Chapter 6

Sabrina never actually talked about how she felt about what Randy and Kathy did together ... or how I fit into that scenario. From that point on she just talked about them as "Randy and Kathy", as if they were any of a number of couples we knew.

And, after that, taking her to see Micky and Susan didn't seem so uncomfortable. I didn't analyze why. I just set it up.

If you would have lined up all the women who were ... or might be pregnant with my babies, they would have gone from the gentle beginning swell of Kathy's abdomen, to the full, heavily gravid belly of Tanya, who was beginning to waddle when she walked. Micky and Susan would have been in the middle of that line, a little closer to Kathy, with Gertie between them and Tanya.

Susan opened the door, with Micky standing right behind her. Both had almost eager looks on their faces. Micky had a smudge of something blue on her cheek. Both were dressed in old sweats.

"Sorry," gushed Susan. "We were painting in the nursery and forgot the time. We're not dressed."

Sabrina smiled and said "Nonsense. You're at home, and you can dress any way you like."

They ushered us in. There were no hugs this time, but a round of handshakes that seemed a little tense and forced. Susan led Sabrina into the living room, while Micky sidled up an nudged me with her hip. She grinned and mouthed the word "WOW!" silently. I grinned, somewhat sheepishly.

I didn't think conversation was going to take off this time, and it didn't, really, until Sabrina asked if she could see the nursery. We straggled toward the second bedroom, and I saw that the floor was covered with a tarp. Three walls had geometric like designs penciled on them, parts of which were filled with paint that was pastel pink, yellow, blue, white and a little of something I'd call violet. The remaining wall had a mural on it, green and brown vegetation at the bottom, with a brilliant blue sky and fluffy white clouds above. Arching through the sky was a rainbow. Directly under the rainbow were a pair of cradles.

"Oh!" gasped Sabrina. "This is going to be BEAUTIFUL!"

Susan looked at the floor.

"We're not very good, but we have a lot of ideas, and we want the room to be bright and cheery."

Sabrina bent over to look at the vegetation.

"This is wonderful work. Where did you learn to do that?" she asked.

Micky laughed.

"Bob Ross, on TV, believe it or not. The whole thing was done with a regular paint brush."

Sabrina stood up grinning.

"I LOVE Bob Ross!" she said. "I just love to watch him make something out of nothing. I've always wanted to try it, but never took the time."

She pointed to an area that was blank, and which was long and slanting.

"What's going there?" she asked.

Susan sighed. "There's supposed to be a stream there, but neither of us knows how to paint that."

Within ten minutes it was like I wasn't even in the room. Eventually Susan turned around and saw me.

"Bob, honey, would you please go see if the roast is done? It should be tender enough to pick apart with a fork."

I cringed at her characterization of me as "honey", but Sabrina didn't seem to notice. She was deep in conversation with Micky about mobiles that would be hanging from the ceiling.

I checked on the roast. It had been done for a while, and looked like something I might have tried to cook. Still, it wasn't burned. I took it out of the oven. The potatoes were still simmering in a pot on the stove. They were done, so I took them out and mashed them, adding a little milk and seasoning it to my own tastes. I was feeling a bit neglected, I think. I opened a couple of cans of green beans and put them in the microwave, and then made gravy out of the drippings in the roast pan. My gravy isn't all that good, but I needed something to do.

Finally, though, it was ready, and getting cold, so I went and called to the women to come to supper. They chattered all the way down the hall, and kept it up during supper. It was almost like I wasn't even there.

I did get a nod from Susan.

"Thanks for taking care of dinner," she said, chewing industriously on the somewhat dry roast. "You're handy to have around in more than one way."

Everything stopped as she blushed and covered her face with both hands.

Sabrina broke the tension.

"He IS nice to have around ... isn't he?"

Then they chattered on about the nursery, talking about this and that until I just wanted to scream. When Sabrina offered to come over the next day and help them paint I felt a mixture of elation ... and a little jealousy, I think.

There WERE hugs all around when we left, and two more of my babies got pressed against Sabrina's flat abdomen.

Sabrina was effusive.

As soon as we got in the car she said "I LIKE them!" sounding a little surprised. She was quiet for a few minutes as I got things moving. By now, it was just habit to go back to her house. Every time I'd introduced her to one of the ... odd ... couples, I'd gotten treated to some fantastic loving, and I just assumed we'd do the same tonight.

"It's a good thing I met you before I met them," said Sabrina.

I shot her a look and she looked out the window. Not before I saw the little smile on her face, though.

When we got there, she started disrobing right in the living room.

"I've never thought about making love with another woman," she said, posing for me, Bernice and Rhonda gorgeously staring at me. "I wonder what it feels like?"

I manhandled her to the couch and sat her down, leaning her back and spreading her legs as she giggled. Then I dove between her legs and did my best to convince her that I could lick her pussy better than anybody else on the planet, male OR female.

Later, as I got ready to socket my iron hard prick in her pussy, she gripped it, aiming it.

"I could never do without this, though."

I pushed, trying to get the tip of my prick between Bernice and Rhonda.

"Ohhhhhhh yessssss," she moaned. "I could never do without that."

It was Gertie's wedding that did me in. Of course that depends on how you define "being done in."

It took place about three months after I'd met Sabrina, and the invitation was sent to her, instead of me. It said both of us were invited. It was a fairly small affair. They were just now expanding their contacts and meeting new people. The thing that made it nice was that everyone there really wanted to be there.

I had no idea that they made wedding dresses designed just for pregnant women. Gertie was "about half done", as Hiram put it, grinning. He walked her down the aisle and gave her away, which was more than just symbolic, in this particular wedding. Sabrina cried, and her hug for Gertie in the reception line was a long one.

We were sitting at a table, and just happened to be alone at the time. Our table mates were all up dancing. Sabrina was radiant, her hair done up on top of her head, in whorls of auburn that glinted red in the bright lights of the hall. She had worn a dress that, had I not known her, would have staggered me with the amount of cleavage it showed. There were probably a lot of very unhappy wives around us. Today she was the princess, and it showed.

"I haven't been to a wedding in years and years," she sighed, looking around. "Weddings always make me happy."

"It doesn't cause ... pain?" I asked.

She looked at me seriously.

"A little, I guess," she admitted. "But my wedding day was the happiest day of my life. I was just a girl, but it was like I was in a fairy tale. I loved every second of it. I still miss him. I'll always miss him. But I have that memory, and this brought it back."

I smiled at her.

"I'm glad then," I said.

Something almost wistful came into her eyes. She stared at me a for a few seconds, and I sank deep into those gold-flecked eyes.

"I have you to thank for this, in a way," she said. "I wouldn't have met Gertie, and I wouldn't be here right now, having such a good time, if it hadn't been for you."

"Aw, shucks," I quipped. "It weren't nothing."

"Yes it WAS," she corrected me instantly. "And Gertie wouldn't be here either if it weren't for you. She's insanely happy, just like I was, and it really was you who brought this about, Bob." Her wistful look turned to something else ... something I wanted to perceive as respect.

"You're a mover and a shaker, Bob. You might not be powerful and rich, but you shake things up, and you move people in ways that are life-changing sometimes."

"I'm just a guy," I objected. Being put on a pedestal means you can fall off that pedestal.

"You're unique," she said.

"Yeah," I quipped again. "I'm unique ... just like everybody else."

"You're the only man I love," she said softly. "That makes you unique to me." She glanced away, and then back to me. "Do you want to dance?"

For the first time, her casual admission of love for me entered my ears in a way that was somehow different than it had ever been in the past. This time, when she said she loved me, it just sounded right. It sounded real ... and it sounded like something I might actually deserve.