"Quick like a bunny," George told Kim. She got into her winter coat. It was officially spring, but it wasn't warm yet. And she'd be moving slowly outside at the zoo. "Now do what Mrs. Swanson tells you." When the horn sounded, they were ready.

"Bye, sweetie," Sylvia said. "Love you."

"Love you, Mommy." George walked out to the van with her.

"God bless you," he said to Mrs. Swanson. Kim piled into the van with the other Sunday School students. Mrs. Swanson was in back. Tom Olufs was in the driver's seat with his son sitting beside him.

"We'll bring her back one-ish," said Mrs. Swanson. "We have snacks. Give Sylvia my best."

"Will do. Bye honey." Kim was too busy renewing friendships and trying to get a better seat to say good bye to her father. He waved, nonetheless, until the van turned a corner. When he went back into the apartment, Sylvia was putting the breakfast dishes in the dishwasher.

"How was Sally?"

"Remarkably cheerful for a woman facing a morning with those monsters. She sent you her best."

"Now. You enjoy playing with Kim."

"One is fun. Eight is torture. Anyway, I enjoy playing with her mother more." And, with Kim off their hands, they would play. He'd always preferred morning sex, anyway.

"You do? I didn't even know you'd met Sally Swanson's mother." He gave that the answer it deserved, silence. He kissed her, though.

"You're sexy, even if you're not funny." He turned her around to kiss the top of her head and hold her breasts through the robe.

"Ha. If this is sexy, the Hindenburg would have really turned you on." Sylvia could never see that her pregnancy only enhanced her essential sexiness. He'd given up. Anyway, this wasn't the time to convince her; this was the time to screw her. And, whatever she thought of the appropriateness of his desires, she had her own. Soon, they were naked and under the covers.

"Sweet, sexy, woman." He brushed his fingers over the fullness of her breasts, then over her abdomen on the way to her thigh. He kissed her shoulder. There was no rush, not from the situation, not from inside. They could have a gentle, leisurely, lovemaking. What better way to spend a Saturday morning?

"What I really am is available." Sylvia, on the other hand, wanted to think of him as a sex fiend.

"Sweet, sexy, available, woman." She laughed, an interesting sight from here. He Leaned over to kiss her, grasping her vulva at the same time. Soon, his finger was stroking her moisture upwards while his tongue was playing with hers. He left her mouth to kiss her breasts, larger with the second pregnancy and with nipples that felt like they were getting ready. Well, they had months to go yet, but he'd lick and suck them just to give them practice.

"Help me," she said. He helped her turn away from him. Then she raised her right leg and helped him in turn. When she'd placed him at her entrance, he slid in to the juicy warmth.

"Mmm," he murmured. "You not only look sexy, you feel sexy." He returned his hand to her entrance. He fingered her the button there while he stroked in and out. When his orgasm got too near, he stopped moving his body but kept moving his finger.

"George," she said. He was moving through her, relishing her warm slickness, when she clasped around him. He took one more stroke and erupted in her. She was still clasping around him when his last pulse ended.

"Lovely darling," he said. He moved his hand to her shoulder, and kissed her spine. They lay like that while he oozed out. He may have fallen asleep. She was suddenly moving away from him.

"Becky Darwin wants to show me some more houses this afternoon. I should dress before Kim gets back." And she was dressed and slicing cold meatloaf for lunch when the bell rang in Kim's insistent buzz.

"Who is it?" he called when he'd opened the door and she was nearly up the stairs.

"Daddy."

"Kim. Mrs. Swanson brought you back?" He held the door open as she ran in. Her first stop was the bathroom, and he didn't want to delay that. She picked up her coat when she came out, maybe because she saw him watching her. "I specifically told her to leave you there."

"Daddy!" Kim was a mature kindergatener, and severely disapproved of her father's babyish jokes.

"Weren't there any cages free in the monkey house?"

"Monkey!" Kim had heard the magic word. She ran to George holding out her hands. She jumped upwards. George caught her hands and lifted. She swung her legs forward. He made sure that her feet didn't contact him until they were at belt level. She started walking up his torso.

"Watch out for my face," George warned. She spread her legs, walking her feet up to his shoulders while he lowered and spread their hands. She bent her knees until her butt collided against his chest. Then she rotated around her arms until her feet were on the floor again. She straightened up, laughing.

"You two are silly," said Sylvia.

"Mommy."

"Hello, dear. Did you enjoy your trip?"

"We saw lions and elephants. One elephant did number two."

