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How Cara Learned to Stop Worrying

By: phlight



(The following story is a work of fiction and as is the nature of fiction it's not realistic or responsible or any other R-words that keep the real world rolling round and round. I guess that's why they call them sexual fantasies. I hope you can keep it real and also enjoy the story. Inspired by a particularly detailed dream ...)

How Cara Learned to Stop Worrying – Pt. 1 – A bored 30-something meets a seductive stranger.

I could call this story the great romance of my life or the history of an unexpected connection that changed everything. Perhaps I could sub-title the tale, "How Cara learned to stop worrying and love..." Or I could be frank and say it like it is -- let me tell you about the hottest fuck I've ever had. 

For starters, you should know that I have a tendency to be really boring. I spent my entire life up to the night of October 9, 2009 avoiding conflict and making other people happy. My childhood was unmarred by any great strife – I had two parents who tolerated each other, one amiable little brother, and a small circle of friends. I never broke a bone and endured only mild bullying because I never took physical or social risks. I was a straight A student not so much because I was thrilled by the subjects but because the thought of not getting As was unpleasant. This pattern of thought and behavior continued into university when I elected to major in accounting, because it was sensible and I'd be guaranteed a job straight out of school. My parents were pleased. I was bored. 

My single act of "rebellion" – drunken, careless sex with my boyfriend on graduation night -- resulted in my son, Evan. I told myself to reap what I sowed, broke up with the boyfriend, and went back to the straight and narrow as soon as my baby was born. Desperate to make up for time lost during my pregnancy and maternity leave, and desperate to make up for what I perceived as a loss of my practical, dependable reputation, I plunked Evan into daycare and plunged headfirst into my career and adulthood. Not much changed for the next 14 years. I relied on my child to motivate me through life and relished seeing the world through his eyes. Yes, I had a small handful of boring boyfriends (all fellow accountants, all nice enough but distressingly one-dimensional in their quest to achieve the coveted title of PARTNER -- I was so bored at this point that the thought of labeling myself PARTNER'S WIFE reduced me to tears and always ended in a "It's not you, it's me conversation"). The concept of passion continued to elude me, so I decided to forget about myself as much as possible and focus on Evan. I did my best to keep him from inheriting my ennui by taking as many overseas excursions as I could cram into my work schedule. 

I seemed to be doing well in that area, although I have to give Evan lots of credit for his natural talent. I was shocking myself this particular fall evening by attending my son's first lead role in a school play; shocked because this was certainly not something a young Cara would ever consider for an extracurricular activity – a spotlight on me? No way! After years of missing 75% of his class productions and performances as a tree, the letter U, or pilgrim #3 due to some "urgent" deadline at work, I settled into my auditorium seat to watch my son act with mixed feelings of pride and guilt. I had missed so much but I was able to be here for him tonight. True, I had to go back to the office after the show was over -- those deliverables wouldn't deliver themselves -- and Evan made it clear he was going out with a group of friends straight after the show and wouldn't need my embarrassing happy mother tears raining on his shoulders to crown his achievement. But still. I was here and I intended to be here a lot more. Evan's father, Reed, had moved to another state for a job opportunity and wouldn't be able to take up his usual role as Evan's cheering squad. I always tried to show Evan how much I loved him by providing for him behind the scenes, but in Reed's absence it was my turn to step it up and show my support for our sensitive, artistic son. I was here.

I flipped through the program for Our Town, noting the line "Evan Arkady as George Gibbs" with a small smile. As soon as I saw "Hana Nakamura as Emily Webb" I looked around for the one mom friend I had known since Evan was in kindergarten. I didn't know Sachi Nakamura very well -- we were friendly acquaintances that chatted at school open houses, and the most defining thing I knew about her was that she was a single mom, like me -- but I knew Evan was pretty good friends with Hana and that Sachi was probably bubbling over with pride at her daughter landing the lead female role. I didn't see her, but a minute or two before the lights dimmed the most exquisite male I've ever seen in the flesh walked through the open auditorium doors and headed straight for me! (I was seated near the door for a quick exit after the kids took their final bows and it was nearly a full house -- one of the last open seats was the one next to mine. Lucky me.) 

As he took his seat and nodded a quick "hello" my way without really seeing me, I nearly did a double take. Not only because he was strikingly attractive, but because I realized he was Sachi -- or what Sachi would look like if she was a man. He noticed me noticing him and offered his hand, eye contact, and a deep, warm voice. 

"I can't believe the traffic out there! Hi, I'm Keiji Nakamura." 

At first I couldn't speak. I think I was staring too hard. You guys, this guy. Was so hot. I know I'm supposed to show you and not just tell you, but take my word for it up front, okay? I took his hand and started as I felt an electric sensation go up my arm at the contact. I dropped his hand like a hot potato. 

"Uh," I replied, trying to recover my senses. "Hi! Y-yes, you just made it in time. Are...are you Hana's dad?" 

He smiled, revealing even, white teeth. "No, no. Just Uncle Keiji. My sister's got a bad cough but hopes she can make it to tomorrow's show. She was spitting nails about not being here for Hana, so I'm filling in. I don't know if I'll be able to clap as loud as she would, though." 

"Oh," I said, gazing at his mouth. I was on my conversational A-game, that's for sure. Embarrassed at being so flustered by him, I looked down at my program and tried to appear engrossed. 

"So, do you know Sachi?" he continued. "My sister?" I wished he would stop looking at me so I could think. I managed to speak again, somehow. 

"Oh! Yes. I do. I'm sorry, brain fart. I'm, uh, Cara Brennan, my son is Evan Arkady. He and Hana, um, go way back to kindergarten; um, I've known Sachi since then. Nice to meet you." I tried to sound chipper, but my voice trembled and I was talking too fast between pauses to "um." Brain fart? What in the hell is wrong with me?

"Nice to meet you, too," he said, smiling again. Did I detect a hint of amusement in his voice? Oh god. Well, of course a person that looked like him was probably used to having this effect on dorks like me. "I've met Evan several times--" he began as the lights went down. Saved by the AV club kid. Phew! Keiji sat back in his chair and directed his eyes forward. I tried to do the same as the Stage Manager began to introduce us to the town of Grover's Corners. 

Ugh. After my thirty second conversation with Keiji Nakamura, I was definitely too warm. I was wearing a black leather blazer over a form-fitting, grey stretch cotton dress with three-quarter sleeves and a hem just above the tops of my knees. Tall black leather boots completed the look (with a sensibly low heel, of course.) To avoid sweating on my work dress, I decided to take off the blazer. It was just the littlest bit too tight and I had to wiggle and turn a bit to get it off in my seat without elbowing the lady to my left. As I turned toward him I saw Keiji's attention go from the stage to my breasts. No way, I'm only a B cup! Nothing to write home about, and the neckline of the dress wasn't revealing at all. I guess they were straining a bit at the fabric of the dress as I struggled with the jacket, though. 

Feeling warmer than ever, I finally got the stupid thing off, shoved it behind me, and crossed my arms over my chest as I tried to settle back and pay attention to the play. I managed to be a good audience member long enough to watch my son and Hana during the first act. They were fantastic, in my completely unbiased opinion. 

As Act One wound down and the Stage Manager let the audience know we could have our smokes if we wanted (insert laughter here), I lost my mind. That's the only way I can explain my behavior, unless I want to blame pheromones or the alignment of the planets or hypnosis.

There wasn't much of an intermission between Acts One and Two, but I spent those few moments sneaking sidelong glances at Keiji while he browsed through his phone messages. He was just too good-looking for me to stop -- stylishly cut black hair with layers slightly longer at the front framed his symmetrical face. His features were perfectly formed with the best eyebrows I think I've ever seen on a guy, full lips, clean-shaven. His eyes were deep brown and could be described as "bedroom." They made his expression seem somehow bored and sensual at the same time. Like I said, he reminded me of Sachi at first glance so he was perhaps too "pretty" by those of you inclined to go after Manly MenTM, but he was most certainly in possession of XY chromosomes. His body was slight but not too thin; he was wearing a black button down shirt, open at the throat, with black jeans and -- this made me smile to myself -- black Converse Chuck Taylors. 

Or at least I thought I was smiling to myself, but when I raised my eyes from his feet to catch another peek at his face he wasn't looking at his phone anymore -- he was looking straight at me. I couldn't stop my eyes from widening and I looked away, feeling like he caught me at something. Why does this guy make me feel like I'm Evan's age? I am such an asshole. 

Despite my embarrassment I couldn't stop glancing over every ten seconds or so. The situation wasn't getting better. Now it seemed like nearly every time I looked, he was looking back. It would have been creepy or awkward if I wasn't so turned on. Yes, I had to admit it; it was the only explanation for why I was feeling so out of composure. The last time I'd slept with someone or even seriously flirted had been over a year ago, shortly before I broke up with Adam the Auditor. Keiji was about fifty times sexier than Adam the Auditor. 

In the last seconds before the lights went down, I looked at Keiji and saw that he had directed his gaze to my bare legs, which were slightly parted. Jesus take the wheel. I shifted forward in my seat so that the skirt of my dress would pull up, taking my hemline from sensibly above the knee to approaching mid-thigh. I looked at him to gauge his reaction: success! It was his turn to get wide eyes, and he checked my face to see if my little wardrobe malfunction was deliberate. I kept my expression neutral and looked at the stage. The auditorium went dark. 

My heart was racing at my daring. I was turned on but also mystified by his attention. I mean, I'm not bad-looking for 35, maybe a 7 out of 10? I've been told I resemble Parker Posey. I'm 5'8" with shoulder-length brunette hair, a smallish chest (they may be small but I've always liked my boobs; my nipples are pink and very sensitive), a flat tummy on a small waist that flares into my worst or best features, depending on your taste -- ample hips, thighs, and ass. I've always had some cushion for the pushin' back there no matter how little I eat or how much I exercise. Yep. I'm a pear. I expected guys like Keiji to go after 9+ women exclusively. Like maybe Natalie Portman or Jennifer Lawrence would look cute with him. I dunno. I was not used to attention from someone I was so attracted to on a basic physical level. 

I tried to pay attention to the kids -- You are here for Evan, Cara. EVAN. -- and despite my excitement I succeeded for a time, until I felt a slight pressure on the side of my thigh. Could it be...? It definitely was. He was pressing the side of his leg against mine, his eyes still on the stage. I was getting more and more aroused, but decided to pretend like I didn't feel anything. Keiji would not be ignored. A few minutes later, he rested his left hand on his leg. It was nearly too dark to see in the auditorium, but I watched him inch his hand over until it was on my thigh. Just the touch from his leg against mine had sent thrills running through me, but at this point his hand might as well have been directly on my clit. I could not believe my physical reaction to what was really a pretty nondescript sensation. He started to slide his hand, and my dress along with it, upward. In my utter surprise I looked directly at him -- but he had decided two could play at my game and was still watching the stage. I looked back at my lap and watched his hand and my dress continue their slow upward journey together, all the way up, up, up, until my crotch would've been revealed if not for the bunched fabric of the dress between my legs. The crotch in question was throbbing at this point, and I knew I was wet. I was frozen, stupefied that this was happening but loving every second of it. He began to slide his fingers, long and graceful, over the side of my thigh and onto my panties. I silently thanked whatever deity watched after dubious sexual activity that I had opted for a cute pair that day instead of old Aunt Flo warriors, and I further thanked said deity for making sure I had trimmed my womanly hedges the evening before. 

As Emily and George -- Hana and Evan -- began to teach the audience about the origins of their relationship, Keiji moved his entire hand onto my mound and lightly pressed down. Whatever my rational brain was thinking (and it was thinking very little at this point) -- about what kind of creep was this guy, who does this at a school play, what if the woman on the other side of me sees what is going on, is this how you treat a lady, won't somebody think of the children, etc. -- the insane part of me suddenly made a decision. I was going to fuck this guy. As soon as possible. I took his hand in my own, removed it from my body, and put it back on his leg. Then I put my hand on his jeans and felt what I had been hoping to feel -- a rock hard bulge straining at the denim. Mimicking his moves, I lightly pressed down. After confirming that we were on the same page I yanked my dress down, grabbed my purse, stood up, and brushed past Keiji. I whooshed through the double doors of the auditorium into the fluorescent glare of the school's main hallway. It was at this point that the spell over me almost broke. 

A pair of students handing out tickets to stragglers looked my way as I stood there blinking like a deer in headlights. Rationality started to return -- where are you, in a school, what are you doing in this school, you should be watching the play -- and I started toward the direction of the parking lot and the sanctuary of my Toyota to pull myself together. That's when I heard the doors open behind me. I looked back and there he was, eyes locked onto mine. I felt a spike of arousal mixed with alarm. He smiled and held up my blazer, forgotten on the seat behind me. He was about to speak when I turned back toward the students and demanded, "Where are the bathrooms?!" 

"Uhh...down that hall until you hit the guidance office. Then turn left. Halfway down is the teacher's lounge and then the girl's bathroom will be on your right." 

I didn't pause to thank the kid, but turned on my heel and marched in the opposite direction of the parking lot, deeper into the school. As the insane autopilot took over my body again and thoughts emptied, I heard Keiji's footsteps following me. He didn't say anything to the students; they didn't say anything to him. Maybe they assumed we were together. Well. We were going to be together, soon.

I saw the guidance office and turned left. The deserted hallway echoed the falls of my boot heels and the softer steps of Keiji's sneakers. I walked faster; he matched my pace but didn't attempt to catch up to me. I realized I was panting as I approached the teacher's lounge, which as far as I could tell was a just a solid gray door set in a white wall. My autopilot allowed one thought to interject -- There! -- so I grasped the doorknob and turned. It was unlocked and the door swung open into pitch blackness. I stepped through the doorway and took a few steps inside, stopping when I was out of the patch of light shining in from the hallway. Before I had time to turn around the light disappeared and I heard the snick! of the door latching. Again I felt the stirrings of panic, anxious thoughts beginning, but then the lights came on with their familiar buzz. I turned and he was standing still, unsmiling, his hand on the light switch. I took a step toward him, part of my mind thinking, The door, you idiot! and the autopilot held silent...I took another step and was within reaching distance.

My blazer hit the floor with a soft slap and we were all over each other and I was laughing, exhilarated. He pushed me up against the cold cinder block wall of the teacher's lounge and kissed me, softly at first but growing in intensity until I felt my lips must be bruising. The movements of his tongue in my mouth described what he was planning for us elsewhere. He held me to the wall with the kiss while his hands slid down my body to their target -- again, the bottom of my dress. This time he was quick, and yanked the fabric up and over my hips in one smooth movement. I couldn't help him fast enough and my own hands scrabbled at the waistline of his jeans, finally gaining purchase on the stupid button and the stupid zipper. As I fumbled with him he had my panties down as far as his arms would reach. I shimmied my legs to get them all the way off. He pushed down on his jeans and underwear; as they bunched around his calves he moved in between my spread legs. I was bracing myself for impact when he pulled his face back from mine. I looked into his eyes again and saw not a hint of boredom.

"Yes?" he asked. 

"Yes," I answered. 

He slipped an arm around my waist and pressed his body into mine. We were a similar height so all he needed to do was raise up on his toes slightly. I moaned at the sensation of him sliding into me. I was so wet, so soaking fucking wet. Every other time I'd had sex for the first time with someone I remembered being so self-conscious of every movement, judging myself the whole time. All I could think with Keiji was more, and faster, and harder. I don't know if I said as much but that's what he did and the next time I paid attention to myself it was because I was nearly sobbing into his shoulder. 

"Yes, yes, yes, ugggghhhh fuck yeeeeesssss," I groaned. I was going to come, and come hard. I had never had an orgasm from penetrative sex before but something new was happening to me. It was as if my whole world was in my pussy and my clit. To make things even better, he seemed to be fucking me harder with each passing moment. Another first -- I'd never slept with a guy who could fuck me so hard with such stamina. He must have a personal trainer or something. The knowledge of where we were, that we could be discovered at any moment, made everything that much more darkly exciting. 

"Don't stop," I pleaded, still talking into his shoulder. I felt him shake his head -- Nope. Not planning on it. 

I started to come. I somehow had the presence of mind not to scream as the orgasm overtook me and my pussy clamped around his cock, over and over and over. He pounded me mercilessly through it as I hung onto his neck and shoulders and tried to keep standing through the overwhelming pleasure. I felt the moisture from my pussy increase between our legs. 


How Cara Learned to Stop Worrying Ch. 02



Chapter 2 -- Cara and Keiji meet...in his car.

I decided to skip going back to the office; I knew the night was a bust and I was in no shape to sit over a box full of work papers. Instead I drove home from the middle school with a blur of tears wavering in and out of my vision. I couldn't seem to stop crying, just as I couldn't seem to stop myself from having sex with a stranger during my son's school play. I knew I would have to come up with a solid lie about my early departure to convince Evan -- there's no faking and making it with that kid. He even knew when I switched grape jelly brands on him at age two. (For future reference: He's a Welch's guy.)

As soon as I got home I stripped off my clothes (giving my sodden panties a lingering glance before I tossed them in the hamper) and got in the shower, hoping the hot water would soothe me. Still, I knew that what might be happening inside of me couldn't be changed by washing my skin.

As I stepped out of the shower my answer to Evan's inevitable questions came to me -- I heard Keiji's voice telling me about Sachi's bad cough. That was it! I'd tell my son I started to feel ill during the second act. Bad salad dressing from dinner, sure. To make it up to him I would go to the second showing tomorrow. With any luck, Keiji Nakamura would not be in attendance.

***

No such luck.

I woke up with leftover dream wisps of soft lips on mine and a hard cock taking me to the edge over and over. My pussy was sore in a knowingly satisfied sort of way. I cursed my traitorous subconscious and jumped straight into another shower, this one colder than last night's. As the water raised goose bumps on my skin I pondered Sachi avoidance tactics -- arrive early or arrive late? I doubted that Keiji had mentioned meeting me (Ha! "Meeting!") but I didn't think I could keep from turning bright red when I saw her, even if she was innocent of my liaison with her brother. Evan decided for me when he asked for a ride to the school for pre-show prep. I hung out backstage for as long as possible, enjoying the camaraderie of the drama club and watching the young makeup artists transform their friends into characters. Eventually it was time for me to join the audience. I took a deep breath and peeked around the curtain. Saturday's crowd was a bit smaller than Friday's, but it was still hard to pick out who was who. I'd just have to take my chances. I hurried down the center aisle and made my way into a middle row, hoping to blend in. The seats on my left and right filled up and I felt safe.

I fiddled with my phone to pass the remaining minutes before the start of the show. Imagine my delight when I heard a bright greeting (followed by a muffled cough).

"Cara! Hi! I'm so glad to see you here today! Aren't you super excited for Hana and Evan? I heard they were amazing! Were they amazing? Did you come to last night's show?" Sachi gushed as she made her way into the row behind me.

I turned around, and there he was. His face was like a tractor beam for my eyeballs and I couldn't stop myself from half-gaping at him. Once more he was the picture of casual perfection in a dark jean jacket and a chest-hugging sweater; his hair looked a bit wet as if he had recently emerged from a shower. Infuriatingly hot. (I had eschewed all makeup and dressed in an oversized hooded sweatshirt with threadbare leggings. I brushed my hair for Evan's sake.) We made brief eye contact and then he found something fascinating to look at in the stage light fixtures overhead.

"Um, ah, yes, I did. I mean, sort of, I kind of had to leave early. Got sick," I muttered. Sachi looked pained as she reached out to pat my shoulder.

"What a shame! I hate the fall! Everyone's sniffling around. And of course I'm not helping by showing up with my cold, but I can't miss my baby's first big production. I just can't. She's worked so hard!"

Sachi settled into her seat; she remembered her companion when he dropped into the seat next to her like a sack of flour. Now he opted to look at the floor instead of the ceiling. I was still unable to look away from him for more than ten seconds. When Sachi spoke again I willed myself to focus on her.

"Oh, jeez! Cara, I forgot to introduce my little brother, Keiji. People say we look a lot alike, hahaha, poor thing! He was here last night to rah-rah-rah for Hana in my place, but I'm taking these crazy pills for my cold and the bottle says you shouldn't drive and to be honest I feel like I could nod off any second. Anyway, he's my driver. And he's also a graphic designer, hahaha! Keiji, this is Cara Brennan, Evan's mom. I think you know Evan? He's been to my place a lot with the troupe. He's the lead boy!"

Sachi didn't sound like she was about to nod off. She sounded like she was on speed. Fortunately she was already rifling through her purse for another tissue and didn't notice Keiji and me umming and ahhing our way through acknowledging each other without actually looking, speaking, or touching.

I turned back to face the stage, embarrassed and fuming. Fuming because of what happened yesterday. Fuming because I was stupid enough to forget about the rows in front of and behind me. Fuming because just his presence in the room could make me feel like a horny teenager. Despite my negative emotions I had to fight an overwhelming urge to turn, just to see him once more. I crossed my legs and hunched forward in my seat, teeth gritted, determined to watch the damned play and be amazed by my amazing son and leave the school unsullied by any primal urges.

No such luck.

I wasn't able to shake a feeling of being watched, but I made it through the entire play without dwelling on Keiji. I'll pat myself on the back for that mental feat. To credit the kids and the director of the play, the performance was entertaining and lively. Keiji and I studiously ignored one another during intermissions; Sachi seemed lulled by the dim lights of the auditorium and didn't speak to me until the performance was over. The actual trouble came after the bows and applause (and a few maternal tears on my part, I must admit). Evan shook me off after one too many bear hugs and asked if he could go out with the rest of the drama kids for a celebratory pizza.

"Don't you have homework, Ev?" (I have to ask this question. Pretty sure it's in the baby handbook they give you at the hospital.)

"Mo-ooom. It's Saturday."

I tried.

"Okay, okay. Please be home before ten. I'd like to actually see you a little bit this weekend, Shakespeare." When Evan's brow furrowed in response to my gentle chiding I held up both hands and backed away, laughing. Fourteen isn't as tough as four, but I can't wait for fifteen. I hear it has 10% less angst. We exchanged goodbye waves and he turned to his friends. I headed for the parking lot, jingling my keys and doing my best not to look over my shoulder, as if Keiji Nakamura was susceptible to object impermanence.

I heard a plaintive call behind me just as my feet hit the pavement of the lot. "Cara, wait! Please." Lalala, I can't hear you...

A hand settled on my shoulder. I whirled around, fists raised.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," he said in a low voice, taking his hand off of me and backing up a step. My eyes filled with tears as I felt tormented by conflicting, uncontrollable emotions: relief that he cared enough to talk to me again, anger that he had the gall to do it in such a public place, shock at my own volatility. Cara, what did you expect? It's not like you gave him your number last night. You freaked out like a stupid kid and now you're doing it again. You've made everything so awkward, you idiot.

"Stop!" I said, more to myself than him. I pressed my fists to my eyes to stop the tears. I'm an ugly crier, and besides, we needed to talk. If we were going to talk I wasn't going to snort snot through the whole thing. Damn it, I'm a senior manager at a large tax firm. The only thing that made me cry in my pre-Keiji life was the middle of April.

"Can we—" he whispered.

"Yes, of course, can we just not do it in the middle of the parking lot?" I interrupted, gesturing at an imagined multitude of gawkers. (In truth there weren't many people outside -- most of the audience had gone home long before the hardcore drama fans like Sachi and me. Plus it was windy, cold, and getting dark.)

"Uh, well, I have to drive Sachi home, I mean, she'll be in there with Hana for another fifteen minutes at least. She'll talk everyone's ear off and probably organize a bake sale while she's at it. I thought maybe we could clear the air a little bit? I'm not sure what happened yesterday but I feel kind of terrible about it."

I found myself staring at him yet again, this time incredulous. Not sure what happened? Not sure?

"Keiji..." I shook my head and chuckled at the ground.

"Let's sit in my car. Okay?" He took a tentative step toward me and offered his hand. I stared at it like it might bite before my other (insane, autopilot) half took over again. My hand shot out and hung onto his greedily. His hand was very warm. I had a brief, lurid flashback of his palm slipping on the wall, his low moan, my wet pussy gripping him, the sensation of him spurting so hot on the inside of me. Which is why we are here today, boys and girls.

"Fuck," I muttered to myself, not sure if I was digging the memory or regretting it.

"What?" he asked, giving me a concerned look as we approached a black Toyota. Was everything this guy owned black?

"Uh, nothing. Hey, I have a Toyota, too." Holy crap. Dorkus malorkus alert.

