going to cause a problem?" Fiona shrugged. "She doesn't know yet, but it won't be a problem. She's got herself a new man now, someone she actually cares about and treats as an equal." Something his fiancée had said tugged at his brain. "You remembered me from a party nearly four years ago, asked me out right off the bat the second time we met. Coincidence?" That alluring smile he loved so much made a return appearance, "You'd be silly to think that I spent four years pining about in expectation that the pair of you would split, but opportunity knocked very loudly. Why do you think I went ballistic when Jenny snatched you up?" *** Seeing Andrea again could have gone more smoothly, but Jen got wind of the fact that Jahn was in the building and intercepted him at Fiona's office. Her ambush was effective, practically jumping onto him to drag him down for a kiss. Swapping tongues certainly did have its appeal, but the demonstration was uncomfortably public. His face flushed with heat as he realized other workers were staring. Pouting prettily up at him, his girlfriend drew back. "You could have stopped by my floor to say hi, you know." Shifting nervously, he said, "I've got an appointment to keep." An icy voice interjected, "Sucking face on the office floor, Jahn? Keeping it classy, I see." Andrea. His ex-girlfriend stood there, pulling on her overcoat in preparation for the lunch Fiona had arranged. As beautiful as ever, with those sculpted features, perfectly prepared shoulder-length locks a lovely shade of strawberry blonde, and green eyes that glittered like cut gemstones. Nearly Jahn's height, Andrea Dunlap seemed to tower over his diminutive fiancée. Spinning about to face Andrea, Jenny scowled up at her. "That was uncalled for." Andrea was a master of communicating condescension and quirked her lips in a smile that dripped contempt. "I suppose that's true. It's hardly fair to fault someone for an inability to control their baser impulses." Jen's hand curled into a fist, and she half raised it, "Bitch, I'll show you an inab-" "Jenny, chkt." The blonde's expression turned stony as Fiona headed off the confrontation, but she acceded and gave Jahn a possessive hug before stalking away. Strange, he was going to have to ask Fiona what _that_ was all about sometime. The brunette turned her attention back to Andrea. "I wish you wouldn't treat my sister like that." Andrea gave a slightly dismissive gesture of her hand. "You know we've never gotten along." "That's true, but this is a different situation. Jahn is our fiancée. We, all three of us, are getting married early next year." "Our-" The incredulity on Andrea's face was palpable, almost priceless, though it was hard for Jahn to enjoy it under the circumstances. "-married." Still, however sharp surprise she'd just had, the taller woman composed herself quickly, her face becoming a mask of indifference, though it was clear to him that gears were turning and she was making a host of connections in her head. Click, click, click, he figured. With a forced smile, his ex said, "I've got to hear this one." *** Jahn had never had the opportunity to witness Fiona in her element, doing what she did best at her job. As she took control of the lunch date, it became clear to him that what she was doing must be very similar to how she handled clients. Displaying tact, diplomacy, and that all-important respect, she made a concerted effort to keep everyone at ease. His fiancée immediately began a process of defusing any tensions, starting with a non-apology to both of them for pushing the confrontation, then following it up with a real apology to Andrea for the way she'd snatched up Jahn after the couple had broken up. Jahn didn't think that was something she needed to justify, but it was obvious Fiona felt as if making there had been a kind of betrayal in it. "I've said to both of you that you weren't made for each other, and part of that is because you never really talked to each other, never connected on an emotional level. If you had, you might have understood why." He'd never been to any kind of therapist, but this felt like going to a relationship or marriage counselor. Except in reverse. Fiona was pulling it off, though, and gave them a nudge in the direction of discussing their past. All nudges -- he noticed that she never seemed to push Andrea, letting the woman decide for herself when and what she'd share. Andrea Dunlap had been an all-star student, outgoing and popular. Growing up, from a small town and conservative background, with the full support of a loving family she seemed destined for great things. Always sure what she wanted to do with the rest of her life, she rocketed through high school and into the state college with a full ride. Her star was rising, and she knew she was going places, until she met Brian Cadley. An entire world seemed to shift in place as she fell head over heels for him, but it wasn't a good shifting. Cadley was a destructive influence, the life of parties, the kind of guy who had no commitment to anything but getting drunk and getting laid, and freeloading off anyone that would have him around. Compounding matters, he'd gotten her pregnant, and made it clear he didn't really care. Andrea closed up on that topic, and Jahn wasn't sure whether she'd had an abortion or gave the baby up for adoption. Either way, it was clear that she'd been emotionally devastated by the experience. Andrea's life had gone into tailspin, grades slipping, alienating friends, scholarship under threat, ignored by a live-in boyfriend, unable to talk to her parents about what had happened. Fiona had helped her get her head on straight, and after that, Andrea had done what she did best, in clinical and single-minded fashion setting to rights her academic standing, tossing the frat boy to the curb, repairing her friendships, doing whatever she had to do to get her life back on track. She'd sworn to herself that she'd never lose control of her life again, never let some heartless asshole use her like that. Control. That's what it came down to. She'd closed herself off emotionally, and Jahn had never made the effort to dissolve that barrier, to find out what drove her. The situation with Greg and Jahn had been strange synchronicity. Most guys she'd met after getting things together were either over awed, or intimidated by her new-found level of confidence and insistence on absolute control over her life. Those that did approach her were generally dismissed. Greg and Jahn, however, had been sincere in their approach, with an eye to romance, and she'd been thrilled to have the attention. But neither had connected with her in their time together, and her _need_ to control the situation had caused it to evolve into that odd three-way relationship that none of them were comfortable with. He'd been surprised to find that Andrea wasn't simply dating someone else or ignoring one man in favor of the other, but avoiding them both. Jahn had been stupid in some respects. It was never about the material things for her. Why should it? She'd always had money and success, things she'd _earned_ for herself. As if the New Year had swept away the old debris, the relationship between Andrea, Greg and Jahn simply fell apart. It had been an abrupt wakeup call for Andrea, and the rage and helplessness that had inspired her screaming fit at V&P when they broke up had been a sort of catalyst. Greg and Jahn weren't the only ones that had found someone new that day. A man named Christopher Ford had been at his cubicle across from her office when Andrea had her emotional tear-up. He'd had a bit of a crush on her for the longest time, admiring her from a distance, and when he heard the break down, he was there to help pick up the pieces. The situation had given them the opportunity to connect from the start - here was someone she could finally open up to, someone who would understand that her reserve and aloofness were simply a defensive façade, and would never step across those boundaries without invitation. Jahn listened to her story, and told her his own, letting her in on a lot of things about himself that his ex had never known, but that Fiona had coaxed out of him through long conversations. Andrea was walled off by her emotional cloister, Jahn by his self-involvement. Two castles -- so close and yet so far apart, doomed from very the start. Fiona had been right all along, the former couple hadn't been meant for each other. A wave of peace enveloped his heart, as understanding unfolded in his mind, the bitterness washing away with a low tide. When Andrea reached across the table with that same revelation clear in her glittering green eyes, he took her hand in his own. A gentle touch, it was one of forgiveness, as was his own to her. *** "I'll admit, it was harsh of me to force a confrontation like that, but I didn't want the ghost of an old relationship hanging over our heads. It worked out for the best, don't you think?" Wrapping the leftovers, she put them in the fridge and turned to him. "For