"Mrs. Pierce, I don't see why we're spending so much time on foreign exchange. Money is money, isn't it?"

"No, Henry," Carolyn responded, "in foreign trade, money isn't money. At least, it's not what money is in domestic trade. Let's deal with that first. People keep saying that money can't buy everything. It can, however, buy everything we deal with in economics. Do you want a candy bar, a magazine, or a ride on the EL? Well, when you want anything, money stands for everything else. What something costs is what economists call its 'alternative cost.' It's what you could buy with the money you spend on it. Okay? Clear on that? That's domestic money. For you, that's a dollar."

"Yeah." Henry looked confused, but Henry always looked confused. Most of the rest of the class looked like they got this.

"Well, a shilling is something much less universal to you. Even to people in foreign trade, a shilling -- that's a British coin -- is only worth what they can get from England for a shilling. They don't buy wheat from England; it's cheaper here. So the Americans in foreign trade buy what they want from England in shillings and the English in foreign trade buy what they want from America in dollars. That means that those English foreign traders want dollars and the American foreign traders want shillings. So they sell them back and forth, exchange them.

"And that creates another supply-and-demand situation. Which, in turn, determines what we want to import from England and what they want to import from us. Because the price of wheat or coal in this country in dollars has little to do with the price of shillings in dollars. And, I would point out, by 'little' I don't mean 'nothing.' So the price of American wheat in shillings represents the price of American wheat in dollars times the price of dollars in shillings."

"It sounds complicated." That, at least, came from Deborah, who got most things.

"It is complicated, Deborah, if you look at all the influences. If you just look at any particular market with supply and demand what they are, it's much simpler. If the guy selling hot dogs in the ball park asks how many he can sell for one price and how many he can sell for a quarter more, he gets -- or guesses at -- an answer. If he asks how many of the customers could eat hot dogs before coming to the park if they wanted to, and how much that would influence their appetites, he's lost."

"So the exchange rate..." Barbara asked agin.

"Is yesterday's exchange rate with a few adjustments for what has happened over the past day. If you wanted to calculate it from scratch, you'd give yourself a headache." And, of course, she'd deliberately ignored interest rates and inflation. But the class had learned something about money from Henry's question, and she had also managed to cover the section of the book Professor Delgado had last lectured on. She'd learned that a teaching assistant, at least sometimes, was really an assistant. (Assistant) Professor Delgado delivered the lecture, which she was careful to attend, and she handled one discussion group.

This being "normal time," neither a break for her nor a crunch for her, she would cook dinner tonight. She stopped on the way home to get a pot roast, and put in the pressure cooker. She recorded the discussion grades before preparing the rest of the meal. Bill got home before 6:30. After their kiss, he washed his hands and set the table.

"Delicious," he said at the end of the meal.

"Glad you like it. You'll see some left-overs this week."

"That's fair. I like left-overs of good cooking. You have something else you want to talk about?"

"Is it that clear?" She needed to get this out. "Remember we said that we'd delay a baby until it didn't interfere with my employment?"

"Yes." He was being cooperative, if not helpful.

"And it's still clear for me to take next year for dissertation without working?"

"Sure. Could you get a job this late?"

"It would be hard. But... Look, if I don't teach next year, if I'm not employed, then there is no employer to object if I go into the hospital next year to have a baby."

"Are you suggesting getting pregnant now?"

"We could.... I could. Oh, you know what I mean. Still, it's damned early. And, then too, it's a lot more outgo than you budgeted."

"Yeah. It would be a stretch." He thought that the budget would be stretched? How about her belly? Well, it was what she'd brought up. The pregnancy would be a greater stress on their marriage this early, but it would be a lesser stress on her body than any time later. And she had agreed to that stress.

"Do you think we should?"

"Well, we can. Do you think that you should? Are you telling me you've gone off the Pill?"

"Not yet. That's a family decision."

"Well, as a family decision, I vote yes. But, it's also a decision about your body. Are you sure?"

"Well, it might not take. People go years without children. And we only have so long. If you say a year from July is the last possible date for delivery -- I'd have to be ready to start teaching a year from September, after all, and have to be available for things like interviews before then -- then we could cut out the Pill from now until September."

"Sure. It might not work, but we're deciding whether it would be better or worse. How likely doesn't enter in to the decision."

"One thing is that my periods lasted longer before I was on the Pill."

"I'll accept that." And he really hated her periods. Well, he hated being cut off during her periods.

"You really want kids, don't you?" Silly question. Ask anyone who knew him whether Bill liked kids.

"Well, yes. The idea of a kid of my own is damned attractive. On the other hand, it's also scary. Other people's kids are fun, but they aren't much of a responsibility."

"Scares you?" It had better. It damned-well scared her.

"A little."

