Becoming the Storm
73 Planting Time
I HAD SOME SERIOUS MISGIVINGS about the new show, and they came from several different directions. The first was just the concept of me as a talk show host. I wasn’t naturally funny like Elaine was. I wasn’t a trained actor. Like Elaine was. I wasn’t a writer. Like Elaine was. Everything I wasn’t screamed at me that I was a fool for trying to present myself as a fun or funny talk show host. I was just me. Plain, boring me. I couldn’t imagine that young women everywhere were waiting for a guy like me.
I wasn’t sure that I could continue on my master’s degree if I launched this. The more we talked and brainstormed, the more it looked like there was no way I’d make classes this fall. Just as Elaine had been having problems lately getting audiences to come all the way out to the studio, it would be even harder to get the breadth of audience that would be needed for my show and not have them look just alike or look like we were producing a show about IU. Hannah already had plans to tour Elaine’s show around the fricking country this year! This was going to tear our family up.
I had no confidence that I had more than one show worth of material. I mean, once you stand up and say “Guys! Play nice!” what else can you say? I could probably talk about the agreement for an hour or two—once—but it wasn’t supposed to be just me talking. I was supposed to have guests to interview.
Then there was the issue of Young Cooking. The triplets had opened their café for limited hours as soon as we finished taping at the end of June. The Heartthrob Café wasn’t drawing hundreds of people, but they were doing a steady breakfast business. We were still essentially a rural community, even though Bloomington was only seven miles away. I think the girls had to thank Marshall Jacobs and Isaac Schmidt, Maribelle’s father, for bringing most of their business in. The farmers in the area were up and in the field by five. Several of them started coming in for coffee at eight. Coffee often turned into breakfast. The thing was, I didn’t know who was going to take over the cooking segment on the show.
And Hannah and Samantha weren’t going to be my producers. They had a huge amount of work to do on Chick Chat, not the least of which was creating a travel schedule. Maggie and Jess, who were definitely a couple now, were having to add people to Redress and expand where they were taping. It looked like they’d be doing a European tour this season. I was going to end up with a whole new team.
I guess I felt a little bit of a sense of betrayal, too. Like I was betraying my fellow man by revealing our man secrets to women. I knew it was silly. At least I thought so. But was I really going to give women even more hints on how to control their men and reform them into what their ideal was? Guys weren’t that bad, were they?
Sure, I’d dealt with the John Smiths and Wayne Enders of the world. And Tommy Westerling, Hannah’s abusive boyfriend. And Lester Hawkins, who killed Denise. And the Kowalski twins who tried to rape Jessica. And Kirby Moore, whose gang beat me. And Chad Brown, Renee’s asshole boyfriend in high school. And…
Crap! It seemed like all the guys I dealt with were either the guys who were part of our clan and were people I’d go the limit for or the ones who were far out on the other end of the bell curve. There were good guys that I met in school. The front five and the first five. The guys who had helped on the school board campaign. Even most of the guys who were in theater when I got roped into doing that. Maybe they weren’t as far on my end of the bell curve as Sarah described them, but there were also basically decent guys who were on the other side of the bell. They were just a little clueless, like the Carson twins who had been Lexi’s first conquest. Basically, okay guys. They just had the social skills of termites. Maybe those were the guys that would be affected by their girlfriends in the future and actually become men.
Before I could deal with any of that, I needed to deal with Nikki. And Liz. They’d come back from their road trip with their own ideas of what a perfect union would be.
“Le père says that we can have the ceremony at the Freemasons’ Lodge in Indianapolis. The auditorium is big enough for everyone. It seats 600. Liz, of course, will be my maid of honor. I plan to have my Jobies as attendants, so you’ll need sixteen guys in addition to your best man. Rose, of course, will conduct the ceremony, but she’ll be flanked by the Grand Master of the Indiana Freemasons and the Worthy Grand Matron of Eastern Star. I’ve thought about having the Grand Bethel Honored Queen, but that’s just too pretentious,” Nikki said. We’d just made love and I asked about a date for our handfasting. She was off like a shot and I was lost.
