Chapter 7

Copyright© 2007 by Lazlo Zalezac

Romantic Sex Story: Chapter 7 - The phrase, 'may you live in interesting times,' is an ancient Chinese curse. Mike Bowman is rebuilding his life after a minor wound received in Iraq cut short his military career. Join Mike as he lives through the interesting times that follow when terrorists bring the 'War On Terror' to the United States.

Caution: This Romantic Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   Romantic  

Karen waddled into the room feeling very large. Even worse, she felt that was very ugly and that there was no way that Mike could possibly be interested in her. She was about to complain when Mike said, "You are so beautiful. Come here and sit on my lap."

"Oh come on," Karen said not wanting to hear how beautiful she looked. She wanted to gripe about being fat and ugly.

"Please come here and sit on my lap. I want to run my hand over your belly and feel little Mike or baby Karen moving around in there," Mike said patting his lap.

Snorting in disbelief, Karen went over to him and sat on his lap. She said, "I don't see how you can stand to have me sitting on you. I weigh a ton."

"No, you don't," Mike said running a hand over her belly. The baby kicked his hand. Smiling upon feeling the sensation of life within her belly, Mike said, "I felt that one."

"The baby is active today," Karen said with a smile. She decided that she could use a little positive attention from her husband.

"How's your back?" Mike asked. He heard that a lot of women complained of back pains while pregnant because of the poor distribution of weight. That was particularly true during the final month of pregnancy.

"It's okay," Karen answered.

Kissing her on the neck, he said, "I got a gift certificate for you at the Spa down the street for a half of a day of pampering."

"You didn't?" Karen asked surprised at his thoughtfulness.

"I did. I don't want you feeling bad for even a minute," Mike said.

Karen burst into tears and hugged him. Sobbing, she said, "You're too good to me."

"Well, I wanted to get you the full day package, but they said that they wouldn't do the full hair styling. The woman there said that the stuff they use to color hair wasn't really good for pregnant women. So I got you the half day package. It is a massage, hair cut, manicure, pedicure, and lunch. I hope you enjoy it," Mike said.

"I'll enjoy it," Karen said unable to believe that he had done that for her.

Dale stepped into Mike's office and said, "I saw that you requested someone to check out some manufacturers. What's up?"

"I'm not sure," Mike answered. He frowned and added, "I know that the Iranians have contracted with a German company to have a rail gun built for them. The problem is that it doesn't add up. As far as I can tell, it is designed to launch soda cans less than two hundred kilometers."

"Soda cans?" Dale asked with a laugh.

"I'm serious. I picked up a soda can the other day and checked it out. It's what the rail gun is designed to shoot," Mike said.

Dale shook his head and asked, "What would happen if you launched a soda can?"

"It would never reach the target. The heat generated would boil the liquid inside and it would explode," Mike answered.

"So what if it was solid metal?"

"It would weight too much. It would launch, but its range would be about ten kilometers and would destroy the rails with each launch. That wouldn't add much to their military capability," Mike answered.

Dale sat down in the chair and thought about the problem for a minute. He looked up and said, "I suppose a light-weight powder would probably make a pretty impressive cloud of dust."

"I suppose so. Of course, the powder itself could act like a solid on impact. Then it wouldn't be very impressive at all," Mike said.

"What would it take to establish what would happen?" Dale asked.

"I'd like to build one and see what it can do," Mike answered. He grinned and asked, "Any chance you'd let me spend a couple of months in a lab?"

Laughing, Dale said, "I'm afraid that isn't possible. We could get someone to build it for you."

"Let's do it. I'd like to see what kind of payload it could deliver," Mike said.

Karen spent Saturday afternoon at the spa while Mike worked around the house. He didn't have much to do to finish the living room and he spent the time well. By the time Karen returned home, all of the fixtures were in place and Mike was taking a well deserved break.

She entered the house and looked around. Mike had put the money he saved by doing the work himself into getting better quality materials. The switch plates were brass rather than plastic. It was the little details that showed his attention to quality. Smiling, she said, "This room is finished."

"Yes it is," Mike said rising from his seat to let her sit in it since it was the most comfortable chair in the house. Looking over at his wife, he said, "You look relaxed."

"I am. That was so great," Karen said. Taking an entire afternoon off to be pampered was heavenly. Wanting to thank him for his thoughtfulness, she added, "If you'll come in the bedroom with me, I'll give you a proper thank you."

He did, she did, and a great time was had by all.

Mike sat down in the main room of the Headquarters Auditorium and waited for the President to arrive. This was the President's first major speech in front of the CIA. It was unusual in the sense that it was targeted at the Intelligence Analysts rather than the upper levels of management.

For some reason that no one had explained to Mike, he was one of people chosen to attend the speech. He wasn't sure if it was an honor or drudge work given to the new guy. It was his first time to visit the dome shaped building and he thought it was impressive. It seated 470 people although elbow room was a little limited. He assumed that people were smaller in the 1950s.

