Chapter 11

“I got a call from the bank,” I said as Andrea ran a dust mop over the hardwood floor in the front room. “Our mortgage is approved for the full amount -- two hundred twenty thousand.”

“Wonderful. What did that take? Three weeks?” She dusted around the base of the Christmas tree in the bay window.

“Just under. Now we can schedule a closing. Lisa will get us the final figures and then I can go to our other bank and draw sixty grand or so from that account and have them cut a cashier’s check. Actually, it’ll be less than sixty. The earnest money will be credited to the down payment and since we’re renting here, so will our security deposit and any pro-rated unused rent. We paid two months’ rent along with the security deposit up front so that’ll amount to another three large or so.”

“So much money.”

“I also need to have the gas and electric switched over to our account.”

“We’re already paying for electricity,” she said.

“We’ll need to keep the lights on over there while we do our reno work. Besides, the power to run the furnace comes from that side ... I suppose as part of the reno we’ll need to have an electrician re-wire the furnace to our panel if we’re keeping the B unit as the master and renting out the A unit. All these details.” I saw the mail truck stop at our drive. “Mail’s here,” I said. “I’ll go get it.”

I went outside to retrieve the contents of our mailbox, among which was an invoice from Lincolnville Memorial. “Bill from the hospital,” I remarked as I stepped inside. “Addressed to you.”

“You open it. I can’t look.”

I tore it open. “Little Annette cost us six thousand four hundred ninety-seven dollars and forty-three cents ... of which, our insurance covered five thousand one hundred ninety-seven dollars and ninety-four cents, leaving us on the hook for pennies under thirteen hundred bucks.”

“That’s more than Dr Lang quoted in the beginning,” she replied.

I regarded the itemized charges. “Well, it includes your tubal ligation, an extra day of confinement and some extras in the delivery room ... transfusion of four units whole blood ... enema. Did they give you an enema?”

“No -- I discussed it with Dr Lang and we decided it was unnecessary.”

“I didn’t think they did. They charged us ten dollars for it.”

“Aren’t you going to dispute it?”

“It would only make a two dollar difference on what we owe -- it’s not worth the fight.”

“But, the principle of it.”

“Yeah, I know. I’ve learned to justify the battles I fight and this one isn’t justified. Whether or not they gave you one, ten bucks sounds steep.”

“If you’re not going to dispute it, I will. There’s no reason to charge us for something we didn’t use. I’ll call their business office in the morning.”

“Give ‘em Hell,” I replied.

“We were doing so well this month,” she said. “With a bill like that we’ll need to dip into our reserves.”

“No we won’t. Do you remember me telling you that two months of the year have three pay periods?”

“Yeah -- I remember.”

“December is one of those months. We can apply paycheck number three to this bill and still have a surplus.”

Andrea put away the dust mop and picked Annette out of the cradle. She held the baby in her arms and rocked her. “Did you have any requests for dinner?” she asked.

“Hmmm. How about your home-made lasagna and some home-made Italian bread?”

“You’re not asking for much. I’ll need to start some bread dough as soon as Annette is done with her noon feeding. And, I’ll need supplies.”

“Write up a list and I’ll go fetch them.”

I parked in the drive and carried bags of groceries into the duplex. It was bitterly cold and windy, and I left one bag in the trunk of the car. “Here are your supplies,” I said. “Anything I can do to help?”

“You can check on Annette and see if she needs changing. Then, do you know what would be a big help?”

“What?”

“Keeping out of my way. This kitchen is too small for two chefs.”

I carried Annette up to the nursery and changed her diaper. I brought her back down and held her on my knee, bouncing her. “She still likes the horsie ride,” I said.

“That was so funny the first time I saw that,” Andrea replied.

I could smell the scent of bread baking. After setting Annette in the cradle I went into the kitchen. “Smells really good,” I said.

“I know. I love how baking bread perfumes a house.”

I approached her, embraced her and kissed her lips. “Do you know what day this is?” I asked.

“December seventeenth,” she replied.

“A year ago on this date, just about now I was driving a delivery truck loaded with a five-piece sectional up the steep drive of a house in the country. About two hours later a lightning bolt struck and changed our lives forever.”

Her eyes filled and I kissed away some tears. “I remember,” she said.

“You baked bread and used those very words -- how it perfumes a house. This is the day we should celebrate as our anniversary, Andie. Our wedding simply formalized what began then.”

