Chapter 4: Fiancee

“Jennifer Saunders, will you marry me?” The question was easy when he wasn’t panicked over the answer.

“David Blake, I will.”

He put the ring on her finger, and they were officially engaged. They each took a box with the other’s wedding ring in it. Back in the car, the engaged couple had no appointments.

“What do you want to do with the rest of the evening?” he asked her. “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 said, “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.” And they could spend the rest of the evening there. Indeed, the afternoon wasn’t dead yet.

“Let’s.”

They were in no rush, he reminded himself. they got out of their coats and he hung them up before they had their first kiss. That went on and on, her hands were on his bottom as his were on hers. When they broke, he invited her into the kitchen while he prepared the coffee. While it was brewing, he renewed the kiss. Then he held her breasts in his hands while his leg was pressed against her bottom.

“You liked those better without the bra?” she asked.

“Yes,” he admitted. “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.” He would have loved that.

“Sweeping the ground when you walk.” As long as they were talking dreams.

“Gee, thanks! It was hard enough to care for when it was half that length.” She was no longer talking dreams. “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.” And, the forgiveness must entitle him to a kiss. He kissed one ear and then the other. The coffee was ready before they could get more serious. That was all right; they had time for both coffee and seriousness. When he poured the coffee, he thought of other resources.

“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.”

“At the risk of being repetitive, do you want me to get a pizza?” That was the cheapest take-out. They really should celebrate their engagement. On the other hand, she’d expressed more pleasure over the pizza than over the fancier meals.

“Pizza? Did the man say pizza? I might propose.” He’d guessed right.

“Can’t. You’re wearing an engagement ring. What sort of topping?” He consulted the take-out menu. “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,” she agreed. “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 was eating the ice cream. They had lots of time, and he had an idea for the sherbet she hadn’t cared for. But he wasn’t finished with the pizza order.

“Deep dish?”

“Is there another kind?”

“There is on the menu.” That handled the dinner, but maybe they could manage to entertain themselves before dinner time. “If I wanted to really sound like your mother, I’d send you to bed without your supper.”

“I’m willing,” she said when she’d decoded the invitation.

He held out a hand to her. She took it, and he helped her to her feet. They had a delightful kiss before he led her into the bedroom and another there. That might be a lesser pleasure, but it was one he’d denied himself far too long. Then she sat while he removed shoes and socks. If she were ready for bed, the bed was not ready for her. He took care of that before gesturing for her to rise for another kiss.

This one was equally sweet, but he had to bend too far. Jen was shorter without shoes. During the kiss, he explored her dress. It had a zipper that he pulled down to her sweet bottom and a hook at the neck he hadn’t expected. Well, one of the things marriage would teach him was how Jen’s clothes fastened, or -- at least -- unfastened. He knew more about bras. When he had opened both, he stepped back for her to remove them properly. She handed them to him, and he placed them on the chair on the other side of the bed. He had to bend even more to kiss her breasts, but the experience was worth it.

“Lovely.” he said. “See, you look even better this way.”

“They aren’t too small?” Jen could find so many deficiencies where he only saw perfection.

He tried to get one in his mouth. It wouldn’t fit. He tried the other, just in case -- not at all because he liked the sensation. It didn’t fit, either. “They’re too big to fit. What more do you want?”

“I want you to do that again.” Well, he was duty-bound to please his fiancée. He kissed them again, quite thoroughly. The nipples were so responsive when he licked them!

Kneeling before her, he removed her panties. Then he started her pantyhose down. That revealed her pubic hair in its naked glory. He kissed it.

“See,” he pointed out, “your hair doesn’t have to be long for me to love it.” Then, practicalities intervened. “I think, though, that this would work better if you were sitting down.” It did. And, when the pantyhose was gone, there was a whole new section of Jen to kiss. He kissed a line up her leg until she blocked him by closing her thighs. “I think you were sent to bed,” he said. She got into bed. She was wearing only her watch and the engagement ring. Suddenly, he thought this was too much.

“Do you want to remove your watch?” When she did, there was only Jen and his claim on her. He almost came in his pants at the sight. He kissed that hand. He lay his glasses on the nightstand before joining her in bed. There, they had another kiss; her tongue tasted delightfully sweet. He kissed a line down to one breast, across to the other, and then back to her mouth again.

He held her sweet breast while he caught his breath. Then he kissed and licked another line down her throat. She writhed at that. What he could see of that writhe looked delightful, but he regretted removing his glasses. His sight of her loins was fuzzy. When his kisses got to her breast, he smoothed his hand down over her belly to her pubic hair. He played with that as long as he could resist going further. When he did, she was moist for him. She interrupted his enjoyment of this moisture by gripping his shoulders. He stopped his motions but removed neither hand nor mouth.

