Chapter 4: Fiancé

David had called ahead. The jeweler brought out several examples of ring sets. He’d removed the price tags. “That’s not for you to worry about,” David said. “You want to consider what it would look like on your finger for the rest of your life. If you want time to think, that’s fine. Just look now.” But there was an emerald and diamond ring with the tiniest diamond on the woman’s wedding ring and none on the man’s.

“You’re sure you want to wear a ring?” she asked him.

“If it means I’m married to Jen, it will make me proud.”

She thought the rule was that she paid for his ring, but David and the jeweler seemed to be agreed that he was going to pay for all three. He handed over his MasterCard, looked at the bill, and the sale was made. She still didn’t know the price when he took her hand. “Jennifer Saunders, will you marry me?”

“David Blake, I will.”

He slipped the ring on her finger. The two wedding rings were in separate boxes. He gave the man’s ring to her and pocketed the other box.

They were back in the car well before five. “What do you want to do with the rest of the evening?” he asked. “I’ll admit that this was my priority. I’ll drive you back, if you want. Still, I’d rather have a date with you. I haven’t had a date with my fiancée, yet. Would you rather go out to eat? Would you rather take out something and eat at my place.”

“I’m not really dressed for a fancy restaurant.” She’d get by, but she would really prefer to spend the time at his place. “And we did eat lunch late.”

“Want to go back to my place? I’m a little nervous walking around with the band in my pocket. We can plan the rest of the evening there.”

“Let’s.”

At the apartment, he took her coat without rushing to set the coffee on. When both coats were in the closet, he kissed her. First the kiss was sweetly gentle. Only his lips touched hers. Then he pulled her against him while his tongue invaded her mouth. His hands were on her rump, she decided to do the same to him. He pulled one hand up to adjust the angle of her head. Finally, they had to breathe. “Come into the kitchen,” he said, “while I start the coffee.”

There were several tasks involved in this. He’d obviously prepared before the other times. When the percolator was working to his satisfaction, he returned to the kiss. Then he turned her around in his arms. He kissed her hair and occasionally her ear while he held her breasts. “You liked those better without the bra?” she asked.

“Yes,” he said. “I liked them even better without the dress. Still, this is nice, too. I even like the way you look with your hair cut.”

“But better with it long. I had it long enough to sit on in college. You’d have loved that.”

“Sweeping the ground when you walk.”

“Gee, thanks! It was hard enough to care for when it was half that length. I can imagine combing dirt and twigs out of it every night.”

“Well, I said I like how you look now. I wasn’t talking about practicalities; I was talking about looks. I like the way you’re dressed now; I liked the way you were dressed Monday better; and I liked the way you were dressed Monday in the bedroom best of all. Still, I wouldn’t suggest you go out in this weather without a coat.”

“I’ll forgive you.”

He kissed her right ear then. That tickled and she turned her head. He took that opportunity to kiss her left ear. The percolator burbled, and he released her to deal with it. He poured them each a cup. “There still is ice cream in the freezer. Don’t want you to spoil your dinner, but you could have a bowl.”

“‘Spoil your dinner.’ You sound like my mother.”

He dished her up a bowl. “At the risk of being repetitive, do you want me to get a pizza?”

“Pizza? Did the man say pizza? I might propose.”

“Can’t. You’re wearing an engagement ring. What sort of topping?” He got the menu that had come with the first box. “Green peppers?”

“Yes.”

“Mushrooms?”

“Mmm,” she said, “mushrooms.”

“Anchovies?”

“Are you going to read me the whole list?”

“Why not?”

“Pepperoni. That should be enough.”

“And cheese?” he asked.

“And cheese. Isn’t a pizza without cheese.”

“Cheese, pepperoni, mushrooms, green peppers. Sounds like a heartburn special.”

“Now you do sound like my mother. A heartburn special would have to include hot peppers and onions.”

“Want them?”