She nodded. “I think that’s a wonderful idea. This is why you asked for lasagna. I had a frozen one I had made and we ate it for dinner. And, the home-made bread.”

I reached into my pocket and removed a small box. Inside was a ring with two small, clear stones. “Happy anniversary,” I said and slid it onto her finger, stacking it above her wedding ring.

“It’s beautiful ... but it’s too much, Casey.”

“They’re only cubic zirconias,” I replied, “but they’re very pretty.”

“They are, indeed. Look at how they sparkle.”

“They represent the two ladies in my life. You and...” I nodded toward the front room.

Andrea threw her arms around me and we kissed. “Thank you. I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

Andrea removed a sheet pan from the oven and placed two slender loaves onto racks to cool. “I’ll put the lasagna in the oven. It’ll be an hour or so before dinner is ready -- just enough time to feed Annette and get her settled.”

We finished our dinner. “Brings back memories,” I said.

“It does indeed.”

“I have something I need to get. It’s in the car. I’ll be right back.”

I headed outside and brought in the paper bag. Inside I retrieved two paper cups filled with a thick frozen confection and with long spoons sticking out of domed caps. I set one before her and another at my place. “Dessert,” I said. “Blizzards from Dairy Queen.”

“You are one romantic horndog,” she said. “I love you.”

“Speaking of which -- when will Dr Lang be able to give us the green light?”

“I have a six-week checkup scheduled in a month.”

“A month! My balls are going to be so blue I’ll need to wear them in a sling.”

After dinner we sat in the front room and played cribbage, each of us winning five hands. Then, Andrea took Annette up to the nursery while I policed up the kitchen.

When I went upstairs Andrea was standing by the crib. “I just love looking at her,” she said. “Could you take those down to the refrigerator?”

I carried two nursing bottles filled with a slightly bluish white fluid and set them next to two others. “You’re really starting to produce,” I said on returning.

“I know. I pumped them dry after nursing her. I know she’s getting nutrition. She’s gaining weight -- she’s gained half a pound already.”

“I know she is, too. I see it in her diapers.”

I stripped to my briefs and slid into bed. Andrea did her nightly routine and came in from the bathroom. She slipped out of her robe and in her bra and briefs slid in beside me.

We lay facing each other, gazing into each other’s eyes and stroking each other’s faces. “How are you feeling?” I asked.

“Each day a little better,” she said. “My bottom doesn’t hurt so much any more.”

“No trouble pooping?”

“No trouble in that department,” she replied.

“I see the stitches for your tubal ligation have dissolved. That scar looks like a bad mosquito bite, now.”

“I don’t even realize it’s there,” she replied and stroked my cheek. “I wish Dr Lang could give us a green light now.”

“Are you a little horny?”

She shook her head. “I’m a lot horny. Especially after today. You made today special.”

“Did Dr Lang say anything about non-penetrative sex?”

“Uhh ... No, she didn’t.”

“I can’t imagine how something like that would hurt.”

“Mmm ... Neither can I,” she said with a devilish smile.

I was getting stiff just thinking about it. Andrea climbed and lay atop me, cradled my face in her palms and covered it with kisses. I held her tight, caressing her shoulders and back. Then I unhooked her bra strap. She sat up on her heels straddling my hips and slid it off her arms.

Andrea cupped her hands under her breasts. “They’re shrinking,” she said. “I’m past my maximum boobage.”

“They still look sensational to me,” I said. “Now I’m back to lusting after my C-cupped babe.”

I coaxed her to lie on her back. I knelt beside her and caressed her from her hips on up. “You have a sensational body, even after giving birth. Especially after giving birth.” I covered her belly with kisses, avoiding her healing incision. Then I moved up, kissed her breasts and began tonguing them, rimming her areolas with the tip of my tongue.

“Do they feel warm?” she asked.

“They feel normal,” I replied. “But, they taste different.”

“Taste? I have a flavor?”

“Your skin has a taste,” I replied. “I love how my saliva releases your sent. Your nipples taste different -- they have a sweet, milky flavor. I think it’s really sexy.”

She put her hand under my chin and lifted my face. “Casey -- wait...” Andrea sat, cross-legged on the bed and buried her face in her hands. “Casey -- I can’t.”

“Can’t what?”