Another analyst sat down beside him and noticed him checking out the building. He asked, "Is this your first time in the bubble?"

"The bubble?" Mike asked.

The man laughed and said, "This building is usually referred to as the bubble."

"Oh. I guess my ignorance answers your question," Mike said with a shrug of his shoulders.

"The building may be fifty years old, but it is state of the art," the man said. He looked up at the front of the room and said, "It looks like they are about to start."

"Right," Mike said looking at the front of the room in time to see the current Director walk to the podium. The seal on the podium was the presidential seal.

The Director tapped the microphone and then said, "Ladies and Gentlemen, the President of the United States of America."

Surprised by the rather abrupt introduction, Mike watched the Director walk over to a chair near the podium. He looked back at the podium in time to see the President step up to the microphone. Mike wasn't sure if he was supposed to stand, clap, or just sit there.

Without preamble, the President said, "The invasion of Iraq was initiated on faulty recommendations from this agency. As Intelligence Analysts, your job is to provide the President with accurate security assessments. You failed your mission. You failed the former President.

"I am taking steps to assure that you don't fail me. I am replacing the current Director of the CIA with someone whose judgment I trust. I will be announcing his replacement on television tonight. Her first job will be to review the current procedures that you follow in arriving at an assessment and to redefine those procedures so that you won't make the same mistakes as in the past.

"Let me tell you one thing; you people have not been held responsible for your mistakes. That's going to change. You will be responsible for the quality of your security assessments. If you aren't a hundred percent correct, you will be fired. Your boss will also be fired. If it is really bad, people further up the chain will be fired as well."

Mike crossed his arms and thought, 'I won't be submitting any work anytime soon. There's no way I can guarantee one hundred percent correctness of my assessments.'

The President continued, "This agency has been a disgrace to this country ever since it was founded. Throughout my career as a politician every international scandal has involved the CIA. That ends today. I will allow the extradition of any CIA agent charged of any international crime by the International Court of Justice in The Hague so that they can stand trial for their crimes."

The guy seated next to Mike stood up and said, "Fuck this. I'm out of here. I'm not letting enemies of the United States prosecute my friends for bullshit offences."

The President glared at the handful of men who left the room. Mike slouched down in his chair hoping that he wouldn't be noticed. As the President resumed his speech, Mike decided that his invitation to hear the President speak had not been an honor. He wondered if the President expected an ovation at the end of his speech. If so, Mike didn't think there would be one.

Mike stepped into the maternity section of the hospital and spotted Vincent seated in one of the chairs. Rushing over to the man, Mike asked, "How is she?"

"She's doing what all expectant mothers do about this time," Vincent answered with a smile.

"What?" Mike asked.

"She's cursing you for getting her pregnant."

"Oh," Mike said. At first he thought his father-in-law was joking, but then realized the man was serious.

Vincent looked around to make sure that Sally wasn't within earshot and then said, "I never knew that my sweet little wife could curse like a sailor until she was giving birth to Karen. It was an amazing stream of obscenities that came out of her mouth that night. Let me tell you, my respect for that woman's vocabulary went up a notch."

"Sally?" Mike asked. He couldn't imagine a dirty word coming out of her mouth.

"Yes, Sally."

"Wow," Mike said.

Vincent winked and said, "Karen is in that room over there. You might want to go in and let her know that you're here for her."

"Yes, Captain," Mike said even as he was leaving for the room Vincent had pointed out.

To the retreating back of Mike, Vincent called out, "Let me know if my sweet little baby girl is as bad as her mother."

Mike had just gotten to her bedside when Karen grabbed his hand and squeezed. It wasn't a gentle little squeeze. It wasn't even a firm handshake kind of squeeze. This was one that brought Mike to his knees with tears coming out of his eyes. When the pain passed for her, he pulled his left hand out of hers. Afraid to look at his hand, he asked, "How are you doing?"

"You fucking bastard! I hate you! You did this to me," Karen screamed at him. With her eyes wide, her face blotchy, and her mouth in a grimace, she didn't look human. She looked positively frightening.

Mike looked at his left hand and then over at her. Torn between staying with her and leaving, he said, "I've got to find a doctor."

"You miserable piece of fucking scum, don't you dare leave me here all alone!"

Mike said, "I'm sorry, but I've really got to find a doctor."

"You're not going anywhere. You did this to me," Karen screamed. She grabbed for his hand as another contraction hit. He pulled it out of her reach just in time. She screamed. When the contraction passed, she shouted, "Fuck this natural childbirth, I want drugs."

Mike stayed with his wife through the rest of her labor. It only lasted another three hours, but Mike could have sworn that it was three days. It was an incredibly painful experience for both of them. Once the baby was born, he brushed the hair out of her eyes and said, "I love you."

"I love you, too," Karen answered. She wondered why if he loved her so much that he had tried to leave her earlier. She was too tired to argue about it.

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