Chapter 12

I woke up Sunday morning, early, in a moment of clarity. At least I thought it was clear. I got out of bed, quietly, and made my way to the office, stopping only long enough to pull on sweats and a slightly used shirt.

I hadn't shut off the computer the night before, so I was typing moments later. I tied my work from the previous night into my new theory, constructed a better proof, and managed to create a model that showed what I was visualizing.

I sat back, rubbing my eyes. It was seven-fifteen.

"Did you even go to sleep?" Mom asked.

"Huh?"

"I heard Debbie come get you at eleven thirty last night, and then I heard you again at four. Are you all right?"

"Yeah. Hey. Um. I need to go see Barb real quick. Could you tell Debbie if she gets up?"

"It's seven-thirty in the morning, Michael."

"She'll understand."

"I'll tell Debbie," Mom said. "I don't know what I'll tell her, but I'll think of something. Go." She laughed.

I picked up the sheaf of papers I'd printed on the laser, gathered my keys and wallet, and I was off.

Barb, thankfully, was up reading the paper when I showed up at her door.

"Michael! What on Earth are you doing here now?"

"Ah," I was abashed. "About that problem?"

"Were you up all night on that?" Barb laughed.

"No. Well, no. Debbie dragged me to bed late, but I got up early," I said.

"Coffee?"

I hadn't realized how much I wanted coffee until Barb offered. "God, yes."

She laughed and went to get a cup. "Come on into the kitchen," she said. "Emily is still asleep, so we should keep it down."

A big cup of fresh, hot coffee with, I noticed, fresh cream. Heaven. I may even have groaned as I swallowed the first sip. Mmmm.

I am happily addicted.

"So what have you got?" Barb asked, nodding at my stack of paper.

I smiled, and pulled it in front of me. "It isn't impossible, is it?"

Barb smiled. "No. Show me what you have."

I started at the beginning, and went to the end. It took thirty-seven pages, three cups of coffee, and two hours. Barb only asked questions to see if I could defend my assumptions and my logic.

When I was done, I looked to Barb for her reaction.

"May I keep these?" she asked, touching the stack.

"Sure. Um. Is it right?" I thought it might be, but it might not be, too.

"Michael," Barb said, "there is so much that you don't know yet. Things that would make this easier, tools, techniques, the work of legions of mathematicians. But all that is nothing against being able to see a way to the right answer."

Barb took a drink of her coffee.

"I believe you have found the most difficult possible way to solve this problem... and I don't think there are three undergraduate students in Laramie who could have done it at all."

I blinked.

"I'd like your permission to go over this with Dr. Johnson." Dr. Johnson was the Math Department head.

I blinked again. "Sure."

"Take the rest of the weekend off, Michael. Spend some time with my daughter."

I chuckled a bit. "Thanks, Barb," I said.

"For what?" she asked, clearly surprised.

"For really challenging me."

"I doubt it is the last time, and I doubt you'll thank me every time," Barb said with a smile. "But you're welcome."

I finished my coffee, and then drove home.

Mom was working in the office, the stray clothes from the night before were in a pile on my chair, and Debbie was still sleeping.

I stripped off, and joined Debbie in bed. I took a deep breath through my nose, smelling Debbie's hair, skin, and scent. Mmm.

"Where have you been?" Debbie asked sleepily.

"Out," I said cuddling closer. "Come here."

Debbie rolled into me, mashing her beautiful breasts against my chest, and wrapping her arms around me. "Cold."

"Love you." I kissed her forehead, pulled the covers up over us, closed my eyes, and was almost instantly fast asleep.

A warm sensation surrounding my erection woke me up. Actually, the muscles in my face cramping from my smile probably woke me up.

"Oh that feels good," I said softly.

"Mmmm," Debbie hummed.

"Oh, yeah."

"Good morning, lover," Debbie said.

"It's still morning?" I asked.

"Mmmm hmmmm," Debbie hummed again.

"Really?"

"Mmmm hmmmm." Debbie bobbed her head a few times then licked me like a lollipop.

"God!" I grunted.

Debbie sucked me back in, working me back and forth against her tongue and lips.

I lifted the covers to see her. "You are so beautiful," I said.

"Mmmm."

She slowly fondled my testicles.

"You're killing me down there," I said.

She chuckled, sending shivers up my spine.

I lay back, letting her — needing her to — pleasure me. "Oh sweetie," I moaned.

Debbie bobbed her head, twisting her hand back and forth around the base of my erection, weighing my testicles.

"Oh!"

Long, slow sucks. Quick little licks.

"I'm close," I warned.

If anything, Debbie sped up.

"It's. It's!" I started. "Aaahhrrggg," I barely grunted out. My stomach muscles spasmed and then clenched. "Ohhhh," I sighed.

Debbie slowed and then stopped her ministrations. "Feel good?" she asked with a smile.

"God."

Debbie crawled up me until she was staring me in the eye. "What is it about you, Michael?"

"Hmmm?" I asked.

"Why do I love you like this?"

I smiled. "You mean, why do you suck me in the morning?"

Debbie stuck out her tongue. "No. I know why I do that: I like doing it."

I kissed her and she shivered. I wrapped my arms around her. "I like that, too."

Debbie rolled her eyes. "Duh."

"I like this, too," I said running my hands up and down her sides, caressing her, patting her bottom.

Debbie sighed and laid her head on my chest.

"Hmm?" I asked.

"I'll give you until Tuesday at ten to stop that," Debbie said.

"What about lunch?"

She giggled. "I just had 'lunch.'"

I chuckled. "Well that's fine for you, but I'm hungry, too."

"Pig."

"Oink."

We held each other for another few minutes, and then Debbie crawled off me. "Let's get up."

Fifteen minutes later, Mom had me cutting tomatoes, and Debbie frying bacon for the BLTs she was putting together. The greenhouse tomatoes were so-so, but overall the meal hit the spot.

Thanks, Mom.

Chores, and our real homework pretty much filled Sunday afternoon.

"Mr. Wilson?" Professor Alexander said at the end of class on Tuesday. "Could you stay a few minutes?"

"Yes, ma'am," I said, walking to her desk, rather than the exit.

"Brown-noser," one of the guys in class that I was a friend with whispered as he went by.

Barb sorted through her papers as the room emptied. Shortly, we had it to ourselves. "Michael, I just wanted to tell you that I got together with Dr. Johnson, and discussed your weekend project. He'd like you to set a time with him and me to discuss it — and your plans."

"My plans?" I asked, flattered in part, but still uncertain.

"Michael, I wasn't blowing smoke when I said there were few other students here that could have solved that problem. You have a talent. Dr. Johnson — and I — want to make sure you don't waste it."

What does that mean? "Well, okay. Um. Anytime would be fine. You have my class schedule. Just let me — or Debbie — know. Okay?"

"Thanks, Michael," Barb said. "This is a good thing. You'll see."

She walked me out, and we parted ways. She headed to her office. I headed for home.

When I got home, I checked messages, and then called Dad's attorney. It was a courtesy call to let him know I'd be in Ft. Lauderdale. I had to leave a message with his assistant.