"I'm glad you got an education. Are you hungry? It's lunch time." The question was rhetorical, Kim having been hungry almost continually since she was born. They had lunch while Kim told them about the trip to the zoo. The real-estate broker was downstairs before they'd quite finished. Sylvia left immediately, and George supervised Kim's hand-washing and face-washing after lunch. Then she brought one dish at a time to him while he rinsed them and put them in the dishwasher. She watched cartoons while he graded papers until Sylvia got back, looking pensive. He didn't ask, however, until they had started dinner and heard a reprise of the report on the zoo.

"See anything you liked?" If Sylvia liked the house, he'd go look at it. Most of her visits were while he taught.

"One was heavenly, perfect except for the price. They wanted $320,000." She sounded wistful "It had three bedrooms a finished basement, and a nice, shady, yard." That was something that apartments wouldn't give you and Sylvia thought kids needed. He'd grown up in a house with 'grounds,' grounds which he could look at and walk on, but not build a fort or even a snowman. Between his lawn and his daughter, he would side with his daughter every time. Kim might reject him when she grew up, that being the pattern of his family, but she would damn-well have to invent a reason.

"Was it worth $320,000?"

"Maybe on the market, not to us."

"Why not. You make it sound like just what you'd want."

"It looked Victorian. But what's a down payment? 20%?"

"Well, we'd want to pay more." Paying interest and drawing interest at the same time was a fool's errand -- unless you were a bank and made a profit on it. An individual would make a loss, even if he were buying junk bonds and taking a risk.

"That's $64,000!"

"Yes." They should leave $10,000 in the mutual funds. The bond fund; this was emergency money, after all.

"George we don't have $64,000 in the bank. We don't have four, at least not for the entire month." Suddenly, he came to a realization.

"God! Darling, I haven't been trying to mislead you. The funds are in both our names -- joint tenancy with right of survivorship. I told you about them, once."

"What?"

"I keep saying we're putting the excess in the bank, don't I?"

"Yes, but as I said, there isn't all that much in the bank. I look at the bank statements. We had a bit there when we moved, but not that much." He'd left some money in the Canadian bank to cover any surprises, any checks coming in late, the trust paying there after they'd been notified that he'd moved, when he transferred most of it to the Chicago bank. The three months around their move, he hadn't put anything into the mutual funds at all. Then, he'd consolidated everything and transferred the Canadian money into the funds.

"Well, it wasn't really a bank. It was a mutual fund, two of them, a stock fund and a bond fund."

"You did tell me about them, I remember now. You mean when you keep saying we don't have to worry, we really don't have to worry. I feel such an idiot."

"No, I'm the idiot." Then he noticed Kim, who was watching this conversation with great attention. She saw him notice her and -- you could see the thought cross her face -- decided it wasn't safe to vote on which was an idiot. "We can get something over 150 K out of the funds." That would communicate to Sylvia, and not to Kim. Not that Kim knew what a thousand dollars was, but she might repeat the figure somewhere it would cause gossip.

"I was thinking that you were blithe 'cause you'd never had to worry."

"Well, blithe about this, yes. I've had to worry about my profession, and about the draft. But there is the trust."

"It's not really enough to support a family of four."

"No, it's not. But it's enough to stretch your fall into a long glide. And, even though I fouled up telling you, it was enough to pack away a little nest egg, too. Look, tell your broker I'll look at the house tomorrow. I want to check that this is a reasonable market price, that it hasn't been eaten up by termites, that sort of thing. Still, I should look at it, too, if I'm going to live in it for the next twenty years."

"You'll love it like I did." George thought that doubtful. Tastes vary, and his and Sylvia's were seldom in agreement. She'd married him, after all, and he would never even like a guy like that. He didn't have to love the house; he would love the woman who loved it. He did have to feel comfortable in it.

After her bath, He read a book to Kim with her on his lap. The book-reading time was scheduled, and her bedtime was after the reading was over. This guaranteed her cooperation in the reading.

The broker being a fellow member of Orrington Avenue Church, he accompanied Sylvia and Kim to church the next morning. He was a member, too, if an infrequent attender. After church, they talked to Mrs. Darwin and made the appointment. They met at the church at 3:30, and he followed her car. He stopped her when she was approaching the door.

"Let me drive around the neighborhood first." He did, seeing that there was neither industry nor blight within the few blocks. There was only one other house with a "for sale" sign. Most of the houses looked old and well-cared-for. This one, though, did look more distinguished. He gave it a good looking over before following Mrs. Darwin to the door. The inside decor looked old, if not quite Victorian, but the plumbing looked new. The master bedroom had its own bath. There were two more bedrooms, a fourth if you pushed it. The fourth could make an office. The downstairs looked ready for formal entertainment. There was an obvious library with bookshelves built into three walls. The basement looked ready for rambunctious children. The back yard could take a garden, had taken one once. There were trees on all four sides, although the side yards weren't terribly wide.