“Heavens no,” she said. She didn’t want the heartburn, either. Cheese, pepperoni, green peppers, and mushrooms would be a nice satisfying meal. She ate the ice cream. He hadn’t dished himself any, though he drank his coffee.

“Deep dish?” he asked suddenly.

“Is there another kind?”

“There is on the menu. If I wanted to really sound like your mother, I’d send you to bed without your supper.”

What had she done? Then the magic word, ‘bed,’ sank in. “I’m willing.”

He came over and held out his hand until she took it. He helped her to her feet and pulled her into his arms. After the kiss, he led her to his bedroom. In front of a chair, he kissed her again. His tongue explored her mouth while he hugged her to him. She became quite conscious of the firmness against her belly.

When he broke the kiss, he gestured toward the chair behind her. He knelt at her feet as she sat. He removed the clunky shoes and the warm socks. He massaged her feet through the pantyhose. When he stood up, he didn’t reach for her. Instead, he removed the spread from the bed and dumped it on a chair on the other side of the bed from her. When he’d turned down the sheets and blankets together, he folded them down again. They were an oblong on the bottom quarter of the bed.

This time, he came over and spread his arms wide. The kiss was long and a little awkward. He was even taller when she had her shoes off. Keeping up the kiss, he explored the back of the dress with his hands. He pulled the zipper all the way down before finding the snap at the neck. When he had unhooked her bra, he stepped back.

She removed the dress and then the bra and handed them to him. He took them and draped them across the bedspread on the chair. When he returned to her, he kissed her while his hands roved over her skin. They stopped on her breasts. He bent down to kiss each, holding them up with his hands. “Lovely. See, you look even better this way.”

“They aren’t too small?” she asked,

He kissed them again, sucking each tip into his mouth in turn. “They’re too big to fit. What more do you want?”

“I want you to do that again.” So, he did, this time licking the nipple when it was in his mouth. She could take this all day. Who needed pizza?

He knelt again and eased her panties down. When they puddled around her feet, she stepped out of them. He pulled the pantyhose off her rump and down to mid-thigh. He kissed her mound. “See,” he said, “your hair doesn’t have to be long for me to love it. I think, though, that this would work better if you were sitting down.”

When she sat, he removed the pantyhose from each leg. He kissed her right knee and trailed a string of kisses up her thigh. It tickled, and she drew her knees together. “But,” he said, “I think you were sent to bed.” She got up, crossed the distance of a yard or so, and lay down on the bed. “Do you want to remove your watch?”

She couldn’t see why for a minute. But when she had put the watch on the nightstand to her left, she was wearing nothing but the engagement ring. He took her left hand in both of his, and kissed it, first the back and then down the finger to the ring. He stepped out of his loafers and joined her in the bed. Still, he was fully dressed.

They had a long kiss, tongues licking tongues. He was leaning over her from her right, and his hand caressed her from her knee to her breasts and back again. He was holding her left breast when he broke the kiss.

He took two breaths. She was out of breath, too. Then he began kissing and licking down her neck. The licks couldn’t leave hickeys, but they were ticklish. He didn’t relent however much she wiggled. He went on to her left breast. When he licked that nipple, his hand caressed downward. His fingers combed firmly through the hair on her mound. On her lower lips, however, they were very gentle.

She held his shoulders. “You’re still dressed,” she said.

“Ihm hihm.” Great! She’d intended a hint, not a score on a true-false test. Then he parted her lips and stroked between them. He moved his mouth over to her right breast, and she forgot about his clothes. His lips and tongue did lovely things to her; so did his finger. She relaxed and wallowed in the sensations.

He was gone for a moment, but then he was between her legs kissing the inside of her thigh. She drew her knees up and spread her legs to give him access. All he did was to switch thighs. It was minutes later when he finally kissed her lower lips. She pulled his head against her more firmly. He moved his arms so his hands were on her breasts. All the sensations were lovely. She kept her hands on the head which was delivering such sweetness but relaxed back to let it happen.