But he wanted it, scare him or not. He made no complaint when she came to bed for nearly a week in her nightie. When she woke one Friday morning and found that her tampon was dry, she planned carefully. She had no Saturday classes, so she could easily take the evening off. She shopped when she came home from class and bought strip steak and roasting potatoes. After dinner, she ignored her class work to watch Tv beside him. Bill kept an arm around her, even though he paid more attention to the shows than she did. She got up from the sofa when the news came on. She turned on the heater in the bedroom before taking her bathroom time. When she came out in just her robe and slippers, she waited for a commercial break.

"When it's over, want to come in and brush my hair?" Bill, as she had expected, turned off the TV. While he brushed her hair, she sat looking in the mirror on her dresser. The man was thorough, and enjoyed the task, As the room got warmer, she loosened her robe. She could watch his eyes in the mirror as he ogled her breasts. He'd seen her stark naked many times, but he really seemed to enjoy these sneak peeks more.

"I think that's it," he said finally. Usually, she stopped him before he was satisfied with his results.

"Thanks. Wake me when you come to bed." She dropped her robe on the chair and got into bed naked. Actually, she hadn't planned on going to sleep, and he didn't give her a chance. He was stripped, in and out of the bathroom, and on his way to bed in what seemed like a minute.

"Turn off the heater, will you?" she asked. The temperature comfortable for sitting still practically naked getting your hair brushed was too warm for sleeping under a blanket. She didn't even have the blanket turned on that night. And Bill, who wanted less heat than she did, didn't turn the heater off until she asked him to. He complied and slid into the bed on his side.

"Darling," he said. He leaned over her for a deep kiss.

"I'm definitely not fertile yet," she reminded him when they broke the kiss.

"Well, probably not. Maybe we should try just in case." As if Bill hadn't wanted sex when they were taking precautions that it didn't result in pregnancy. She grinned.

"Well, just in case." He kissed the smile off her face while stroking her breasts. Then he kissed all over her face and licked her ears. Bill, always remembered that she was a person with breasts and vagina attached, not a vagina and two breasts with a person attached as excess baggage. She'd been thinking about this evening for most of the day, planning it even before the cuddling on the couch. She was probably readier than he was. Even so, she didn't hint at that. Mr. Foreplay was always a welcome persona.

As his kisses trailed down her throat and towards her breast, his hand trailed down across her stomach. He played with the hair on her delta for a moment. Then he caressed the insides of her thighs as she spread them. His kisses up her right breast were nearly at her nipple when he raised his head to look at her.

"Mmm." He'd reached her lips to discover how much moisture she'd produced already. He parted them to stroke her cleft before returning to her nipple. He sucked just when his finger stroked her clit.

"Yes, Bill." He went on sucking and licking her nipple, went on stroking her clit, as her arousal spiraled upwards. She was close, then closer. She flew.

"Darling," he said. "I've missed you." Then he went back to licking her nipple until she relaxed back on the mattress. His hand stayed on her delta. After a minute, he kissed down her breast and over to her right one. He was rubbing her lips against each other.

"You?" she asked. Wasn't he going to come in her? Hadn't he been clear that he'd missed coming in her? She damned-well wanted him filling her.

"Soon. I'm on hair trigger." He started to stoke her clit again. When he sucked her nipple and stroked her clit with agonizing slowness, she got close again. Her arousal lessened when he stopped his caresses to move above her. Then, he was spreading her lips, filling her. His hand remained on her mound, while he took one stroke in and out.

"Carolyn, love." He was thumbing her clit. She got close again while he filled her, held almost unmoving above her, stared into her eyes. She was close, so close, as his thumb teased her clit. He might hold still, but she couldn't. As her hips rose off the bed to drive him deeper, he started moving. He filled her, rubbed along her entry coming out, filled her again as she rose to meet him. She was closer than ever. She clutched his ass.

"Oh!" She flew. He took one more stroke, and then drove her into the mattress when she tried to rise.

"Gah!" He pulsed deep within her. He fell a little to the side instead of directly on her, but it was her side of the bed. She hugged him to her by his ass, then slowly relaxed. Minutes later, he clambered off her and onto his own side of the bed.

"I've missed you." As if the nightgown had been a mile's separation, but, still...

"Yeah." She could tell how much he'd missed her. His stuff was pouring out of her. The wet spot would set a record. Well, he was never selfish about her moving to the middle, but she'd wait a minute to do that. Let it all run out.

He was still cuddling her when the alarm woke them in the morning. She had her morning -- their morning, really -- planned. When she got back from her bathroom time, she began her game.

"Wanna share a shower?" That was what you'd call a rhetorical question. Bill always wanted to share a shower.

"Let me have a minute first." She let him, turning the electric heater on for afterwards and getting two of the luxurious, oversize, towels which had been wedding gifts off the shelf in the living room closet. When she heard the toilet flush, she went in. Shaving was fun to watch. Males, who were so slap-dash about nearly everything were so meticulous about shaving.

"Let me watch?" She put down the toilet lid, put the towels on it, and sat on them.

