Ladies and Gentlemen, start your engines. As usual my thanks to Mikothebaby who edited and likes this story. As I mentioned on my twitter page, there is no song this week, it's just a regular story that was a lot of fun to write. SS06
My name is Dennis Williams and I'm in a state of panic. I'm running as fast as I can through the hospital to my wife's room. As I stagger into the room, I notice that her sister is there with her. "Steff," I scream in panic. "They've made some kind of mistake with the baby."
"What did they do, Honey?" she asks. Even in pain, my wife is the most beautiful woman I've ever seen. The smile that crosses her lips is partly because she loves me so much and the other part is pure mischief. Her sister is also smiling.
"I'm sure it's just a mix-up," I began, at which point both she and her sister smile even more. Some kind of look passes between them. "But they're obviously confused."
"What are they confused about?" she asks.
"They're trying to give us two of them," I said. "They're claiming that we have twins."
"Oh no," she says. Her face is a mask of horror. Her sister can't hold her face straight and she starts laughing at me.
"Well, super dad," says Steff. "If you hadn't fainted during the delivery, you'd already know that we have twins. The doctors already knew, but since we'd opted not to know the sex or any details about the baby, only you and I didn't know about it."
She gestured for me to come closer to her. "Give me a kiss," she demands. "That delivery took a long time, Dennis. It seems like days since you kissed me."
I kiss her and time just stops like it always does. Nothing else in the world matters when we're together.
"But we're not ready for twins," I tell her. "We had everything ready, whether we had a girl or a boy. Our plans were perfect. But now we're out there in limbo again. We have to figure it all out all over again. What are we going to do?"
She grabbed me by both sides of my face and pulled me to her again. This was a longer kiss. She forced my lips apart and sucked my tongue. Even her sister got turned on from watching us. When she let me go, I was out of breath and I was far less panicky.
"Honey," she said. "When I met you again, a year ago, I had none of this in mind. I only knew that I wanted you badly and that we belonged together. I've been just making it up as we went along. I know that you're an engineer. You like to have plans and blueprints and all of that shit, but I just take each day as it comes. As long as we're together, everything is going to work out. I watched you plan out everything including the nursery, and it seemed like a great plan. But Honey, sometimes shit just doesn't go the way you planned it..."
I love Steff more than I've ever loved anyone in my life. The only person or people who can come close to that are those two tiny little girls in the baby room down the hall. But as she spoke to me, I kind of blanked out over one of the phrases she used. She'd said, "Sometimes shit doesn't go the way you planned it." It was almost eerily ironic that a little under a year ago another woman told me the exact same thing. I remember it as if it was only yesterday.
It was an early Saturday in July, It was ten in the morning and the sun was already high in the sky. The weather man had predicted another sunny day with temperatures in the nineties.
Like most Saturdays, I'd gotten up early to trim the hedges, clean the pool and cut the grass. My wife, Belinda, was cleaning the inside of the house and making it beautiful. Just as I turned the mower off, I heard Belinda scream.
"Get the fuck out of my house!" she screamed. Then I heard the sound of laughter coming from several female voices. I went into the house through the back door and saw my tiny blonde ball of lightning cursing at my friends. I describe her as a ball because, well she's kind of rounded.
Belinda used to be a cheerleader back when we were in college. Now ten years later, she's still as cute as a button and still has the boobs, but the rest of the package has aged a bit. Back in college, she was one of the most popular girls around. We didn't so much fall in love as much as we got pushed together. She was the prettiest cheerleader and I was the quarterback. For us to have dated anyone else would have been some kind of blasphemy.
Belinda was brash and loud, I was shy and contemplative. I guess our personalities, though different, worked for us. Belinda could out scream and out cheer anyone she ran into. She was very sure of herself and very confident that she'd always get what she wanted.
I, on the other hand, didn't talk much and for a quarterback, I had a surprising lack of swagger. I wasn't the gunslinger type. Our coach knew that I was more the thinking type. I was the one who was always going to go for the safer play. After losing three straight games in my freshman season with a quarterback who was more of a gunslinger, he benched him in favor of me and I never gave him any reason to look back. He always knew what to expect from me and I always gave him my best. I wasn't flashy, but I got the job done and we won a lot of games. My teammates respected me and we supported each other. There were a few guys that I just couldn't get along with, but they were very few over my four years.
After college, Belinda and I continued to date. I got a job designing parts for an aftermarket performance parts company. Belinda got a job in marketing. She asked me to marry her, exactly one year after we graduated. At the time, it was a big shock to me. I mean I liked her a lot and I liked having sex with her, but I'd never felt any serious sparks between us.
But all of my friends looked at me like I was stupid. "Dude, Cheerleader, big tits, blond, hot ... why the hell are you still thinking about it?"
A year into the marriage, I was still wondering when the magical thing they talk about in all of the romantic movies was going to hit me. What hit me instead was Belinda sitting down with me in our home office with a stack of bills.
"Dennis," she said. "These are all of our bills. This is the total." She pointed to a number in a cell on the spreadsheet she showed me on our computer.
"This is what you make," she pointed to another cell and another number. I nodded my head as if I understood what she was showing me. The she looked into my eyes. She had on a low cut top so all I could actually see were her boobs.
"Dennis, Honey, I hate my fucking job, so I have a question for you," she said, leaning even further over. "Why the hell am I working?"
She told me all kinds of things then, like how her boss was always staring at her boobs and how all of the women in her office were jealous of her and no one there respected her. So I told her it was okay if she wanted to quit. By the time she got done with me that night, I was sure that my dick would never work again.
Of course, I found out a few weeks later that my loving wife had lied to me. It wasn't just her boss who stared at her boobs. Most of the men there did, because her blouses were all cut so low. Some of the men there were just waiting for her boobs to fall out. The women didn't respect her because her blouses were cut so low, but also because she didn't do any fucking work. And lastly, I found out that the day before Belinda had asked me if she could quit working, she'd already called her boss, "A low rent son of a bitch," and quit her job, because he'd asked her to stop wearing her blouses that way.
Anyway, on that particular Saturday, two of my friends were in the house sitting down when Belinda had come in with a couple of her friends. It wasn't unusual for us to have lots of people in the house because we still hung out with a lot of the same people we'd know from college.
Belinda had seen Danny Tillman and Ray Foster sitting at our kitchen table drinking a beer and had gone ballistic. She looked up at me as I ran inside.
"Dennis, I just cleaned up the house," she screamed. "I don't need your dirty, smelly, fucking friends messing up the house before my guests get here."
"Well Honey, don't worry about it," I said. "We're just planning to hang out around the pool. We might work on my car a bit. I want to swap out the stock plugs for some of those Iridium plugs I got from American Muscle and then re-tune the engine and..."
"Oh no," she snapped. ""Sometimes shit doesn't go the way you planned it. None of that is going to happen today. I'm having a few friends over that I haven't seen since we left college. We have to go over our final plans for the ten year reunion later this summer and I don't need a bunch of smelly, beer swilling Neanderthals under foot. I don't care where you go or what you do, but do it somewhere other than here."
"Let's go to Hooters," said Ray. "They have..."
"No," said Belinda. "No strip clubs."
"But Hooters isn't a strip..." began Ray. He stopped talking as she glared at him.
"Let's go bowling," said Danny. "We all suck at golf and..."
"Golf sounds good," said Belinda. "You guys go play golf. Ride around in one of those little carts and hit stuff."
So I took a shower and changed into appropriate golf wear and we were off.
.... There is more of this story ...