"Uhh...cool. I hear they're pretty popular. I'll get the door for you." The car bleeped a bitchy tone, he opened the door, and I slid onto a black leather seat. Black leather, like my jacket last night -- Oh my god, will you please stop now. He slipped into the driver's seat and started the engine. "Sorry it's so cold in here, I just couldn't think of a better place." He hunched into his jacket and looked at me with apprehension, waiting for a response. I sighed and decided to start simple.

"You don't control the weather. No need to apologize for that. Uh. We do need to talk about yesterday, though."

He nodded. Go on, go on.

"I just. I don't know what came over me yesterday. I mean with the...with you, I never do that kind of thing! Ever!" I paused, expecting a "Me either!" When it didn't come, I sighed again and soldiered on.

"Not only was that the first time I had sex with someone I just met, that was only the second time I have had unprotected sex. The first time I did it gave me the reason to be at this school today." He stared at me like I was speaking in tongues. I couldn't tell if he was baffled, or appalled, or bored, or having a stroke. I kept talking.

"I am freaking the fuck out here. A) What if I get pregnant and B) Are you clean? Please tell me the truth before I go to my doctor and she tells me I'm riddled with disease as well as knocked up with triplets because I'm too fucking stupid at age THIRTY-FUCKING-FIVE to use a condom when I decide to screw a stranger."

Tears threatened again. I guess Keiji thought he had to press his unmute button lest I dissolve into a puddle of salt water and expletives.

"Cara, I'm not sick. I swear to you. I get tested on a regular basis." Regular basis? Like once every couple of years? Bi-annually? Weekly? He confirmed my worst suspicions when he continued, almost as an aside. "That was really your first time doing that?"

"Jesus fucking Christ on a Ritz! Do you do that with every person you meet? Is that your idea of a normal first date?" I sat back in the passenger seat after this outburst and closed my eyes. I needed a drink.

"Umm, no. Not with everyone." I opened my eyes and looked at him pointedly. He started waving his hands around in a warding-off-the-crazy gesture. "I don't think it's a good idea to get into that conversation now. Just know that yesterday I was clean, today I'm clean, and I'm really sorry for causing you any pain or worry. Yesterday you were so--enthusiastic? I kind of assumed you had birth control covered."

My expression, which had softened somewhat during his apology, regressed to murderous.

"How old are you, Keiji! Sachi said you're her little brother, so what, should I assume from that last bullshit statement that you're oh, I don't know. 19? Maybe pushing 20?" I leaned toward him, trying to keep my voice level. "Why do you think I am so upset? I told you. I NEVER DO THIS SHIT. I NEVER ASSUME. I don't make the same mistake twice!" Oh god, angry tears. Unstoppable force of nature. I felt my body trembling all over, whether from anger or fear or the agony of confronting him, I didn't know. He bit his lower lip as he tried to think of a reply that wouldn't make me separate his head from his neck.

"I'm 33. And usually I don't assume but I admit that I got carried away. I -- you were, you are very attractive --" (at this point I scoffed and he sped up his delivery) "—and what I'm trying to say is that I screwed up, and having unprotected sex isn't something I do as a matter of course, and I'm so, so sorry. I'm sorry I had an epic asshole moment with you, because you seem like a really nice person and it was so awesome up until I lost my mind." He tensed for my rebuttal.

I started to laugh. Yeah, I sure was acting like a "really nice person." As far as I could tell we were both epic assholes; he was just the calm asshole yin to my psycho asshole yang. His choice of words was perfect, though, since I felt ready to be committed any time I was around him.

"I just met you, but I want to believe you. Christ. How stupid can two grown-ass adults be. Okay. Fine. You're clean. I am still going to my doctor as soon as possible. And if you're lying to me I'll kill myself and then haunt you." I sighed for the thousandth time and wiped away the tears that kept slipping out of my eyes. I tried to maintain a grip on some shred of rationality and tone down the hysterics. Yes, we were fuck ups, but I saw no reason for Keiji to lie about any of this. He would find it difficult to fade away if he was being untruthful -- I knew his sister, his niece and my son were friends. And if I was pregnant...as if he could read my thoughts, he spoke up.

"Yeah let's—let's wait and cross that bridge when we come to it. If we come to it. Can I have your number? Or your email?" We exchanged information. Afterwards he looked over his shoulder at the door of the school. No Sachi yet.

"I know, I know, I should probably clear out soon or we'll have a lot of explaining to do regarding Act Four of Our Town: The Teacher's Lounge." In spite of myself I couldn't keep the smile out of my voice. He returned my smile with a shy, faraway grin.

"I really, really liked the lounge," he mused. "It had such a superb ambiance, don't you agree?"

My smile turned into a laugh and I moved toward him on instinct, wanting to thank him for being good-natured in the face of my freak out. I leaned over the gear shift and kissed him on the mouth once, twice, and lost my nerve. I was about to sit back in my seat and apologize when he cupped my head from behind, holding me in place for a long, searching kiss. Once more I was floored that this person, although obviously as flawed as me in certain ways, this beautiful person wanted to touch me like this. Like yesterday, though, I found my old nagging self easier to ignore when Keiji was nearby. I shrugged and kissed him back, feeling a hot sensation begin to stir deep in the pit of my stomach and travel downward. When the kiss was over I kept still, dazed, and didn't open my eyes for several seconds. When I did he was looking back over his shoulder.

"Oh--!"

"No, no. Not there yet," he said, a little out of breath. "Cara." He sounded like he was trying out the flavor of my name. I wanted to taste him again. He pulled me on top of him, pushing the lever to move his seat back at the same time. I sat in his lap, continued our kiss and felt entirely too clothed for my own good. He ran his hands up and under my sweatshirt, touching my ribs and sliding around to the cups of my bra. My nipples felt like they were going to rip through the padding as he lightly squeezed my breasts. I felt his erection rubbing me through the thin material of my leggings; I didn't refrain from grinding my own unmistakably erect clit against it. Beneath my shirt he dragged my bra cups down and didn't tease me for long before gripping my nipples in his fingers and giving them a gentle twist. I let out a loud, desperate moan. I was surprised again by the immediate force of my arousal -- I had been with men before, I was no simpering virgin, I didn't consider myself particularly inhibited -- but being with Keiji changed the flavor of sex from vanilla (sweet enough, but you don't really remember it later) to double espresso chocolate fudge with caramel swirl (mind and pussy blown). I had dry-humped Adam the Auditor, too, but that was a perfunctory fondle through our business casual suit pants compared to how I felt now -- clobbered by my need to have him, to be had by him. I was light years away from dry. I was about to come in my laundry-day leggings, to be quite fucking honest.

Keiji, ever perceptive, released one nipple so that he could reach down between us and apply pressure in an exact place with the exact circular motion I needed.

There was no time to think of something poetic to say. "Oh, fuck. Oh fuck!" was all I managed before he brought me to a shuddering climax, taking his score up to three. I was incapable of doing simple arithmetic for the next several seconds, but after I came down I was pretty sure I owed him at least one. He gave me a light hug, sharing my orgasmic afterglow, but then I remembered where we were (In public! AGAIN!) and hastened to unzip his pants.

"How much time do we have left?" I asked, reaching under his waistband to grip a hot, jumpy cock.

"Umm," he said, unhelpful for the moment.

"Nevermind. You'll be as quick as I was. Right?"

"Yes."

I moved back into my own seat, and leaned over his hips. You know, I feel like this goes without saying but just in case there are some of you out there wondering: no, he wasn't sporting a 12 incher but it was a healthy length and his girth impressed me -- overall a damned fine example of peniskind. He was uncircumcised and the skin on his glans was smooth and velvety against my tongue. I made a mental note to take better care of him later (Oh, please let there be a later!), but this wasn't the time for subtlety. This was the time to suck him dry as fast as possible. I gripped his shaft in my right hand and began to pump up and down while swirling my tongue around the sensitive head of his cock. I gave his frenulum plenty of attention for good measure. Soon I was noting the tell-tale tightening of his balls and little jolts of what I like to call "dick lightning" racing from the base of his cock to the tip. Only a soft moan escaped his lips, but I received a forceful jet of cum to the back of the throat and was busy swallowing the rest of his load for the next few seconds.

I sat up, wiping my swollen lips with the back of my hand. Now it was his turn to bask. I watched his erection fade for a moment but then poked him gently in the stomach. His eyelids parted halfway.

"Keiji, I'm going. I'll call you as soon as I hear back from the MD." He nodded and closed his eyes again. "Sachi?" I prompted. He sat straight up, one knee bumping the wheel. The Toyota let out an abbreviated yelp. When he looked toward the school doors and didn't see his sister he groaned and lay back down on his side.

"Also, you might want to open the windows a little bit." They were covered in steam, at least in the front. I slipped out of his car without waiting for a reply and hurried across the lot to my own vehicle. I laughed as I remembered how uptight I had been at the beginning of our meeting, worried about being seen with him in the parking lot -- it turned out that there was quite a bit I would do with him in a parking lot. In spite of my lingering concerns I had a feeling I'd be waking up to some excellent dreams tomorrow morning.



How Cara Learned to Stop Worrying Ch. 03



At first I told myself I caught Sachi's cold. That was why I was so tired all the time. The biggest problem with that theory was that I wasn't coughing. The other problem was that I wasn't bleeding. 

I visited my doctor within a week of my second meeting with Keiji and received the all-clear for any illnesses the following week. I texted him the good news; he replied asking when we could see each other again, but I couldn't bring myself to answer. I felt ashamed of overreacting to what amounted to a hook-up. It happens all the time; I just revealed how immature and inexperienced I was and more or less accused the most gorgeous guy I've ever met of being a skeevy creeper with hordes of illegitimate children. I had to go and mar the memory of one of the most thrilling experiences of my life by being a worrywart. No wonder Evan was rolling his eyes at me all the time these days – what must Keiji think? 

Now it seemed like I might have a legitimate reason to be concerned. A little less than a month after Evan's play, I found myself standing in the "Family Planning" aisle at my local pharmacy. Family planning. That was rich. Maybe there were online courses on this subject or classes at the community college. I could use some pointers on how to go about planning one's family. What were the chances, I asked myself, of one random woman getting pregnant from one random sexual encounter on one random day of her menstrual cycle? Maybe Keiji shoots blanks. That would be helpful. Also, I'm 35. Aren't my ovaries supposed to resemble dried apricots by now? Maybe it's menopause. I was probably just late from psyching myself out over everything. 

After spending a moment scowling at the rows of condoms, I grabbed a box of digital tests that would say "Pregnant" or "Not Pregnant." There was no way I was going to try and interpret a bunch of lines or pluses or minuses or whatever the hell in my current state of mind. Just give it to me straight, universe. I made my purchase and headed to the office. 

As I rushed to my desk with the single-minded purpose of dumping my stuff and making a beeline for the bathroom, I bumped into Adam (the Auditor). 

"Good morning, Cara," he said, a too-wide smile plastered on his face. Adam still didn't forgive me for the "it's not you, it's me" line. Sorry, man. 

"Hi, Adam," I replied, trying to squeeze past him in the too-narrow cube farm aisle. I was lucky enough to have my own office, but it was at the other side of the building and I had to navigate a complex maze of first and second year associates to reach it. 

"Whatcha got there?" he asked, blocking my passage with his wide shoulders and pointing at my CVS bag. I often brought in goodies for my underlings; with the recession the office had to cut back on providing snacks. The vending machines were empty tombs. (There were angry rumors that the Keurig coffee maker was next on the chopping block. Over our dead bodies!)  I had to fill in the gaps because some days, life isn't worth living without fresh Swiss Cake Rolls.

"Nothing for you, all right?" I clutched the bag to my chest and started to duck under his arm. He either bumped me on purpose or didn't move fast enough; his elbow dislodged the four-inch binder of work papers crammed under my other arm. In yet another example of misjudging my priorities, I tried to save it and dropped everything. Papers flew hither and yon and the box of tests catapulted out of the plastic shopping bag. The box skittered across the floor, propelled by some demonic force from hell, coming to rest at the entrance to an associate's booth. I heard Adam exclaim, "Whoooooooa!" like a demented sports announcer as I dove to retrieve the tests.

The stunned associate's face flooded red as she registered her boss as the owner of such questionable paraphernalia – or maybe she thought I was a magical fertility fairy, come to rain good tidings and pee tests everywhere. 

"It's not for me," I hissed, knowing my sordid lies were in vain. The associate nodded. Loyal creature. I marked her in my mind for a financial reward – maybe one of those $50 Visa cards. 

I snatched up the box and turned back to Adam, letting righteous fury show on my face. To his credit, he was already stooping and scooping papers into the binder. 

"What in the everloving hell is your problem?!" I whisper-screamed, knowing very well what his problem was: me, the idiot who thought she could have relationships with coworkers without it coming back to bite her in the ass. Well, that and Adam had never been the pinnacle of sensitive, mature manhood. I had a brief moment of clarity where I realized my entire sexual history was completely and utterly FUBAR. I shook my head and tried to get back to my angry place. 

"I'm sorry, I—whoa," Adam said, whatever apology he had cooked up dying on his lips when he saw the tests in my hand. As on-point as his Keanu Reeves impression seemed to be that morning, I was in no condition to appreciate it. Also, I really had to pee. 

"Ahhh!" I not-exactly-whisper screamed, whipping my hand behind my back. "Will you just leave me alone!" 

"Sure thing," he murmured, in such a sudden hurry to get away that he forgot to call me "Cara Bear-a" (which he does because he knows I loathe it). I was thunderstruck anew by my absolute idiocy as I watched the shiny seat of his cheap dress pants scurry down the hall to his office. 

"Fuck it, why should he care!" I hissed under my breath. "I have to pee."  

I crammed the box of tests inside my suit jacket, threw the mangled binder in my office, and headed to the ladies' room. The biggest stall was taken, of course, so I took the one farthest away from it and tried to open the box as silently as possible. It seemed like the tests were triple-wrapped and I couldn't get one of the sticks out of its foil pouch without dropping it twice. At this rate I'd be dipping the thing into the toilet to get a sample. 

I scanned the instructions in a pee-fogged panic and decided to just go for it. This wasn't my first time at this particular rodeo, and my motto lately was "Just do it," right? I aimed my stream at what I hoped was the appropriate area, sprinkling my hand with generous amounts of pee in the process, and then squeezed my eyes shut for the next minute. After a decent battle of wills – a devil telling me to jam the test in the trash can and bolt, an angel telling me I had to know – I managed to unclench my fist and look in the little window on my future. 

Welp. 

Unlike the moment when I discovered Evan's impending arrival, my initial reaction wasn't crushing dread. Instead I gasped, "Oh, shit!" sounding almost cheerful. (Okay, so I still failed at maternal beatitude.) If someone asked me how I felt at that moment I would have replied that "Pregnant" was not my desired result, but my treacherous subconscious was hard at work again, delighted to have a reason to contact Keiji. My hand slipped to my lower belly as I considered his probable response to this news. 

***

Two days later I stood in front of an older building in a part of the city I didn't frequent, mostly because I wasn't an art student in my twenties sharing an apartment with five other art students in their twenties. The exterior of the building was well-maintained, but I knew that as soon as the door opened I'd be greeted by a long, rickety staircase. (Shag carpeting optional.) An organic açai smoothie bar sat across the street, and a bedraggled young man busked with a glockenspiel on the corner. I saw two cyclists wearing skinny jeans ride by on one-speed bikes.

"Cara," I said to myself. "You have been impregnated by a hipster."

I took a deep breath and walked up the short flight of steps to the front door of the building. There was a small intercom set underneath a doorbell; I pushed the button labeled "K. Nakamura." He answered immediately, sounding a little out of breath. I heard him bounding down the stairs through the front door. Not sure where the guy gets his energy. Must be the smoothies.

"Hi!" he cried as the door swung inward. Not allowing any time for awkward greetings, he took my hand and pulled me inside. He kicked the door closed and we started up the stairs (no shag, although the carpet was a predictably hideous shade of dead frog green). He was talking a mile a minute, reminding me of Sachi at the play. 

"I'm on the top floor, I know it's a long way, sorry, no elevator, you know how these old buildings are. But wait until you see the place, it's great! Have I ever told you what I do, you know, for money?" 

"I think Sachi mentioned graphic art?" I said, taken aback by his manic small talk – it seemed so unusual from his typical disposition. Then again, I'd only met the guy twice. How could I know what was typical for him?

"Yeah, I do that, you know, websites, business cards, basic design and layout for whatever, wedding invitations, menus, signs. I used to work for an ad agency and a newspaper but they both kinda fell through when things started getting rough. I'm freelancing now, and—" we reached his door, which he pushed open with some fanfare "—mostly painting." 

He led me into a single room space with tall ceilings; three large skylight windows made the room very bright, although the day was overcast. At first I couldn't process what I was seeing – it was all white and brilliant colors with a jumble of belongings set underneath like rocks at the foot of a mountain. When specific objects came into focus I saw that open metal shelves jammed with books and computer or art supplies lined nearly every wall. There was a lumpy, dark blue couch with a coffee table stacked high with two laptops, papers, pens, and sketchbooks. A low bed most definitely from IKEA was made with rumpled sheets; a half-wall separated this "bedroom" from a small kitchen area that appeared to be almost spotless. The counter displayed a lonely electric tea kettle. One large corner of the room was taken up by several easels, none of them empty. What caught my gaze and held it were the murals. Each wall sported at least one large painting, some partially obscured by the shelving but so bright in color that I could almost hear them – visual clarions. I couldn't make out a coherent theme or style apart from the exuberant use of color. One painting reminded me of graffiti but there didn't appear to be any actual letters, just letteresque shapes. Another paid homage to Hokusai's The Great Wave with the sea rendered in azure. Still another seemed pixellated and depicted a large, crimson bird lying on its back, feet in the air. A realistic portrait of a severe but strikingly beautiful woman wearing a peach kimono filled the last large wall, almost floor to ceiling. No wonder the guy wore so much black. The cones of my eyes would be worn out after spending a day or two here.

"I'm kind of a slob," he said after I rolled my eyeballs around the room a few times. 

"They let you paint on the walls?" was the first thing I could think of to say. I had never known an artist before and didn't have a trained eye, didn't know if he was good or bad; I only knew that I was overawed by what I was seeing. He laughed and shook his head. 

"I don't think I actually asked for permission. The bug guy who comes to spray has never said anything to the landlord, I guess, because I'm not evicted." 

"But if you move you'll have to paint over everything!" I cried, already indignant at the loss. Keiji shrugged. 

"I never planned on being here forever. I'm terrible at decorating and though, hey, I'll paint something. Maybe I'll leave them up. Maybe the next tenant will like them. I'll pay the security deposit. No big deal. Come and sit down." 

He took my hand and we walked to the couch. I perched on the edge of a cushion, gazing at the intricate pattern of blossoms detailed on the woman's gown, until I realized he was looking at me from the other side of the couch. He flicked his eyes over my body a few times before resting them on my face with a contemplative expression. I felt self-conscious, but I would be lying if I said I hadn't put deliberate care into my appearance – I even did my hair after I got out of the shower, which was kind of a big deal for me on a weekend. I wore a simple long-sleeved cotton dress in dark green that hugged my shape. I wondered if my stomach looked different and had to restrain myself from looking at it. I crossed my arms instead. He started to chew on his bottom lip, then reached over and took my hand, massaging my palm with his thumb. At once I felt relaxed. I noticed that he was pretty good at disarming me. 

"I know you didn't come here to look at my totally awesome dead bird paintings." He rolled his eyes in mock self-deprecation. I couldn't help but snicker, although now that the time to tell him was upon me I realized I was scared. 

"I'm scared," I said, not knowing I was going to come right out with it that way. He stopped massaging and squeezed my hand. "I'm pregnant and I want to stay pregnant."

He blew out a rush of air as he gazed at some fixed point beyond me. I braced myself for angry words, a sullen expression, anything to reject what I had just said; seconds later he came back to life, his eyes re-focusing on my face. He continued to hold my hand. I hurried on, still wary.

"I'm scared because I feel like this might be my last chance to do this -- and I think if I pass it up I'll regret it forever. When I was pregnant with Evan I was so upset because I felt pressured by my parents, my boyfriend, my boyfriend's family, everyone. They all begged me to keep him, to raise him, or told me it was my duty to do it. I felt ashamed all the time. I don't feel that way now, and I know very little of this situation makes sense when I look at it objectively, I mean, what kind of person goes through with not one but two unplanned pregnancies? Wouldn't it be better to procreate like an adult for once? But even when I make a pro/con list or whatever I still want to have this baby. When I imagine not doing it I feel wrong. But now getting a glimpse of your life, the way you live..." I trailed off, knowing my words sounded like a condemnation.

"Do you mean the whole single-guy-with-an-art-degree thing? Because I can tell you, it's not as romantic as it sounds."

"Well, speaking of romantic. I get the impression that you're much more active um, socially, than I am?" I looked down at our hands as I said this to avoid seeing his expression. 

"I still don't think it's time to talk about that..." he began, but stopped when he saw I was tensing up. At least now I could blame my mood swings on being pregnant, right? 

"Why not now? I'm not judging you; I just want to know you." I hesitated, trying to find the right words. "If the way you express your sexuality is to be with lots of women, I feel like it would be unfair to ask you to commit to me. Because if you're going to be involved with a baby that's what I would want, a promise that you will be there when we need you and not--somewhere else. I don't want you to make a promise like that if it would make you give up something fundamental."

"I wouldn't exactly describe myself that way , I mean, as needing to be with lots of people. I'm definitely not a fundamentalist about anything...haaa, okay, that was a bad one." He paused and grew solemn, making sure my eyes were on his before he went on. "I don't think it's unreasonable of you to want a commitment from me. Actually, I've been thinking about it since the other day, uh, in the car, about how would I feel if you were pregnant. If you want to continue with this I am 100% with you. And the baby. You shouldn't worry about that."

"Are you serious?" I searched his eyes. When I detected a hint of fear in them, I realized he was sincere. I felt a cautious hope. At least he wasn't putting on a front of bravado.

"But," he said.

"Oh god, there's always a but," I groaned, and flopped back on the couch. I put my hands over my face and peered at him through my fingers. 

"It's just that you're right; we don't know each other very well. I really want to get to know you, to see you more often. And when I say what I'm going to next you might think I'm a total creep. But I think I better say it in case it's a deal breaker for you." He rubbed his palms on his pants as he finished speaking. 

"Just say it," I said through my hands, still flopped. 

"I've had many casual um, relationships, it's true. Responsible ones," he added, when I started to take my hands away from my face. "I've also been in a few long-term relationships. But when I was in those relationships I didn't stop the casual ones. I mean, sometimes the people I was committed to on a longer-term basis participated in the shorter ones with me." 

"Like, swingers?" 

"Uh..."

"Orgies? Wife-swapping? Polygamy? What? What is it you do?" My imagination was getting the better of me. 

"I do whatever my partner wants to do, within reason. I hope that you would consider doing whatever I want to, within reason. Every couple has their boundaries. We would discuss and agree on everything before we did it. I would never force you to do anything or do anything behind your back." 

He waited for me to process this. I felt my face burning at his switch back to personal pronouns – when Keiji referred to me as his partner it was worlds away from being a Partner's Wife. It took no effort to come up with several things I would like to do with him. I crossed my legs and squeezed them together which had the effect of putting indirect pressure on my clit. My dress rode up a bit with my movement and I saw him take in my newly exposed stretch of thigh. I wondered what he wanted to do with me. It was probably just the arousal talking, but I felt open to a variety of activities, possibly with a variety of people. 

"I know you think I'm sexually repressed," I began.

"I know you think I'm sexually deviant," he said with a wry smile, not taking his eyes off my legs. 

"I have no idea. I guess that's the kicker. But I think I'm willing to find out what, exactly, it is that you like to do. I don't want to go too far here and say something wrong because I don't know what I'm feeling for you or why I feel it. I know that it's different from what I've experienced in the past. Maybe it's just been too long since I've been with someone and I'm infatuated by the excitement of getting to know you, but, um." I paused, feeling my blush deepen. Out with it, Cara, out with it. In a rush, I finished my train of thought. "I've never felt like this about anyone before. I can't stop thinking about you. I dream about you. Oh god, I'm going to kill you with clichés." 

I flopped again and put my hands back up to my face. He pulled them down and held them again. 

"Stop doing that. I can't say I've never been in love before, but I've never had anyone say those things to me. They don't sound like clichés when someone you care about is saying them to you." 

