Chapter 12: Keeping Up with the Jonses

"How long do you think they've been going at it?" Gregg asked, staring at the ceiling.

Heather lifted her head off Gregg's arm to peer over him and look at her bedside clock. "I don't know. It's 10am now ... I've been awake for about a half-hour ... and they're the ones that woke me up..."

The rhythmic pounding on the wall sped up. "They're animals! They're as bad as ... as..."

"Us?" Heather asked with grin.

Gregg slowly traced his fingers over her arm in lazy circles. Their eyes locked and Gregg fell deep into her liquid green pools. Closing the gap between them, their lips met sending electric sparks between them. It was as exciting kissing her now as it was that first night at Emily's.

Pulling back from the kiss, Heather gently grasped his slowly hardening shaft, squeezing and relaxing her grip periodically. Gregg knew he could peer through the ceiling and spy on Heather's upstairs neighbors or even gaze into Heather's mind and sift through her memories of them. But there was something special about not using his gift all the time.

He remembered a conversation he had with Chad shortly before he flew off to Israel where Chad tried and failed to relate how cool this game "Grand Theft Auto" was. The depictions of violence didn't really appeal to Gregg, but Chad was really into it. Chad said that when he first got the game, he immediately entered all these cheat codes and had unlimited weapons and ammo and was invulnerable. As fun as that was, it paled in comparison to the thrill he got from eventually winning the game without cheating.

That was how he was seeing his life right now. He had the ultimate cheat code, but it was more satisfying not relying on his powers. Sure it made for some embarrassing situations — like the morning after their run-in with Vinnie...

Somehow, Heather had woken primed and ready to go. Given the intense marathon fucking the night before, she had every right to want to stay in bed and nto move for a week. But now she was awake, and incredibly horny.

A few minutes later, Gregg woke to the wonderful sensation of Heather's lips clasped firmly around his cock, sucking up and down his rigid length. She was practicing her deep-throating and when he opened his eyes, Heather's nose was buried in his pubic hair. She stayed there for a few seconds, finally pulling her mouth off and taking a deep breath. She was grinning with satisfaction when she saw that Gregg was awake, watching with open lust and admiration.

"Did you see that!?" Heather asked enthusiastically. Gregg nodded tiredly. "Good. I think I deserve a reward!" Heather quickly straddled Gregg, firmly grasping his dick in her hand and aiming it toward her opening. She slid down and Gregg's eyes bugged out. If he was fully awake he might have been able to prevent what happened, but as soon as he was engulfed in her warm, wet pussy he jerked and threw her off him grabbing his super-sensitive cock as it exploded in a fountain of jism, splashing on his chest and stomach.

Heather couldn't help but laugh as Gregg looked at her sheepishly. "Let me get a towel and clean you up," she said half giggling, half exasperated.

"I don't think I'm in much condition to use this for a little while," Gregg said, still holding his wilting member, afraid to even twitch a finger.

Heather cleaned him off and lay back down next to him, a pout on her face. "But what about my reward?"

Gregg smiled and crawled between her legs, laying on his side so as to not put pressure on his volatile cock. "Will this do?" he asked, pulling her vaginal lips apart and probing his tongue deep inside her.

"Yesss ... for now..." she sighed, spreading her legs wider and grabbing him firmly by the head...

"Have you ever met them?" Gregg asked, trailing kisses down her neck toward her bare breast.

"Mmm ... yeah. Of course. They're my landlordsss..." she hissed as Gregg captured a nipple between his lips and began flicking the tip with his tongue.

"Tell me about them," Gregg said before moving onto the other nipple, gently squeezing the breast he just abandoned with his hand. Heather's hand began picking up tempo on his cock.

"Rivkah is a trainer at the campus fitness center. That's where I met her. I was touring campus after I registered ... I ... uh ... I was signing up for a locker there and ... ungh! ... and I mentioned I was looking for an apartment and she said she and her husband owned a ... a ... ahhh ... a duplex and were looking for a renter for the bottom unit. She called E'dan — that's her husband, he's on the f ... f ... faculty — and told him to show me around. I walked over and he made me an offer I couldn't refuse — they were practically GIVING me the apartment! And they're incredibly nice ... Gasp Ohhh!" Heather gasped as Gregg's hand made its way between her legs.