"What do you think?"

"It looks good, but what do I know about buildings? Let me have it inspected." He'd have the property evaluations and sales figures in the neighborhood checked, too. But that wasn't something which needed her permission.

That took more than a week. Mrs. Darwin didn't nag, though. Probably too good a salesperson for that. He made an appointment for Wednesday evening at her office. He didn't take Sylvia. For one thing, Kim was making things hard for sitters just then; for another, he didn't trust her to keep a poker face.

"Well, he said, they didn't find anything grossly wrong."

"You'll find some minor repairs are needed. With houses of that age, there always will be."

"$320,000 sounds a little steep, though." He thought he could bring her down to an even $300,000. She balked, though, at going below $310,000. They settled there. He brought Sylvia to the bank. Kim had school, and he didn't.

"Well, if our assessor finds that the price is reasonable," the loan officer said, "and these income figures check out, we'll want a 20% down payment. That would be $62,000. Would you want a twenty or a thirty year mortgage? The longer term carries with it higher interest rate, but the monthly payment is significantly lower."

"And a smaller down payment would mean an even higher interest rate?"

"If we found you credit-worthy. That would mean a higher monthly payment, and more risk on our part. Your appointment at Northwestern isn't tenured, is it?"

"Right. And, since you would charge more for a longer term and a smaller down payment, you would charge lower interest for a shorter term and a greater down payment. We were thinking of 50% down and ten years."

"I would have to see about that. I'm certain something could be worked out."

"I'm sure. We would rather have all our banking business in one place, of course. On the other hand, we'll be checking with some downtown banks as to what their rates would be for those terms."

"You were really hard on him in a sweet and gentle way," Sylvia said on their way home. "I don't think I've seen that side of you."

"It's all in understanding the culture. And, after all, that's my job. My old coat, remember that? I bargained for half an hour to buy that at the cheapest price I could. I'd have been facing a knife if I'd threatened that seller. On the other hand, he'd not have understood the threats I made to the banker. Our mortgage is worth something; the float on our checking account is worth something. Just maybe, if we get our mortgage elsewhere, we'd take our checking account there. He would recoil if I made it explicit -- as a matter of fact, our business isn't something they'd cry over losing -- but he has to figure that in while he calculates his mortgage interest rate. He'll not beat out Harris, but they'll not beat him out either."

"Are you really even going to talk to other banks?"

"Sure -- to keep him honest, and to be honest myself. What makes a bluff believable is that some people carry them out." He could write a paper on the subculture of money merchants. It was unlike any other kind of businessman. Small drugstore owners thought of themselves as pharmacists, a kind of professional. They were out for money, but they saw themselves in a different world. Small bankers, and that guy had been so small he wasn't even been a vice president, only dealt with money. It was a different way of thinking.

"Sometimes, I think that I don't understand you."

"Do you think I understand you? Of course not. A lot, having been with you for a decade. But you have a lot of mysteries."

"I do? I'm not transparent? I think I'm transparent." But he doubted that even Sylvia knew Sylvia that well. Certainly, he didn't. Why had she fallen in love with this particular house? Was it the epitome of something she thought of as 'houseness'? Why, for that matter, had she fallen in love with him? He couldn't look anybody's epitome of 'husbandness.'

They got the house before classes ended, but Sylvia had to furnish it before they could move in. The apartment had been rented furnished. Kim got her choice of room and a 'big' bed -- twin size. Moving day was ten days after classes ended for the year. He drove Sylvia to the house, then brought Kim back with him to the apartment to wait for the movers. When the van had loaded and departed, he took a last look around to see that they hadn't forgotten anything. He left Kim with a friend, Tammy Johnson. Mrs Johnson would feed her and keep the girls from killing each other.

Sylvia was already directing the movers when he got back. She sat in a chair far enough from the door so they could get by. Half the boxes went into the library. He sorted them out in there, Getting her books close to the shelves where they'd go and starting to shelve his own. The movers were out of their hair shortly after noon. He got take-out Chinese, which they shared in their new kitchen with its new kitchen table. She'd given him a shopping list which he filled at the same trip in which he picked up the food -- garbage bags, dish soap, that sort of thing. He cleaned up after the meal while she went upstairs. At this point, she didn't want even him watching her climb stairs.

"George," she called. He started towards her immediately, but she repeated the call.

"Coming. Trouble?" It wasn't serious trouble, he could tell from the sound of her voice.