"Men are funny," she commented.

"Funnier than you putting on your eyebrows?" Not the same thing at all.

"Ever think of growing a beard?"

"Not since I decided to go into business." Bill was always practical. She'd thought of taking a pilgrimage to Nepal, a damn-sight more impractical than his growing a beard. "Would you like me in a beard?" That was a thought. Bill with a beard would almost not be Bill at all. Would it be long like the Smith Brothers wore? But, she had her practical side, too.

"Maybe in a full one. The first couple of days would be awfully scratchy." While he was finishing up, she got the shower ready. The mat on the bottom of the tub was a minor precaution when one of them was showering. It was a virtual necessity when they were in there together.

They started with a hug, appreciating the different sensation of slippery skin against slippery skin. Then she handed him the shampoo and got her hair wet. He loved to do her hair, and he was so thorough. Anyway, it was an innocent beginning to their sex play. And it was, for her at least, a sensual experience. When he'd worked the shampoo into her hair, he dug it into the roots. That felt like a scalp massage.

"You do that so well." He did, and she should tell him what he did right. She was always willing to tell him what he did wrong.

"Labor of love. You wash it because it's dirty, taking time you want to spend on something else. I love to run my fingers through your hair. Might as well have shampoo on the fingers when I do."

When he swatted her ass, she turned around and let the shower run over her hair. Bill played with the hair on her delta, as always.

"Bill." It was early days, yet. They had to get clean before they started to get dirty.

"Well, we have to get all your hair clean."

"You're impossible." Impossible or not, he combed the water and the last of the shampoo out of her hair. When she'd taken another rinse, he did it again. He washed his face, and then handed her the washcloth. She washed his torso, back and front, with it. She used her soapy hands for the legs. He grinned when she got close to the genitals, and grinned more while she soaped them.

She washed her face and handed him the wash cloth. He did her back first, and then hugged her to get the front.

"Oh, Bill." Well, it was embarrassing to have your husband lusting after you, but it would be more embarrassing to have him not. He attentively soaped her breasts and her stomach. Although he'd used shampoo on it, her delta got even more attention. He helped her stand straight at the end of the hug.

He used the wash cloth on her ass and the backs of her thighs and calves. When he handed her the cloth, she gave him the soap bar. He took great care in washing her feet.

"I'm never so thorough with you -- or even with me." His washing of her soles, though, tickled. She kept one hand on the wall and the other on his head for the entire operation. Then he started up the front of her legs. As he got to the inside of her thighs, he went very slowly. For the third time, he got to her delta, but this time he concentrated on her lips. When he'd rinsed them as carefully as he'd washed them, the cleaning part of their game was over. He, and then she, got under the shower to catch any stray soap, She turned it off, and they had no more pretense.

He hugged her. She was as conscious of Little Bill hard against her back as she was of his hands caressing her front. The kiss on the side of her neck was even more delightful. That wasn't a real kiss, though.

"Real." At her request, he released her. When she'd turned around, they had a real kiss with his tongue exploring her mouth. He kept feeling her, quickly concentrating on her delta and lower lips. She began to feel too aroused to trust her footing. She eased back against the slick wall with her feet planted solidly on the rubber mat.

Bill went to work on arousing her then. He kissed down her body towards her nipple while he stroked her clit. She grabbed his head when he was sucking her nipple because she was close... so close.

Then she flew. Her body held on to Bill and the wall, but her spirit soared far away. And, when it returned, it found Bill holding her up. After a moment, she was able to stand by herself. He used one of the luxurious towels on her body, patting it dry very gently, while she wrapped her head -- totally enclosing the still-wet hair -- in an ordinary towel. After she'd rubbed him dry with the other special towel, he used hers to wrap her up and carry her into the bedroom.

She managed to get the door shut before he lay her on the bed and unwrapped her. Mr. Foreplay was back, even after the amazing time in the shower. Bill kissed her breasts while stroking her lips and clit.

"In," she finally demanded. And, not stopping the caresses any more than necessary, he came in her. He spread her lips with his hand before slipping into her tunnel. Finally, he filled her completely. He stared into her eyes as her body rose to meet his driving strokes. She flew. flew further -- but more safely -- than she had earlier.

They lay together afterwards, feeling the towel and the electric blanket under them. But she felt, more than that, a satisfied repletion. They finally crawled into the bed instead of on it. Even though the blanket was turned off, this was a little too warm, but the feel of the warm flesh next to her made it -- paradoxically -- feel more enjoyable. Still, this wasn't all she'd planned for this morning. She seldom cooked breakfasts, but she'd got the ingredients for a cheese omelet.

"I really should be cooking you the breakfast I planned." And so she should, even though she felt too snug to move yet.

"So, we eat a non-standard lunch." Bill was practical, yes. But he applied his practical nature to his priorities. Still, she was his wife, not his concubine. A wife cooks for her husband, and -- not all that much later -- she got up and cooked for hers.