He opened her lips with his tongue. He thrust it hard against her entrance. Then he licked her cleft up to her clitoris. He licked one lip, then the other, then the valley in between. He pressed his chin against her lips and moved it back and forth. She was near, she was very near, when he moved his mouth away to rest his cheek right there. He kissed her left thigh. She pulled on his hair again, but he ignored her. Even his hands were motionless on her breasts.

“Sweet Jen,” he said. “Sweet, sweet, Jennifer and her special sweetness.” At that he resumed licking her center. His hands moved again, drawing his fingers across her nipples. His tongue was on one lip, then the other. The tension built at every sensation. She gloried in his attentions, she ached from his attentions.

Finally, he closed his lips over the area of her clitoris and sucked. She flew away.

But he didn’t release her. He kept sucking, kept licking, kept fingering her suddenly-so-sensitive nipples. She spasmed, spasmed again and again. She arched upwards into his mouth. Then she collapsed.

She vaguely felt the bed shift as he got up, felt the covers being removed from under her feet. She was covered with the blanket and sheet. He carefully tucked her in and kissed her forehead. “Guten abend,” he sang, “gute nacht, mit rosen bedacht...”

“Jen,” he said in a much different voice, not singing but speaking loudly. “Jen, wake up! It’s dinner time. Pizza’s here.” Why couldn’t he let her sleep? She only needed ten minutes. But, even if he would, her bladder wouldn’t. She opened her eyes. The only light was spilling in from the doorway.

He was completely dressed, and when he kissed her forehead again, his cheek felt cold. “I have something for you,” he said. “Look.” He was holding a robe. “And slippers. I figured that you needed to keep your feet warm.”

She put on the robe and stumbled into the slippers. They were warm -- indeed fuzzy; they were also a little tight. By the time she got out of the bathroom, she was awake.

“You look delightful,” he said. “Want to eat dressed like that?”

“I have to go with you to get the pizza.”

“It’s in the kitchen.” And so it was, a box on the kitchen table held a deep-dish pizza already sliced. There was a slice on each of two plates at facing places at the table. A bottle of red wine and two wine glasses shared the table with them. A light was beginning to dawn.

“How long did I sleep?”

“Little more than an hour. Hungry?” Surprisingly, she was.

“Yes. Should I dress? Did you get the wine on the same trip?”

“I already had the wine. Not opened in case you’d want to eat something else. You are dressed, darling.”

“Did you buy the robe and slippers especially for me?”

“Yep. Hope the slippers fit.”

Should she tell the truth? If they were going to be married, he’d have to know her sizes. “Actually, they’re a little small.”

“Good! You have a petite build, but the slippers looked awfully tiny when I compared them to my feet. Can you wear them tonight?”

“Sure. Slippers aren’t that size-dependent.” They fit her feet; they were just a little snug. Slippers should flop around a little.

She sang the grace with him and sat down. “Delicious!” she said before taking her second bite.

“So you are, but it’s not modest to say so.” The pizza in her mouth dissuaded her from sticking out her tongue. “You need to plan how you’re going to tell your congregation. Merely wearing a ring and waiting for people to notice might work for some women, but it’s probably not what you want.” He was still in the professor mode. Well, he had the experience of being the pastor, although probably not of being a pastor announcing his engagement.

“And how are you going to handle your end?”

“I’m not. Oh, I’ll tell my family. Basically, though, I plan to let this year’s supply of students depart thinking I’ll always be an old bachelor, and next year’s supply come to class to see a man who looks like he’s been married forever. Not that many students check you out to see whether you’re wearing a ring. Especially men teachers.”

“A long engagement?”

“You’re in charge of schedule -- within reason. It should be obvious, though, that if you want a decent honeymoon you’ll have to wait ‘til the end of school. Of course, we could marry earlier and just take a vacation when we can both get off. Honeymoons are a tradition; they aren’t an essential part of marriage.