the best," he echoed agreeably. "Perhaps you should punish me?" she asked with a teasing smile, turning slightly to show him the curve of her ass. Startled out of his reverie, it took him a moment to register what his fiancée had said, and he laughed as he made the connection, a riding crop and an old-fashioned wooden paddle coming to mind. "You've been talking to Jen." A hint of concern on her face, she asked, "That's okay with you, isn't it? We've been talking a lot more lately, and of course you're a big part of our conversations..." Grinning, he said, "I might find it kind of awkward if _you_ were to ask to play out any of Jen's elaborate dress-up scenarios or some of the other wild stuff she gets up to. I've always gotten the feeling that you prefer to keep your kinks on the down-low." Relaxing, she smiled flirtatiously. "I love the things we do together, but I do have some adventurous spirit and you don't always have to be gentle with me. You just have to ask first. Agreed?" "Agreed." Leaning back, he stared pointedly at her backside. "So, you feel you should be punished, do you?' Brown eyes widening, her cheeks darkened to a slightly deeper tan of something like embarrassment or perhaps arousal, but she responded with a touch of sass in her voice. "It _was_ dreadfully forward of me." Standing, he grasped her wrist firmly and pulled her to the living room couch. "Bend over and take off your panties." With a look of mock reproach broadcast over her shoulder, she complied, raising her skirt and dropping the flimsy undergarments to the floor. "It's awfully forward of _you_ to take advantage of a helpless young woman in this fashion, isn't it sir?" she teased. He admonished her with slap on the ass, hand coming down in a heavy arc, not enough to hurt, just to sting. She inhaled sharply as her skin turned a mahogany shade from the contact. The room was filled with her breathless squeals as he paddled her, the play incensing his cock, and she was convincing enough about it that he worried whether he was really hurting her. But she egged him on with those over-the-shoulder smiles, and it was clear from the wetness between her legs that she was as turned on as he. When Jahn finally entered her pussy from behind, the girth of his cock embraced by that delicious slick tightness between her legs, she came violently, her spasms incensing him further, taking control away. Lost in the moment, he released his load in her, a liquid reprieve. *** Leaves begin to turn, a nip in the air as Autumn comes. "Have you decided whether you want to go on the campout with us?" Jen's question was casually delivered, but she knew it carried baggage. The plan involved a weekend with a number of their friends early next month, and Greg and Amy both had accepted an invitation to come. The baggage, though... it didn't have any weight to it anymore. The garbage had been buried, the rest was simply shared history. "I'd love to." ... to be continued... Sweet Dreams Are Made of This Ch. 10 Chapter: October "The Light of the Sun" For all of the human heart's shortcomings, there is a great deal to be said for the sphere of emotion. Reason, insight, and intellect are admirable, even outstanding in their ability to teach us to overcome our obstacles, but on their own, they lack depth and complexity... a soul to give them context. Physics and engineering give us a glimpse into the inner workings of the universe, but curiosity and inspiration take us to the stars and beyond. A composition might be technically precise, so finely crafted as to be a masterwork recognized the world over, but only with an emotional investment, a piece of its creator, does it move an audience to tears. Logic tells us that oppression is wrong, but courage lends us the strength to do something about it. Emotion can bring out the worst in us, but also the best. Jennifer Reed, soon to be Jennifer Halvers, was the embodiment of heart and soul to Jahn. Here was a woman who had grown up ruled by a passionate desire to right any perceived wrongs against herself or her sister. Practically a tomboy, and for all her small stature she'd scrapped like a demon, had probably been in more fights as a child than he had over the course of his entire life. Adulthood hadn't changed her much -- she could flare up like a sunburst, but when the fire at last died down, she was sweetness and light, the soul of apology, giving back love far more easily than angry words. Despite the slight difference in age, she was Fiona's polar twin, tails to the heads, heart to mind, sun to moon. These were the thoughts going through his head, as Jahn watched her pack her bag for the upcoming camping trip. They'd argued a bit; he'd not seen a need for her to drag so much clothing along for a week, Jen had insisted that it was no more or less than she'd packed in previous years for the same outing. Eventually, he'd realized it for a pointless argument. If she wanted to haul a bunch of stuff along, it could just be left in the back of the car. He didn't want to fight with her, say things that would make him feel like a world-class asshole later. Unlike Fiona, who could trade barbs in an argument as well as he could, skewering him with her sharp wit, Jen got hurt feelings. She could be incredibly confident, cool and intelligent, but when her passions got riled up, those things were usually the first to go. Fighting over inconsequential crap wasn't worth the heartache or the risk. "So, who all's coming?" Jahn asked, trying not to laugh at her intense focus on just which bikini to bring. The weather was mild, but it was October, and he didn't see her taking a polar bear plunge. "Mostly Vee en Pees, but Greg's invited one of his friends from that law firm he works at. The rest are either my friends or Fiona's: Ashley, Kim and her guy, Marita and Deanna, Julie..." Trailing off, she put a finger to her lips. "That's everyone, I think. Chris and ... Andrea might show up for the barbecue on Friday, but they're not staying for the weekend." Her voice showed relief at that reprieve. Whatever peace he'd found with his ex certainly did not extend to Andrea and Jen. Brightening, she turned her attention back to her task, discarding the bikini, and digging through her underwear instead. "Say..." she asked, glancing at him briefly. "Yeah?" he asked idly. "Ever thought about a threesome?" Fuck, a grenade! Fire in the hole! He thought, desperately trying to work out an answer. Unbidden, the old perverse fantasy comes to mind... //We share _everything_ his girlfriends tittered at him at him from the bed. Want to join us?// "Absolutely not," lying emphatically, he was not even able to call it half-truth easily. Suspicion flickered in her blue eyes, and obviously he hadn't covered his momentary fantasy well enough, or she was remembering the first time she'd called him out for the same thing. "Let me rephrase that," the blonde said. "Ever thought about a threesome with me and someone _other_ than Fiona?" "Answer's still no." Honest truth that time, as he wouldn't consider for a second hooking up with one of Jen's friends. They were fun to hang out with, certainly, as full of vibrant energy as Jen herself, and attractive for the most part, but... Ashley had looked at him like a tasty cut of meat ever since she'd found out about the impending wedding, Kim was kind of a freak, to put it nicely, and Julie seemed to channel that Do the Creep video any time she went looking for a guy at the dance club. That wasn't baggage that he wanted, and more importantly... "Why not?" Jen asked with curiosity on her face as she turned her full attention to him. "I mean, I've seen your magazines and you know that I'm not opposed to the idea of doing a girl." "Because, Fiona." He responded, more shortly than he intended. There were a few good reasons he didn't see the need to put voice to, pregnancy, disease, all that, but the one that mattered was commitment. Explaining, he said, "Fantasy's fine and all, but I don't think Fiona's anywhere near as liberated on the idea as you or I." "Well, your birthday's coming up, and I kinda wanted to do something really special and different for your present." Grinning, he leaned back and said. "You don't have to go to extremes. You know what they say: the way to a man's heart is a steak and a blowjob..." "You know I can't cook, you dick." She sniffed peevishly at him, folding her arms beneath her breasts, but still in good temper. "I'm not saying the idea isn't appealing. I'm just saying that you don't have to do things like that to make me happy. There's fun, and then there's us. I'm not going to go around shoving my cock into any girl that comes along, because it's not right." Mulling that over, she asked with an enigmatic smile, "What if it were just me and another girl, and you get to watch?" "Uhhhh." Just can't resist lobbing those grenades, can you sweetheart? He Mentally trying to clear the drool that now seemed to be coating the inside of his skull, he stumbled out, "I don't-" Confident of her checkmate, Jen