For once in our brief association I found it hard to look at him. I had never had such an intimate conversation. It was unnerving. And was he implying that we were in love?

"I think the most important thing to think about right now is the pregnancy," he continued. "Whether or not we decide to move forward as a couple, I support your decision on being pregnant, or not. And since you said you want to go on, I can tell you I'm more than okay with that. Fair warning, I have no clue about babies."

My eyes brimmed with tears. I don't know what I expected of him, and the situation wasn't without its heaping helping of ambivalence, but his plain support of my choice took me by surprise. As I told Keiji, I felt the decision about Evan was made for me. I didn't regret my life with my son, but I would have made a different choice if anyone would have listened to me. It was so strange and so wonderful to feel respected instead of backed into a corner. I marveled at this man sitting with me, thinking of still waters running deep and envying his mild approach to just about everything in life...apart from his paintings. And sex. Maybe painting and fucking like a jackhammer were how Keiji expressed his louder side.




How Cara Learned to Stop Worrying Ch. 03



I scooted closer to him and put my arms around his neck for a hug, exhausted by emotion but needing to convey my gratitude. "I'm out of practice, too. And did I mention the being scared shitless thing?" 

"You know, I don't know why you're always so down on yourself. You seem to have it all together to me." I rejected his praise by pulling back from the hug, but he pulled me in tighter and whispered into my ear, making me shiver. "I don't know if you practice or not, but I can think of a few things you excel in. Top of the class. Expert level." 

I started to laugh and tried to pull away again but he still wouldn't let me. 

"No, no. Come on. I still have a lot to learn about you," he said, standing and leading me to his bed. 

When we reached the bed I knew that I had to be naked as soon as possible. I glanced at him to make sure he was watching (of course he was) and pulled my dress over my head. My bra and panties hit the floor seconds later. I shook my hair out as I stepped out of my shoes, sat down on the edge of the bed and stroked the sheets; they were wrinkled but clean, and best of all they smelled like him. I let myself fall down flat on my back, my skin prickling with anticipation. He stripped off his clothes and laid down next to me on his side, taking in my nakedness. He reached out to stroke me from my neck down to just below my belly button. I looked at his whole body for the first time; the light skin with dark nipples, no significant body hair to speak of until a fine trail of black starting at his navel and leading down, long thighs. He was different in so many ways from the men I had known before. I found him intensely beautiful and exciting. 

"The baby is here?" he asked, pressing gently where his hand had stopped.

"No," I said, as my heart beat faster. "Here." I moved his hand down, down, an inch into my hairline. "Right there, I think." 

"So low." His fingers played with my hair a bit, feeling its texture, but he wasn't looking at my pussy. He turned over to his stomach and moved his face close to his hand, peering at my skin as if he could see through it. At last he looked further down, then up at me with a grin. This grin was not shy. This one looked kind of dirty. 

"Is it all right if I return the favor you paid me the other day?" 

"What do you mean?" I asked, my eyes wandering to the enticing view of his back and ass.

"Can I eat you out? Please?"

"Oh my god, Keiji." My hands went to my face again. 

"Yeah, you say that a lot," he stated in a matter-of-fact tone. "I'll consider that a yes unless you tell me otherwise." He nudged my thighs apart and added, "Don't worry. I've practiced this a lot." 

"Oh god, stop!" I laughed through my fingers.

"That's not what you'll be saying in about oh, given my extensive past history with you, maybe two minutes?" 

"Will you please shut up?" I said, starting to close my legs. He narrowed his eyes and pushed my thighs apart with enough force to make me gasp. Sharp pangs of excitement shot through my body. 

"I'll stop talking. But I'm not going to close my mouth, and you're not going to close your legs." 

I nodded my assent and he relaxed his grip on my legs. For the first time in a sexual situation with Keiji, I felt a bit embarrassed. I wasn't sure what he liked and I was mostly just keeping up with my bikini line and taking a beard trimmer to things every now and then to keep the Z. Z. Top look at bay. It had been a long, lonely stretch of just me and myself. My vag was probably out of vogue. 

"If it's not—you don't have to—" 

"Will you please shut up?" 

I tried my best to relax, though I found this almost impossible when he began to touch me. He used two fingers to spread my outer lips before glancing across the tip of my clit with his tongue. I inhaled sharply, ready to be overwhelmed by him as usual (and in my experience, most guys dive in like a kid into a pool on the first day of summer). To my surprise he moved on. He relaxed his tongue so that it lay flat and soft against me; he slowly slid down until he reached the entrance to my pussy. My inner labia were open and wet. He gave each delicate lip a soft, brief suck; I clenched my fists and all the muscles in my pussy at the phenomenal sensations. His tongue returned to the action by probing my hole with a firmer lick. I was so wet by now that the tip of his tongue slipped inside with no resistance. I couldn't suppress a moan which encouraged him to penetrate deeper. He must have liked what he tasted because suddenly, it was on. His tongue became a slick, flexing cock that he pushed in as far as he could, licking and pressing on the walls of my pussy as he moved it in and out. His nose bumped my clit as he worked. 

He was right. I lasted about two minutes. I ran my fingers through his hair as I started to come and resisted the urge to mash his face into my pussy. I felt like it'd probably be impolite at this stage of our oral relationship, but he'd have to hold his breath the next time he made me come like that. I settled for noisy moans and rolled my hips until the intense pleasure faded. 

Keiji propped himself up on one elbow, admiring my drenched pussy. He slipped two fingers inside, collected some of my juice, and displayed it to me with a scissoring motion. 

"This tastes really nice," he said. "But I think it will feel even better."

"Mm." He always seemed to bring out my most eloquent side. I rolled over onto my stomach and stretched, reveling in my post-orgasmic glow. Even just the sheet against my skin felt divine.

"Since you're already there," he said, positioning himself behind me. I decided to stop being coy and raised my rear end to him in invitation. I reached behind me, feeling for him. Once his cock was in my hand I gave it a quick squeeze, relishing the contrast of his soft skin stretching over the stiff erection. I guided him to my pussy and let him go in about half an inch. I looked over my shoulder, wanting to watch him begin our first proper fuck in an actual bed. He exercised restraint at first with a composed expression as he pushed forward, burying himself to the hilt. I took a deep breath and closed my eyes as my pussy stretched to acommodate him. He only betrayed his satisfaction by licking his lips and pausing to relish the slick warmth before pulling slowly back out. He repeated this move four or five times; as delicious as it was I started to feel frustrated. 

"Keiji? You know you can't hurt the baby, right?" I asked, half-joking but also recalling a bunch of somewhat sad people fretting over this possibility on episodes of Loveline. 

"I know, I know. It's just that this looks incredible. I mean, your ass. Wow." He slid into me again and ground his pubic bone into my butt for emphasis. 

"Very romantic." 

"I know you are. That's why you want me to start fucking you like I did the first time, right?" 

I began to laugh, but he didn't give me a chance to do it for long before he grabbed my hips, pulled back, and rammed into me with a noisy slap. My laughter dissolved into gasps and cries as he repeated the same move over and over, giving up some force over time to increase his pace. I loved the smacking sound of his hard lower body hitting my soft butt; listening to it turned my arousal up another notch and another pang of need coursed through me. I turned my face into the pillow to hang on for dear life as my pleasure intensified. I was astonished that sex could be like this – I'd had a couple of moments before that were good, maybe even great, but it had taken me far too long to discover how much my anatomy – or my mind? -- loved rougher treatment. Maybe one day I'd ask Keiji to make slow love to me like a couple in a Harlequin romance, but right now I didn't think I'd ever get tired of being fucked like...well, like an animal. (Thanks, Mr. Reznor.) I had to remember to ask him what he was thinking of while he did this to me – baseball statistics? Dryer lint? How could he do it without coming in the first few minutes? So far I hadn't been able to hold back anywhere near as long as he had. In fact...

"Ah, fuck," I mumbled, a bit too overcome to speak up. "I'm going to come again." 

"Good," he said. "I love it--when you come-- on me." 

His words, separated by his thrusts, sent me over the edge. I bit down on the pillow and screamed through my teeth, finally able to let go without worrying about where we were. He pulled out with a little gasp, but I hardly noticed. As the peak of my orgasm passed I came back to reality and felt him running his hands over the curves of my ass. I turned back to him with an inquisitive look, wondering why he had stopped fucking me. 

"You almost made me come, yelling like that," he accused. 

"Ever heard of a simultaneous orgasm?" I said, trying to catch my breath. (Not that I'd ever experienced such an event.) "And why do you always look amazing? I'm pretty sure I look like a sweaty pig by now. You just glisten like dew on a daisy." 

"Never mind me. You look hot, like you need some more. Maybe we can try that simultaneous thing out. Can you go again?" 

I half-laughed, half-groaned and put my head back down on the pillow. He ran his hands under my body and up to my breasts where he fondled my nipples until the now-familiar pangs of pleasure so strong they almost hurt started coursing through me again.

"I think I can," I whispered. He didn't waste time with more chit-chat. He placed one hand on my right hip and the other on my left shoulder to brace himself and entered me, starting his powerful thrusts again. His breathing sounded a bit louder than usual and his fucking rhythm was getting irregular. Maybe he was actually tired by now! 

"Oh yes, please. Please. Yes, yes! Please," I cried, meeting his thrusts by pushing backwards. I hoped my enthusiasm would encourage him -- I could feel another orgasm building and smiled at my own greed. Seconds later my eyes opened wide and I gasped as he moved his hand from my hip to between my legs. Say what you will for vaginal orgasms, but my clit had been somewhat neglected in spite of my obvious state of high arousal. He wasn't rough with me at all there; he pressed and rolled on the firm bump just enough to turn the sweet ache I felt there into an unstoppable wave of pleasure. I more or less exploded, coming for a half a minute or so while he rubbed me through each phase of my orgasm. I was still moaning through the contractions in my pussy when I felt his cock get even harder inside of me. He held his breath as he came, his hips jerking with his own spasms.

He collapsed on my back, exhausted, then rolled over to the side of me. He kept his eyes closed and blew a lock of hair off his sweaty forehead. I lay down on my side, facing him, curling my body into an S of satiated pleasure. 

As I watched Keiji fall asleep, I mused on the unbelievable events of the past three weeks. Just as I was dozing off, I realized that we couldn't keep the pregnancy to ourselves forever. I didn't want to keep it a secret, either. I had to at least tell Evan, and there were our parents and other family members who would need to know at some point. I imagined how the initial conversations would go. How could I explain this to the people I loved so that they would understand, when I wasn't sure what happening between Keiji and me, or even just to me? Did I love him or was I sexually infatuated? Maybe it was a bit of both. What was it about him that provoked me so much? Could our connection last, or were we setting ourselves and our child up for heartbreak? I knew I couldn't answer these questions without giving the relationship more time to develop, but in the meantime they would keep worrying me.



How Cara Learned to Stop Worrying Ch. 04



How Cara Learned to Stop Worrying – Pt. 4 – Telling the truth; Cara and Keiji get handsy on a train.

(I didn't expect this to happen when I conceived the first sex scene of the first part of this story, but it seems like I have more to say than, "Girl meets guy, bones him, it's awesome, the end." This installment has a lot of talky-speaky-discussy with no sex for quite some time, but if you're into the story I hope you like it. Stick through the heavy stuff; I promise there's smut in here. Or just wear out the scrolly wheel on your mouse skipping to the good bits. I've done both in my day. CTRL+F+splooge?) 

"Evan, we need to talk."

My son looked up from his book -- a copy of Julius Caesar -- with an evasive look on his face. 

"Mom, if it's about my room I swear I'll clean it tomorrow. I just want to finish this tonight so that I can move on to Hamlet. We have to decide which one we want to do before Thanksgiving break," Evan said, returning his large blue eyes down to the page. Jesus, a performance of Hamlet in middle school? Then again, I guess being murdered by your best friend isn't much nicer. This drama teacher wasn't playing around.

"Ev, no," I said, sitting down next to him on the bed. "It's not about your room. It's nothing you did. Please, it's important." 

I had his attention now, but he had to make sure I knew how much I was annoying him. He put the book down with a gusty sigh and crossed his arms over his chest, an "I'm waiting" expression on his face. Looking at him I remembered him as a baby; so young, round, and sweet. He had always been a good listener, adept at interpreting my meaning. I hoped he would draw on those skills now. 

"I met someone."

"Oh...kay," he said, on edge at once. I tried to be careful about making our lives a revolving door for random men, but after I broke up with Adam Evan declared me hopeless and said I should give it a rest. As much as his words hurt, I didn't address it with him any further. I knew he was hurting more than I was, especially with Reed so far away.

"Hana," I said, and saw his eyes go wide with surprise. "Hana's uncle. He says he knows you. His name is Keiji. I met him at Our Town. We've been seeing each other since then."

"Why are you telling me this, Mom? I don't want to know the gory details. You never told me about anyone else. You just say, 'Hey Ev, here's this guy! He's so great! Let's all go out for a picnic!'" Evan tried to play his words off with a smile, but his tone was acid. I took a deep breath. 

"I'm telling you because. We aren't just dating, Ev."

His smile faded. 

"You're joking," he whispered. His voice got louder. "I know Keiji. He's cool, he hangs out with us whenever he's visiting Sachi. He's never said anything about you. What, are you guys like, married? Yeah, right!" 

"I asked him not to say anything, Evan. I wanted to talk to you first, but I waited to make sure--" I stopped, trying to take the pleading tone out of my voice. "Evan, try to understand that we didn't plan it this way. I'm going to have a baby in the summer. Mid July, I think."

His tough-guy façade crumbled. He hid his face in his hands for a long moment and didn't look at me when he spoke again. His voice was dead. 

"How do you know." 

"Evan..." 

"How do you know it's him?" he choked, meeting my eyes with some effort. His nostrils flared.

"Evan, it can only be him," I began, ready to explain that I had waited until I was at least eight weeks along to tell him, wanting to spare him my anguish if something went wrong and made this whole situation nothing but a crazy memory. But by now I had seen a perinatologist (due to my "advanced maternal age"). She showed Keiji and me the baby on the ultrasound machine; we saw its tiny limbs moving vaguely, the heart pumping at what seemed to us to be an alarming rate. It looked like a gummy bear with an oversized head. We had looked at each other, tears in our eyes, terrified and elated. I knew miscarriage still wasn't off the table as a possibility, but by now I was praying to the porcelain god every morning and it was getting harder to hide my growing waistline. Everything that had happened to me with Evan seemed to be happening even faster this time -- my belly was already round and hard, difficult to suck in. 

"Why! Why in the fuck are you doing this! Why did it have to be him? Do you even know anything about him!" Evan burst out. Now it was my turn to be shocked. 

"It--it's only been about two months, I know, but we've seen each other as much as we can without neglecting our other responsibilities, I've been trying to get to know him--" 

"This is disgusting, you know," he interjected, running his hands through his dark curls. He looked a lot like Reed when he was angry. "Neglecting other responsibilities, sure. This guy has lots of responsibilities. You know you're just his flavor of the month, right? He's always bringing over a new girl, all these hot girls. Once he had two of them and said they were just his roommates but they couldn't keep their hands off of him. Hana laughs about it, says he's so cute, too bad he's her uncle, hardy-har-har. I used to think it was cool, he got so much pussy, but now I know he's fucking gross. You've known him for two months and you're having his kid? What did he do, hypnotize you with his dick?" 

I tried not to be shocked at his words -- I know how kids talk, I used to be one, and I can swear like a sailor with the best of them. I expected him to be emotional but I didn't expect this depth of anger; he had thrown me completely off my planned script. His words also cut right to the core of my worst fears. As amazing as these past weeks had been, I did worry about my future with Keiji. I worried that my affection was misplaced, that I had been "hypnotized by his dick," so to speak. And it still made me feel uneasy every time I learned more about Keiji's sexual past. The doubts started to whisper again and I wished he were here to ease my mind. But maybe that was exactly the opposite of what I needed. 

"Evan, I'm sorry," I said, looking down and fingering the pattern on his quilt. The tears began to drop out of my eyes. "I'm sorry to surprise you like this but I wanted to you be the first person I told. I haven't said anything to Grandma or Grandpa yet." 

"What about Dad?" he asked, sitting up straight and getting a faraway look in his eyes. Searching for Reed. 

"He doesn't know yet." 

"I want to go live with Dad," he said, his response immediate and firm. He looked at me straight on, his expression full of challenge and some other emotion I couldn't read. I sighed, feeling utterly defeated. 

"Ev, you know that won't work--" 

"Why not!" 

"We've been over it before!" I said, my voice starting to rise. All this painful shit all over again, me feeling rejected by him, him feeling rejected by Reed, and I was the one to dredge it up. I made my bed, all right. "You can't go with him because his company is so new, he has to be there all the time. He's not home enough. He can't be there for you. He can barely call you right now!" 

Evan's face went brick red. He knew I was right, and he hated me for it. Well. Mission accomplished, I guess. 

"Like you're fucking going to be here for me now with your precious little shit machine and your baby daddy, who also happens to be the town bike in case you didn't know," he spat, deliberately trying to wound me. I saw no way out but to end the conversation and let him live with the knowledge for awhile, feel out all its sharp edges in his own way. He wouldn't be placated and led into acceptance by me.

"Evan, all I can ask of you is that you trust me. I've thought about it for two months and I want to have this baby. I know it's going to take some time to get used to the idea. Keiji says he's not going anywhere--" Evan barked out a harsh laugh here "--and you know I'm not going anywhere. I will be here for you when you want to talk. I love you, Evan. I love you so much." 

I didn't try to touch him; I knew he would flinch away and I couldn't take any more heartache tonight. I got up as gently as I could and left the room, closing the door behind me. I didn't move for a few minutes, but I heard nothing. The silence was deafening. 

***

The next morning I knew I needed to talk to Reed. If there was a parallel experience in my life to my present situation, it had happened to me with Reed. He might have some perspective to offer, might give me some idea of whether or not I was headed down the right path. He was also going to hear about my pregnancy from Evan if I didn't speak to him first, and I knew he would appreciate a heads up on the "Can I come live with you" request Evan was sure to lob at him. 

I was pretty sure I would end this conversation with yet another Arkady male hating my guts. 

I dialed his cell number and chewed my nails waiting for the call to connect. It rang for so long that I expected a voicemail prompt, but suddenly he was there, his voice clipped and bright. 

"Reed Arkady!" 

"Reed, it's Cara." 

"Oh hey, Cara. What's up?" The brightness dimmed considerably, although he maintained a pleasant tone. As always with Reed I felt the sad ghosts of "What if?" hovering around me. I imagined his open, handsome face, always looking eager to help and please. I sighed.

"Um, a lot, actually. Do you have time to talk right now? I know you're really busy, but it's important," I said.

"Sure, just let me go into my office. Oooh, doesn't that sound so fancy? I have an office now!" he joked. I heard his feet climbing stairs at a brisk pace, the sound of a door opening, someone greeting him, and finally a closing door. 

"Okay, I think we're alone now." He hummed a few bars of the song. I wished I could laugh. 

"Reed, I'm kind of at a loss here," I said, trying to keep my voice level. 

"Uhhh, okay," he said, sounding so much like Evan that I wanted to go run out and play in traffic. "Is Evan all right?" 

"No, no, I mean, yes! Yes, he's okay, I mean, he's...that's why I had to call you. I'm pregnant, Reed." 

There was silence on the other end of the line for a few beats. 

"Well, I've heard that before," he said, his voice tinged with bitterness. I hated myself. It was excruciating to go from my high of being with Keiji, of being supported by him, being excited about our baby, to reliving the stress of my pregnancy with Evan and the end of my relationship with Reed. The worst part was that I knew Reed felt more for me than I ever had for him; he continued to let our separation affect him as if it had happened yesterday instead of almost fifteen years ago (and as if we had dated for six years instead of six months). Reed had told me several times that he was unmarried because of his experience with me. Usually I got angry, told him to come off it and stop blaming me for his problems, but right now I couldn't stop the guilt from consuming me. 

"I told Evan last night. He's upset." 

"Understandable." 

"I know. He asked to come live with you. Again." 

"Understandable," Reed repeated, this time with a sigh. "So, who's the lucky guy? I didn't even know you were with someone."

"It's a long story," I said, and then realized that actually, it wasn't. It was a short story. "Reed, no, that's not right. The truth is that I just met him. I got pregnant because we weren't careful the first time we--" 

"Wow, I really have heard this before! Should I start calling you Myrtle, as in Fertile?" he said. I knew he was trying to protect himself using humor but both of us knew it was futile, so I didn't respond to the joke. 

"Reed, I need to tell you this because I want you to know I am not going to make the same mistakes I made with Evan and you. I am not going to pull my son in multiple directions. I am not going to kick this guy to the curb because I'm ashamed that I made a mistake. I'm sorry, Reed. I know you probably think I'm full of shit." 

"Hmm," he said. 

"And I know I don't deserve your blessing or whatever, that's not why I'm calling. I needed to tell you because this time it's different. I mean, of course I can't know what will happen and I am second guessing everything. But I think if I did to Keiji what I did to you I couldn't live with myself. I made a huge mistake, again, but I can't keep doing what I've been doing. Ignoring my life, pushing people away." I had no idea if I was making sense or not but those were the words that came to my heart. 

"Yeah, definitely don't do -- what you did before. To Cagey? What's his name?" 

"Kei-ji," I corrected. "With a K. And an I at the end. It's a Japanese name." 

"Hmm," Reed hummed again. 

"Reed," I pleaded. I didn't deserve his blessing but I wanted to hear that I wasn't crazy, that he would be okay, that he wasn't going to swoop in and take Evan and call me a heartless bitch and hate me forever. 

"Don't give him no choice," Reed said, his voice gone hard but with a tell-tale thickness that said he was fighting to keep his emotions down. "Don't tell him this is what it's like and go fuck yourself, because who cares if I loved you and wanted to be with you, because you were over it. We fucked up and you ran as far away from me as you could, like that would make it go away."

"I know," I said, my voice as small as I could make it. "I know, Reed. I know. I'm not going to run." 

"Do you love this guy?"

I froze, maybe looking for the right answer, maybe looking for the answer Reed wanted to hear. I wasn't sure what the answer was in either case.

"Do you love him, Cara?" he repeated. 

I felt something in my mind let go. It took Reed's questioning to crystallize my feelings for Keiji into solid, stark reality. I wasn't going to run anymore. 

"Yes. I love him."

"Then love him. Have his baby. Don't fuck it up." His last sentence was distorted by tears.

"I'm sorry, Reed," I said, feeling hollowed out. I heard him sniff and fight to get control back. When he had it, he sounded like I felt.

"Yeah, yeah. I know. I'm sorry I let you go. Been kicking my own ass over that for years. Listen. I gotta get back. Tell Evan I'll Skype with him tonight at 7. On the dot. And don't come in on the conversation, okay? Let me talk to him one on one."

"Okay, Reed. Thank you." 

"Yep. 'Bye." 

"'Bye." 

I hung up the phone and leaned against the wall next to it, thinking nothing for several moments, waiting for all of the old pain and guilt and sadness to fade. I hated dragging Reed through all of that but it had to happen sooner or later. Then I remembered what I had said to him about Keiji and adrenaline kicked my heartbeat up a few notches. 

I was in love. 

***

November 26 approached. Evan was going to visit Reed and I was going to visit the Nakamuras. This Thanksgiving break was sure to be a crazy one, organized last minute and with several fast ones pulled to explain to my parents why Evan and I wouldn't be seeing them this holiday as we had planned originally . I promised them a visit before Christmas to placate them. Evan was giving the performance of a lifetime with an all but unbroken streak of silent treatment, though he thawed a bit each time he spoke with his father. He seemed relieved to be getting time away from me, and with sadness in my heart I realized that I felt the same. I hoped we could reconnect soon.

For Evan's sake Keiji and I were doing our best to be discreet, keeping phone calls short or sticking to texts and email. We were only able to meet twice between the time of the perinatologist appointment and the time we'd be leaving for Keiji's hometown to tell his parents about the impending arrival. (One of those times had been a quick meal at a restaurant while Evan stayed after school for a drama meeting; the other had been a late night booty call after a day of suggestive messages. I finally reached the point of no return and begged him to come over. He showed up at my door, we fucked as quickly and silently as possible in my laundry room, and he left me no less horny than I had been before.) I was going crazy not seeing him, and I still hadn't said those three little words that I had admitted to Reed. 