"Sorry," she said when he joined her in the upstairs hall. "Forgot how big this place is."

"Emergency?"

"Yeah. I'm in desperate need of a kiss."

"Well, those can be provided." He did, first leaning over her belly and then walking around to kiss the side of her throat. When he did this, he cupped her breast as well. Only a single layer of cloth was between her nipple and his hand. He straightened to tickle her ear with his beard while unbuttoning the dress.

"You're overdressed," she said.

"Well, actually, so are you. Let's adjourn to our room and complete the job."

"Kim's room." He must have frozen, because she rushed her explanation. "I want to christen every room of this monster, and Kim's will never again be so accessible." Well, that made sense. Anyway, he wasn't about to turn down an invitation. He knew that many women at this stage would be avoiding sex.

"Lead on." She did, and he discovered that he had to walk too far behind her to reach the buttons. Her hips twitched delightfully, though; the back of the thin dress hung from her butt and showed every flexion.

When she stopped beside Kim's bed, he caught up with her to finish the removal of the dress. That left Sylvia wearing nothing but glasses and rings. He stood behind her to nuzzle her hair and stroke her breasts.

"You," she said turning. She unbuttoned his shirt while his left hand continued to stroke her breast. His right hand snuck under her belly to reach her vulva. She was already juicy. He played with that juice, spreading it around her lips to the little button.

When Sylvia finished with the shirt, she went right to the pants. She loosened the belt, unbuttoned them, and opened the zipper. When the pants dropped to his ankles, she pushed the shorts down to mid-thigh and began stroking his cock.

"Hey!" They were in no position to get serious, yet.

"Turnabout is fair play." But she let go, stepped back, and began kneeling on the bed. It took her a while to get into position. When he'd struggled out of his clothes -- shirt, undershirt, shoes, pants -- she was kneeling on the bed with her ankles over the low footboard.

Her breasts were quite impressive like this. He walked over to her side in stocking feet. He reached his left hand down to play with a nipple while he reached his right hand over her rump to let one finger play with her button again.

"George."

"You want me to get something for you? Maybe a blanket?"

"Maybe a dildo, since I don't seem to have much chance at getting your prick." Okay, teasing over. He went around behind her. He had to admit that this perspective was hard to resist. Sylvia was always attractive, but this view from behind was overwhelmingly voluptuous. Her lips were already parted and glistening. He gripped each buttock in a hand and sank his cock into that lusciousness.

"Oh!" she said, pushing back against him. He reached around, slid a hand between thigh and belly when he pressed her forward. Finally, he reached her button again. It might be too late. All through this time, he was stroking in and out of her slick warmth. He couldn't stop, couldn't even slow down. And she wasn't helping; she was pushing back around him on every thrust. "Yes," she was saying, "George, more, you!" It wasn't particularly coherent, but it was quite stimulating.

When her vulva clasped around him, he lost it completely. He grabbed the front of her thighs and pulled back as he drove forward.

"God!" He erupted, throbbing within her, clutching her legs, standing rigid, even on tip toes.

Then he collapsed, falling out of her and along the foot of the bed. She rolled sidewards, ponderously, as he slipped to the floor.

"I love you," he managed to croak before he began climbing back to his feet.

"Love you, too. Think you could manage a washcloth? You came a gallon."

"Some of it was you." He went into the bathroom and returned with two hand towels, one wetted with warm water and then wrung out. He dabbed her with the wet one. She took it from him and rubbed herself more vigorously than he would have dared. Then she patted herself with the dry towel. She kept it between her legs as she sat up.

"I think I'll go back to our room. Make the bed, will you? And bring all our stuff." The sheet on the bed turned out to be a double folded over. He found the twin-bed sheets on Kim's vanity. Would Sylvia really let Kim try makeup at this age? What other reason did she have for three mirrors like that? Well, he put the sheets back on the bed. He put on his shorts and pants, picked up the double sheet, hand towels, and the rest of their clothes. In their room, Sylvia was already in bed.

"I may be clumsy as hell, but pregnancy gives you a perfect excuse for siestas."

"Did I hurt you?"

"Not seriously. I've got your fingerprints on my thighs, though."

"Sorry. You were damned sexy, but I shouldn't have got carried away."

"Getting you carried away was, after all, my design. Think her bedroom is sufficiently inaugurated until she goes away to college?"

"I may not get it up until then. God, Sylvia, but you drained me."

"I won't try that again until I'm back in shape. Still, it's nice to know that we're not locked into one position. Love you."

"Love you." And he did love her, and lusted -- if not just then -- after her, and appreciated her many virtues. What he didn't do, would never do, was understand her.