said, "We can talk about it again later... there's still a week yet." Talking, communicating... communicate - that was the key! Jahne responded casually, "It's still me alone in the room with you and another naked woman...You really should ask Fiona, not me." "You don't think I'll do it, do you?" A cat-like grin creased her face, blue eyes glittering at him like sapphires in light. No, he was quite sure that would be the first question she asked Fiona when her sister got home, and he resigned himself to it. *** Jen was as good as her threat, and he came down to dinner to find both women sitting at the table, staring at him as he tried to stride into the room nonchalantly, nothing new, nothing amiss. Nothing doing. A pair of blue eyes full of triumph and glee, a pair of brown eyes considered and weighed him, a strange smirk touching the corner of her mouth. "So, Jahhhhn." The blonde said, practically purring at him. "Fiona says it's fine by her as long as you follow a no-contact rule. Voy and Ex, you know." "Uh, really?" he said to Fiona. "You don't have a problem with me being alone in a room with Jen and some naked woman? That's kind of stretching the trust limits, yeah...?" Fiona's uncharacteristic smirk deepened. "Oh, I certainly do trust you, but it's not really necessary. "Greg will no doubt ensure that you keep your hands off his girlfriend." Oh. Shit. Shit. Oh shitty fucking shit shit. He couldn't seem to think of anything but profanities as a response, and a limited selection at that. Attention back to Jen, he asked accusingly, "Was it your idea, or Amy's?" Eyes dancing, she said, "Neither, actually. It was Ashley's, but there's no way in hell I'm letting that free-throw anywhere near you." Good to know that he wasn't the only one that had noticed the redhead's undue attention to him. "It was just girl-talk, came up when I was discussing your birthday present. Both Kim and Ashley said they've done them before, and thought it was a lot of fun. Not even sure how Amy and I got on the subject when the others were gone, but she wanted to do something for Greg too, so it kinda went from there." "Well, I guess..." "Just say 'Thanks for the amazing birthday present, Jen' and get over it already," the blonde advised him, as Fiona chimed in with, "Oh puhlease, Jahn. Jen already told me about those magazines you got rid of." Okay, this communication thing has its downsides, he thought. "And there's absolutely _no_ chance you'll con me into that," the brunette warned him, as if he'd been behind the whole arrangement. *** Jahn had only seen Amy a few times since they'd first met, the woman preferring to keep to a more relaxed girls-only, no-boyfriends allowed environment when out and about with Jen and her friends, but what he saw when she and Greg joined the group that weekend was someone who seemed to have gone through an amazing personal transformation. Positively dripping with good vibes and cheer, it was like she'd become something Greg had remembered her as -- the life of the party. Those light green eyes of hers sparkled with brilliance and energy, and when she wasn't hanging all over her boyfriend with adoration in her eyes, she and Jen practically fed off each other, amping each other up to new heights of spastic hyperactivity and joyful abandon, a weird feedback loop on a pair of super-charged batteries. While an occasional offhanded comment might briefly subdue her, provoking a haunted expression, she'd simply cast it off. She was in love and loving life. She deserves it, Jahn thought. Hope Greg is capable of living up to what she needs him to be. That was uncomfortably close to home, echoing his own feelings about the future yet to come, and he derailed the train of thought to welcome them to the party. The man was a lot friendlier than Jahn had ever recalled him being, and it was hard to dislike the guy the way he once had. No point in making the effort to maintain old hostilities. Conversation over beer and brats went on for a long time, drifting from one thing to another, even passing over Andrea without incident. Greg had made his own peace with her long ago when she'd heard about his incident with Edwards at V&P and had given him a call to chat. Guess it's impossible to dislike someone with the guts to stand up for others when your eyes aren't blinkered by old grudges. Wish I hadn't taken so long to see it, Jahn thought. Chris and Andrea stopped by briefly, just long enough to enjoy the meal and chat with Fiona. Jen's exuberance had abruptly shifted into low-gear when she realized Jahn's ex had shown up and was talking to Fiona, and him as well. Lips pursed in disapproval, she watched until Andrea noticed her unrelenting gaze. With a glance at Fiona and a sigh, the taller woman squared her shoulders and approached his fiancée, who noticeably bristled as she did so. "Hey, Jennifer." Her greeting was met with stony silence that was broken when Andrea extended a hand to her diplomatically. "I know we probably won't ever be friends, but I'm willing to call a truce if you are. Bygones?" Startled, Jen examined the proffered hand as if it were a live snake. Jahn had told her about his reconciliation with his ex, but the two women had a little history of their own, dating back to college days. The blonde didn't do big speeches, and after some consideration, she simply said, "Okay then," and took the extended hand, squeezing it with some warmth. It was as good as they were going to get, Jahn knew. Fiona stood quietly next to him, smiling with approval and he asked, "Hey, just what does *chkt* mean anyway?" "Chkt?" Surprised, she looked askance at him for a moment before realizing what he was talking about. "Ohhhh, that. You recall that Jen and I got into a lot of scraps as kids. You know how upset she gets. It's kind of a code we worked out to help her step back and think about what she's doing, my way of reminding her that she's getting worked up and what she's doing has consequences. I don't use it lightly, and she pays attention." "That's... unique," he offered, as tactfully as he could. Shaking her head, she responded, "It's not a dog signal, just light communication. You can't always talk someone down, and sometimes actions count for more than words." Wisdom, he decided. *** Jen had arranged for Greg and Amy to come to their tent on Saturday night, and while he expected the man to be about as comfortable with the situation as Jahn was, he did come, following his bright-eyed girlfriend's lead in silence. The pavilion tent, meant to house Jahn and his two fiancées, was more than spacious enough, and the blonde had already set up shop, piling sleeping blankets in the center of the space, with a folding chair on either side, and a single lantern to light the room. A cozy atmosphere, for whatever that was worth. With the zip-windows closed, the room was dark enough that he and Greg didn't have to look at each other, and that was an incredible relief. Can't imagine having to look the guy in the eye as my fiancée lezzes it up with his girlfriend, he thought, pent up nervousness making him fidget. Bromance, this is not. While Amy turned the tuner on a radio she'd carried in to a nice and loud rock 'n roll station, Jen shed her clothes, never the shy one about getting naked in public. "Brrr," she shivered, as the cool October air made her nipples harden. "Let's get it heated up in here, shall we?" she said, grinning wickedly at Amy. The curly-haired brunette showed a bit more trepidation about taking her clothes off, but nodded her head when Jen asked if she still wanted to do this. Jahn's breath caught as Amy revealed her body to the others watching her. Long since healed, but still visible, scars of various sizes marked her shoulders and upper arms, and the sides of her breasts as well. Cigarette burns? Places where the skin had been split by a beating? She had a beautiful body, full ripe breasts, round shapely hips and a lovely feminine softness to her... that had been marred by thoughtlessness and contempt, like a tagger's graffiti on park sculpture. That filthy, fucking animal, he thought with a simmering resentment that he quenched with effort when he saw Amy looking at the others in the room with some anxiety, maybe seeking their approval. She smiled when Greg's shadowy figure gave her a thumbs up and turned her attention back to Jen. It was Jen who took the initiative, of course. Amy had several inches on his own girlfriend, and the blonde had to pull her in for a kiss that while not holding tongue-wrenching passions of their own, certainly had no sisterly reserve to it. As they kissed, Jen slid her hands into the brunette's hair, curling her fingers in the wavy locks and stroking the sides of her companion's skull. The kiss seemed to last forever, and both women visibly relaxed as they did so. When Amy finally pulled back, it was to examine Jen's breasts with a delicate touch. Greg's girlfriend was well-endowed, but Jen had tits to spare, and Amy spent some time fondling them admiringly as the blonde smiled