Gregg was enjoying watching Heather try to relate her story as he distracted her with pleasure. "So why haven't we met them? Are you too embarrassed to introduce me to your friends?" His middle finger was pressed tightly against her clit, working it in little circles.

"I ... I ... oh God! ... I saw them a few times after ... mmmm ... I came back and ... and then you returned ... and we've been a bit pre- ... p- ... preoccupied..."

Any further discussion was ended as Gregg locked lips with Heather and rolled her onto her back and positioned himself above her, quickly sheathing his cock into her more than ready pussy. Her moan was stifled as their tongues entwined. As Gregg started fucking in and out of her dewy channel, she pulled her head away, gasping for air.

"Oh, fuck me! Fuck me with that beautiful big cock!" Her legs wrapped around his waist, driving him to fuck into her harder.

"Yes, my Queen..." '"Queen?" Where did that come from?' Gregg thought, for a moment, before Heather's groans brought him back to the here and now. Either she didn't hear, or she didn't care as he did just as she asked, matching his rhythm with neighbors upstairs...

A few hours later, Gregg and Heather were woken by the telephone's obnoxiously loud ringing. Heather jumped out of bed, and padded naked into the kitchen to answer it. Gregg couldn't hear what she was saying through the apartment's thick walls. 'They don't make them like this anymore ... probably a good thing or else Heather's neighbors would never get any sleep.' Gregg remembered his conversation from this morning, 'then again, we'd probably never get any sleep either!'

A few minutes later, Heather bounded into the bedroom, practically leaping onto the bed with excitement. She straddled his torso, her ass resting against his semi-hard cock. "That was Chad! He's back in town ... well actually he's been back a few days, but has only now recovered sufficiently from his jet lag. Anyway, I invited him over for dinner. I told him to bring pictures and to be prepared to tell plenty of stories. He said to tell you he said he needs his tunes back or all deals are off. What does that mean?"

Gregg smiled. "Oh, I arranged a job for him as my assistant when he returned. I'll need help running the freshman seminar and cataloging all the stuff we brought back from Tunisia. He gave me his music and electronics to hold for safekeeping until he returned ... I'm guessing he's not willing to do mind-numbing filing without his Metal. You ever hear of 'Blind Guardian' or 'Bad Religion'? He's got tons of their CDs!"

"I've heard of Bad Religion ... a punk band or something. Not exactly music to dance to, but they got some radio play a few years back."

"Okay, well, Chad tried getting me into them, but I just didn't get it. Anyway it'll be good to see him. So where are we going for dinner?"

Heather's smile turned nervous. "I told him we'd cook."

At first, Gregg just smiled, patting her gently on the behind. "No, seriously, where do you want to go?" When her expression didn't change, Gregg stared in disbelief. "What? I don't know how to cook! And I KNOW you don't..."

"I've got a Betty Crocker book here somewhere. How hard could it be? We'll chop some vegetables, boil some meat..."

Her enthusiasm was less than contagious, and Gregg wasn't sure, but boiled meat didn't sound appetizing. "I take no responsibility for this. You better keep the pizza man on speed dial. If you're serious about this then we better get dressed and go shopping ... I know you don't have meat or vegetables in your fridge ... and hot dogs and ketchup don't count."

"It'll be fine. You'll see — I can be domestic." She wiggled her ass playfully, looking at him contemplatively, a wry smile forming on her face. "Before we go shopping though, I think I should begin marinating your meat..." She raised up onto her knees and reached back, inserting his cock into her insatiable cunt.

They had a lot to do before Chad arrived: searching Heather's apartment for the fabled cookbook, back to Gregg's apartment for clothes and Chad's equipment, to the grocery store, and of course, cleaning and airing out the apartment. As Heather slowly began bouncing up and down on his huge shaft, Gregg thought, 'chores can wait... '

EEEEEEEEP EEEEEEEEP EEEEEEEEP

"GOD DAMN MOTHER FUCKING PIECE OF SHIT!!" Heather was yelling a litany of every curse she knew while Gregg opened windows as fast as he could. Dark smoke was filling the apartment from the oven and Heather was turning dials, desperately trying to shut it off. Another billowing cloud of smoke spewed out as she opened the oven door, waving her towel in an attempt to see inside. Grabbing oven mitts, she pulled out a roasting pan with a five-pound charcoal briquette vaguely in the shape of the ham that looked so delicious a few hours ago. She dumped the meat, pan and all into the sink and slammed the oven door shut.