 I wasn't able to decide on a good way to tell my family about the baby, but Keiji's gut told him to just get it over with when it came to his parents. I was worrying myself to death about meeting them. Obviously there was the, "Hey, you don't know me, and this is crazy, but I'm having your grandbaby" angle, but more mysterious to me was what they would think of me as a person. Keiji tried to wave my fears away by saying that they had met a variety of his girlfriends and disliked them all equally without discriminating on the basis of race, creed, or educational level. That didn't quell any of my anxiety. 

Sachi called me a few hours before I was due to meet Keiji at the train station for our trip to their hometown. Evan had flown to Reed's home the day before and I was in a frenzy of packing, having put it off while he was still home. I hadn't spoken to Sachi since the day at the play, but Keiji told me she knew what was going on.

"Hi Cara," she said, her voice as bright as ever but with a hint of careful analysis. Oh brother, I thought. This before I've even said a word. 

"Hey, Sachi, it's good to hear from you," I said, trying to sound light and unworried. 

"Same here! I think we'll be seeing a lot more of each other from now on, don't you?"

"I guess so!" I said, feeling like a dutiful puppy. Her next words sounded genuine, though, and put me at ease for a moment. 

"I wanted to tell you that I am happy for you. Surprised, of course, but very happy. It can only be a good thing for my little brother to calm down and focus on something important like raising a family," she said. "If you ever need any baby gear, I think I still have some of Hana's clothes and toys. I couldn't bear to part with them." 

"Oh wow, thank you," I replied, my stomach doing flip flops as I considered the concept of baby gear. I also felt a twinge of sadness at the thought of Keiji needing to "calm down." The guy would be in a coma if he calmed down any more. I didn't want to change him, and the idea that he should narrow his focus to me and only me made me feel inadequate. 

"I hope you don't take this the wrong way, but I'm still so floored about you guys," Sachi continued. "Keiji told me you met at the play, and um, that's how it happened, but I just never thought someone like you would go for someone like him. You're so responsible and put together and stuff. He's so...well, he's Keiji."

I sniggered, wondering how much she knew about my past. I had told Keiji bits and pieces of that story but probably not enough for him to relate to his sister with much clarity. For that matter, I wondered how well she knew Keiji. He seemed rather staid when I compared him to me. Just being around him made me feel less like I was coming apart at the seams. 

"Well, he's very...nice?" I tried. Nice. Yeah. That was a good summary of Keiji Nakamura's sexual prowess. But somehow I didn't think his sister really wanted a great level of detail. 

"I was going to guess that you had an Asian fetish," she teased. "I run into that all the time."

"Oh, wow," I mumbled, not sure what to say. I'd never considered the concept of a fetish before as a cause of my strong attraction to Keiji. Certainly he was physically different from the men I had been with before which was a huge turn on in terms of the excitement of discovery, and I noticed Asian men more since meeting him...but did he need to be Asian for me to be attracted to him? I wasn't sure.

"I'm just kidding, just kidding. It seems like that usually happens with women, you know? Every time I go on a date with a guy who isn't ethnic Japanese I ask myself if he's really interested in me or if he just wants me to put on a geisha costume and walk on his back. And they always really hate it when I have opinions and talk and laugh out loud and stuff."




How Cara Learned to Stop Worrying Ch. 04



I laughed, but she could tell that I was uncomfortable and ended the call after congratulating me again. She also gave me a tip about her mother. 

"My haha, Mom, she means well. Her family is her entire world. She really loves Keiji no matter what she says."

Now I was worried for sure.

***

"Seriously, you have to relax. There's no point driving yourself crazy trying to impress them. Dad will be okay but he'll just go along with whatever Mom says, and she's going to say the same old judgmental shit that she always does. Look, she's my mom, I love her, but we haven't been close for a long time. She lived in Japan for 20 years and she's very traditional. Everything there is better than here -- the people, the food, the clothes, the shops, the TV shows. Everything! I grew up hearing this my whole life. If you ask her why she's here she'll roll her eyes and say she had no choice, but has she ever given me a real answer? No. She's bitter and angry and kind of mean. The only person I think she likes these days is Hana." 

Keiji and I leaned against a wall at the train station as we waited for our boarding time. He kept putting his fingers to his mouth and then dropping his hand with a disgusted expression. At first I couldn't figure it out, but then it dawned on me. 

"Keiji Nakamura, are you an ex-smoker?" 

He shook his head in a "no" gesture, but his rueful smile told me he meant "yes." 

"I never should've quit. How am I supposed to visit my parents without some sort of drug in my system?" he said, gesturing dramatically. I could tell he was laying it on thick for my benefit, but there was a kernel of truth in his jest. 

"I just. Look. I've never dated an Asian guy before. I've had Asian friends but never went to their homes to meet their parents. I have no clue. What if I do something wrong?" I asked for about the tenth time. 

"There's no point, I said. You're going to do something wrong. Just take your shoes off once we're inside the door, call her Okaasan and call him Stan, and eat whatever she cooks for you. That's the best you can do. Oh yeah, mention your job and that you make a lot of money." He rolled his eyes. 

"Dude, you're so racist," I said, nudging his side with my elbow. "And I don't make that much money."

"Hey, you're doing way better than me. It's not racist, it's just...status is so important. Your place in society is everything. In Japan it's all who you are, who you know. I'm not making any value judgments even though it drives me up the fucking wall when I hear her on the phone with my aunts and uncles and she's talking about me like I'm Warhol or Picasso or Pollock or somebody just to make her sound big. Ohhh, Keiji-kun had a show in the city! He sold so many paintings! Then she hangs up the phone and tells me that over there I'm shit and my dad's shit and it drives her crazy and why don't I get a real job. I think she hates her life. And she hates it even more that I don't care about any of that crap." 

Again he raised his fingers to his mouth. "Fuck," he muttered, dropping his hand and shaking the fingers. 

"Sounds like you need to," I said, amused in spite of his scary (okay, absolutely terrifying) rants about his mother. I couldn't help myself. It had been over a week since the laundry room quickie and my hormones were going crazy with the pregnancy. I had been masturbating every day, some days several times (even sneaking down to the parking garage during my lunch break to relieve myself). Self-love just wasn't cutting it. I was dying to touch him and I had a surprise that I was eager to reveal. 

My joke seemed to relax him. His shoulders dropped from their hunch and he stopped moving his fingers. He closed his eyes with a smile, entering a more pleasant train of thought.

"What are you thinking about?" I prodded. He kept his eyes closed but stopped smiling. He bit his lower lip somewhat fiercely before releasing it to answer me. 

"Mm. Your ass." 

I laughed, blushing even though I had started us down this path. He opened his eyes and looked at me, first at my face but then blatantly examining my body from head to toe. I had dressed to impress in a black miniskirt. I tried to downplay the sex factor (keeping his parents in mind) by adding opaque black tights and a loose V-neck sweater that hid the beginnings of my belly, but I knew that skirt made me look good. His smile was still gone. 

"Why so serious, Keiji?" I said, grabbing his hand.

"You shouldn't laugh," he said in a low, burning voice. "In fact, I have the strong compulsion to take you into that ladies' room over there and show you how serious I am about fucking you senseless." He tilted his head at a bathroom across the mezzanine from us. 

"In a public restroom?" I asked, putting a note of disgust in my voice even though his words made my nipples stiffen. 

"I am beyond caring about the finer points of hygiene, Cara. Besides, remember that discussion we had about whatever-within-reason? If we don't do something today I might pull that card way sooner than I thought. I've been standing here next to you like a statue for twenty minutes and you're wearing that little skirt, you look incredible, and we haven't seen each other since, what, before last week? I think the way I'm feeling right now is pretty reasonable."

I was about to reply that I agreed with him when we heard the rumble of an approaching train. 

"Well, I think that's us," I said, half-sorry and half-relieved to be interrupted. He rubbed his face, sighed, and stooped to pick up his bags. When I reached for my suitcase he stopped me. 

"No, no, I've got it. Just keep your purse." 

"My, one moment a lech and the next a gentleman," I teased. 

"You're pregnant, so you deserve a little assistance. And you just keep laughing it up. You'll get what's coming to you." 

"We can only hope," I said, walking toward the train platform. I felt his eyes on me as he followed with the luggage and smiled to myself. 

We were taking a mid-day mid-week train, so when we boarded we found ourselves in a nearly empty car. Half the seats in the car faced the front and the other half faced back, with a row in the middle meeting over plastic tables. A suited man had already taken the spot nearest the bathroom (I silently cursed him in the name of all pregnant women) in a seat facing the front, so I chose a pair of seats near the front of the car that faced the back. We'd be riding backwards but I figured we'd have a bit more privacy. Keiji lifted our things into the overhead compartments and then swung himself into the seat nearest the window. We'd decided earlier I would be on the aisle in case I had to make an emergency dash to the bathroom. 

 I sat down and busied myself with pulling out my Kindle, my mp3 player, and arranging my ticket in the little spot on the seat back in front of me. I started to put down the arm rest between us but stopped when I realized Keiji hadn't done more than put his ticket up and then lounge back in his seat a bit. Yes, I was being watched. 

"What?" I asked, feigning innocence. 

"Really? You're really going to read? Listen to a few tunes? Maybe catch some Zs?" he whispered. 

"Sure. Isn't that what most people do on a train?" 

"Maybe. But I don't think I'm most people right now. I think I'm probably the horniest person alive," he stated, giving me a hard stare before shifting his eyes to my body. I looked at his lap and confirmed that he was telling the truth. I shifted in my seat, feeling my pussy respond in kind. I couldn't help teasing him a bit more, though. He was really cute when he had a raging hard-on. 

"I don't know about that. There are probably a few teenagers out there who could give you a run for your money." 

"Cara. Take off your shoes and hose," he said, his voice small and level. He sounded like an instruction manual. 

"Please?" I prompted. He just looked at me, waiting. I wondered what had happened to the guy who asked my permission before he'd entered me for the first time. Maybe that was a one time only courtesy or something.

I shrugged, trying to act more nonchalant than I felt. I couldn't wait to see his reaction once I complied. I bent down and unzipped the short zips on the sides of my ankle boots, then pulled my feet out of them. I flexed my toes, liking the look of my feet in the tights, then pushed the boots under my seat. Now for the fun part. I reached under my skirt from the bottom, taking care not to push it up or reveal more leg than necessary, and grasped the top edge of my tights. I lifted my butt off the seat to get them over the hump, so to speak. 

Just as I sat back down the train began to move. I caught Keiji's eye (understandably, he was looking elsewhere most of the time) and smiled. I wondered if he could see how nervous I was and guessed he was well aware. He didn't need to hear another one of my, "I've never done this before" stories. 

"When are they going to walk through to check tickets?" I whispered. He just shook his head and rolled his index finger in a circular motion. Come on, come on. I began pulling the tights down again, sliding them down my thighs at a somewhat leisurely pace. After I slipped them over my knees I made short work of the task and whisked them off my feet. I balled them up and shoved them into the seat pocket in front of me. The thin carpet of the train floor felt cold under my bare feet. 

"That's a little better," he said, reaching over to stroke my exposed thighs, first one and then the other. 

"I guess you're right," I replied, watching his hands on me. This felt familiar. Small waves of excitement washed over me as I anticipated what he might do next.

"Hm. You know what else I want to see?" 

Without giving me a chance to respond, he lifted the bottom of my sweater up, exposing the new curve of my lower belly. It was big enough at this point that the waistband of my skirt was distorted into a slight smile shape below it. With Evan I hadn't shown for several months, but this baby was out and proud with eight months growing time ahead of us. Keiji pushed down on the skirt, further accentuating my belly. 

"Now I feel like a Buddha figurine," I protested, but didn't make a move to pull my shirt down. I wanted him to see what I looked like now. 

"Relax, you're way hotter than Buddha," he said, softly tracing the curved shape of my tummy with one hand and returning his other hand to one of my legs, where he wasted no time slipping it under my skirt. I held my breath as I felt his fingers move up the inside of my leg until they rested lightly on the delicate skin between my thigh and my labia.

"Something is different," he declared, an incredulous look on his face. His fingers stroked lightly up and down. "Did you--?" 

"I thought I deserved a trip to the spa yesterday. Work has been crazy and I've been feeling like death warmed over most of the time," I said, wiggling my hips forward a bit in an effort to get more contact with his hand.

"Oh man. This I gotta see," he said, taking his other hand off my belly so that he could pull up my skirt. 

"Hey!" I stage-whispered.

"You can't tell me that and expect me not to look! What, am I supposed to take an upskirt picture and go to the bathroom to admire it?" he whispered back. 

I hadn't made a move to stop him in spite of my verbal protest, so once again I found myself sitting next to him with my skirt bunched around my hips. This time, though, we weren't in a dark auditorium. It was full daylight and I was on a train where a railway employee or other passenger could enter the car at any moment. This person would see me sitting there with my pregnant belly out and my completely bare pussy on full display. Getting the Brazilian wax had been thrilling (not to mention eye-wateringly painful) and left me feeling naked in a delightfully wicked way, but I didn't expect to be this exposed. 

He gave a low whistle, his eyebrows raised as he took in the view. 

"Holy shit, Cara. My dick is going to explode," he said, and gave a short, stunned laugh. 

"I will etch that compliment on my heart forever," I replied, still not trying to cover up. Truth was, I was enjoying myself. Immensely. I decided to stop worrying about being naked on a train and roll with it, so to speak. Lowering my voice to just above a whisper, I continued. "Would you like me to help you out with your, um, explosive device?" He was wearing jeans again, so things were more or less contained, but I could tell conditions were cramped.

He nodded. I leaned toward him, putting one of his hands between my legs, and kissed him softly, slipping just the tip of my tongue in between his lips before I broke contact. His fingers began to explore the super soft, super sensitive skin revealed by the wax, just stroking and pressing on the outside of my pussy for the time being. I reached for his pants and undid the button. 

"Oh my god," he sighed. "I want to rub my face all over it. You look beautiful." 

"Mm, sounds nice. But let's save that for later," I suggested, pulling down his zipper. He nodded again and I felt his touches grow bolder. I looked down at myself for a second, watching as he ran his middle finger down my cleft, from top to bottom, ending with the tip at the entrance to my pussy. I felt the potential of that one finger and silently urged him to continue. At the same time I slipped my hand beneath the band of his tented underwear, where it immediately bumped into the head of his cock. I ignored this for a moment, opting instead to slide deeper down and run my fingers through his soft, straight pubic hair. 

"I'll wax if you want me to," he said with a grin, turning his finger in a gentle circle but still not penetrating me. 

"Yeah, sure you would. No, thanks, trimming is fine. Or whatever. I'm not a pube dictator," I said, slipping my hand around to cup his balls for a brief moment. Then I went back up to grip his cock at the base. "Do you mind if I jack you off? I haven't done that yet. Got any tissues or anything?" 

"You're such a planner," he said, looking at the ceiling of the train and shaking his head. "Don't worry, I'll take care of it." 

"Worrying is my job," I said. He slipped his finger inside my pussy, meeting no resistance from my slick walls and eliciting a soft grunt from me. 

"Stop," he said. "This isn't a job. Just enjoy yourself." 

"I thought it was a--hand job," I gasped, my voice hitching as his index finger joined the middle one. He rotated his hand slightly so that his thumb would have access to my clit. He applied light pressure there and held it. 

"Good point. Except you haven't actually started that yet. And one more thing," he said, reaching into the V of my sweater. "I have to see these, too. They look huge since the last time I saw you." 

He was right; my breasts had ballooned from their diminuitive state into slightly swollen, hypersensitive D cups in just a couple of weeks. It almost hurt to touch them; I hissed a bit as he lifted them out of the cups of my bra one at a time. He stretched the edge of the V neck around them as much as possible, but they were still crammed together as they pushed out of the opening. My areolas were puffy and bigger than usual, their color deepened almost to a dark rose; the nipples were larger as well and got hard as I watched. From some outside-of-my-body objective view, I knew I must look completely, utterly lewd -- naked, pregnant, and obviously aroused, but naughtier still because of the clothes left covering the more boring parts of my body. 

I felt Keiji's cock twitch under my hand, bringing me out of my reverie. He shifted his fingers slightly inside of me, almost as if he had forgotten they were there. My pussy, the finger cozy.

"Wow. Those are excellent," he said, looking awestruck. "Can I play with them or would you rather I didn't?" 

"Be very gentle," I said, and began to stroke him up and down. 

"I've never been with someone pregnant before," he admitted, swallowing reflexively as his body responded to my attention. "You're changing so fast. Do they stay like this?" 

"For a little while after the baby's born they'll be even bigger. And then...no, they don't stay this way. So enjoy them. Gently!" I said, as he began to squeeze my right breast, feeling its new heft and density. And for what it was worth, I'd never whacked off a guy with foreskin, though I didn't say that to him. From what I could tell it was a bit easier than doing those without; my hand glided up and down his length easily and his skin was silky smooth. It also helped that he was already dribbling pre-cum all over himself. I ran my thumb onto the tip of his cock, taking a sizeable drop and spreading it down, over his frenulum and under the rim of the glans. 

"Ohh, fuck. I don't think I'm going to be able to take this for very long," he murmured, closing his eyes. 

"That's strange to hear, coming from you. You realize you've had your fingers up my pussy for the past few minutes, doing absolutely nothing? I don't mind being a visual aid but I'm feeling a little left out, here. Maybe you could distract yourself a little and work on me before you get all pruny." 

He laughed with his eyes still closed, but he sat up straight and did his best to give me equal attention. He began to move his fingers in and out, my pussy making the delightful wet sucking noise beloved by finger-fuckers everywhere. I continued to stroke up and down on his cock; for a minute or so we established a rhythm, just enjoying each other. 

I admit I had forgotten where we were; when he decided to up the intensity by bending over me and (gently!) sucking a nipple into his mouth I didn't bother to stifle my sounds of approval. 

"Hey," he whispered, releasing my nipple and sitting up a bit. "That guy over there." 

"Keiji, this was your idea. Now make me come, please. Don't make me beg," I said, pushing myself firmly onto his hand. He smirked, looking impressed at my boldness, and then grew serious as he paused to consider something. He slipped a third finger inside of me; the pressure was delicious. When he began to roll the pad of his thumb on my clit again I rested my hand on top of his wrist, my squeezes there telling him how good it felt.

I increased the speed of my passes up and down his cock, adding a squeeze at the base here, a gentle palming across the head there. He was slick and hot and I was somewhat tempted to call off my own gratification so that I could give him another blowjob, but in the name of experience I decided to stick with the original plan. Plus okay, yeah, I really wanted to come, and soon. Five minutes ago if possible. 

He bent back down to my breasts and I shifted closer to give him better access. He alternated between nipples, sucking so lightly I almost couldn't tell he was there. Still, the sight of my breasts, jiggling slightly with the bumps of the train, wet and red and straining at the tips from his attention, was incredibly arousing. I felt myself get wetter and my pussy contracted once or twice -- both sure signs that I was getting very, very close. 

"Harder," I said, just barely audible. He obliged me, quickening his thumb on my clit and deepening the thrusts of his fingers in my pussy. He stopped alternating between breasts to focus on my right nipple, giving it a few firm flicks with his tongue before taking it between the sharp edges of his teeth. The combination of slight pain/intense pleasure was all I needed to finish; I let go of his wrist and pressed my hand to my mouth. I managed to have my orgasm in silence, although my breathing would have betrayed me to an experienced listener. He sat up to watch me ride his hand, slowing the movements of his fingers gradually as I wound down. 

When I was mostly still he pulled out of me and brought his wet fingers over to his cock, smearing my lube over himself just above my hand. I took the hint and began to move up and down again, adding in a slight twisting motion as I neared the head. My other hand reached down to massage his balls again; I knew he didn't have long because they were already high and tight, jumping at each touch. I rotated my hand so that my fingers covered his glans and used my thumb and the base of my hand to rub him firmly on the underside of his cock. 




How Cara Learned to Stop Worrying Ch. 04



"Kiss me," he breathed. I was surprised. He was usually quite silent as he neared orgasm; an actual phrase, how could I refuse? My mouth found his and I licked his tongue as though it was the cock in my hands. He was a little less skillful in the extremity of his pleasure and couldn't seem to focus on the kiss at all; he began to make small noises into my mouth which made me want to come all over again. I felt a hot spurt of cum hit my palm, followed by another and another. There was too much for me to hold and it began to drip back down the side of his cock, pooling on his body. 

He was still coming and we were still kissing when there was a loud bang from the opposite end of the car (thank the dubious sexual activity deity it was not our end, although my mostly naked body was facing the door that had just slid open). Keiji's reaction time was not quite up to par; I broke our kiss to push my boobs into my sweater. I had time to pull it and my skirt back into position, but didn't have time to put my bra into place. And then there was my hand covered with cum and his messy cock. He had said he would take care of it, but he was still in a bit of a daze. Only one thing to do. I bent down to his cock, licking him off as quickly as possible. 

"Ahhhh," he moaned, sounding as if the sensation was a bit too much for him so soon after his orgasm. It wasn't the most thorough job and there was no getting it out of his pubic hair, but it had to be better than smearing half a load all over the inside of his pants. 

"Keiji, your zipper," I hissed, seeing the conductor begin to move down the aisle toward us. As he started to pull himself together I looked at my hand, thinking of the obvious solution. But no, there was no way I was going to eat that much cooling jizz out of my own hand. Something in the pregnancy nausea zone of my brain told me it would not go down well. I shoved my hand behind my back, trying not to touch the seat or my shirt. Nope, not suspicious at all. I heard Keiji's zipper go up at the last possible second. 

As the conductor approached with a smile, we tried to act natural even though my companion was still trying to catch his breath, obviously sweaty around his hairline, and an interesting shade of pink in the face.

"Lovely day to get out of the city," he said, reaching for Keiji's ticket. His brow furrowed slightly as looked closer at the passenger. He collected my ticket as well and seemed to hesitate before stamping them both and handing them back to me. "Have a nice day," he said, not meeting my eyes. As he banged open the sliding door next to our seats, the strong smell of sex in our little row hit me -- my pussy, his semen. 

"We are so busted," I said, not sure whether to be anxious or amused. 

"Naaah," he said. "It's fine. He stamped them. Here, you can use this." He pulled a handkerchief out of his back pocket. 

"That would've been nice a minute ago, smooth operator! No, this is beyond a hanky now. I'll see you in a few," I said, slipping my boots on my bare feet and grabbing my tights out of the seat back. I headed toward the bathroom, my hand clenched to hide its contents. 

As I passed the man in the suit, he raised his eyebrows and rattled a newspaper resting on his lap. 

"Encore?" he asked in a polite voice. 

I hurried into the bathroom without answering, stifling nervous laughter. I cleaned up and got redressed, fixed my hair with my fingers, then spent a few moments psyching myself up to walk back past the apparent witness to my first...no, second...or technically my third act of semi-public sex. I wasn't sure what stunned me more -- the fact that I had done it or the fact that I had done it and didn't regret it at all. I exited the tiny room and breezed past the stranger with a small smile on my face . When I got back to our row, Keiji was out cold, leaning against the window with his arms crossed tight over his chest. 

"Typical," I said, and reached for my Kindle. Only a couple more hours until it was time to Meet the Parents. I hoped I was ready.



How Cara Learned to Stop Worrying Ch. 05



 Pt. 5 – In Keiji's room; love and choice. 

"Keiji, wait," I said, stopping in my tracks just outside the train station. I wasn't sure if it was nerves or "morning" sickness (which is conveniently available at any time of day for all of your vomiting needs), but I felt like I was going to toss my cookies.  Keiji had gained a few steps on me as he headed toward a line of taxis snaking around the kiss-and-ride area, but he was back by my side in an instant.

"Are you okay? Do you need to sit down? Do you need some water? You look pale," he fussed, his dark eyes filled with concern. 

"I think I just. Need a second," I replied, groping for and finding his hand. He did me one better and pulled me into a hug, rubbing my back. My body relaxed against his as I rested my head on his shoulder for half a minute or so, my face nuzzling against the warm skin of his neck. He smelled wonderful -- not like cologne, just himself, clean and masculine. The hustle and noise of the busy station receded into a low hum. If I could just stay in this spot with him forever, I would be perfectly happy. My stomach settled. I thought of the Nakamuras waiting for us and sighed, pulling back from him with regret. 

"Better?" he asked, searching my face. "Sure you don't want something to drink?" 

"No, no. I just had a moment. I had them with Evan, too. It's okay. Let's get the car," I said, resettling my purse strap on my shoulder. 