complacently under her ministrations. When she'd had enough of being fondled, Jen responded with some touching of her own, immediately going for the prize, slipping a slender hand through the light bush between the brunette's legs, and massaging her pussy. Amy gave a startled cry as the smaller woman made contact with her clit, and Jen started to pull away in concern, but the brunette placed a hand on her shoulder and drew her back. Grinning confidently as Amy spread her legs more widely, Jen began to play her hand over the woman's labia, teasing her clit, only slightly penetrating a finger between those lower lips. Jahn noticed with some surprise that Jen was mimicking his technique. Tease, he thought, his cock growing hard with the voyeuristic thrill of the ongoing display. Music deliberately drowned out the sounds of Amy's response to Jen's masturbatory play, but what he could hear stifled any question of whether she was getting anything out of what Jen was doing to her. Wanting to share the sensation with her playmate, Amy drew the blonde down to the blankets, positioning Jen on her back and straddling her face as she pulled the smaller woman's legs apart. Their positioning gave him a solid view of his fiancée's face and hands between Amy's spread legs while Greg got a similar view from the opposite side. Craning her neck back, Jen gave him a lewd wink before diving back in. By lamplight, he could see Amy's pussy glistening damply even before Jen began to run her tongue over it, eliciting an almost inaudible squeal of pleasure. A sharp explosion of breath from Jen told him that her playmate had just done the same, and he felt a small spike of jealousy when his fiancée came almost immediately under the other woman's touch. They continued on in that vein, a flurry of licking and touching, breathless squealing, gasping and moaning straight out of some of his favorite fantasies. A surreal experience, watching the two women couple in the lamp lit shadows of the tent, in some ways much like a soft core sex film, though what Jen was doing between Amy's legs was very visible to him here. In the darkness, time seemed to stretch like an eternity, though in reality it had to have been less than an hour when the pair finally grew tired of the play and clothed themselves again, sharing a smile and hugging before Amy and Greg left, hand in hand. "So, what did you think of that?" she said, tracing a finger over his chest. "Great birthday present," he admitted. "Really hot, but strange, like watching an old porno." "Yeah," she said, nodding. "It felt really good, but in some ways it's like... playing with myself. All physical response, but without any ... emotion behind it. Fun, but I think we can chalk this up on the list of 'been there, done that, got the t-shirt' things we've tried already, okay? "You want a t-shirt with that on it?" he teased. Her eyes widened with mock outrage, "Only if you want it stuffed down your throat." "Kinky," he said, reaching for her. "You ain't seen nothing yet, Mr. Halvers," she laughed, pulling him down to the blankets with her. Their lovemaking was short, a mercifully brief release from the extended show he'd enjoyed, but it was... intense, driving deep into her as if he were trying to stake a claim. Jealous of a one-night stand, he thought. Damn. *** The campout weekend passed into pleasant memory, and Jahn's birthday was celebrated the next. Fiona's gift caught him by surprise; he knew she would go for something she felt more meaningful than Jen's sexy gifts, but what she gave him...Simply, wow. When she handed him the small jewelry box, he at first thought it was a locket, and it wasn't so different for all that, but... it was a pocket watch of all things. Modeled after one of those old numbers, it had a silver casing that unsnapped to display the clock within. Not windup, she assured him, because she'd know that would be a pain in the backside. Just a specially crafted gift, but what made it truly special was the portrait within the other side of the casing. It was a near photo-perfect picture of himself, with Fiona on one shoulder, Jen on the other, like an old photo of lovers in a locket. It was not a photo, however, because he'd never taken that particular shot with them. Not a photo, but a painting, so incredibly well-rendered that he had to look closely to tell it for what it was. "Beautiful," he whispered, leaning his face towards hers. "Me, or the watch?" she asked, brown eyes shining with good humor, raising her face to his. A kiss was the only response she needed. Sweet Dreams Are Made of This Ch. 10 *** The month of October became a blur, closing in on Halloween. So many memories this year, he thought, as he added pictures from the Tallagua Lake campout to his nearly full scrapbook. Memories are made of this, he thought fondly, those old lyrics haunting him at the oddest of times. You could build a lifetime on a foundation like this, he thought fondly. They're like those leaves fallen from the trees, but so much more solid. His reflections were interrupted by the front door quietly opening, and then closing, signaling the return of the two women from their shopping trip for costumes. Jahn wasn't quite sure what he was going to wear yet, but he thought- "Jahn." Closing his scrapbook, he looked up to see Jen and Fiona standing across the end table from him. No shopping bags, and Jen's head was raised just high enough to reveal an expression of abject misery on her face, the beginning of tears forming. Old fears swam to the surface of his gut, and he looked from her to Fiona, who had an arm around her sister's shoulder, the arm with a comforting brown hand upon Jen's own slim fingers. Expression revealing nothing, she spoke only two words, words that by themselves were enough to turn a world on its axis. "Jenny's pregnant." ... to be continued... Sweet Dreams Are Made of This Ch. 11 Chapter: November "Nightmares Are Made of This" Never quite even-handed or necessarily fair, life settles on the precipice of endless balances: wealth and poverty, ambition and apathy, love and hate, darkness and light... dreams and nightmares. Often it seems as if there is an excess of the bad and the good will never come, or not enough of the good, and too soon dispersed. Living in the space between, we try and hold on, to avoid giving up living a dream, just to face hard realities. Jahn had found his aerie, and was trying to keep a firm grip, but his dreams of late were inundated with nightmares. Jen's newly announced pregnancy was not a nightmare. Oh, he'd stood dumbfounded as Fiona had fed him the news, and there was an uncomfortable silence after as he digested it, but... the news wasn't bad. It simply was what it was, though there didn't seem to be a right way to express the confusing mix of emotions welling up within him. Worse still, was the look on Jen's face. Jennifer Reed was what others would call cute, even if Jahn thought her beautiful. A snub nose, lively blue eyes that sparkled with warmth and pleasure, utterly kissable pink lips and long, naturally blonde hair that trended almost towards platinum gave her a wholesome look that had at first, and despite her age, made him think of her as someone's kid sister. But now, with that expression on her face... Jen looked miserable and scared. He'd seen a shadow of something similar on her friend Amy once, and it had impressed on him as a kind of terror. Was she afraid of him, what he might think? Inwardly, Jahn cursed himself. They'd talked about marriage and many of the important things that went with it, but somehow children had never come up anywhere but in conversations that had taken place almost a year past. His sexy new girlfriend Jenny had brightly reflected that she might like to have kids someday, and his sophisticated and worldly new girlfriend Fiona had thought that she might like to have children after she'd climbed as far as she thought she could at V&P, but the musing had been abstracted, well before he'd popped the question to the pair of them. The trio wasn't even married yet. Where did they go from here? He was taking too long to work this out in his head, and Jen was visibly deteriorating. Wanting nothing more than to hold her in that moment, he stood and circled the end table to take her in his arms. Fiona stepped back, watching with that cool and appraising gaze. It's not just Jen waiting for a response, he realized, as the blonde began to shake in his arms. "Hey, it's okay, it's okay, I'm here," trying to soothe her, and feeling desperately clumsy about the attempt. Not a trifling argument this, something that could be gotten over with apologies all around and makeup sex. "I'm s-sorry, s-so sorry," she sobbed into his shoulder. "I m-m-must have f'gotten to t-take them some, ah, some, ah sometime." The pills, right. Maybe it had been in the excitement over Florida, going or coming, or the preparation for the camping trip. Heaven knew that he and Jen rutted like bunnies; it was a testament to the quality of the stuff she'd