Heather flipped on the oven fan and Gregg turned on the window fan in an effort to get some of the smoke out as another string of curses so brutal that they would make a sailor blush filled the room. Suddenly there was a loud banging at the door.

"Heather! Heather, are you in there?! Heather!" Heather quickly opened the door and a frantic woman carrying a fire extinguisher raced inside. "Good God, are you okay? Where's the fire!? Are you hurt?!" The crazed woman finally stopped looking and pointing her red weapon when she realized there was no fire — only the charred remains of an attempt at dinner.

The woman dropped the fire extinguisher and pulled Heather into a fierce hug. "Oh, thank God. Thank God!" she said, pulling back to look Heather in the face for a second before resuming the hug.

Heather used all her strength to pry herself out from the shorter woman's arms. "Rivkah, I'm okay. We're okay." She glanced at the blackened ham, "Dinner on the other hand..."

Rivkah started to laugh. "Oh Tatelah, YOU tried cooking?!" She might as well have said, "YOU tried dodging bullets?" for all her incredulity. Without noticing that anyone else was there, Rivkah grabbed a kitchen chair and stood on it to disconnect the smoke alarm, finally quieting its piercing wail. Rivkah put back the chair started laughing, shaking her head in disbelief. Finally, she noticed that the two women weren't alone in the apartment.

Heather called Gregg over. "Sorry Gregg. This is Rivkah, my landlord and upstairs neighbor. Rivkah, this is Gregg, my uh... ?" Heather suddenly realized she and Gregg never talked about labels and "boyfriend" seemed woefully inadequate.

Rivkah smiled knowingly. "Oh, so you're 'Gregg.' Or should I say, 'Gregg! GREGG!'" Rivkah broke out into peals of laughter so full that Gregg was sure she was going to fall over. Apparently commentary about noises through walls went both ways.

Rivkah finally stood straight again, wiping a tear from the corner of her eye. "I'm sorry! I could no resist. We were worried for a while that our Heather, such a pretty girl, had no man in her life. Then she flies to Tunisia of all places! Mein Gott! But she comes back glowing. We're very happy for you. Ever since you came back, my E'dan and I feel like we've been playing 'Keep up with the Joneses'!" Rivkah certainly wasn't shy about discussing her sex life with someone she just met.

Rivkah was like a whirlwind of energy ... a whirlwind with a sexy accent that waffled back and forth between Israeli and Yiddish. It wasn't just her accent that was sexy — the smoke alarms had apparently interrupted a workout or something because she was wearing a tight sports bra and exercise shorts that clung to her like a second skin. Rivkah's incredibly ripped abs were the first thing Gregg noticed, followed by her defined arms, and her perfect ass. Gregg wondered if he threw a penny at her asscheeks, whether there'd be a metallic clink when struck. Her legs were muscled and her chest was not-quite-as-generous as Heather's but more than a handful. A mountain of black hair was pulled back tightly into a complicated braid that folded back on itself several times.

Gregg blinked and realized that his wasn't the only awkward silence. Remembering that his sexual energy was somewhat infectious, Gregg tried focusing his thoughts on the ruined dinner rather than model of physical fitness before him. Gregg also realized at that very moment his own present attire consisted solely of a pair of boxers. Heather was only slightly better, wearing shorts and her bra. Rivkah's knowing eye looked Gregg up and down admiringly before eyeing Heather.

Gregg's embarrassment at being caught with his pants down, so to speak, was enough to drain the last remnants of excitement left over from their "what-shall-we-do-while-the-ham-cooks?-romp." Gregg and Heather both smiled in the silence, and inched their way back to the bedroom.

"Could you just give us a sec?" Heather giggled, pulling Gregg into the room and closing the door. Less than a minute later they emerged, Heather having thrown on a t-shirt and Gregg having donned jeans and a shirt. He was buttoning it down when he re-entered the kitchen. Long sleeves were probably overkill, but Gregg wanted to look proper, especially given their completely improper introduction.