“All these events have to start on the half-hour so the clock is ascending, and preferably in the morning for the same reason. It’s symbolic of our relationship being on the rise. So, eleven-thirty is the time I’ve set. I will not get up early enough to go to a nine-thirty ritual. That means that there will be a banquet following, rather than just a reception. There will be like a thousand presents to open and then the dance will begin at six with an open buffet and open bar at seven. That gives us an hour or so between events to run to our hotel and fuck like bunnies before we change clothes and go to the reception. Of course, there are obligatory dances during which I have to have every man dance with me and stuff money in my bra like a Saturday night stripper, but we’ll probably clear about ten grand. If we fly straight from Indy to Miami, early Sunday morning, we’ll be on the cruise ship well before it sails at three. Then two weeks in the Bahamas before we’ll come back to our own little home in the village. I figure if we can get invitations sent out before September, we can have the ceremony in June. It’s a little tight, but I’ll convince mother.”
I just stared at her with my mouth open.
“Nikki? It sounds like you are planning a wedding. We were talking about a handfasting like with my other cónyuge. I never said anything about a wedding.”
“What? You’re not going to marry me? Brian! You’ve had your penis in my vagina! What kind of girl do you think I am?”
“Ni… Ni… Nikki…” I knew my mouth was opening and closing but no other words were coming out. Shit! I just knew she was going to go ballistic. How could I possibly defuse this? Shit! What have I gotten myself into?
Nikki started laughing.
In a couple of seconds, she was laughing so hard I was afraid she’d be sick. And I heard an echo from the bathroom. Liz came stumbling out, doubled over with laughter.
“Oh my God! I thought he was going to have a heart attack and we’d have to explain to everyone why they were widows!” Liz coughed. “That was perfect!”
“Could you see the expression on his face?” Nikki howled. “You couldn’t from the bathroom. And watching you break up didn’t help me keep a straight face, bitch.”
“You mean… that was all… just to… You have a mean streak, Nikki.”
She came over toward me and held my head against her rose tattoo. I sighed. Liz came to the other side and cuddled up to me.
“I just want to keep you reminded that I have a sense of humor, Brian,” Nikki giggled. “How about if we have a bonfire this weekend and have Rose work her magic thread around our wrists? Just our casa. And my parents and your parents. Would that work?” I kissed her deeply. I was about to roll over on her and make love again, but she pushed me off. “It hasn’t been used in a while and that last pounding made it a little sore, lover,” she said. “How about if you tend to Liz’s needs now. I need to go upstairs and entertain my hearthmates with the story.” She pushed herself out of bed and left the master suite without bothering to dress. Who could have imagined this when I met the crazy goth girl back as juniors in high school?
I sat facing Liz. It was where she wanted me. Our feet were spread to the side and were touching. I had a clear view up her tufted pussy. I could see the moisture gathering around her lips as they blossomed open.
“Do you remember? I wanted to see if you still had the same effect on me now that you had when we were fourteen. Eight years, Brian. We had our seven minutes in my bed. Only it turned out to be longer than that. If you had been just a little pushy, we’d have a seven-year-old baby by now.” She sighed. I was hard as a rock just looking at her. It wasn’t just that she was holding her pussy open, but as she talked to me she absently stroked her own body. Occasionally, a hand would caress her inner thigh, traveling upward until it nearly touched her open lips. Again, a hand would softly caress her tiny breasts and pinch a nipple. Liz still had the smallest breasts of all my cónyuge save Whitney. She was still lean and trim with a thin waist and flaring hips. I salivated, anticipating the taste of her pussy.
“I love you, Liz.”
“Enough to plant that little baby in my tummy now?” she asked. “Brian, I love you. I’ve told you before, but I’ll tell you again. I am with you for as long as you will have me. I love my hearthmates. I’m not sexual with them, though sometimes a girl caresses a breast or kisses my back while we’re making love. Girls just don’t have the attraction for me that your cock has. But I love them all. I want them to help me raise our child. Maybe children. Will you come to me and start one now, Brian? I am open. I am willing. I am waiting.”
I’d known this point was coming. Liz told me months ago that she wanted to start a baby and was separating from sexual activity with anyone else. She didn’t just want a baby, she wanted our baby. It was time. I shifted my legs under me and crawled toward her. She spread her legs further. I bent to kiss her, careful not to touch my cock to her yet.
“Yes,” I whispered. “We are going to have beautiful children.” I pushed forward and Liz guided my cock into her hot center. For the first time, we were connected without protection. And we made love.
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