been taking that they hadn't had a... accident before now. Grimacing inside at the poor choice of word, he thought, is that what this is to me? An accident? Occasionally his fantasies had run in the direction of having children with the two sisters, perhaps a boy to follow in his footsteps or a girl to dote on, but it had always seemed like those conversational abstracts, something for the far future. Simple fact was, like it or not, he was now a father. Jen was the mother of his child. Decision time. Be a rock. It's what Dad always told me, what Roger always showed by example. Jahn had asked them to marry him, and for better or worse, a child was going to be a part of that. Getting through this might be a challenge, but it was not insurmountable. Be. A. Rock. "Jen," he said, as calmly as he was able, pulling her tightly to him. "I am here for you. Did you think I wouldn't be? That I would hate you, or change my mind about marrying you?" "N-n-no." she said, tears still flowing, soaking the front of his shirt. "So you're pregnant, and I'm still here. You are the mother of... my child. Is that something you want, or do we... need to discuss other options?" It surprised him how much that possibility suddenly hurt, though he'd only squared off on the decision moments before. Jen was silent for long moments, perhaps trying to understand what he was talking about, or simply composing herself. "N-no. I d-did, do want to have children with you, b-but it's so soon, and, and, b-but-" "But...?" he prompted, gently. "I w-want you to still want me!" The sex, it always seemed to come back to that with Jen. Jahn knew it was her preferred way of expressing her feelings for him, making her feel wanted and showing that she wanted in him in return. But she thought he wouldn't want her anymore? That shocked him, and hurt a little too. Did she think him that shallow? "I don't understand..." he said, hesitantly, still holding her close. "Why wouldn't I want you anymore?" "B-because I'll b-be ugly and fat and-" the rest was incoherent, but he got the gist. "Jen, it's just nine months. I'll spend every day of that time showing you just how much I still want you if you need me to." Immediately upon saying that, Fiona caught his eye, still watching in silence, and he wished he'd phrased the words differently. Perhaps she saw the stricken expression on his face and understood implicitly, because she simply gave him a serene smile and waved it off. Roger had been Jahn's rock; Fiona was Jen's. But damn, he wanted to be that for both of the sisters. His fiancées, his future. The words Jahn spoke to her after that seemed to fade into rambling and become a haze of comfort and love, as much as he could give, as much as she could take. More important than anything was her understanding that he would be there for her for the rest of their lives. Jen had her cry, but she understood, and when she was done the three of them -- Jennifer Reed, Jahn Halvers, and Fiona Reed, sat down for the first time as a family, and discussed their future together. *** That old song is one that has stalked Jahn's thoughts throughout his relationship with Jen and Fiona, but the haunting has been a happy one, a soothing and reassuring beat that popped into his head every time he remembered just how lucky he was. It is, or is supposed to be, a happy, pleasant tune. But when he slept that night, that song was the heart of his nightmares. ... use you, to abuse you... Three women stand before him, ghosts of exes past. One of a height to match him, clad in latex, strawberry blonde hair tied back into a severe bun. Two women, much shorter than she, kneeling next to her, submissive in demeanor, the pale blonde pleasuring her with lavish kisses as if she were a lost love newly found, the brown-skinned brunette gazing up at her with adoring eyes. "You were never worthy," the woman spat, words rich with scorn and derision, pointing a riding crop at him. "Not even of being a slave." ... be abused, be used by you... He is as tall as he ever was, and with more body weight, but the mass is his body gone to seed. Staring contemptuously at the two small women in front of him, he lashes out, conferring slaps as if they were gifts, demanding obedience as if it were something owed. There is love for him in the sisters, but it is something twisted and wrong, shown through eyes as flat and lifeless as blue paint, eyes as dull and lusterless as brown wood. What is he doing to them, what has he become? Is this what he always was? ... am I to disagree... Two diminutive cars, one baby blue, the other a pretty brown, race toward him at breakneck pace, and as they fly down the road, they shift, changing form, becoming effeminate robots, shapely things with curves instead of edges. Bumping fists, they merge, no longer diminutive, changing shape not just to become more powerful in a single form, but far larger as well, blocking out the setting sun and luminescent moon in the sky. "We are Jennifyon, transformed and greater than the sum of our parts!" Cold metallic eyes settle on him, and it lowers a massive gun that spits scouring energy, turning the world red. With grating laughter, it roars. "What need have we of you?" ... looking for something... Like porcelain dolls made up in the finest silk wedding dresses, the two women whirl about him, ever faster in their orbital dance. They seem to blur, blonde hair streaked with brown, high cheekbones and snub nose together where they never were before, a sparkling blue eye and lustrous brown. Mismatched, overmatched, tumbling, turning. One asks, "Do you remember, remember my name?" in a piping, yet mellifluous voice, while the other adds in the same dulcet tones, "Say my name, say my name!" He cannot, he does not know which is which, and the inability strikes him with horror. Realizing his failure, they strike, crying out as one: "How could you forget me? Am I nothing to you without her?" ... travel the world... Riding down the road again, wind flaring his jacket and blowing his hair, two sets of arms about his waist, he looks over to see the brother and the mother on a second bike. They are looking back at him, the disappointment, profound disappointment on their faces. "Thought you were better than that, bro," says the man, while the woman simply points at his crotch, disgust on her face. Eyes riveted on this condemnation, he doesn't even notice that the bike is sailing through the air, off a steep and unending cliff. ... seven seas... Pressure crushes his chest like a vice, he surfaces from the water in an explosion of breath. Two children, a boy and a girl, walk on the surface of the waves, and he reaches an arm out to them. "How can you be our daddy?' says the little girl. "We have two mommies, there has to be two daddies. You're not two!" Turning their backs on him, they leave him to sink into the depths, alone. *** Breath exploding from his lungs again, he screams this time, lunging upwards and into the waking world. The blonde (Jen, her name is Jen) is startled awake, and the brunette (your name is Fiona. it. is. Fiona) is drawn back to consciousness by his weeping. As lucidity finally came back to him, Jahn told them about the nightmares, the sense of self-destructive failure that encompassed each of them, the loss and confusion, the fear. Anxiety and fear of the future, Fiona had told him reasonably, her slender fingers and light kisses a balm on his tear-stained face. They express what you feel; they do not define you. Jen simply hugged him tightly, her smooth cheek a tonic on his chest, told him he'd make a great father, and that he'd have her to look forward to for the rest of his life. Descending back into the realm of sleep, his dreams were sweet once more. *** November rained announcements and plans; Mary would be coming back to stay for the duration of Jen's pregnancy, all those necessities would have to be acquired, to make ready for the baby. Baby blankets, a crib, a stockpile of diapers, a seemingly endless list of supplies. Rearranging the rooms was necessary, because there simply wasn't space for them to have private sanctuaries like they'd enjoyed in the past. There would be privacy though, Jen made sure of that, and she insisted he spare some of his time for her sister. Plans upon plans... "We'll name him Jahn Junior if he's a boy, Jahna if she's a girl," he told Jen confidently, with just a hint of teasing in his voice. "You will _not_," she insisted, voice thick with outrage. "The baby needs a real name! Her own!" Fiona simply laughed at her sister, a big book full of baby names already in hand. ... but throughout it all, love. *** Company is the last thing Jahn expected tonight, and he left the ringing phone to Mary as he finished installing child-proof shields around his computer. Mrs. Reed had advised this, though he was probably sure it could be found in the host of advice books that Fiona had brought home. His fiancées had gone out for groceries, Jen in the thick of her cravings again, though he suspected she was playing it