“You’re still dressed,” she said.

“Ihm hihm.” It was early days, yet. He’d love to bury himself in her and flood her with his release. On the other hand, he could only do that once a night. He wasn’t 16 anymore. Oh, well. He could afford an engagement ring at 36. He couldn’t have even afforded an apartment at 16. And Jen would have been what back then? Grade school, maybe even kindergarten. They’d definitely met in the right decade, even if he had less sexual stamina now. for that matter, he now had some skills to make up for his lost stamina. So, he tried to use his skills.

As he stroked between her labia, he switched breasts. Jen relaxed to accept his ministrations. She was going to get pizza tonight; he was entitled to his dining choice, as well. He moved between her legs to access it. When he began kissing one thigh a little above the knee, Jen spread her legs and bent them. Delightful girl! She was so open in her acceptance of his attentions. He teased himself, maybe both of them, with a slow approach that occasionally switched legs.

When he got to her labia, the taste was as sweet as he’d expected. When she pulled his head against her, he stroked up her torso to her breasts. He played with her nipples. He licked her open and lapped up the sweetness. He licked to his left; he licked to his right; he licked up the groove between. Every time his tongue crossed her clitoris, she pulled harder on his hair. When she did that, he rubbed her outer labia with his chin. But he needed a rest, and she’d enjoy it more if the build-up lasted a minute longer. He turned his head to kiss her thigh. He cupped each breast with a hand. The lady seemed to grow impatient if her assault on his head was any indication. Damn! It was great to feel wanted.

“Sweet Jen,” he said. “Sweet, sweet, Jennifer and her special sweetness.” The taste was only part of that sweetness; her willingness to express desire for him was another. And, in response to the second sweetness, he resumed tasting the first. He played with her breasts again, feeling the stiffness of the nipples as he drew his fingers lightly over them. But he was also conscious of the tautness of her belly under his arms and how the rise there demonstrated slighter and more frequent breaths. When he thought she was nearly there, he kissed her clitoral area and sucked.

He’d been right! The tension under his arms was of a radically new form. She shuddered beneath his mouth. He kept licking her and stroking her nipples as the shudders turned to rhythmic contractions. He remembered the first time in his apartment, when she’d slept forever. So, when she arched up into his face, he broke contact.

Soon, she relaxed. She was going to sleep again. He covered her carefully. She looked so sweet in his bed.

“Guten abend, gute nacht, mit rosen bedacht...” He sang the lullaby through twice. By that time, she was asleep. He visited the bathroom to use the facilities and to wash hands and face. It was a shame to remove Jen’s sweet odor, but he was going out. He didn’t want another man smelling her private scent. That would be his monopoly, his as long as they both shall live.

He called the pizza place to give his order. He left a note for Jen on the kitchen table: “Love you. Gone for pizza. Love you.”

She hadn’t stirred when he got back. He set the table, dished the pizza, poured the wine. She looked so sweet sleeping: too sweet to wake, but much too sweet to deprive of her pizza. He washed his hands again, not that Jen was likely to object to pizza on hands which touched her. He got out the robe and slippers. Then he shook her gently, then not so gently.

“Jen! Jen, wake up! It’s dinner time. Pizza’s here!” She woke slowly. Poor girl probably needed her sleep. He was sure she hadn’t cut back any pastoral work to make time for dates, which meant she probably cut back on her sleep. “I have something for you. Look.” He was held out the robe. “And slippers. I figured that you needed to keep your feet warm.” They looked nicer when she was in them. He told her so when she got back from the bathroom.

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

“I have to go with you to get the pizza.” Jen had no idea of how long she’d been asleep.

“It’s in the kitchen.” She went with him to the kitchen to see. She looked around but didn’t sit down.

“How long did I sleep?”

“Little more than an hour. Hungry?”

“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.”

“Actually, they’re a little small.”

“Good!” She seemed to like all his sexual advances, but knowing that she was willing to say that something was wrong made that more believable. “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 sang “Be present at our table, Lord...” and sat down.

“Delicious,” she said after her first bite of pizza.

“So you are, but it’s not modest to say so.” Then he got serious. “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.”

“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?” she asked.

“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.”

“How long have you known you would propose?”

“Known? Not long. We couldn’t get married without knowing we were sexually compatible, could we?” Not really the reason he’d dithered, but -- even now -- he didn’t want to lay out the reasons she shouldn’t marry him. “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, 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, 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.”