"Just a sec," he said, striding to the nearest taxi. Once he had the driver's attention he came back to collect me and our luggage. "It's not a very long ride, maybe ten minutes. If we need to stop on the way there's a shopping center between here and the house." 

"I'll be okay," I said, fighting off a rabble of butterflies in my stomach. I reminded myself to take deep breaths. 

Keiji helped me into the back seat and then slid in next to me. I snuggled against him and he put his arm around me. Despite my crummy tummy, I couldn't help but entertain a short fantasy of the two of us doing something seriously naughty in the back of a taxi. Why not? Train down, so many public transportation options to go. I hadn't been able to rest on the train, but as Keiji began to direct the driver to his childhood home I felt myself slip into a light doze. 

My power nap ended when the taxi stopped and I felt Keiji pat my shoulder. 

"We're here," he whispered. In my sleep-addled state I must've let anxiety show on my face, because he added, "Don't worry!" 

I didn't say anything until the cab was headed away from us down the quiet suburban street. The houses were modest 1960s split-levels set on mid-sized lots. Every lawn was raked clean of leaves, every car was parked straight in its driveway. The trees were large and would have been very green if we had been visiting in June instead of November. The Nakamura house was difficult to pick out from any of the others in this American slice of life; the only giveaway that this particular home might belong to Keiji's family was a bumper sticker celebrating the 1998 Olympic Games on the back of a well-maintained Camry station wagon. 

"Olympics fans, ey?" I said, gesturing at the sticker. 

"Oh my god," Keiji replied, shaking his head. "My dad taped every event for my mom. I don't think she's even been to Nagano but every chance she got she was talking about it. It was kind of a big deal. I was living at home at the time. Mistake." 

I laughed a little. He started up the front sidewalk with our bags. I hung back, feeling some foreboding as I looked at the quiet front door. If this had been my parents' home they would've been out the door the second the car doors opened, talking over each other and anyone else in the general vicinity. Mom would offer us a sandwich four or five times, Dad would push a beer on Keiji whether or not he wanted it. Where was everyone? 

Keiji turned around and for a second I thought I had asked the question out loud. He smiled, tilted his head at the front door, urging me forward. 

"Takako, a.k.a. Okaasan. Homemaker. Kind of bitter and will probably think I'm a shiftless floozy. Stan. Retired purchasing specialist for a local office supply company. Likes The Late Show with David Letterman and builds birdhouses," I recited under my breath as I walked toward him. I wasn't sure if Keiji had been joking about the birdhouses. I hoped I was joking about her hating my guts. 

We reached the front door and he set down my suitcase to open the door. It was unlocked and Keiji stepped inside the house without knocking or ringing the bell. I followed him into a small split foyer, my heart in my throat. I had never been this nervous meeting prior boyfriends' parents. Although part of my anxiety was being in an unfamiliar environment, I realized that most of it was because I wished, very much, that they would like me. 

As Keiji shut the door behind us I looked around the immediate area, trying to calm myself. The floor of the foyer was laid in spotless black marble tile; the walls were pale grey. There was a tidy shoe rack against one wall with several pairs of house slippers lined up underneath. A spare painting of sakura on a black background hung over the rack. Keiji stepped on the heels of his sneakers to get them off and tossed them on top of the rack. I was bending over, beginning to take off my boots, when I heard footsteps fall above us. 

"KEIJI!" a voice boomed. I looked up to see a man about Keiji's height, but darker-complected and balding, come around the corner of a hallway and then down the short stairway to the foyer. He embraced his son, laughing. I recognized Keiji in his smile and the laugh lines around his eyes. 

"It's been too long, too long," Stanley Nakamura admonished, releasing his son from the hug but holding him at arm's length for a better look. "Haha will say you're too skinny." He turned to look at me, his expression friendly and welcoming. He was discreet, but I saw his eyes flicker up and down as he assessed my shape. He raised his eyebrows and looked back at Keiji, then back at me. "Keiji, how do you always end up with one prettier than the last?" 

"Dad," Keiji said, a warning tone in his voice. I swallowed a nervous laugh at the implications of Keiji's long line of conquests and put a polite smile on my face. 

"I'm just saying, I'm just saying! It's a compliment, to both of you. Relax. Hi, I'm Stan," Stan said, sticking out his hand. I shook it, deciding on a firm grip.

"Nice to meet you, Stan. Cara Brennan." My smile felt more genuine now. 

"Very nice to meet you, Cara," he said, looking back at Keiji to see if he was pushing the right buttons. Keiji bit the inside of his cheek and looked away, reminding me of my teenager. Stan chuckled, beckoning us to follow him as he started up the stairs. "Well, come on. Haha is in the kitchen cooking up a storm. She'll fetch us when dinner's ready. No, no, leave the bags there. I'll get them later." 

I hurried to get my boots off and placed them on the shoe rack. The looked like clown shoes next to a pair of women's Keds that I assumed were Takako's. At least Keiji's feet were bigger than mine. I crammed my massive extremities into a pair of men's leather house slippers and went upstairs. I noticed that Keiji just wore his socks. 

Stan led us to what was obviously the "nice" living room; there was an overstuffed chair upholstered in light blue velvet and a matching couch. A glass-and-chrome coffee table held a few photo books and a tasteful vase with a few stems and flowers. A large family portrait in a silver frame hung above the couch (circa 1990 if I had the fashions dated right; Sachi looked dour despite her neon outfit while Keiji beamed, showing off a set of braces and a snowflake patterned ski sweater). I pointed at the picture and smiled. Keiji winced and shook his head. Not talking about it. 

"Haha is taking another ikebana class," Stan said, gesturing toward the arrangement. "I can't buy her roses anymore. She says they're too vulgar." 

"Since when did you buy her roses anyway, Dad?" Keiji said, perching on the edge of the couch. He looked ready to flee if necessary. I made some polite-but-empty acknowledgment of the flowers; they were pretty, but I knew less than nothing about ikebana. Stan laughed like Keiji's remark was up there with one of David Letterman's scripted quips. 

I could hear food prep noises coming from a room to our right; there was an open archway and I saw a sink through it. I knew that Keiji's mother could hear our conversation, knew that we were here, but she sounded too busy to step away. My instinct to help kicked in. 

"Should I go see if--" 

"No!" Keiji said. I jumped, startled. "No. She doesn't even like Sachi in there." Stan smiled, nodding. (Did he ever stop smiling?)

"He's right. Do you enjoy cooking, Cara?" 

"I do. But I don't have a lot of time to learn anything new these days. There are lots of crock pot meals at my house," I replied. Stan continued nodding along. 

"Cara's a 'career woman,'" Keiji said, wiggling air quotes while looking at me. I could see he was fighting to keep a straight expression on his face; he knew how I felt about my "career." I rewarded him with a slight jab in the ribs. 

Stan opened his mouth, probably to ask what sort of career, when Takako Nakamura stepped out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on a dish towel. Or should I say the lady in the peach kimono stepped out? They were one and the same. Her face in life was older, small lines around her eyes, and she wore a white cardigan over a simple navy blue shift dress, but she was no less beautiful for it. If Keiji had Stan's smile, everything else about him came from his mother -- the fine, symmetrical features, light skin, high cheekbones, and full lips. Her hair was still a glossy black, save for one streak of grey, and cut in a short asymmetrical bob. When she saw her son her face lit up for the briefest second. Then I saw a hard expression settle on her features, as if she was steeling herself for something. By the time her eyes got to me, they were flat with indifference. 

"Dinner is ready. You look like you could use some, Keiji-kun," she said, her voice devoid of any trace of accent until she said her son's name. 

"What did I tell you?!" Stan crowed. "This woman is obsessed with fattening people up." He patted his tummy. Takako curled her lip with disdain. Stan's remark reminded me of the witch in Hansel and Gretel. Oh, for Pete's sake. She's not an evil villain, she's your boyfriend's mother. Give her a chance. 

"Mom," Keiji said, standing up. He offered me a hand and pulled me up; otherwise I might have attempted to disappear between the seat cushions. "This is Cara Brennan. We met at Hana's play."

"Hello, Okaasan," I said in a quiet voice. I bowed slightly, feeling phony. She nodded back and then looked away. I wasn't sure what else to say -- "I'm a CPA"? "I enjoy long walks on the beach"? "It's nice to meet you," I said. A weak start for sure. 

"The dining room is this way," Stan said, rising and leading us out of the living room. 

When we entered the room I saw a beautifully polished oak table set with several dishes; each place setting had chopsticks and small bowls for sauces, condiments, rice, and so on. It was impeccable. The only problem was the plate of salmon and tuna sashimi gleaming coolly in the center of the table. I'm a fan of sushi and sashimi in general, but today my stomach gave a warning roll. I grimaced and fought the sensation, determined to make a good impression. 

"Wow Mom, pulling out all the stops for Thanksgiving," Keiji said as we took our seats. Stan sat the head of the table, Takako on one side with an empty chair next to her, and Keiji and I on the other side. 

"Yes, well, it's been so long since you've bothered to come home," she said. Keiji sighed and tried again. 

"It looks really good, a lot of my favorites. Thank you." Stan grunted his agreement and I nodded like an excitable puppet; Takako did not reply. 

"I personally can't wait for turkey tomorrow," Stan said, ladling out servings of a clear soup; it had small cubes of tofu and slivers of green onion and was mild in flavor. I made it through this course with no problem. The potato and beef dish was also easy to get down; Takako was a talented cook with a deft hand for spices. Keiji and Stan exchanged jokes and caught up on each other's lives, devouring anything in reach of their hands. I said little as I considered the remaining dishes on the table. Takako said nothing unless someone asked her a direct question (usually a request for seconds or thirds or fourths). I had some difficulty with the pickled veggies and boiled spinach, but managed to convince my body to accept them out of sheer will. When I'm not knocked up I love Japanese food, and Takako's menu was hardly anything out there for a Western palate. I picked at my remaining rice for as long as possible before I noticed my hostess watching me. Busted.

"Keiji, the price of fresh fish this time of year is like being robbed," she said, her tone light. She spoke to her son but looked at me. I got the message loud and clear -- she was pissed that I wasn't eating the sashimi. Stan and Keiji had already downed several pieces each, eating them before the stronger-flavored dishes on the table.

Keiji nodded, absorbed in conversation with Stan and for the moment oblivious to his mother. I took a deep breath and reached for the plate of fish, selecting one piece of each type. I sniffed my choices carefully, trying to determine which might be more mild in flavor, but Takako had bought and prepared the fish with emphasis on the highest quality, so there was almost no odor. I decided to go for the tuna. 

Please, baby, I begged. Work with me, here. Grandma worked hard on this. Your first sashimi, you'll love it. Mmm.

I put the tuna in my mouth and that was okay. It tasted pretty good and its cool surface felt nice on my tongue. Then I bit down, experienced the texture of the raw flesh, and it was over. My stomach lurched and saliva flooded my mouth. Even if I had known where the bathroom was, I never would have made it. I had just enough time to bend down below the table, trying to catch the worst of my mess in my dinner napkin. A beach towel probably would've been more appropriate for the job. 

I heard Keiji's chair scrape back from the table. He was on his feet like a shot and had me standing as soon as I stopped heaving (which seemed like eons to me; long enough for Stan to make a dismayed comment about whether or not he should get something for me to ralph in). Takako continued her silence and I was too humiliated to even look in her direction, though I tried to choke out an apology through tears. Keiji helped me away from the table, down the hallway, past the bathroom (damn it), and into his old bedroom. He laid me down on the bed and removed my slippers. 

"It was the fish?" he asked. I groaned at the memory, gagging. "Oh god, sorry, sorry. I'll be right back. Here's a trash can in case." He set the can next to the bed and I heard the door close. I heard a fair amount of back and forth between Keiji and Stan as they coordinated HAZMAT clean up. I contemplated hiding under the bed, or if that sounded silly, maybe jumping out of the window. In truth I still felt too nauseated to do anything but lay there with my eyes squeezed shut. 

Five or six minutes later I was feeling a bit better; Keiji came in the door with a bowl of leftover broth from the soup and a damp cloth. 

"You don't have to eat it, I just thought you might want to get the taste out of your mouth and I remember you said water makes you sick sometimes," he said, setting the bowl down on the bedside table. He sat down on the bed next to me and wiped my eyes with the cloth, clearing away tear stains. I took it from him and scrubbed my lips a few times. I was about to say thank you when we heard a terse, angry voice come from a room nearby. I couldn't make out everything, but I heard Takako say "another bimbo hakujin," "such waste," "no appreciation," and so on. Stan's replies were mere murmurs. My shame deepened. Keiji's jaw clenched as he listened; suddenly, he stood up and stalked out of the room. 

"Don't!" I said, realizing what he meant to do. We had talked about how we would tell his parents, had crafted carefully worded statements about surprise and commitment and responsibility and happiness. All of these went down the drain because I couldn't eat a stupid piece of tuna. 

I heard a door bang open and Keiji's voice, low and cold. "Okaasan. Cara feels sick because she is pregnant with your grandchild. I think it would be best if you stopped talking now." 

He must not have waited for a reply because he was back in the room with me seconds later. He closed the door and locked it, then strode over to an old boombox sitting on a battered pine desk. The sounds of the local rock radio station filled the room, drowning out any other noise that might be overhead. 

"Thank god that old RCA still works," he said, taking a seat next to me again. "It cost approximately five million dollars in 1989. I begged my dad for it."

I couldn't think of anything to say; my body was still stiff with embarrassment. He offered me the bowl of broth and I accepted, taking small sips as I looked around his old room. It seemed so drab compared to the place he lived in now. There were brown plaid curtains on the windows, a brown carpet, and a matching brown plaid comforter on the bed. The only sparks of life were old band posters on the beige walls -- Nirvana, Soundgarden, The Smashing Pumpkins, R.E.M. -- and a somewhat untidy heap of old textbooks and sketchbooks on the desk. Keiji looked around with me. 

"Pretty dire, isn't it? Except for the posters. I forgot I left those here. I should take them, but where will I put them? Would Evan want them?" 

"Evan's more of a Jay-Z kinda guy," I said, my voice a bit froggy. Keiji stared at me. "I have no idea, either. But I love these bands, too. How come we've never talked about music?" 

Keiji smiled and laid down. "There's been a lot to talk about. Your favorite band is?" 

"Oh jeez, I don't know. The Cure? Or New Order."

"Both good choices. I'm gonna go with the classic Pumpkins. I hold James Iha responsible for introducing me to the idea that I could have a chance with someone like D'arcy," Keiji said, lying down on the bed next to me with his hands behind his head. He gazed at the poster. 

"He's pretty easy on the eyes," I mused. 

"Yeah. Stylin'." 

There was a companionable silence between us for a time. I finished the broth and tried to forget about what had just happened with his parents, tried to enjoy the nearness of him, but a thought kept entering my mind. It niggled too much to let it go. 

"Keiji?" 

"Mm?"

"Would you still be interested in me if I wasn't pregnant?" 

He turned his head and met my eyes, a question furrowing his brow. 

"I just. I feel pretty out of place right now, I guess. Like why are you bothering. Your mother--" 

"Are you kidding me? Look, I love my mom. I'm sad that we piss each other off so much of the time. But being with you is not a 'bother.'" He turned toward me and scooted in until his forehead was touching mine. I closed my eyes and shivered, wanting him to kiss me. "Cara. I am very, very interested in you. I know it's only been two months, when I'm not around you I feel like I'm just coasting. You're smart, funny, righteous but not self-righteous, empathetic, humble. The fact that you're having a baby with me is--I can't believe how lucky I am. I can't figure out what I was doing with my life before. I love you." 




How Cara Learned to Stop Worrying Ch. 05



A strange mix of relief and elation flooded me. I pulled back from him so that I could see his face. He didn't have his usual calm expression, but he didn't look nervous either. He looked certain, and hopeful. I heard Evan's words in my mind ("Do you even know anything about him?") but Keiji's actions today made me believe his words, made me want to trust that my feelings for him were founded in something deeper than a physical attraction. It seemed to me that people's impressions of Keiji were based on his outward persona -- a capricious tomcat, a lothario -- but that he had kept his inner self -- the steady, compassionate, perceptive person I knew -- under wraps. Did he treat all of those other women this way behind closed doors? The future was uncertain and none of this had been like love in the movies; there were no sweeping melodies, no blowing winds, no quirky coincidences with ends tied up neat. Still, I kept coming back to how I felt in his arms at the train station. It was a simple, deep contentment that I had never known before. I decided to go for it. 

"I love you," I said. "I love being with you." He cupped my face in his hands and kissed me gently. 

"How are you feeling?" he asked.

"Oh, honey. If you only knew how many times I'm going to hear that question between now and July. I feel all right. The soup helped. Thank you." 

"No sweat. Um. I feel guilty about being turned on by you right now, not gonna lie." I laughed and kissed him again. 

"Well, if you feel up to it after all of that--" I said, trailing off as I thought about HAZMATs. 

"I want to, you know, make love to you. Pick your romantic term. That's how I'm feeling."

"Oh, if we have to be romantic...hmm. Let's do it missionary style," I suggested. 

"So that's a 'I'm feeling much better now'?" he asked, supporting himself above my body on his hands and knees. He didn't wait for my answer before he started kissing me -- on my face, my neck, my upper chest. 

"Yes, yes," I said, not sure if I was replying to his question or egging him on. He kept moving down my body, planting kisses through my clothes.

"I don't know if you consider cunnilingus particularly romantic, but I intend to perform it on you," he said, pausing as he got to the top of my skirt. 

"Who could think that word is romantic," I laughed. 

"I'm not talking about the word, I'm talking about the act. After seeing you on the train today I'd have to be dead not to want some of that." He peeled the mini down over my hips, revealing my tights. I was bare underneath and he knew it. He nuzzled his nose and lips against my pussy lips through the thin fabric. "Want me to take these off, too?"

"Please." 

He complied and soon I was naked from the waist down, my clothes in a heap at the foot of the bed. He knelt over my lower body, stripped off his t-shirt, and unzipped his jeans. He lowered his face back down to my mound and rubbed his cheek against the newly revealed skin, fulfilling a desire he mentioned earlier in the day. 

"So soft," he murmured, and began to use his tongue. At first he used broad, flat strokes to lick my outer lips. It had been a long time since I had been hairless down there and the heightened sensations surprised me. The pain from the wax was worth it. 

"Wow," I breathed. He "mm"ed agreement and sucked my clit between his lips, drawing slow circles along the shaft with the tip of his tongue. I felt myself get hard and swollen; after a few minutes of this treatment my pussy juices were running down between the cheeks of my ass. He brought his fingers up to my body, stroking my perineum before slipping two inside of me. I made a disappointed noise as he released my clit for a moment to look at what he was doing. 

"I know this isn't a very romantic thing to say," he said, sliding his fingers in and out, "but you are so fucking hot." 

"Forget the romance for now. Just lick me," I said, looking down my body to meet his eyes. 

"I like this bossier side of you," he said, and returned his attention to my clit. The combination of his tongue and fingers was fantastic, although I was soon so lubed that I could hardly feel them inside of me. (The huge wet spot beneath me on the bed was very obvious, though.) I began to gasp and moan as quietly as I could as the pleasure in my clit jumped to another level. He switched from circles to firm flicks and added a third finger inside, fucking me faster. The added stimulation brought me to a quick climax. I pressed a hand to my mouth as I had on the train to stifle my cries.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck," I chanted softly as my orgasm wound down. He licked me all over with a flat tongue as he had in the beginning, drawing the sensations out as long as possible without overwhelming my sensitive clit. I could have laid there for ages letting him do that, but I really wanted some cock as well. He seemed to sense this as he withdrew his fingers from me and moved up my body until we were face to face. 

"Nice?" he asked. 

"What do you think?" I said, giving him a messy kiss. His face was wet from below his nose to his chin. I loved the taste of myself on his lips. After we broke the kiss he rolled over long enough to take his pants off, and then positioned himself on top of me again. He shifted his lower body into position between my legs. "Oh, wait, wait," I said, groping at my sweater. I felt overheated after coming. He helped me pull it up and over my head, tossing it down to the end of the bed onto our growing heap of clothing.

"Gonna leave your bra on?" he asked. 

"No way." Off it came, added to the pile. I looked at my breasts, amused by how they slid slightly off to the sides under their own weight in this position. I wasn't used to having big tits at all. 

"So beautiful, Cara," he said, running his palms over my nipples, making them stand at attention. I draped my arms around his neck and pulled him closer as he entered me. He went slow, giving me time to savor the feeling of his cock spreading and stretching my pussy. I stroked the skin of his back, appreciating its quality -- so fine, like the delicate skin on the backs of my knees, nothing like the other men I had known. We were both exhausted from the strain of the day, so he kept a slower pace this time. I felt like I was being fucked into the bed, becoming a part of it, felt sensuous and languid and unhurried. Even so, he broke out in a light sweat and his breathing grew ragged and hot on my neck. 

"Yes baby, yes," I purred, rubbing my breasts into his chest. "Come in me, come." He wrapped his arms around me, moving my entire body along with his thrusts. He shuddered and rocked us together as he came, buried as deep in me as he could get. We didn't move from our embrace for some time; I felt him soften but he didn't pull out. We rested. I began to doze. 

A sharp knock on the door jolted us apart. I had been sufficiently distracted by the sex to forget where I was, but it all came crashing back in seconds. I jumped under the covers, pulling them up to my chin and shot Keiji a worried look. His face was grim and tired as he looked for his boxers; he surprised me by going to the door wearing just those. He unlocked the door and opened it about six inches; when he saw who it was he nodded at me and slipped out, leaving the door slightly ajar behind him. I couldn't see her, but I heard her. 

"Keiji, you have been a disappointment to me ever since you left this house. I don't agree with your choices. Now that you are bringing an innocent child into your life -- if it is your child -- you must do your best to be a good man."

"The baby is mine, Mom," he answered, sounding as tired as he had looked. "I am trying to do my best. It's been a long day. We'd like to sleep now." 

"That's what I came to tell you. The couch is ready for you downstairs. There are clean sheets, a blanket, a pillow. Daddy is waiting for you there. He wants to talk to you. She--can stay here," Takako said, her firm voice breaking for just a second. 

"You mean Cara," Keiji said. I held my breath. 

"Yes. Cara," Takako conceded. I let the breath out. 

"See you tomorrow," he said, again not waiting for an answer before he slipped back inside the room. I heard her footsteps move down the hallway to her bedroom. He stood by the door, looking wilted.

"Keiji. She is something else," I said, stunned at her harsh words. 

"Pretty good lecture, huh," he muttered, coming to sit next to me. I groomed him, pushing his hair behind his ears and stroking the outline of one cheekbone. He closed his eyes at my touch and exhaled softly through his nose. 

"I don't agree with her. You are not disappointing in any way." 

"Oh, she just means that I was supposed to be a lawyer. You know, if you suck at math you have to be a lawyer. It's the only excuse for not being a doctor," he said, his eyes opening. His words were a joke but his eyes weren't smiling. He was so beautiful, so good at heart that my own heart ached. I wondered how she couldn't see him. I thought of the portrait of her in his apartment, how it clearly represented her importance to him. I kissed his closed lips, willing him to open back up to me, to feel how loved he was. He did after a few seconds and despite my exhaustion I was aroused again, remembering how he had used his lips and tongue just a little while earlier. I told myself to wait, as hard it was. 

"Keiji, Keiji...you should leave before I can't let you," I said, pulling back from him. 

"I don't want to go, anyway." 

"No, you should talk to your father. I bet he's worried about you." 

"Eh. You're probably right," he said, rolling his shoulders and his neck as if they pained him. "Are you going to be okay here tonight? I can come back if you want. It's funny that I'm even entertaining the pretense of sleeping on the couch when we obviously just, you know, and you're pregnant. Why bother." 

"You are a good son," I said. He laughed, short and dry. "Besides, I kinda want to lay here and have a private moment with James Iha." Now his laugh was genuine and his eyes softened. 

"All right, I'll go. I love you, Cara Brennan." 

"I love you too, Keiji Nakamura." 

***

I woke to the sound of the bed squeaking as someone climbed in next to me. Keiji wrapped all four of his limbs around me, snuggling me as I came out of sleep. The stubble on his chin tickled my neck. I smiled, inhaling his scent and pressing back against him. Judging by the sunlight filtering through the curtains it was eight o'clock or so.

"Oh, good morning," I said, as I felt his erection nestle in between my ass cheeks. 