up. The bedroom wasn't the only place she had shown a flair for the dramatic. Surveying his work with approval, he turned with a frown to the door of his room. Was that crying? Jen and Fiona must be home, the blonde in one of her mood swings again. Time to be a rock, he thought with positivity, bounding through the door and down the stairs to see what had brought her down now... ... and froze as he got to the living room. Mary stood with the phone cradled in hand, sniffles subsiding as she composed herself. No. Oh, no. Let it not. Thoughts seemed to muddle and his chest seemed to seize him. His running had not been noiseless, and Mary Reed turned to him, eyes red with fresh tears. "We need to go..." She blurred and became two women in his vision, then coalesced back into one. Pain seemed to radiate outward from his chest, numbness in his joints as the world slowed to a crawl. "Which," he demanded hoarsely. "Which one...?" Unable to think for the pounding in his skull, Jahn's blood sounded like thunder in his brain. Didn't police make the contact for this? Why a phone call? This didn't make sense. He couldn't _think_. "They... they..." Mary was unable to complete the sentence, reaching blindly for her jacket. A pair of ideas, word more than thought, leaped out at him. The sun! The moon! Darkness. ... to be continued ... Sweet Dreams Are Made of This Ch. 12 Chapter: December "Don't Dream, It's Over" Losing someone you love is a devastating experience, and even after decades of weathering life's travails, the human body is a terribly fragile creation. Grief is the embodiment of stress, emotional strain, and the body reacts adversely. The immune system may be compromised, a heart condition exacerbated. Couple overwhelming grief with a physical weakness and suddenly "dying of grief" doesn't seem like a cheesy plot from a Hollywood release anymore. Perhaps it's truly the side effects of grief and not the grief itself that kill, but the root cause and end result are the same. Heartbreak was what had killed Jahn's father, no matter what medical mumbo jumbo and 'real' diagnosis the doctors gave. Both his sons knew this; it stood to reason for them because their mother had passed away abruptly a month before. One day as healthy as any man of advanced age, the next crippled by the loss of his wife of forty years. Robert Halvers had followed Renatta Halvers into the dark, because he simply couldn't bear to be without her. Neither faulted him for it, as the man's devotion to their mother had always been a cornerstone of family life. Between bouts of unconsciousness, Jahn stared at the blank tiles of the ceiling with far less than half-interest. Thoughts of his father continued to hound him, a surety that his old man's fate would be his own. Did it matter? The lights had gone out. There was nothing left but bleakness and waiting. A pall had descended over his world and painted it black, that which was left cast in shadows. Faces swam and out of existence, talking to him in conversations he didn't really remember. Roger, and surprisingly, his wife. Mary Reed. His boss, a few friends from work. Greg and Amy. Andrea. His... fiancées... friends and co-workers, people he'd met maybe once and barely knew. What were they doing here? Every pair of eyes seemed to bore into him, full of concern and understanding, silently assuring him that they were there for him, that he could take as much time as needed to get better and come back, safe and whole Safe and whole. He'd lost two-thirds of himself, and the remainder was a heart attack victim in a hospital bed. Safe. He'd paint the word in sarcasm if he could muster anything more than dull apathy. Roger's visits were the only real light, the one thing he felt like staying awake for, though the cheery pep-talks he offered didn't infuse him with strength. "Rest, bro. All you need is time." Jahn hadn't been able to help his response, his bleakness spilling over into the room around him. "Why bother? Dad had it right." Shocked into silence by the suicidal overtones of his brother's response, Roger only stared at him, horrified. Strange, thought Jahn as his brother stalked out of the room, I don't think I've ever seen him cry before. Voices from the hallway told him that his brother hadn't gone far, was talking with a woman there. A nurse? No, Jahn recognized the voice -- Mary Reed. Angry about something, but didn't she have a right to be? Both of her daughters, who she'd raised to become lovely, talented young women, were dead in a traffic wreck, of all things. Her grandchild - his child. There were specifics, but the only words he recalled were 'car' and 'accident'. The woman's voice was rising. Incredulity? Rage? Something else? (doesn't) (know) Words come to him like chunks through a straw. Mary moved into the room with dread purpose, his brother close on her heels, but Jahn couldn't muster the enthusiasm anymore, and simply stared at the ceiling. When she reached the bed, she leaned down, fists burrowing into the mattress and hissed, "Jahn." She was angry at him. That's right, he'd failed to protect her girls. Maybe she'd cut his balls off now. A light slap to the side of his face got his attention and he turned his head to her reproachfully. Was that really the best she could do? He deserved worse. "Listen to me. Jen and Fiona are _alive_." Click. All those friends and co-workers aren't here for _you_, they're here for _them_. Just stopping by for a friendly word and well-wishing, that's all they were doing in your room. Realization hit him like an electrical current. Light that he couldn't recall being on the ceiling before seemed to burst with radiance, blinding him with intensity as the shock of realization washed over him like a hose full of cold water. Alive? Alive. Alive. Alivealivealivealivealivealivealivealivealive... Breath expelled itself from him in ragged measure, but there was no pain like before. Only darkness. *** "I want to see them," he insisted angrily to the pretty young nurse, who looked anxiously in turn at the doctor. "Either give me a goddamn reason why not, or get Mary Reed and explain it to her. Bullshit on my heart, I'm only still here because I _thought_ they were dead." "You really need to res-" The nurse says, but the doctor... Standish? Stanton? cuts her off. "I can arrange that, but you need to talk to Mrs. Reed first." Mary was pushed a wheelchair into his room within minutes of being called on, but she intercepted him before he could get up. Not a difficult task -- a week of immobility seemed to have atrophied his legs and there was a weakness in him. Concern in her brown eyes, she touched her silver hair in a gesture of nervousness. "Jahn, they _are_ alive, but you need to understand that it's bad. The car was totaled, and both girls were terribly hurt. They're... stable... but they are comatose." At the widening of his eyes, she gave him a curt wave that was probably meant to forestall his fear. "The doctors have every expectation that they'll recover and that the comas will be temporary. Still... the damage. Can you stand it? Your heart, I mean?" With grim determination, he assured her that his heart was not a problem... because Jen and Fiona were alive, and that made all the difference. Mary was right about the damage. Fiona had been driving, and was on the side that was first struck by the passing vehicle. Her left arm and leg had been broken, and she'd nearly lost that eye as well when the driver's side window had collapsed. She wouldn't lose it, but it had been a close thing, and she'd taken extensive damage from shards. These wounds would heal, her beautiful brunette locks would grow back despite the necessary shaving for stitches, but she would never get the last two fingers on her left hand back. His heart ached for her, and the loss of that ring finger felt like an omen. Jen... "The baby?" he asked, terribly afraid for the blonde. Despite her initial fears, she'd begun to enjoy the pregnancy, looking eagerly to the day their child would be born. Jahn knew she'd make a wonderful mother, but the loss could hurt her far more badly than any physical injury. "As far as the doctors can tell, alive and whole, but an extended coma could change that." That was... something. A chance. Those physical hurts she'd suffered had been smaller in scale than Fiona's. No permanent damage, though she'd taken similar breaks on her right arm and leg from the roll of the car, and retained a number of scars from the broken glass. All of this could heal. The two women had been given separate rooms at first, but the hospital had honored Mary's request to give them a shared room once their conditions had become more stable. Their mother had taken up her own watch between the girls when visiting hours allowed, and with only a little reluctance, gave up her spot to him. He needed this, and so did they, she felt. As Jahn sat, he slipped one hand into Jen's, the other into Fiona's, and thought about what the future held for them now. He didn't know; nothing seemed quite as certain