“Look, there is what David wants, and what Jen wants, and what David’s situation requires, and what Jen’s situation requires. My bottom line was satisfied when you said you’d marry me. I might have preferences besides, but I don’t have other requirements. You are going to find that your situation lays a lot more demands. I’m just looking ahead at some of them. Your congregation is going to expect that their church is the scene of the wedding. Your parents might well expect otherwise. I’m not being demanding; I’m exercising forethought. I’ve had more time to look at what this will mean, after all.”

This was a more interesting point than people telling her where they wanted her to have her wedding. “How long have you known you would propose?”

“Known? Not long. We couldn’t get married without knowing we were sexually compatible, could we?” She’d have to think about that comment, but now wasn’t the time. “Been considering it? Not as long as I should have. I’ll swear that I wasn’t thinking about marriage when I first looked up what church you’d been assigned to. It was nowhere in my mind those first lunches. Now, looking back, it should have been. I couldn’t let this girl go out of my life; I had to see her again -- and again and again. So how else could I keep her in my life? When you think of it, I was an idiot for not seeing that.

“On the other hand,” he continued, “dreaming of kissing you was frustrating enough. If I had been thinking of marriage back then, I’d have driven myself crazy. There were too many obstacles.”

So why hadn’t he mentioned this to her? He’d played a disinterested professor, then a faculty member checking out how a former student was doing. On the other hand, he was the only Garrett prof who had shown up in Independence. And she should have tumbled when he came back -- he couldn’t have visited many students on that schedule. It wasn’t as if he got to some church services on Mondays and others on Tuesdays. “So, all of this was a plot?”

“Well, no. That’s what I just said. Or, and in one manner it was, it was horribly done. I just wanted to see you again. Then I wanted to take you out. Then -- well really not then -- I wanted to kiss you. I’d wanted to kiss you much earlier, but I never thought I’d be able. And asking your pastor out for lunch is easy enough; dozens of families in your church do it. Kissing a woman you’ve taken to lunch is easy enough; she might not like it, but she likes you enough to go on a lunch date. It isn’t as if it’s a great step. Kissing a woman you’ve taken to lunch because she’s your pastor is impossible.”

“Well, when you hid your feelings, I couldn’t respond to them.” She was being a little unfair; she’d hidden some feelings, as well.

“And if I had stated them explicitly, it would have been sexual harassment.”

After a brief pause, he laughed. “You can’t guess what I’m working on now, though.”

He was eating pizza now, but that isn’t what he meant. Was he working on another idea for their marriage? For their evening together? “What?”

“A book on Paul’s views on marriage. A fairly ambitious one. The nature of marriage in the Hellenistic society of his audience, in the Roman law which more-or-less controlled them, in the Old Testament background and contemporary practices of Palestinian Jews. Then Paul’s admonitions in light of those practices. I’m not dealing with one Letter, nor with what he says on other subjects in the Letters I mention. I didn’t see the connection ‘til just now. It’s a fair question, an important segment of his teaching. I’m obsessing over an ex-student I’ll never see again, and I -- just coincidentally -- set out to investigate what Paul says about marriage. So, I wasn’t consciously thinking of marrying you until fairly recently.”

There was a long silence. She thought about his last comment; she thought about her dinner. She wanted more; she’d been deprived of real pizza for most of the last year. On the other hand, she didn’t want to overeat. She might have a heavy weight on her stomach soon. Indeed, she’d be disappointed if she didn’t. This business of licking her to ecstasy was all very well. What was she thinking -- it was delightful. But she wanted him in her, too. Finally, she asked, “could you cut one of those slices in half?”

He served her the half slice. As she was finishing it, he got up and dished himself a portion, a very small portion, of the lime sherbet. As she poured her second glass of wine, she decided to refuse dessert. She never got the opportunity. “Let’s adjourn to the bedroom,” he said as she ate her last bite of pizza.

He took his bowl and coffee cup with him and set them down on the left-hand nightstand. She set her cup and her wineglass on the other nightstand; she normally avoided coffee at night lest it should keep her awake but keeping awake might be necessary in view of her recent experience in this room.