"Hi," he said shortly, running his hands over whatever parts of my body he could reach. I was still naked from the night before. 

"It's turkey day. Are you excited?" I asked, wiggling my rear in a deliberate manner.

"Yeah. I'm gonna have dessert first, though." He cupped my breasts and began to move them in gentle circles.

"Oh man, what a line," I laughed. "I have morning breath!" 

"What, you think mine smells like a capful of Scope? I woke up with a massive boner and came straight here. Don't turn around. It won't be necessary for our purposes." 

"Yes, sir." 

He pulled away from me a bit to yank his boxers down, and then pressed into my butt again. His bare cock was hot and a bit sticky as he humped against me.

"I love how soft you are," he said. "Have you ever let someone fuck you in the ass?" 

"Ha! Um. I can think of one aborted attempt. We were traveling for work and he got so sloshed at the hotel bar that he couldn't follow through, if you know what I mean. Why, you want to do that now? I am constipated like, forever," I said, being brutally honest. The first trimester ain't pretty.

"Just asking for future reference. Now I know you're a virgin."

"One day you can tap it, Keiji. Just let me get this baby out first."

"Wow, deal!" he exclaimed. He squeezed my breasts, being gentle but obviously excited. He slid his fingers in circles around my areolas before brushing them over my nipples.

"Ahh," I said, feeling the blood rush to my pussy in reaction to the pain-pleasure. 

"Still tender?" he asked, his voice changed to deep, husky quality. I felt a little thrill, recognizing the transition from playful to serious. 

"Yes, but don't let it stop you." 

He pulled and pinched and twisted and flicked, fondling my breasts until I was writhing against him. I had always loved having my tits played with, but now being pregnant each touch was like a direct signal to my pussy; soon I was throbbing and leaking so much that my inner thighs were wet. "Please, please," I begged, inarticulate with need. 

"Please what?" he asked, pitiless. He knew that saying the words would make me even hotter. 

"My pussy, my cunt, please, fuck me, please." 

"You want it hard, don't you?" He was still manipulating my tits, a bit rougher than before. I moaned and nodded, squeezing my legs together, trying to relieve my aching clit. I reached behind me to guide his cock into place. He let go of my nipples to lift one of my legs a bit, giving him better access. He rubbed himself against my wet slit a few times; the head of his cock slipping over my clit made me moan louder than before. 

"Shh, shh," he said, putting a finger to my lips. I couldn't resist taking it into my mouth and sucking on it. "You should play with your pussy. Make yourself come on me." A helpful suggestion; as aroused as I could ever be, I had no inhibitions about getting myself off in front of him. As I moved my hands toward my pussy he sank his cock into me with one swift, firm movement. 

"Oh my god. Ohh fuck, yes," I groaned, pushing back against his hardness.

"Shhhhhh. You'll wake the whole house up." He used one hand to keep my leg lifted and slipped the other over my mouth. I couldn't be trusted to be quiet anymore, I guess. 

He started moving inside of me; at first I was too distracted by his cock to remember my clit, but it soon sent out pangs that got my attention. I slid my fingers down both sides of the erect nub and couldn't remember the last time it was so hard. I felt lower down until my fingers came to my sopping wet hole and his cock, pistoning in and out harder and harder as he approached his maximum speed -- my absolute favorite. I was moaning and dropping four letter words constantly into his hand now, caring very little if anyone overheard. The bed was squeaking like crazy, anyway.

I pressed in on my clit, hard, and held it down. The motion from his vigorous fucking provided enough friction to move my fingers; the combination of that and the pressure destroyed me. I came so hard that white stars exploded behind my eyes. I could feel his hand over my mouth was wet with my saliva. I was probably drooling. Didn't care. I let up on my clit a bit, made a few short circles on it, sort of a "reset" motion, and pressed down again. Another orgasm hit me in seconds, as strong as the first. 

"Yes baby, keep going," he whispered, not letting up on my pussy. His cock felt huge and my contractions on it were almost painful, the sensation was getting so intense. I decided to go for one more, because I could and I could tell he was close. I wanted to make him come. It took me a bit longer this time; I had to rub my clit in firm circles for a few minutes, faster and faster, until it sent out the tell-tale signal of an impending orgasm. I tore his hand away from my mouth. 

"I'm going to come," I gasped. He made a noise of approval deep in his throat. "But I can't take any more. Grand finale time, okay? Do me as hard as you can." 

"Okay," he said, finding some last reserve to do my bidding. I cried out with each brutal entry of his cock, my third orgasm flowing over my body in gentler waves than the first two but making the ride to the end incredibly satisfying. He squeezed my inner thigh as he came, digging into the soft flesh. (Two days later I could still see the marks from all five fingers.) 

We laid against each other, panting, the sweat cooling on our skin. My pussy was still twitching minutes later, leaking a mixture of our fluids onto the sheets and creating a brand new wet spot to match last night's. I stretched and turned toward him to give him a kiss -- morning breath or no morning breath. He kissed back eagerly, running his hands down to my lower belly to stroke lightly back and forth.

Today was Thanksgiving, I remembered. I had a lot to be thankful for.

***

It turns out we needn't have worried about being quiet; when Keiji peeked out of his room to see if the coast was clear, he saw his parents' bedroom door was wide open. The bed was made and the house was silent. 

"Where is everyone?" I asked, pulling on his discarded t-shirt from last night. 

"I don't know. Sachi and Hana aren't supposed to be here until noonish," he replied. "I'll go take a look around. Hang on." He put his boxers back on and walked down the hallway into the kitchen. "Turkey's in the oven!" he called back. "Oh, there's a note. They had to go to the store for last minute stuff. Jeez, I bet that place is a madhouse right now." 

"I need a shower so bad," I said, walking into the bathroom. "I smell like splooge." 

"Yes, I have marked you with my scent," he said in a grave voice, following me in and closing the door. We spent the next fifteen minutes soaping and massaging and kissing each other under the hot water; I loved touching him and ogled him relentlessly (he looked soooo hot wet, it was like a Backstreet Boys video in there), but Keiji lamented that he was probably out of commission for the next few hours at least, so we focused on getting clean. When we emerged we heard the sounds of shopping bags rustling and the front door opening and closing. Takako and Stan were arguing about who was going to prepare which dish. This gave us enough cover to sneak back into Keiji's room and dress. 

As I pulled a maternity shirt and pants on (no sense hiding it now, long live elastic waistbands), I considered our pile of clothes from yesterday -- and the sheets on the bed. 

"I think I need to do some laundry." 

"Oh, I can ask Mom," he suggested.

"Keiji. No way!" 

"What? She won't mind."

"Won't mind washing my dirty underwear and sheets splattered with cum?" 

"You make it sound like we were painting with it," he said, laughing. 

"That's probably something you've done before, haven't you?" I accused. He rolled his eyes and rummaged through his bag for a shirt. "Well, obviously you didn't sleep in that gigantic wet spot last night. I hope the mattress is okay," I said. He laughed again. 

"I'll take the stuff down to the laundry room after breakfast, okay?" 

"Thanks. Hey, what did your dad say last night?" I asked.

"Oh, ha. He apologized for her, which shocked me actually. He usually just pulls this blank face and zones out whenever she's like that. I mean it would be nice for it to come from her for once, but I guess I'll take it. He said he thought you were very nice and that he hopes he can get to know you better. And..."

"And?" 

"He's thrilled, Cara. He's so happy." Keiji beamed in imitation of his father's smile. 

"Really?" I felt warm inside. If Keiji's father reacted that way, maybe my parents would be happy, too. "Isn't he always happy, though?" 

"Well, he loves a good laugh, but I don't know if he's always happy. I wish you could've seen him though, like a kid at a candy store. It's been a long time since we had a baby in the family. Hana was the last one. He said he thought it was never going to happen for me, that I would find someone--he said I seemed different with you than I was with--than I was before." He sat back on his heels, seeming to muse for a bit. "I didn't really know how to explain it to him but I I feel like--" he made a click noise with his tongue "--something is settling into place. Settling down?" He looked up at me, a tentative smile on his face. He stood up, finished dressing now, although he looked incomplete to me wearing just his socks.




How Cara Learned to Stop Worrying Ch. 05



"I miss your Chucks," I said, walking over to him and slipping my arms around his waist. 

"I miss you being naked," he replied. I sighed, pretending to be annoyed. "Let's go get breakfast. I'm starving." 

After some toast and coffee we spent the rest of the morning helping out as best we could with prep for that evening's dinner. Keiji taught me a few knife skills and I shared my recipe for stuffing. Takako made herself scarce and said little -- nothing at all to me. I was too intimidated to attempt a conversation and Keiji seemed to actively avoid her. Stan, at least, was amiable and easy to talk to. He said he hoped I would like the food better tonight; I explained that it was all up to his grandson or granddaughter and received a big grin for my efforts. He was delighted to find out the baby's due date (July 1) as his own birthday was in early July. I said I'd try to deliver his present on time. True to his word, Keiji took charge of our laundry. 

Hana and Sachi arrived just as I sat down to take a breather. Sachi was as ebullient as ever, and looked very pretty in a dark orange sweater dress. Hana seemed distant, her eyes ringed in thick black liner. After giving her Oba and Oji dutiful hugs and kisses she seemed unable to lift her face from her phone's screen, even when Keiji tried to engage her in a discussion about the troupe's next play. (They had decided to go with Julius Caesar.) 

"What's up with her?" Keiji asked Sachi as she joined us in the kitchen. This dinner was Stan's affair, so I guess we were officially allowed to meddle.

"I think she's missing her friends," Sachi said, looking pointedly at me. I was confused. Did she mean Evan? 

"Hopefully the pumpkin pie will snap her out of it," Stan said, bending over to check the oven. I heard a distant buzzing noise. 

"That's the dryer," Keiji said. "I'll get it."

"No, don't. Visit with Sachi, she just got here!" I said. 

"Are you sure?" he asked. I nodded. "Well, okay. The laundry room is at the end of the hall, to the right." 

"No problema. See you in a few." 

I walked downstairs, curious -- I hadn't been to this part of the house yet. The basement was carpeted in white Berber. There was a comfy-looking leather couch with a matching ottoman, a La-Z-Boy recliner, and an impressive flat screen TV. A hallway led to a bathroom, an office, and a spare bedroom. I headed to the end and took the last right hand door. As I opened it I almost hit Takako, who was bending over to open the dryer. 

"Oh!" I gasped. It took me a few seconds to recover. "I'm sorry, I was just coming down to get the clothes." 

"They're yours?" she asked, and began pulling things out. 

"And Keiji's," I said, feeling embarrassed. There were my underwear, and the sheets...it all seemed so obvious. "Here, let me fold," I said, desperate to do something. We worked in silence for a few moments. 

"Sachi made me vomit every day. Keiji did not. You will probably have a girl," Takako proclaimed. 

"Hmm. I was sick about as much as this with my son," I said. She stopped pulling things out of the dryer to stare at me. I had to work hard not to flinch. 

"You have another child?" she finally asked. 

"Yes, a son." I wondered how much Keiji had told her about me. 

"How old?" 

"He's 14. He's friends with Hana. I met Sachi when they were in Kindergarten together. His father and I are...not together," I explained. 

"And how old are you?" Oh no, was this going to be Twenty Questions? I should have prepared my answers a little more. 

"35." She humphed to herself and snapped a pillow case to get the wrinkles out. 

"You can still end this pregnancy, you know," she said. Now it was my turn to stare. She went on. "You have so many choices. It's not like it used to be. You don't have to be stuck with this situation. You are already mature, you have a family. You can stop with Keiji so easily, go on with your life." 

I was speechless. She met my eyes, the same firm gaze, but after a few seconds she changed. She looked down, seeming uncomfortable. 

"I'm not saying these things because I don't like you. I don't even know you. I'm saying it because I think women always put themselves last and that is a mistake. My son always considers himself; you should think of yourself in this important decision." 

"Okaasan," I whispered. I cleared my throat and began again. "I realize that this news is a big surprise, and I apologize for the way you found out. Keiji and I were not planning on this pregnancy, it's true, and we are still learning about each other. But please believe me when I say that the baby is very much wanted and Keiji makes me happier than any man I have ever known. I've made my choice." 

She looked at me for a long minute and I colored under the scrutiny. Finally she dropped her eyes and folded the last piece of clothing. She handed me the tidy pile. 

"Do you mind taking these upstairs? I have to put in a load of my own and go make sure Stan isn't ruining the turkey." Her voice was calm, reminding me of Keiji. 

"S-sure," I said, thrown off by her sudden switch to the mundane. "Thank you for your help." She nodded and I sensed that I was dismissed. I went back upstairs to Keiji's room and sat down on the bed next to the laundry, shaking my head. Keiji came in a few minutes later.

"Hey, what took you so long?" he said, coming to the bed to sit down next to me. 

"I uh, had a little discussion with your mother." His mouth dropped open. 

"Oh my god. What did she say? I didn't know she was down there!" 

"I think she was trying to make sure that we were serious about this. Like, are we sure we want to have the baby," I summarized, leaving out key details for his benefit. 

"Oh no," he groaned, falling back on the bed. 

"No, no, it really wasn't awful. Just kind of strange," I assured him. "Hey, at least she's talking to me." 

"Ha, yeah. Better than Hana and me. All of the women in my family are a little strange, I've decided." 

I laid down next to him and played with a lock of his hair, giving myself a black moustache. He smiled and turned toward me for a kiss. We were getting into it when he broke off the kiss with a frustrated noise. 

"I actually came in here because Mom checked the turkey and it was done. We're supposed to stuff ourselves now." 

"Mmm, I can't wait. I worked off that toast too fast. You better get rid of that first," I said, gesturing to the bulge in his pants. 

"Yeah, yeah. So hey, when we go to your parents' house I can sleep in the same room as you, right?" He moved close to me again, seeming unable to resist if we were both in a prone position. I laughed as his hands began to roam over my breasts once more. 

"Yes, I think so. One down, one to go?" 

"Good deal," he responded absently. 

"Especially if you make love as excellently in my old room as you do in yours." He smirked. 

"Don't worry," he said. 

I didn't.



How Cara Learned to Stop Worrying Ch. 06



Chapter 6 -- Settling down, heating up.

I lazed in bed, trying to indulge in a few more minutes of doing not much of anything. I was 12 weeks and 1 day pregnant; Keiji and I had an appointment with the perinatologist for a nuchal translucency test in an hour. My first trimester blood work showed no cause for concern, but I was still a bit nervous. I couldn't wait to see the baby again, to see him or her moving, to have proof of the cause of my frequent toilet rendezvous.

Keiji was circling the room, scowling.

"What are you looking for?" I asked.

"My stupid deodorant. Maybe I forgot to pack it," he grumbled. He rummaged in his backpack again.

"You can use some of mine," I offered. "Maybe it's time for you to get a second set of everything? Or your own drawer or something? You're here a lot."

"I don't know if I want to go my interview smelling like--" he paused to read my deodorant's label "'Ooh-la-la lavender.' Where do they come up with this shit?"

"I don't know, it was on sale," I laughed. "But I'm serious. Can you sublet your place? My house is closer to your office anyway."

"My office? I haven't gotten the job yet," he said, rubbing the stick on his armpits.

"Keiji, it's a third interview. They love your work. You have years of experience. Don't fart and you're a shoe-in," I said, swinging my feet to the floor. He paused to watch me, an admiring look on his face. "Ugh, come on, I look like the pregnant Bride of Frankenstein right now." I patted my bed head and looked down at my heavy breasts and protruding belly.

"I always thought she was kind of sexy. Um. But. Are you serious? I mean about me moving in?"

"Of course I'm serious. What, were we all going to move into the loft? Or shuffle the baby back and forth? You can have nights, how's that sound?" I walked to the closet and started searching for the day's outfit. He smirked.

"I was sort of waiting for you to raise the issue. Didn't want to uh, invite myself over or anything. Can you help me button these cuffs?" he asked, holding his arms out stiffly. It was the first time I had seen Keiji in a plain, white shirt. He hadn't cut his hair since we met and it was long enough now to brush his collar. As usual, I thought he looked thoroughly fuckable. I laid my clothes down on the bed and crossed the room to him, going to work on the tiny buttons. When I finished I pressed my naked body against him, regretful that we had slept in too late to leave time for any morning recreation.

"I think we're past the point of you needing an invitation," I murmured, caressing the semi-erection I had raised. "Are you coming back here after you're done today?"

"Um," he said, swaying on his feet a bit. Then he laughed and took a step back from me. "I can't think when you do that. I have to stop by my place and get a few supplies, but yes. I can come over if you want."

"I want. Hm. Where would you work here? There's this room, Evan's, the guest room which I had pegged for the nursery...maybe the attic? It's got a window, with pretty good light. We'd have to get some A/C up there for you, though."

"Artists are inspired by harsh conditions," he said, jutting his chin in the air as he knotted his tie. I smiled and started getting dressed.

"Well, I'm no artist. I've already got a caffeine-withdrawal headache and I can't stand it. Can you start the coffee?" I'd weaned myself to a cup a day, but I absolutely needed that cup.

"Yes, ma'am."

***

We must have been in luck because we didn't spend forty-five minutes in the waiting room. Although he put on a calm face for anything concerning the baby, I could tell Keiji was nervous as he flipped through the folder he'd created for his interview. He was pursuing a design position at a small ad agency; it would be a creatively demanding job and the clients were hip up-and-comers. I grasped his hand, shooting him a small smile.

"Cara Brennan?" a voice called. I looked up and saw a pretty woman in purple scrubs. She smiled as we approached her. "Hi, my name is Inés. I'll be your ultrasound technician today. Is this your first ultrasound?"

"No, we've been in before for a dating exam," I said.

"Okay, so you know the drill. This time it won't be transvaginal, though."

"That's a relief," I said. The last time Keiji had been alternately impressed and disconcerted by what he termed "the dildo cam."

"And you are Daddy?" she asked, addressing Keiji.

"Yes," he said, with a shy grin. "Still getting used to that." She smiled back.

"It takes a little while, even if you were expecting it."

She led us into a dim exam room. Keiji helped me lay down on the table while Inés entered my information into the ultrasound machine.

"Okay, let's see your baby," she said. I pulled up my shirt and she tucked a towel around the waistband of my pants. She squirted warm gel on my belly and placed the wand on top, gooing me up. Keiji and I watched a small screen mounted on the wall, enraptured. At first I could only make out a foggy image of my uterus; Inés changed the angle of the wand and suddenly there was a spine filling the screen. She laughed.

"Looks like we're getting a cold shoulder. C'mon kiddo, cooperate." She pressed the wand into my abdomen a bit. Suddenly, the baby flipped on its side -- a much bigger and more deliberate movement than we had seen a month ago with the wee gummy bear. Keiji gasped.

"Did you feel that?" he asked.

"Nope," I said, still watching the screen. Now I could see a beating heart. Inés documented the heart rate and let us listen; it was just as mesmerizing at the first time. Then she zoomed in on the baby's head and neck.

"What a cutie," she said.

"That is one adorable cranium," Keiji agreed. I laughed, jiggling the image.

"Hey, hold still. Same goes for you, Baby. I'm going to start taking nuchal measurements now," Inés scolded.

"What exactly do these measurements show, again?" I asked. I hadn't had this scan with Evan.

"Well, since you are 'advanced maternal age,' haha, sorry, you have an increased risk for chromosomal abnormalities. Measuring the soft tissues in the baby's neck can help us identify if there is a problem in combination with the first trimester blood tests," Inés explained.

The room got quiet as she took still photos of the baby and measured the relevant parts. I didn't realize I was holding my breath until she spoke again.

"Looks good to me. I'll send the results to the doctor and he'll be in shortly. But before that, I'll take a look at the rest of the baby and get you a few pictures."

"Can you tell the sex yet?" I asked her.

"No!" Keiji cried.

"What?"

"I don't want to know!"

"Well, it's hard to tell at this point anyway," Inés said, grinning.

"You seriously don't want to find out?" I asked.

"No way! Don't ruin the surprise!" he said, shaking his head emphatically.

"Oh my gosh, Keiji," I grumbled, not really put out but still taken aback by his strong opinion. Inés was amused.

"I have lots of couples who are split on this issue. If I see you guys at your next ultrasound, around 18 weeks or so, I can put the results in an envelope for you and you can open it later. Or not. But be warned, if one person knows it's a really tough secret to keep."

Inés took several photos of the baby for us; a hand (SO cute!), a profile shot, the spine, a full body shot, and a frontal picture of the face that Keiji said reminded him of the Terminator.

"Don't compare your baby to a merciless robot of death," I laughed.

"It can't be bargained with. It can't be reasoned with. It doesn't feel pity, or remorse, or fear," he quoted. Inés's laughter joined mine.

"Yeah, that sounds like a newborn baby to me all right. Here are your pictures," she said, handing me the roll of paper from the ultrasound machine. As she left us in the room alone we pored over the photos together.

"I can't believe how different things are in just a month -- like a complete, tiny person already. Look at the five fingers, so amazing," he said, lightly touching the photo.

"I know. Just wait until they're pulling your hair."

***

After the doctor confirmed that the baby looked "perfectly healthy," I dropped Keiji off at his interview, made plans to pick him up at his place around six, and continued to my office. Even though it was still early on, I had already told my coworkers about the pregnancy. My belly was unmistakable, no sense in beating around the bush. I was preparing my team for my maternity leave and shifted control of several clients over to my most reliable managers. After his initial discomfort, Adam became quite friendly, even stopping in with small treats for me now and then -- Preggie Pops ("My sister said these are great!"), chocolates, etc. I didn't want to encourage anything inappropriate but I always thanked him. It was far better to be on good terms.

I texted Keiji during the middle of the day to ask about the interview; he replied back, "Paint." This meant he was working on a piece, in the zone, but it could also mean that he was putting my question off on purpose. I hoped he had good news. Before we discussed him moving in with me he brought up the need for a stable job. His proceeds from his independent commissions were enough to get him by, but he wasn't able to save much and income was sporadic. I agreed, gently encouraging him to get in touch with his old advertisement contacts. In spite of the rough economy his reputation and portfolio landed him a few bites.

Before I left the office I called Evan to see if he wanted to join Keiji and I for a Friday night dinner out. He'd been super busy with drama commitments and a week full of tests. He was still a bit stiff with both of us, but as time passed and he saw Keiji outside of his old context he seemed to be coming around. Evan picked the place -- a favorite pizza joint -- and I told him I'd see him in a little less than an hour. First I drove to Keiji's; he saved me the hassle of finding a parking space by waiting on the street, portfolio under his arm and pack on his back. He was still wearing his white shirt, but had lost the tie, undone several buttons, and switched the suit jacket for a black fleece. I popped the trunk and he stashed his stuff, then slid into the passenger's seat blowing into his hands to warm them. He looked tired and there was a splotch of grey paint in his hair.

"So? You're killing me here," I said as I pulled away from the curb. He looked away, then back at me. My heart sank. I knew he was up against at least two other people. Well, at least there were the other positions to look into...

"I got it," he said, breaking into a smile, very pleased with his deception.

"Oh my god, no way! I mean, I believe it, but no way! That's wonderful!" I gushed, bouncing in my seat.

"I start on Monday," he said, noticing the paint in the vanity mirror and trying to scrape it out of his hair.

"Wow, so soon?"

"Yeah. It's a small place and they could really use the extra hands. It's funny, my first client is a concert hall I designed handbills for a few years back."

"Cool. So what do you think made them say yes? I mean, besides being hard up for an amazing artist such as yourself?" He chuckled and shook his head.

"The lavender deodorant."

"C'mon, Keiji."

"You really want to know?" he said, giving me a funny look.

"Yes! Now you're weirding me out."

"I think my new boss uh, likes me."

"Well of course he likes you, you're hired aren't you?"

"Cara, I'm pretty sure Lev is gay."

"Ohhh. Wow, some guys just have all the luck," I said, shooting him a dry glance. "Why do you think he likes you?"

"Um, you know, the usual things," he replied, embarrassed. "He laughed at things I said that weren't all that funny. He touched me a few times that weren't necessary, like not business handshakes. He complimented me on my clothes, my hair, stuff that straight guys don't notice."

"Maybe he's just extremely friendly and stylish?"

"Maybe. But. I've sort of, you know, been through this stage before with people."

"Hmm. Yeah. I guess you have," I said. "As long as he knows you're not on the market." He smiled and shook his head.