as when the trio had sat down together on that November day and told each other what they wanted to do with the rest of their lives. Talking aloud anyway, he spoke to his fiancées (so vulnerable, so helpless, so hurt) (i couldn't do anything for them). Talking about the future and how this didn't change anything, that they'd still have each other and the rest of their lives together. As much love-making as Jen could possibly want, as many long walks and deep conversations as Fiona desired, if only they'd wake, and come back to him. He probably sounded like a pervert, but didn't care. On one level, he was aware just how pitiful, how pathetic and melodramatic he must sound to the nurses and others present, bargaining with higher powers for the lives of his lovers, begging them to come back to him, but on the other, he was simply apathetic to outsiders. Jahn wasn't sure he believed in any god, didn't know if recovery really meant a miracle, but he would do anything, be anyone he needed do, be as good a person as he needed to be, if only to ensure they came back to him from whatever purgatory they were now in. Religious dogma, hell. He'd be righteous. Burdened with a heavy heart, but no longer the weight of two worlds, he left with Mary the next day, pronounced healthy by his doctor, given all the proper counseling and discharged. Assurances were made that he could visit any time he liked, within reason. *** It was odd, but the first thing he noticed when he got home was the darkened house across the street, no car in the driveway. That was unusual, because the occupant always seemed to be home, pottering in his garage or working in his yard, a light always on to signal that there was someone in. Perhaps the recession was the cause, out of work. A suspicion of something tugged at his mind all night, and when he noticed that same emptiness across the street while getting into the car the next day, he stared over his shoulder at it for a moment, then turned to Mary. "What was the name of the driver who ran Fiona and Jen off the road?" Mrs. Reed shrugged the question off dismissively. "It was some worthless drunk who was killed when they went over into the ditch. I never thought to ask. Didn't seem important, with you three in the hospital." Quick to intuit the source of his curiosity, she widened her eyes in recognition. "You don't think..." "I don't know, it's just a suspicion." With trembling hands, Mary dialed the hospital, waiting to be connected to his fiancées' doctor, waiting even longer to be connected to someone who could actually answer the question. As she listened, her skin turned an unhealthy, blotchy shade of white. With a mumbled 'thank you,' she hung up. Turning to him, she said hoarsely. "Joseph Margrave." Jahn's hands clenched on the steering wheel, and the world shuddered around him slightly. It was a long while before they drove anywhere. *** Whatever problems his heart might have, a little righteous outrage was the least of them, but Mary wouldn't hear of him leaving without her once she found out he was going to confront Donovan. Their ride was one of deathly silence. A cold, sterile line of phone booths waited for Jahn, and he sat at one under the guard's direction, impotent rage boiling over. Donovan strode in, bearing that characteristic cold visage, but this time Jahn simply did. not. care. Must have shown on his face, because Donovan seemed taken aback by his expression, and the huge man's confidence shook even further when he saw Mary standing behind his daughter's fiancée looking every bit a woman of compassionless iron. Demands for information spilled out of his mouth the moment he picked up the handset. "The hell are you doing here, and why's Mary with you? Where's Jenny?" "Why'd you do it, Donovan?" Jahn asked, willing himself to be as cold as Mary. "Did you decide she'd just get over losing Fiona? Oops, a little accident to ensure she had the _right_ future?" Anger showed on the man's face, and he said, a touch of hysteria in his words, "Where's my daughter, you little prick?" "Shut the fuck up. Was it because Jen was pregnant, and you decided to make sure that wouldn't happen with her sister?" Donovan flinched, as if slapped, and it occurred to him that the only way Donovan might have known her pregnancy is if one of his former watchers had told him. It was on their 'to do' list, but November had been such a busy month... "Jenny's pregnant?" There was a touch of warmth for his little girl in the words, but it was overshadowed by the increasing fear on the man's huge face. "It's up in the air," Jahn said, biting off his words bitterly. "Your buddy Margrave ran her sister off the road. Jen happened to be in the car." Donovan's eyes went wide with horror, and he looked to Mary for confirmation. No pity in her dark brown eyes, she simply nodded curtly, cold and passionless. Jahn had never seen a man breaking down, wouldn't have counted his own heart attack as such, and knew as it happened to the behemoth in front of him that he never wanted to see it again. Like crumbling stone, the anger and fear slid off the bullish man's face, leaving behind a tableau of abject grief and what Jahn was sure was self-hatred. A sobbing noise came through the phone, followed by a lost voice that reminded him painfully of Jen. "Ish she d-dead? T-tell me she ain't!" He could have left the man hanging like that, left him to dwell on his panic and fear, wondering whether his beloved little girl was alive or dead. Jen might never forgive him for that, though, and he wasn't sure he could forgive himself either. There were some lines... still, he had to know. "I'll tell you, but you have to talk to me first. Why'd you do it?" A flicker of something like anger shone briefly in Donovan's bright blue eyes, but it was gone in a flash, overwhelmed by whatever demons lurked in his head. "Y-yer wrong. I didn' have nothing-" "Don't give me that," Jahn spat out, righteous rage renewed. "I did what you said, got a paper. You went to prison for your friends, right? They were watching the girls for _you_, and wouldn't have done anything without your say-so. Fuck, Margrave has even been watching them since they were children." "Ish... Thass Joe M-margrave. Not Bill. S'in Destinashun Pure-ty, 'n famly, but he's not one'a us." Time seemed to stop in Jahn's head for a moment, and he recalled something Fiona had once said about Margrave. He used to run off kids that gave Jen a hard time. Not Fiona, just Jen. Donovan's daughter was the only one Joseph Margrave had been watching out for, because he didn't really _owe_ Donovan anything like an extended understanding of the idea that hurting Jen's half-sister might hurt her as badly in an emotional way as any physical damage. A favor for family, the friend of a family member who happened to be in the same Purity group. Was that the reason for his perpetually sour disposition? The little half-breed girl across the street? What had set him off, second hand news of a polygamous wedding with a white man's girl and that little mixed blood number? Fucking outrageous, right? Or maybe it was none of the above. Maybe he'd just seen Fiona driving past, hadn't noticed Jen with her, and in an alcohol-induced fit of anger, tried to run her off the road. Jahn had no idea. Margrave was dead, and had taken his secrets to the grave. Margrave-grave, he thought disjointedly. Jahn had made a mistake, a critical one. Other than Jake Edwards, Donovan's 'neighborhood watch' buddies weren't the real problem. It was Destination Purity. There was overlap, close friends who were members of both, but then... family and friends changed the parameters. Where did one end, and the other begin? Was it a snake chewing its own tail, a danger to anyone that wandered near its coils? Staring numbly at the surface of the table in front of him, Donovan didn't look up when Jahn spoke. "It never ends, until you put a stop to it. Jen's alive, the doctors say she'll probably be fine, but this... organization, may cost our baby's life." The bullish man looked up, tears glistening on his face. "There's too much going on here. I don't understand how your people work, what drives them. I don't know which, if any, might try to kill Fiona again if they get through this intact. You have to make this right," Jahn told him. "I ... don't know if I c-can." "Those men owe you their lives. Their families owe you for their freedom. You fucking well can tell them that Destination Purity, whatever you think it stands for, nearly killed the only thing you had left. Whatever they stand for, they need to rein in the hate, before someone who doesn't deserve it gets killed. End it here." Jahn set down the phone and walked away. Too caught up in his own anger and anxiety, he didn't catch the speech between Donovan and his diminutive ex-wife, but whatever she said, it was not an even exchange. The man's posture stiffened, his features shifting from a grief-stricken mess to stark fear. Whatever she'd said, it was enough. *** The week passed in a