"Now," Rivkah said, pouring water over the still smoldering ham, "what happened here?" It seemed that Rivkah was doing all she could not to come in contact with the remains, water flashing to steam as she hosed the pan down from the sink's detachable nozzle.

Heather answered. "One of our friends from the dig just came back to the States and I wanted to cook dinner for him." Rivkah raised an eyebrow in disbelief. "Well, I didn't realize that the ham needed to thaw first. And it still would have been frozen by the time he got here. So, I just turned up the heat a little to cook it faster..."

Rivkah's look got stern as she abandoned her cleaning efforts. "Just how 'up' did you set the oven?"

"550 degrees?" Heather looked pitiful.

Rivkah couldn't maintain her stern look anymore and started laughing again. "Look, just get rid of this ... thing ... open the rest of the windows, and come upstairs. I'll make dinner for all of you. It'll be a good excuse to finally have you over and get to know a little more about this man who's been keeping us up at night, and testing the limits of my husband's endurance!"

Gregg blushed. Heather also turned crimson, but argued, "No, Rivkah, I couldn't ask you to do that. That's too kind."

"Nonsense. I know my E'dan's been wanting to cook for you for months. A few extra mouths will only make him that much happier. Besides, he just loves playing with his knives. Just bring a bottle of wine ... and try not to burn THAT!"

Rivkah exited as dramatically as she entered, fire extinguisher in hand, leaving Heather and Gregg standing there mouths agape.

"Okay, so ... that's one of my upstairs neighbors!" Heather looked at the remnants of her ruined dinner, not sure if she wanted to laugh or to cry. She stabbed it with a cooking fork and to her horror, an inch below the burnt crust, the ham was still frozen. "C'mon, let's get dressed and upstairs before Rivkah tells E'dan all our secrets."

In record time, Gregg and Heather were upstairs, knocking on their neighbor's door. Gregg simply threw on a pair of moccasins and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt, now neatly tucked in. Heather had applied a bit of makeup and slipped on a simple sun dress that would have looked plain on anyone else. Its yellow fabric and blue floral print clung in all the right places. Straps hooked around her neck leaving her shoulders and most of her upper back bare.

The door opened and the largest man Gregg ever saw filled its frame. The guy wasn't fat — far from it. He was all muscle. The narrowness of his waist was in stark contrast to the width of his chest and shoulders. Arms as thick as a normal human leg threatened to rip through his cotton shirt when he embraced Heather in a literal bear-hug.

Heather screeched as she got hoisted into the air and spun around like a little child, her dress flowing as if in a breeze. "E'dan! Put me down!" she laughed joyfully, slapping him futilely and playfully on his broad shoulders. The big man finally relented and when Heather's feet touched carpet again, she had to steady herself on his massive arm before standing up on tiptoes to give him a peck on the cheek.

"E'dan, this is Gregg, my ... boyfriend." The word still seemed inadequate, but it was what they decided on before climbing the steps. "Gregg, this is E'dan." The big man thrust out a massive arm and Gregg embraced his in a handshake. Gregg gave silent thanks that E'dan didn't crush every bone in his hand. Despite being several inches taller than the man, Gregg felt positively dwarfed by his girth. Despite a weightlifter's build that looked like he juggled wrecking balls for fun, Gregg soon discovered E'dan had the warm, friendly demeanor of puppy dog.

"Come in young man, come in," he said as he ushered the two inside, relieving them of their bottle of wine. "I hope you learned your lesson about cooking traif!" he said with a hearty laugh. Gregg didn't understand the joke until he saw the Jewish artwork on the walls and the Star of David around the man's neck and put two and two together. "Oh, you keep Kesher. Sorry, were we not supposed to bring the ham inside?"

E'dan laughed even louder. "Kesher? No we don't keep 'Kesher'! Nor do we keep KOSHER! HA!" The man saw that Gregg was embarrassed by his mistake, and decided to take it easy on him. "Sorry, I don't mean to have so much fun at your expense. We Israelis, we're not all religious, even those of us born in Jerusalem. Heather says you're a genius, and there's nothing I like better than taking the wind out of people's sails." Seeing Gregg's blank expression, E'dan went on. "I understand you work at the college. So do I, as does my wife. I'm in agricultural engineering and my wife works at the athletic center teaching aerobics and self defense. And you're in archeology?" Gregg nodded and was rewarded by a slap on the back that nearly caused him to tumble forward.