"He took me out for lunch after the interview and I told him about you, about my motivation for going back to a day job. I don't think it's going to be an issue between us, assuming he can keep things professional. Anyway." He seemed so uncomfortable -- unlike himself-- that I decided to let it drop. We were almost to my place anyway.

When we pulled up Evan came running out of the house in a t-shirt and ripped jeans. It was 41 degrees Fahrenheit.

"What the--?" I began.

"Don't get on him about that," Keiji whispered. He had been super-extra-special nice to Evan, painstakingly so, without trying to buddy up to him. He knew he was on probation with my son and why.

Evan opened the back door of the sedan and hopped in, buckling his seatbelt at light speed.

"I'm starving, let's go!"

"Yes, master," I intoned. I thought that would be it for conversation, but Evan surprised me.

"How did your interview go?" he asked, leaning forward in Keiji's direction.

"Oh! Um, I'm in. I start on Monday," Keiji said, sounding as surprised as I felt.

"That's great, man. Very cool." Evan sat back and pulled out his phone; Keiji and I relaxed at this more typical behavior.

"Thanks, Evan," Keiji said, shooting me a Look. How 'bout that?

We had a pleasant dinner. After we told Evan about the ultrasound the baby was officially dubbed Arnold. Keiji described his new coworkers and some of his job responsibilities. I talked about what a relief it was to downgrade some of my responsibilities, and mentioned that we ought to start thinking about car seats, cribs, et. al. I expected Keiji's eyes to glaze over but he seemed more excited than me. Evan mumbled a few lines about the troupe's progress with Julius Caesar but his main focus was six slices of pepperoni, black olives, and extra cheese. He also fielded what seemed like ten times as many text messages.

Keiji's phone buzzed as we were waiting for the check. He looked down, saw the number, and a dark expression clouded his face. He ended the call with a frown and shoved the phone in his pocket.

"What was that all about?" I asked.

"Mm, nothing," he said, rolling his eyes toward Evan (who was thankfully so absorbed in his own phone that he didn't notice).

"Was it your mom?"

"No, Cara. It was nobody." I bit the inside of my cheek, wanting to protest that "nobody" wouldn't elicit that reaction. I was loathe to bring anything up in front of Evan, but I knew and Keiji knew that he had some 'splainin' to do.

We paid and headed to the car. Keiji was subdued; I felt worried. First the weird vibes about Lev, the new boss, and now "nobody" calling him at dinner. I had spent most of our relationship asking very little about Keiji's past, at first feeling that it didn't matter to me as long as he was dedicated to our relationship, but it was becoming harder and harder to for me to ignore. Maybe it was just the pregnancy hormones but I suddenly felt insecure.

Once inside the house, Evan headed upstairs to his room, probably for a few more hours of hardcore texting.

"Don't stay up too late, Ev," I called.

"Never!" he yelled back. I heard the bathroom door close and the shower start. I turned and saw Keiji setting his portfolio down on the dining room table. He met my eyes and smiled, but he knew something was up.

"Wanna go upstairs?" he asked.

"Yeah, I guess so," I said. "You coming?" I remembered my feelings for him this morning, my anticipation of him being here tonight, and wondered how I could feel so different now.

"Of course, I just have to go to the bathroom. Be there in two minutes." I nodded and walked upstairs to the master bedroom. I took off my work clothes and put on a rather dowdy maternity nightgown -- light blue, flannel, long. I sat on the bed and pulled my knees against my body. He came in and I watched as he emptied his pockets on my dresser and stripped down to his boxers. He paused, looking wary.

"Why do I feel like I have to ask if I can sit next to you?"

"You don't, don't be silly. Come on," I said, patting the spot next to me. He got in under the covers and laid down, his hands behind his head. He looked at me, expectant. I thought of everything I knew about him -- his words of love, support, and encouragement; his honest actions with me, my son, and his family; his inspiring art; his beautiful body -- and about everything I didn't. I thought about what Evan said to me about him, what Sachi said, what Takako said. I understood their judgment of Keiji's sexual behavior -- I wasn't completely inexperienced but I didn't have his kind of history, not by a long shot. I was mystified, intrigued, and a little scared. On the other hand I felt he was misunderstood; he hadn't treated me like a flavor of the month, as Evan predicted, or been such an unsuited match for me, as Sachi thought, and he hadn't put himself first, as Takako said he "always" did. But there was that old voice inside of me asking, What if he gets bored? You are boring, Cara. You always have been. What if this baby is the most interesting thing about you? What's to keep him beyond that? Although surely a baby wasn't a temporary amusement, I might be. Right?

All of these thoughts went through my head in the space of a second. I took a deep breath and let it out, closed my eyes.

"Keiji, who is nobody?" He sighed and I opened my eyes. He was rubbing the bridge of his nose.

"Nobody is Rachel. We went out about four times back in '06. We had sex; it didn't really happen for us beyond that. But she's persistent. She calls me a few times a year. I don't know if she's bored or if she's drunk dialing or what. I don't answer the calls."

I chewed on this for a minute, thinking of mentioning the most obvious reason she'd be calling him -- hell, why I would call him if I got lonely or bored or horny -- but decided to keep on task.

"Are there lots of Rachels?" I asked.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, are there more women out there who have the wrong idea about you? Or your relationship with them?"

"Hm," he said, considering the ceiling before making eye contact with me again. "No. Rachel is the only one. I'm not saying I didn't make mistakes, especially when I was younger. I feel bad about some things I've done, some people I didn't treat with enough respect or I lead them to believe I was more into them than I actually was. I was immature, I didn't know how to handle attention from women. I was a naive kid from the suburbs. I was a jerk. College freaked me out for awhile there."

"But recently?"

"No, it's -- I'm not like that anymore. Like I said, I don't know why she's calling me. I definitely didn't give her a reason to believe I was still interested. We had what I thought was a clear parting of ways -- I said, hey, you know, nothing personal but I'm not feeling any chemistry, she agreed with me, we shook hands, the whole thing. It wasn't nasty. She's changed her number a few times, just to keep me guessing, maybe? I don't know if she's gone over the deep end since we dated or what." He went back to rubbing his nose, looking pained.

"Keiji, I'm not trying to make this into a waterboarding session or anything. I just..." I trailed off, knowing I had asked this question before in different ways, but that I had to be more direct if I wanted to put my full trust in him. "I didn't know about Rachel. I don't know why you were so uncomfortable with me asking you about your new boss. This whole part of your life is just missing, at least to me. What else don't I know about you?"

"I wish you wouldn't worry about it, but I understand why you're asking," he said, holding my eyes with his. "I have never had sex at a graveyard, farm, or daycare center. So there's that."




How Cara Learned to Stop Worrying Ch. 06



"Ha. But middle schools are okay?"

"Hey, that was the teacher's lounge. Totally different. Eighteen and over only. Um, but seriously. I spent a long time, a long time having sex with almost anyone who was willing to do it. And I've asked myself a lot, since I met you, why I was doing that. I mean, yes, it was fun. Of course it was fun. It wasn't that I didn't enjoy doing it, but it was this constant lifestyle of shallow connections, surrounded by acquaintances, but feeling entirely on my own. As much as people saw me as this playboy party guy, never slowin' down or whatever--" he curled his lip as he said this, "--it gets old. But I didn't know how to break out of the pattern. I know I've told you I've been in love before. But it was only once. I think I was with so many people because I was trying to recapture that feeling. But it never happened again. It was usually really apparent that most people were interested in sex and that was it."

"Looking for love in all the wrong places?" I suggested gently.

"I guess. That's what I meant about being immature. I jumped first, physically, and then waited for a connection. So guess how often that happened? I thought it did twice before, but no, not really -- and they ended things with me before I figured it out. The only time it's actually worked out for me was with you."

"And what about that other woman, the one you loved?"

"Um, yeah. That was very different. I was a kid, really, but we were close for a long time. Craig was my next door neighbor, we grew up together." He stopped here to make sure I had heard him correctly. It was funny, but I didn't feel all that surprised -- and it explained his unease during our conversation about Lev. He was probably worried I was going to grill him about his gaydar.

"Craig," I repeated. "That's not like A Boy Named Sue in reverse, is it?"

"No. Craig is gay. He's a studio engineer and touring musician now." I saw that his hands were shaking and took one to hold. "Sorry. I haven't told anyone else about him before. People always just assume, you know. It's easier not to correct them."

"Yeah, I know. I assumed. Don't apologize. So, are you bisexual?" I rubbed his hand, trying to relax him as he always did for me.

"Non-practicing? I've sort of been too scared to ever um, try to get with a guy. Like if that was disappointing, too, I was probably just hopeless." He blew out a shuddering breath.

"Why didn't things work out with him?"

"I think it was just growing up and away from each other. He's brilliant, really. He got a scholarship, went to Stanford, double majored in Music and Literature. I went to school here. At first we tried to stay in touch but it was hard, he was crazy busy, he formed his band, they started touring. So it goes."

"Do you still love him?" He nodded, his eyes closed, the corners of his mouth working. I saw his lashes were damp.

"Don't worry about it, though. We haven't spoken in almost a decade. I think he's married to a guy he met at Stanford. I don't know, he never bothered to tell me. Just heard it through the grapevine. He's still living in the San Francisco area as far as I know," he said, his voice thick. I felt like crying now, too.

"I'm sorry. His family, do they still live next door?"

"Yeah, they do. But I think they suspected something, they're not very friendly to me or my parents. They don't have a good relationship with Craig. My parents have no idea, my sister has no idea. You're it," he said, opening his eyes again. I wasn't sure how I felt about this revelation. It didn't change my feelings for him or make me uncomfortable. If anything, I was relieved. The truth seemed both more complex and simpler than the story I had written about him in my head.

"Keiji, I'm not upset," I assured him. He nodded, rubbed his eyes, and sat up. "That was brave." He laughed weakly, shaking his head.

"I don't know about that. If I'm so brave I should probably be wearing a glitter thong in a pride parade or something."

"That's not for everyone."

"Yeah, I guess not."

"Thank you for telling me. I'm naive too, in a lot of ways. I've made a lot of mistakes. Dated the wrong guys, the same type of guy. They weren't bad people, they just had different goals than I did. Different things made them happy. I don't want to make the same mistake again. I care about you so much, but I kept feeling unsure because I didn't understand where you were coming from, where you want to go. I feel like you want to have this baby as much as I do, but after that? What are we doing?"

"I want to be with you. I want to raise our child. Maybe have another baby." He reached over to caress my belly.

"Oh my gosh, can we see how this one goes first?" I said, laughing. "I meant, are we compatible? Do we have the same desires for our lives?"

"What do you want? Are we talking five years, ten years, the rest of it?"

"I guess all of it. Where do you see yourself? Am I there? What are we doing?"

"I see myself taking this job and building it into a career. Obviously hoping the economy doesn't tank again. I'd still like to take independent commissions and work for myself. Maybe if I have an opportunity or meet the right people I could open my own design studio. I want to be more of a contributor so you don't have to rely on your job so much. I know you're not a big fan."

"Well, no, I'm not. But it doesn't make me miserable. I'm good at it. The pay is good."

"True. But I want you to have the option to do something else and not worry about having to support a starving artist or whatever. I see us in this house, or maybe getting a place together. I see us taking family vacations, eating dinner together. I see Evan graduating and going to a great school for acting."

"That sounds so nice. Wonderful, even. But do you feel like you're giving up anything for all of that? Or that you would grow bored, or stifled? What about when things don't go according to plan? Are you going to regret, you know, settling down?"  

"I think. That as long as I have you and as long as I can still make art, I'm not settling for anything. I can't imagine life getting any better."

I was silent as I considered his words. He put his head on my shoulder and played with my fingers. I kept waiting to feel shocked by what he had told me. I heard the shrill voice inside of me demanding that I be outraged, demanding more detail -- how many women, exactly, had he slept with? Had he seen or talked to anyone else since he had been with me? Would he leave me if Craig came back into his life? Did he love him more than me? How could I possibly believe that someone with scores of women, hundreds of women in his past could be happy with me? But when I listened to that voice I felt like I was going mad. Most of those questions I didn't even care about, or were irrational. When I listened to Keiji, I felt quiet, at peace. I had grown used to this feeling. I was tired of that other voice, of the negativity, the distraction, the avoidance, the fear.

With a physical shake of my head I shut it off. He raised his head to look at me.

"Are you okay?" he asked. "I know that was kind of a lot. Er. Scratch that, I just vomited an entire sad diary of drama everywhere. I'm sorry."

"No, no, please. Don't apologize for any of it. I'm sorry, I'm sorry for not taking the time before to sit down and ask. Like you'd just be all, 'Hey, so about that time I fell in love with a guy.' And I hadn't volunteered anything about my past, apart from Evan and Reed, or what I wanted from my life."

"I don't know if people formally do that, like, oh, let's discuss our horribly dysfunctional childhoods and how this will affect the bullet points on our five year plan."

"Ugh, we do it at my firm during every performance evaluation. Well, not the horribly dysfunctional childhoods. But as for outside of work -- maybe adults do do things like that? I feel like I've been acting like a nervous kid most of my life. It wasn't until I met you that I felt like things could be different. In spite of the um, inauspicious beginning we had."

"Inauspicious in some ways, yes. But in others..." He went back to caressing my belly. "I can't wait to feel this baby kick. I couldn't believe it when I saw that flip. Like an acrobat."

"Oof, just wait. You'll feel it. I'll feel it even more."

We sat quietly together some moments more; relaxed, at ease with one another again. I enjoyed his touch and responded by running my fingers through his hair.

"Are you going to cut this?" I asked, playing with the ends.

"I don't know, do you like it?"

"I love your hair. So much that I'm jealous. Look at it, so straight and smooth and shiny. You don't even brush it and it's always perfect. Actually, I hate you," I said, pushing at his head.

"Hey, it's not my fault you've got to take out stock in defrizzing products," he retorted, his caresses turning into tickles. "Maybe I'll just never cut my hair again, out of spite."

"Ack, don't tickle me! I hate that," I said, laughing in a panicky sort of way and trying to move away.

"You know what I hate? This nightgown," he said, plucking at the fabric.

"It's very warm!"

"Yeah. Well. I can think of something that we both love that has the bonus side effect of keeping you warm."

"Does it involve taking off my nightgown?"

"Definitely," he said, reaching below the sheets. "Can I help you?"

"I guess," I said, feigning reluctance. I wasn't very good at the charade, though, because an idea came to mind. "Keiji?"

"Mm?" He was focused on pulling the gown up; it was to my hips already.

"Lay down on your back, if you would be so kind." He looked surprised, but did as I asked. "Now scoot down so you're not so close to the headboard." He complied again. "A little more. A little more."

"Cara, my feet are going to hang off the bed if I go any farther," he complained.

"You're good now. Stop bitching." I grasped the hem of my gown and pulled it over my head in one movement. (Always more impressive than fussing with sleeves.)

"Ahh, a huge improvement," he said, craning his neck to look at me. I tossed the gown on the floor and walked on my knees to the middle of the bed, facing his feet. I straddled him and lowered my body, scooting back so that my crotch was over his face.

"Got the idea?" I asked, speaking to the boxer-clad erection beneath my face. I smiled and appreciated being nearly the same height as him. Instead of answering he put his hands on my hips and pulled me down lower to meet his mouth. My swollen belly rested on his upper chest and my nipples rubbed pleasantly across his abs. As he began to lick the sensitive skin on my inner thighs, I pulled his boxers down, freeing his cock from its confines. It sprang up, insistent, but I ignored it for the moment and bent my upper body a little lower. I dipped my tongue into the cup of his navel and smiled when he sucked in his stomach.

"Now who's tickling?" he said.

I licked the fine trail of hair leading to his most erogenous zones, enjoying the scent of his skin as it deepened into a muskier smell the lower I went. He wiggled his hips, maybe protesting more tickling, maybe in delight, and went back to work on me. He ran his hands up and down my thighs and around to my ass, grabbing a cheek in each hand. He held me firm as he ran the tip of tongue along my slit, gently parting my lips. I moaned softly and gripped the base of his cock, not sure if I would be able to keep an even pace with him.

I took him in my mouth, sliding down the length of him as far as I could without gagging. He raised his hips upward, seeking more sensation. I pulled back, lightly sucking as I went and dragging my tongue along the underside of him. He moaned against my pussy, the sound causing a light vibration to stimulate my clit. I figured the more of that I could cause, the better. I stroked his cock with my hand a few times, flicking my tongue across his glans to lick up the drops of pre-cum that seeped out. I loved the salty, light taste of him and "mm"ed my appreciation.

Meanwhile, he began to eat me in earnest -- with a bit less finesse than usual, it's true, but I gave him a pass for being distracted. He traced firm circles on my clit with his tongue, letting go of my ass to spread my thighs a bit wider. He penetrated me with two fingers and hooked them against the front wall of my pussy in a "come here" motion. I wasn't huge on G-spot stimulation but I relished the full feeling inside of me. As delicious as he tasted, I began to yearn to feel his cock in my pussy.

"Can we switch gears a minute?" I asked, pulling away from him. He made a frustrated noise. "I want to ride you."

"Oh, in that case."

I turned and straddled him again, this time facing him. I eased my pussy onto his cock, feeling tight but so wet from my lube and his mouth that there was a squishing sensation when I bottomed out. I ground myself into him, using his body to rub my clit as much as possible. I wanted to come on him. I could feel the head of his cock pressing into my cervix; like my nipples, it was so sensitive as to be somewhat painful, but as always the combination of pain-pleasure sensations excited me. I rubbed harder for a second, relishing the feeling, before lifting myself entirely off of him. I sat back down again, loving the feeling of his cock filling me up. I began to fuck myself with a steady pace; he laid still, letting me use him. He reached up to stroke my breasts, tweaking my nipples gently before running his hands down my body and settling them on my thighs. Every few strokes I would stop to push down, the pressure building in my clit until I knew I was on the edge. I gripped his cock with my pussy muscles as tight as I could and dragged the sensation out, slowly sliding up and down. He twitched his hips upward once, biting his lower lip, near the edge of his control.

Finally I couldn't tease myself anymore. I buried him as deep as possible inside of me and rocked back and forth, gripping the sheets on either side of us for leverage. I cried out as my orgasm overtook me, but it was soon so strong that I could only make low grunting noises in time with each contraction of my pussy. I slipped off of him before I was completely through, my clit almost stinging. I had abused it somewhat with all of the friction from the rubbing. I sat next to him, still swaying a bit through the extraordinary pleasure. When I was finally able to focus on something besides my pussy, I realized he hadn't come yet.

"Are you serious?" I gasped. He laughed a little.

"It was tough. But I was really enjoying the oral before. I was kinda hoping--"

"Spoiled brat," I said, not meaning it. He smiled as I bent over his cock. I slurped my tongue around the head, tasting the deep, slightly saline flavor of myself. I felt his cock pulse and rubbed my tongue against him harder. He came in less than ten seconds, three or four thick shots of cum filling my mouth. I swallowed it all and kept licking him, gentle now, not stopping until I was sure he was completely clean. His breathing didn't slow until I let him pop out of my mouth and laid down next to him on the bed.

"Jesus, what a day," he said.

"I'm glad you came over tonight."

"Is it all right if I move in tomorrow? After that I'm pretty sure I want to be here every night."

"Well, it is Saturday," I laughed, snugging in against him. "You could get started."

"Consider it done."

He fell asleep in less than a minute. As usual it took me longer to drift off, but I had no anxious thoughts to keep me awake. I listened to the sounds of the night outside and the sound of him breathing next to me, and that was all.

***

Five days later Keiji, Evan, and I crammed my car full of presents, luggage, and ourselves to head up the road one hour to my parents' home. Keiji and I decided to tell our news in person as we had with his parents; my parents had the benefit of knowing more about our relationship than his had before meeting me. My mom even spoke to him on the phone a couple of times and later remarked to me about his deep voice. We were arriving the day before Christmas Eve -- every December 24th my family stuffs themselves with a big pasta dinner. I hoped to give my parents and Keiji some extra time to get to know one another without having to deal with a rowdy festive nog crowd. I was somewhat nervous as my hometown was in a fairly rural, white area and I was the first person in my family to have a relationship with someone outside of my race. I didn't expect any hostility but I suspected my family might feel awkward, as I had when visiting the Nakamuras. I told my little brother about Keiji over the phone a couple weeks prior to our visit. He paused and asked, in all seriousness, if he should bow to him when they met. I asked him if he usually went around bowing to fellow US citizens. He said he took my point and would stick to a handshake. When I told Keiji he laughed a little and shook his head. "I'm always Asian first, Cara. Almost always. Nationality and humanity come later, if I'm lucky." It gave me pause as I considered for the first time the feeling of being other, of being different in a sea of sameness. I'd thought about it in an abstract way before, but now that I knew a person who lived that way every day it was much more real to me. And of course, our baby would have a similar experience.

"Okay, so, your father, Ted, is a former school administrator. Do you have any idea how much that scares the shit out of me?" Keiji said, going through a recitation of the facts as I had before meeting the Nakamuras.

"Yeah, knocking up the principal's daughter. You must have a death wish," Evan piped up from the back seat. I burst out laughing while Keiji looked pained.

"Do you have a problem with authority figures, Nakamura?" I asked.

"No, I just. Uhh. Is he really stern?"

"He'll show you his gun cabinet," Evan chirped again. He was loving this.

"At his schools he was, yes. I used to ask him why he was so mean. But with Casey and me he's like a big teddy bear. Don't worry. What else do you know about him?" I said, thinking of his reassurances to me about his family. At least he wouldn't have to deal with nausea during dinner.

"Ted likes golf and football. Two things I know absolutely nothing about," he said.

"You'll learn, because he's gonna talk your ear off about them. What about Clare?"

"Italian-American, east coast transplant. She works in the school system too, first as front office staff at an elementary school and now at the county Board of Education. She likes baking and cats."

"Good. And my brother?"

"Casey is four years younger than you. He got married last year to Anne, his high school sweetheart. Works in construction management and likes console video games and surfing. Goes to the beach any chance he gets."

"Excellent! There's also going to be my Aunt Rosie, Mom's sister, and her husband Uncle Jim. Also my two cousins, Laine and Melody. But they're kinda getting extended so don't worry too much about the details. Rosie is loud, big, jolly. Laine's married to Kim, Melody is still single. She's a pretty redhead. Don't stare," I joked. Keiji shook his head.

"And as usual, no one my age. Prepare for maximum boredom," Evan muttered.

"C'mon, you know Casey always brings over the Nintendo for some vintage gaming marathons. Maybe this year you can help Grandma out with Christmas dinner?" I suggested.

"I'll do the pizzelle."

"You always do the pizzelle. I suspect so that you can eat 50% of them before anyone else gets a chance."

"Gotta get in on a good thing early," my son said, smacking his lips in anticipation.

"What's a pizzelle?" Keiji asked. Evan gasped in mock horror.

"A pizzella, singular, is a thin cookie you make in a kind of waffle iron. It has intricate patterns. You can dust it with powdered sugar or fold it into a shape while it's still hot and stuff it with chocolate or other fillings. I like them best with just sugar," I explained, pleased to have something to share with him.




How Cara Learned to Stop Worrying Ch. 06



"Sounds fattening," Keiji said.

"The best things in life usually are."

"You can say that again," he said, reaching across the console to tap my belly.

"You guys are killing me," Evan groaned. He slouched down in his seat and fired up his iPod.

***

My childhood home was about a quarter mile from the road, set back in a clearing surrounded by trees. One could still hear large trucks rumbling the highway just a few acres away, but the woods gave the appearance of protection and seclusion. I always felt calmer coming home. Dad had decorated the house with red velvet bows, lights, and the chintzy 1950s snowman that Mom insisted on hanging onto because it had belonged to my great-grandmother. The house looked cheerful in the deepening twilight.

As soon as we pulled up I heard the yellow lab, Einstein, start barking his fool head off. Dad called him the "welcoming committee" -- he sounded fierce but was about as ferocious as a ladybug. Mom and Dad appeared seconds later. They looked the same as always but my heart gave an extra jump of excitement. I hoped they would be happy for us. Keiji shot me a glance and swallowed hard as he grasped the door handle.

Mom ran to the back door of the car, yanking it open and attacking a dozing Evan before he realized we had arrived.

"Whaaa?! Grandma!" he yelped.

"Baby baby baby! My pulcinella! You're so big!" Mom exclaimed. She said the same thing every time.