haze, daily visits to the hospital, time spent but not wasted in the only company that mattered. Mary had convinced him to start working again, and he found some comfort in that. Crunching data helped relieve the crushing sense of loneliness and worry that came when he wasn't with his fiancées, his two best friends, the women who would someday be the mothers of his children. Thunderous knocking sounded on the door of the Reed house that night, and when Jahn looked through the window, he knew the mess wasn't quite over. Several cars had rolled up, and rather than continuing on past, they had stopped here, a small crowd of maybe a dozen people assembling outside his door. Thank you for being here, Mary, he thought. Having a witness might give them pause. There was nothing to do, but open the door. Mary rose up behind him. "Jahn Halvers?" A wiry little man with a heavy moustache and cap was the first to speak, and he couldn't help but be reminded of Mario, sans potbelly. Steeling his resolve, Jahn nodded, eyeing the crowd. Mostly men were in the group, and surprisingly a few women. There was a strange sense of recognition for a few of the faces, as if he'd regularly seen them in passing and immediately forgotten them. "That's me. Am I looking at Donovan's ... Watch buddies, or Destination Purity?" "Some of both," said Mario, who promptly destroyed the gamer mystique by introducing himself as Walter Declan, and offering a hand. Jahn wanted nothing less than to shake hands with the man, but took it anyway. "You all here to give me some of what Greg got? Should I make arrangements with the hospital?" A burly fellow behind Declan spoke up angrily, "He fucking had it coming, putting his hands on my boy." No point in antagonizing the man with all his friends around, but Jahn gave him a withering stare anyway, and to his surprise, some of the men and women around him did as well. Friends came first, but they knew about Amy, thought he should have raised his kid better than that. Randall Edwards shut up, face flushing. "That's not what we're about, kid. It never was." A tall man, somewhat heavy-set, to Declan's right, spoke. He looked familiar, and Jahn would bet that he was William Margrave. "My brother knew better than that, knew we aren't the goddamn KKK. We look out for our friends, but we don't go burning crosses and intimidating folks, and we sure as _hell_ don't go killing or even hurting little girls. That's the old ways, wrong ways. Certain other ... incidents notwithstanding. Drinking and the stupidity of youth is a bad mix." "Hate's just fine, though, right?" Jahn said, voice thick with sarcasm. "Filled him up with plenty of that until it spilled right over. Consequences be damned. What happens next? Who goes off half-cocked and tries to kill us when I marry the Reeds?" There was a little angry muttering from one of the women about that, but Declan, another skinny guy behind him, and William Margrave were clearly running the show, most of the men nodding agreement when they spoke. Margrave had been the only one mentioned by name, but he'd bet the other two were involved in the murder. Did they actually regret what they'd done? Had it really just been some stupid, drunken incident triggered by uninhibited, uncontrolled bigotry? Sweet Dreams Are Made of This Ch. 12 "Like I said, that's not how we operate. We find ways to work within the law now. My brother was wrong, and he paid for it with his life. Donovan paid for everybody. We have no quarrel with you, or his daughter, or the girl's half-sister. We came here to tell you that, so that you know it ends here. Donovan's Watch is done, and Destination Purity is too, until we straighten out our priorities. What you see is who we are. We're not your enemies. I've done things I'm not proud of, but you have my oath for whatever it's worth to you, that it ends here. They're here to say it too." Edwards spoke. "Randall Edwards. You got my word for me an' my boy Jake." Scuttling back into place, he looked abashed as the same woman who had muttered about Jahn marrying Jen and Fiona shot Edwards a black look. At least wife-beaters rated lower in her books than polygamists did, he thought. "I'm Elise Decker: Polygamy's wrong and I'll see you in court if you try and sneak anything past the legal system." She said, voice imposing judgment, dripping condemnation. "But it's your life. Right now, I got no fight with you." The skinny guy, last of Donovan's posse, was Jason Anthony. He too made the statement, then nervously stepped back. Marcus Decker. Christopher Sanders. Julia Declan. Victor Jameson. Dale Farland. Rodney Orley. Frank Bertram. Louis Cross. Louis Gregory. All made that odd little prepared speech with varying degrees of sincerity, and though he didn't trust their values for a minute, it seemed like they were sincere about it. Names he was unlikely to remember, people he would probably never see again. How pointless, he thought. I guess their god-sworn oath means something to them, but do they think it's going to make me believe them? What kind of fucked up gesture of goodwill is this? Margrave spoke again, seeming to read his thoughts. "Might not mean much to you, but it means something to us... and that display was about us." Incredulity must have shown on Jahn's face because he continued, pulling a piece of paper out of his pocket "This, on the other hand, is about you." He handed the paper to Jahn, a card stapled to it. Frowning, he examined it. Seemed to be some kind of document, the copy of a title. To a home? What the hell? The card had Margrave's number and address on it. "Way I see it, those hospital bills are gonna be a right bastard even when you and your ladies are working again. My brother can't make that right, but his estate can. No contest, I'm all the family he had left to will it to, and when everything clears, it's yours to do what you like with. If there's any costs beyond that, we'll do what we can to help, all of us." Stunned, Jahn could only stare at them as most of the group nodded agreement with Margrave's statement. "I... thank you." "You don't owe us any thanks for this; my brother owes you for what he did, and he's paying it. We owe Donovan, and we're paying down that debt as well." Margrave shifted uncomfortably for a moment, and Declan nodded to him, signaling that they were ready to leave. As the crowd dispersed, filing into their vehicles and returning to whatever lives they lead elsewhere. The hatred remains, though, doesn't it? Jahn mused, considering the paper as the group left. Will reexamining your priorities really fix anything? Who pays the price for your kids? *** Sitting between the sisters, he talked to them, painting his words with every bit of optimism he could give, because they needed whatever light he could give them, just as they had done for him. We sustain each other, he understood. He told them about the strange offer that Donovan's people had made, and about the spring wedding, how they would walk with their mother down the aisle to find their places at his side. They would make their vows to him, and he to them, sealing them together in a spiritual union more powerful than anything a government could offer. "The honeymoons..." he reflected, a smile on his face. "You loved that jacket, Jen, and Roger told me where I can get a replica. We'll watch that movie again together, and I might be clumsy at it, but I'll be the sexy pilot for you, you know it. I'll sing to you, all those great love songs, and we'll make love under the palm trees. Your body all over mine, mine within yours. I told you I'd love you as often as you needed me to, so remember it. Just say the word. Our child is going to come into a world where he knows his parents love each other, and love him." "Don't ever think for a second that I've forgotten you, Fiona. We'll have our time together, you know we will. A candlelit dinner had in a quiet place where the dishes, glasses and wine sparkle. Maybe we'll visit a hospital after, and you can show me how to sing Threshold; there's something special in that, something spiritual. When we're done, I'll take you out under the stars, and we'll take in the night together, and then I'll simply take you, show you just how beautiful you are to me." "We'll have to do something together as a trio, because it's the three of us in it for the long haul, you know. Did you know that your sister likes to dance too, Jen? I can't imagine anything better than rhythmic dancing under colored lights with both of my wives." Closing his eyes, he hummed another old tune, one he always seemed to mix up with the first. "Hers. _Her_ parents," a voice rasping with disuse corrected him. "... holding you to that, Jahn...," came another strained voice. When his own eyes flared open, he found two pairs of eyes staring back at him, one pair a sparkling blue, the other lustrous brown. The lips below them curved in gentle smiles, all the more lovely for the understanding that their owners had come back from their dreams to find him. Awake. ~ The End ~