“I ... I don’t think there’s anything sexy about ... lactation. I mean ... I do it because it’s for Annette and I do love feeling nourishment flow from my body to hers. But, it’s not sexy. In fact, I think it’s definitely non-sexy ... anti-sexy. It’s my hang-up, Casey.” She began sobbing.

“Andie -- it’s okay.”

“No, it isn’t okay. I remember a year ago we told each other our sexual fantasies. You said you wanted to be in a nursing relationship. I found the notion off-putting, but I didn’t want to tell you that because it was your fantasy and since I believed I couldn’t get pregnant, it was moot anyway. It was only when my breasts were developing to make milk that I realized sooner or later we’d need to face this. I’m sorry, Casey -- I can’t.” She wept, her shoulders shaking. “I don’t want to disappoint you, especially tonight.” She continued sobbing.

“Andie, don’t...”

“I’m sorry, Casey -- I thought all the emotional weepy stuff would be over once the baby was born.”

“Calm down and let’s talk this through. When I said nursing relationship, what were you imagining?”

“I don’t know, really.”

“Was it age play? An infantalized partner? Baby wants milk from Mommy?”

“That ... that’s the sort of thing I was afraid you meant.”

“That wasn’t it at all. You asked for a fantasy and I tried to supply one. I don’t fantasize much so I drew upon an article I read in ‘Rolling Stone’ about adult nursing relationships. I was wondering what it would be like to make love to a woman who was breastfeeding.”

‘“That relieves me,” she replied. “That kind of age play is a kink I can’t relate to.”

“Me, neither. Tell me, when you feed Annette -- what do you feel?”

“In my breasts? When she first latches on, there’s usually nothing for her. After a while...”

“How long?”

“Not long -- seconds perhaps -- after a while I feel milk moving from the interior of my breast to the front. One of the nurses called it the letdown reflex. Once that happens, it flows to her.”

“Is that a pleasant sensation?” I asked.

“I’d say so. I love feeling nutrition flowing from me to her.”

“What about elsewhere? Do you feel anything in your womb or clit?” Andrea looked down and then closed her eyes. “Andie -- I’ve told you I want to know about your body so I can make better love to you.”

“I do feel something in my womb, yes.”

“Is it pleasant? Arousing?”

“It’s a bonding sensation,” she replied. “It’s not arousing or erotic. What I feel most is ... relaxation and closeness to her.”

“Before you were pregnant,” I said, “during foreplay I’d suckle your breasts.”

“I don’t like the sound of that word, Casey. I like the word, nurse, better. I know that’s something we did.”

“What were you feeling while I was nursing?”

“Well -- I didn’t have any milk to let down. It was part of our foreplay -- I felt aroused.”

“What about overall? Did you feel relaxation and bonding with me?”

“Of course, Casey. I think I know where you’re heading with this.”

“I love you, Andie. I love your body and I love your breasts. When I nurse them, I’m not doing it for me, although I do love feeling the texture of your nipple against my tongue. I do it for you. I can feel how my nursing contributes to your arousal. That’s what’s sexy to me. It’s an essential component of our foreplay -- usually the last thing before I move down to stimulate your clit and bring you to orgasm. If we were to eliminate that from our foreplay, we’d both find something lacking.”

She nodded. “You’re right. You’re absolutely right.”

“Andie -- when your nipples are stimulated, it triggers the release of oxytocin -- the love hormone. Oxytocin has calming and bonding effects as well as stimulating your womb. It’s a happy hormone.”

“I understand,” she said. “It’s the same mechanism -- maternal bonding with my baby and sexual bonding with you. I wouldn’t be whole without either.”

“I think we need to keep this part of our lovemaking. If a little milk happens to leak out -- it’s just part of being a breastfeeding mom.”

“I was coming to the same conclusion,” she replied.

“Feeling better?”

“Much.” She put her arms around my shoulders and we kissed.

We lay beside each other. Gazing into her blue eyes I began stroking her breasts with the backs of my fingers. “Tell me when you’re ready for me to nurse,” I said.

She nodded. “I will. Casey -- my heart is pounding already.”

“With anticipation?”

“With I don’t know what. This is our first time making love since Annette was born.”

“Remember what you said -- you and I don’t have sex. We make love.”

“I love you so much,” she said and we kissed, mouths open and tongues touching.

I eased her onto her back and began making full-body caresses from her hips up to her shoulders. Andrea lifted her arms and crossed them above her head, giving me a chance to play with her blonde underarm tufts. I nuzzled and licked under both her arms to release her natural perfume.