"I know, Grandma, I know," Evan mumbled into her bosom. My mom was pretty in the face and plump in the body; she dyed her hair the same chestnut brown it had been in her youth although I'd been trying to convince her to embrace her natural beauty as she aged. I guessed I'd figure out how it was in a decade or so. She was wearing a Christmas-themed cat sweater that I was pretty sure was unironic. Dad was stocky but fit, an inch shorter than Keiji. He sported a greying Burt Reynolds moustache that matched the shock of grey hair on his head.

I walked over to my father and gave him a tight hug, heedless of my belly. He didn't seem to notice as he focused on returning my embrace.

"So good to see you, sweetheart," he said, giving me a bristly kiss. Then he turned to Keiji who was lingering by the side of the car, his arms crossed over his chest. He stuck out one rough, thick-fingered hand and smiled. "Good to meet you, m'man."

Keiji returned the shake with an admirable grip.

"Nice to meet you too, sir," he said, returning the smile. Mom had let up on Evan a bit and it was her turn. She walked up to Keiji, openly inspecting him.

"Hmm, I hope you're ready for a big, big plate of lasagna tomorrow," she said, reaching up to pinch his cheek. Keiji's eyes got wide, but he recovered enough to joke back.

"I have a fast metabolism."

"Ahh, I'll forgive you, hot stuff," Mom said, and turned toward me for a hug.

"Cara, are you all ready to eat?" she said, putting her arms around me. Unlike Dad, she felt my bump press into her and pulled back. As she looked down her mouth opened in a shocked "O" and I shhed her fiercely. Dad didn't notice -- he was asking Keiji if he wanted a beer.

"Yes, we are ready to eat. Especially Evan. Let's go inside. Wait a minute, okay?" I asked, taking her hands in mine and begging her with my eyes. She nodded, her eyes as big as saucers.

Dad lead everyone inside through the side French doors of the ranch-style house. We walked through the living room which showcased a large Christmas tree decked to the nines and into the warm, cinnamon-scented kitchen. There was a breakfast nook with a small round table; Mom had set it with a red and green plaid tablecloth and her second-best china.

"I--I thought I'd save the dining room for tomorrow and Christmas. I hope everyone likes beef stew? I made it with Guinness," Mom said, recovering enough of her natural buoyancy to keep Dad in the dark.

"Sounds great," Keiji said with enthusiasm, not realizing that the jig was up. Mom eyed him like he had sprouted antlers and a glowing red nose. Dad took two Killians from the fridge and tossed one to Keiji.

"Sorry I don't have uh, what is it, Ashi?"

"That's okay. I'm not really a fan of any one brand," Keiji said, not bothering to correct him.

Evan practically dove into a chair, causing Dad to chuckle. He took a seat next to his grandson and ruffled his hair. (He and Reed's father were the only people Evan allowed to do this.) I sat next to Dad and Keiji next to me.

"Mom, where are you going to sit?" I asked, noticing that we were out of chairs and plates.

"Oh, that's all right, dear. I'm stuffed from sampling my own baking all day. You guys go ahead and eat." She put a hand to her mouth for a moment and looked upset. "Cara, can you have Guinness?"

I rested my head in my hands.

"Mom, the alcohol cooks off," I muttered, wondering why Keiji and I even bothered to think up nice methods to break the news when it always seemed to come out in the weirdest way possible. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Keiji's posture stiffen.

"Why can't she have Guinness? She's always been a champion drinker of Guinness!" Dad hooted. Evan laughed and I shot him a glare. He rolled his eyes good-naturedly.

"Dad, I have to go light on the beer for a little while," I said with a sigh.

"Oh, I should too, did you see my gut?" he said, patting his stomach. Evan laughed harder, his sides shaking with the effort to hold it in.

"Did you see mine?" I replied.

My father may not be familiar with Asahi beer, but he's no fool. Realization hit him like a ton of bricks.

"What!" he yelled. Keiji went absolutely still, like a snowshoe hare that has spotted a lynx.

"I wanted to wait until we were through eating, you know, maybe bring it up a little later when everyone was relaxed--"

"What!" Dad yelled again. He pushed back from the table to get a better look at me. "Oh my god, you're not joking!" Evan was dying, red in the face from oxygen deprivation. Mom came over to stand next to Dad, not afraid to gawk at my midsection now that the cat was dumped out of the bag.

"This is your baby?" she asked, directing the question at Keiji.

"Mom," I protested.

"Well, how am I supposed to know? I just found out about him a couple of weeks ago! For all I know it could be the milkman's!" she said, waving her hands around. Italian guilt lecture #281. Evan died some more, gasping, "Milk--man!" I gripped Keiji's hand under the table, lest he transition to the bolting portion of his rabbit impression. Dad slumped in his chair.

"I'm glad I was sitting down already," he said. "Although I might be having a heart attack. I don't know. Is it the right arm or left arm, Clare?"

"Left," she mumbled, not looking at her husband. Her eyes went back and forth from my belly to Keiji's face. "You're an artist, that's what you told me? You paint?"

"Yes," he said, his voice just above a whisper.

"That's a random question, Grandma," Evan said, finally overcoming his paroxysms of hilarity.

"I just want to know that he's going to provide for my daughter!" Mom cried. The arms were waving again.

"Whoa, whoa, did you forget that I have a job?" I said.

"If you're having a baby you should stay home!"

"Oh, Mom," I groaned, putting my face back in my hands.

"Keiji just got a job with an advertising agency," Evan put in. I was very surprised to have a cheering section populated by him.

"Did you? Is that steady work? What's the pay like?" Mom threw each question at Keiji like a shot, her eyes flashing.

"It's a full time position. The amount of business the agency gets is dependent on the economy, but I have commissions on my own work often enough to carry me through leaner times," he said.

"Mom, what's up with the interrogation? You already know this stuff, you've talked to him before."

"But that was when he was just your boyfriend," she said. "Now he's--are you sure about this? How did this happen? Are you getting married?"

"Are you sure you want to do this now? Start all over with the baby stuff?" Dad chimed in, directing his questions at me.

If I was surprised by Evan's support, I was floored by their reaction. I recalled sitting at this same table with Reed, enduring a long lecture about personal responsibility and how I should think very, very hard about "the right thing to do," ending with my mother begging me to keep the baby and offering to help. (Which she did, but still.) To please them, I did. Obviously I wasn't pleasing them now, maybe because they had lost all control of the situation. I opened and closed my mouth, doing a great fish impression while I searched for a response that wouldn't be filled with expletives.

"As far as I can tell," Evan said, "Mom has never been happier. Keiji is good to her. I mean, at least he's not constantly talking about spreadsheets like those other guys you met. He's been to every doctor's appointment for the baby. We're all excited. Even Dad is happier now. Did you know he's dating someone? Well, he is." He quieted down and shrank in his chair as all of the adults gaped at him.

There was silence for half a minute or so. Dad was the first one to recover.

"Wow," he said, leaning forward and putting his elbows on the table. He nodded his head. "Wow. That is some news. I thought the next grandbaby would be courtesy of Casey and Anne. When is the big day?"

"July first," Keiji answered. He went on in a firm, quiet voice. "Mr. and Mrs. Brennan, we weren't expecting this baby either, but as Evan said, we are looking forward to welcoming this new person into our lives. I supported Cara's decision to continue the pregnancy and I will continue to support her in the future in any way I can. It's my responsibility and my honor. I love her very much and I want to do my best for her, Evan, and our child."

The words were much stiffer than I was used to hearing from him, but his voice was sincere. My eyes began to sting; between my love for him and my frustration with my parents' reaction I was feeling overwhelmed. Mom suddenly burst into tears, throwing her arms around me.

"Oh Cara, Cara," she sobbed. I couldn't tell if she was happy or distraught. I gave up and just decided to be confused by everything for the time being.

"Well, all right, son, all right," Dad said, reaching his hand across the table. Keiji shook it again, a little less firm this time. (Still in possible flight mode.)

"I'm really hungry, Grandma. I am," Evan said in a small voice. Mom untangled herself from me, sniffling.

"I'm sorry, pulcinella. Grandma is losing her marbles." Mom uncovered a loaf of fresh bread in the middle of the table, then went to the kitchen to start ladling out bowls of stew. "You all better still be hungry!"

In truth I would've been happiest crawling to into bed and Keiji looked the same, but we all made a good show of putting away the stew which really was good (and not a threat to my unborn child). Dad made small talk with Evan about school and Julius Caesar.

After dinner we drifted into the living room to sit on the sectional sofa. The room was illuminated by the twinkling lights of the tree and looked almost magical, like I remembered from my childhood. Dad put up his feet, Mom wrestled Evan into a hug, and I sat close in to Keiji, trying not to collapse on him in emotional exhaustion. We talked a bit about Keiji's family, Dad told the same embarrassing and/or amusing anecdotes that he always tells newbies about our families (That One Time Cara Got Lost at Disneyworld; Casey Sets the Shed on Fire), and Mom asked us about baby names which had us speechless once more.

Eventually Dad began to snore and Mom shooed him off to bed after giving us our room assignments. Evan headed to my old room; Keiji and I were in one of the basement guest rooms.

"It has the two sleigh beds," Mom said, her expression almost apologetic. "But I know Rosie and Jim would appreciate the queen, and Casey and Anne the full upstairs here."

"It's okay, Mom. I know I'm chopped liver," I joked.

"Oh, Cara!" she sighed, flapping her arms.

"Mom, Mom, it's okay," I said, standing up to give her a hug. When we bumped tummies she looked down and let out a half-laugh, half-sob.

"I'm so--in shock. I just can't believe it. I don't know what to think. My little girl is having another baby," she said, lightly touching the bump.

"I know, Mom."

"Well, good night. Good night, Keiji," she said, looking over my shoulder at him. He waved and nodded.

When Mom and Dad's bedroom door closed I sank back down on the couch next to him with a big sigh. He looked over at me, a funny expression on his face.

"So."

"So?"

"What would you rate that? Let's say with my parents it was a three of out ten, if one is abort immediately and ten is everyone wants to crown your fetus Ruler of Everything That is Awesome."

"Umm. A five? A four? I have no idea. I feel crazy," I muttered, resting my head on his shoulder. We stared at the tree lights for a few minutes.

"What you said to them about supporting me. That made me feel..." I lifted my head and looked into his eyes, watching the lights reflect. I didn't have words for the feeling. Love? Devotion? Gratitude? Everything at once? So I kissed him instead, brushing my lips across his. He leaned into me, encouraging me to go on, so I flicked the tip of my tongue up the center of his lips to entice him to open his mouth. When he did I sucked his lower lip gently, running my tongue back and forth across it before releasing it to give him a firmer kiss with slightly parted lips. When I was done I sat back and smiled, recognizing the by-now-familiar look of want in his eyes. After a quick look down the hallway to make sure the coast was clear, he pulled me onto his lap. I nestled myself against his erection, a tingling excitement beginning to thrum in my lower belly. I bent my head down for another kiss, allowing him to lead this time. Our lips met and he tilted his head to get more access, slipping his tongue inside my mouth. He teased me at first, exploring the edges of my teeth, but soon became more aggressive and swirled his tongue around mine. The tingling in my stomach became a pleasant ache between my legs. Some amount of time later I felt his hands slide up my shirt. He had my bra unhooked before I remembered where we were.

"We should go downstairs," I panted. He ran his hands around to my front, brushing his hands over my breasts and catching my hard nipples between his fingers on each pass. "Oh my god, you have to stop for just a second."

I slid off his lap and hooked one hand under his belt, half-pulling him off the couch. He pushed off, took my hand and allowed me to lead him to the basement door. Just as we reached it, the timer on the tree lights clicked off. The only light to see by was the sliver of the quarter moon peeking through the trees. He pushed me against the wall next to the door, his mouth against my neck, his hips pressed into mine. I fumbled for the knob in the dark, found it, and opened the door. The basement was pitch black and almost windowless but I knew my way around. We went down fourteen steps, turned left at the bottom, and walked through an office area to a spare bedroom with two twin beds. Once inside I shut the door behind us.

He reached for me again, silent but screaming his desire. We undressed each other, our clothes puddling unseen around our feet. He relied on me to lead him to one of the beds; as soon as my back hit its surface he was on top of me, inside of me in one smooth stroke, fucking me without sight and only the sounds of our bodies meeting. He went back and forth between kissing me and sucking on my nipples, unable to do without one or the other. It was strange not to see his face, but the dark made me feel somehow more connected to him. It was pure touch, pure sensation, pure emotion. He slipped two fingers inside of my mouth to wet them, then reached between us to rub my clit, urging me closer and closer. I said his name, softly, loathe to break the spell of the darkness. It was all I needed to say; he let go of my breasts, buried his face into my neck and focused on increasing his speed, fucking me the way I loved the best. I twisted my fingers into his hair as I gasped with pleasure. It didn't take me long; my orgasm began to rush through my body, starting at my pussy and traveling up and out of my mouth in a long, almost sobbing moan. He grunted and held still as he reached his own climax, letting my contractions milk him until he was done. He lay on top of me, stroking my face with his hands as he caught his breath.

I shivered as I became aware of the cool basement air drying the sweat on our skin. He slipped out of me and we pulled the sheets and quilt over us, spooning on the narrow bed.

***

Footsteps and voices from the floor above us woke me; I had been dreaming about a baby floating in darkness, surrounded by murmuring voices, and now I was having trouble distinguishing dream from reality. It was disorienting to be in such a lightless room when I knew it must be morning. Keiji was almost motionless, his side rising and falling only slightly with his deep, slow breaths. I stretched and groaned, stiff from cramming into such a small space with him. My hand hit his shoulder as I tried to lower it back down by my side. I stroked him from shoulder to hip and then ran my hand over his smooth, compact butt, luxuriating in the feel of his skin. It was rare that I got to touch him without an immediate response. My heart and body thrilled with delight that he was in bed with me -- and I admit, a touch of covetousness. He was mine.

I kissed his shoulder blade and slipped my hand around to the front of him. He hadn't been kidding at his parents' about a massive boner in the morning. I laughed and fondled him without shame, running my hands lightly over his pubes and cock until he took in a deep breath and rolled over to face me (not that we could see each other).

"How long have you been doing that?" he asked, a smile in his sleepy voice.

"Not long enough," I said, trying to lick his lips and getting the tip of his nose instead.

"Hey!" he yelped. His aim was better than mine -- if he meant to bite my chin. We got into an abrupt tickle/pinch/slap fight, aiming for sensitive areas, until his hand went between my legs. Suddenly I had one, then two fingers inside of me. I gripped his upper arms and went still, concentrating on the welcome invasion.

"That's not playing fair," I said.

"Is feeling me up while I'm asleep fair?" he countered. My pregnant pussy, ever sensitive and willing, began to moisten around his fingers. I clenched them with my muscles.

"I never used to like morning sex before."

"I don't discriminate based on time of day. What time is it anyway?"

"I'm pretty sure it's the morning. I wish I could see you," I said, opening my legs a bit wider to allow for more range of movement. He fucked me with more vigor.

"Isn't there a lamp? Or go open the door a bit," he suggested, withdrawing from me. I sighed, my pussy tingling and very awake by now. I heard him put his fingers in his mouth as I got up and went to the door. When I opened it the room went from black as a cave to a moonless night. I laughed.

"How about you join me in the shower instead? I don't want to spend any longer on that bed even if you're in it."

"Ugh, my back," he griped, standing and bending over.

"We're supposed to be chaste and sleep one person to a bed, Mr. Nakamura," I said, walking over and taking him by the cock.

"Penises are not leashes," he said.

"Thanks for the PSA. Now come on," I said, tugging gently. I took him by the hand instead as we left the bedroom. The only tricky part of getting to the bathroom was crossing in front of the stairwell, but the door to the basement was still closed. We crossed the large main room and then the feeble light from the small bathroom window was visible under the closed door. I opened it and stepped on cold tiles, hissing. I flicked on the overhead light, hurried into the shower stall, pressed against the wall, and spun the taps.




How Cara Learned to Stop Worrying Ch. 06



"Ahhh, the light of a thousand suns!" Keiji cried, clapping his hands over his eyes.

"Should I start calling you Edward? Ugh, nevermind. That's my dad's name. Maybe Lestat. Get in here already, would you? The water's warm and I'm cold," I said.

He stepped in and closed the door, sticking his face directly in the spray.

"And I want you to finish what you started," I added. He moved through the spray to where I stood shivering against the wall and ran his hands up and down my goosepimpled arms. He slid them around to stroke my clavicles (making me shiver more) and down to trace the globes of my breasts. He drew a slow spiral on each with his index fingers, moving toward their centers before lifting his hands away.

"I think you started it," he murmured, bending to lick the water drops hanging from my puckered nipples. He gave each a good, strong suck as he moved his hand back between my legs.

"Mmmm, yes," I growled, pushing down to meet his long fingers. Sex in a shower can be tricky with the water washing lube away, but I was so turned on that it wasn't an issue. He pressed into my clit with the heel of his palm, rubbing the top of my pussy in a circular motion while rocking two fingers in and out of me. He also never let up on my breasts. I was in heaven and deliberately worked not to come, trying to extend the experience a few minutes longer than usual. He was always a surprise to me, though, and my efforts would be in vain. He pulled his middle finger out of me and replaced it with his pinky and ring, totalling three fingers in my pussy...and then slipped his middle finger farther back, pressing subtly on my anus. He paused, looking up at me from one nipple, the question in his eyes.

"Do it, please do it," I said, aroused beyond inhibition or embarrassment. He pressed harder. His finger, slick from my pussy, slipped in to the middle of the second joint. He didn't try to go deeper but began to rotate it slowly, and then pulled almost all the way out. I came when he penetrated my ass again, bearing down on all four fingers and grabbing his wrist to hold his arm in place. I made a deep, guttural noise as every muscle down there gripped his fingers -- the feeling was overpowering and I was only able to bear it for ten seconds or so before I pushed his face and hand away from me. I leaned back against the wall, trying to regain control of my body, my pussy and ass spasming. He rinsed his hand under the water and massaged his wrist.

"Was that the first time you've had something in your ass?" he asked after I calmed down.

"No, but I've only ever done it to myself, not often. I wasn't sure if I liked it," I said, feeling shy now.

"Uhhh. I'd say it's pretty clear that you like it."

"You're just obsessed with putting your dick in there," I said, stepping forward to warm myself in the water and putting my arms around his hips.

"What, a guy mentions anal sex twice and he's obsessed?"

"It's a slippery slope."

Speaking of slippery, I decided to return the favor with some oral, which always seemed to pull the strongest orgasms from him. I slid my wet body down the front of his, my hands stroking over his ass and down the backs of his legs, ending up on my knees. He bit his lower lip in anticipation, fascinated as I took the head of his cock between my lips. I bobbed up and down a few times hands free to warm him up before taking his shaft in one hand so I could plant small kisses down the length of him. When I reached his balls I gave them a quick swipe with my tongue, causing them to twitch and him to gasp in surprise. I spent the rest of the blowjob licking up and down the underside of his cock, sometimes rubbing my soft lips across the head, sometimes rubbing all of him over my mouth, my chin, my cheeks, paying attention to his facial expressions to note where he was feeling the most sensitive that day. When his chest started to hitch with labored breath as he approached the point of no return I patted his glans onto my tongue, pumping him at the base of his cock. His eyes rolled to the ceiling and his knees bent as a thick jet of cum shot out, some going in my mouth but most arcing over my face into my hair. The next few spurts splashed against my nose, cheek and chin. He looked back at me as his orgasm let up, an extremely satisfied smile on his face. I gave him a few more soft sucks to bring him down.

"Oh, fuck. That looks awesome," he said, rubbing some of his cum off my face.

"How can you still have so much left in there after last night?" I asked, standing up. He continued cleaning me off.

"If you had felt that you'd know my tanks are completely depleted now. I think I almost passed out. Your hair is gonna need some shampoo, sorry."

"Oh yeah, you look really sorry," I said, kissing him. "Like how that tastes?"

"Mm, needs something. Pineapple juice?" he said, kissing back.

"The hot water's going to run out." I reached for the bottle of shampoo. "And I think my brother is supposed to be here for brunch."

"I still have no idea what time it is," Keiji muttered, soaping his pits and crotch.

By the time we dressed and made our way upstairs the house was a whirlwind of activity -- Einstein was jumping all over Anne and whining for her attention, Casey and Evan were talking animatedly about Call of Duty, Mom was barking orders at Dad to put the orange juice in a pitcher, set the table, don't forget to flip the French toast!

At first no one seemed to notice us, but then Anne spotted me and ran over, Einstein hot on her heels. He diverted to Keiji when he reached us.

"Cara, oh my goodness! Your mom told us as soon as we got here! I can't believe it!" she said, bouncing up and down as she hugged me. I was relieved to get out of breaking the news again. "He's so cute," she whispered in my ear. I smiled, even more relieved to have someone simply happy for me. Then she turned to Keiji who was still tussling with the dumb dog.

"Hi," he said. He attempted to shake her hand and Einstein got in the way. Anne laughed and waved instead.

"I'm really glad to meet someone that Einstein likes as much as me. Silly guy," she said.

"He's a good judge of character," I said.

Casey approached us next, his handsome face all smiles. He gave me a big, tight hug and then patted my belly gently before turning to Keiji. I was surprised to see a grave expression on my boyfriend's face as he met my brother's eyes. Then he took a deep bow, his arms at his sides. Casey looked at me, panicked. As Keiji hit the lowest point of the bow he couldn't hold it in anymore and I saw his shoulders start to shake.

"Keiji!" I admonished, unable to stop myself from joining his laughter.

"Hajimemashite, Keiji desu." It would have been a better joke if he could've kept his delivery mirth-free.

"Oh my god, what did he say?!" Casey asked me, still unsure. Keiji popped up, a stupid grin on his face.

"What's up, Casey," he said, sticking out a hand. "I'm sorry man, I had to."

"Dude," Casey said, shaking his head and taking Keiji's hand. "I thought Cara set me up."

"I would never," I protested.

Mom walked into the living room, one hand on her hip and the other brandishing a spatula.

"Are you kids ready to eat?" Einstein bolted into the kitchen as soon as the last word was out of her mouth. "Better hurry before Steiny gets it all."

As I walked past her she patted me on the butt.

"Hey," I said.

"You get first dibs, skinny-minny. You're eating for two now."

I smiled, feeling more at ease. Food is my mom's language of love; if she wants to feed you, you're in her good graces. I hugged her and she rocked me back and forth. Simple, deep contentment.



How Cara Learned to Stop Worrying



"Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god." I'm not a religious person by any stretch of the imagination, but this became my survival mantra when I could speak again. I think I had about ten seconds to recover from the most amazing orgasm of my life before the second one hit me. There was no come down. There was come, and then thank you, come again. Another first -- one orgasm during sex was notable; two orgasms during sex were unthinkable. I bit down on his shoulder through his shirt and growled, trying to cope with the nearly unbearable sensations in my clit. His palm, sweaty from exertion, slipped against the wall where he had braced himself. He gave in to my pulsating pussy, coming inside of me with a soft moan. 

We separated and I slid down the wall until my butt hit the cold tiles of the floor. He was down on one knee in front of me, eyes closed in a sublime expression, catching his breath. I was numb for a few seconds. 

"Oh my god," I finally offered. He opened his eyes, met my wide-eyed stare, and started to laugh. I clapped my hands over my mouth and giggled, stunned that I had just received the most mind-blowing fuck in my life from a practical stranger in the teacher's lounge of Evan's middle school. And you most definitely didn't use any protection. I stopped giggling. "Oh my god," I said in a much smaller voice. I stood up, grabbed my panties and shoved my legs into them. I felt his semen start to slip out of my pussy and down my inner thigh. Absurdly, this aroused me all over again. I yanked the panties up to prevent any more leakage, smoothed my dress over my bottom, and looked around wildly for my jacket and purse. Keiji was slowly redressing, not realizing my rapid switch in mood from well-fucked to just plain fucked. I had my hand on the doorknob before he realized I was about to bolt. 

"Hey. Hey! Don't go," he said (his turn to plead, I guess), standing with his pants unzipped and shirt untucked. I turned back to him, completely confused by the mixed messages from my body and my mind. 

"What...?" 

He was perceptive and tried a joke to break the suddenly weird atmosphere. "I don't even know what the play is about. What am I going to tell Sachi?" 

"Ask Hana," I blurted, my heart cramping at the thought of my son. How could I be so selfish? Why was this guy making me lose my mind? Even now the thought of seeing him again made a shiver run through my body, but guilt overrode me. I fled. This time, he didn't follow.