E'dan's mouth opened to make another comment, but Rivkah beat him to it. "Feh! Just another man playing in the dirt like a child!" The woman shook her head in mock exasperation. Rivkah stepped up and gave Gregg a kiss on the cheek, a much more civil greeting than he received earlier that day. She looked absolutely stunning in her outfit which was chosen in consideration of where their three guests had spent the past several months. Rivkah's floor-length black dress was embroidered with complex Mediterranean patterns, and her white peasant blouse hung off her shoulders. It was tied tight enough across her chest to not fall off, yet loose enough to hint at the treasures hidden beneath. Her braid was now a single thick strand down the center of her back, almost to her waist.

The ice having been broken, E'dan led Gregg inside and opened the bottle of wine. E'dan and Rivkah's upstairs apartment was larger than Heather's, mostly because part of the lower level's footprint was taken up by the building's entryway and the laundry room in back. Their living room and kitchen were certainly larger, and where Heather had a wall separating the kitchen from the living room, her upstairs neighbors had cut out an opening to create a breakfast bar. E'dan showed Gregg to one of the bar's stools and Rivkah sat beside him. The two chatted and sipped wine while on the other side of the opening, E'dan solicited Heather's help chopping vegetables for dip, hummus, and a cucumber/tomato salad.

After spending several minutes trying to peel and slice a carrot — the end result looking more like something rescued from a garbage disposal than anything edible — E'dan decided it was time to give a lesson. Standing behind Heather and holding her hands in his own, he guided her through the motions of dicing a stalk of celery. Given how tightly he pressed himself against her, it was clear that his knife-skills weren't all she was being shown. Any thoughts that Rivkah might be uncomfortable with her husband's very forward behavior were dispelled by her hand resting a little too familiarly on Gregg's thigh. Gregg and Heather locked eyes, and the corners of both their mouths turned up in mischievous smiles.

Rivkah took another sip of wine, her hand beginning to lightly move up and down Gregg's increasingly tight jeans when she said with her own mischievous smile, "E'dan, stop teasing. At that rate we'll be here for ever and there's another guest coming." E'dan, still holding the 10-inch chef's knife and Heather's hands in his own proceeded thinly slice a cucumber in record time. The man's hands moved so fast that the knife hitting the cutting board sounded like a woodpecker chopping out a new home. In less than two seconds the foot-long vegetable was a pile of paper-thin slices. The truly scary part was that during those two seconds, E'dan's eyes never left his wife's. Heather was also affected, releasing the breath she just realized she'd been holding. Her brush with fear also triggered an involuntary rush of excitement that made small twin points at the front of her tight dress. Gregg wasn't the only one who noticed, judging by Rivkah's raised eyebrow and sultry smile.

Any planned commentary was interrupted by a soft, muted doorbell ring from below. Gregg, deciding that Heather was in good hands (literally!), got up to answer the door. Taking one last look before heading downstairs, Gregg saw E'dan grab an onion and press himself even tighter against Heather. Heather had the same look of excitement most people get on roller coasters as the cars climb that first big hill.

Running downstairs, Gregg opened the door and let in a slightly thinner, but well-tanned Chad. They embraced like old friends, trading slaps on the back. "I hope you don't mind, but our dinner plans have changed ... that is, unless you'd like watered down hockey-puck for dinner?"

Chad laughed as Gregg explained the cooking fiasco. Before entering the upstairs apartment door, Chad noted, "Geez EP, didn't you notice during all those months that Heather never cooked? The first week when we set up a rotation for cooking, she ruined baked beans ... and all she had to do was open the can and dump them in the pot!" Gregg didn't notice because at that time he was far to shy to hang around the cook fires with his students. Briefly he regretted all that lost time he could have spent making friends rather than hiding in his books. Besides, Gregg was pretty sure that all Heather had to do was put on a pout, maybe show a little leg and she'd have those boys waiting on her hand and foot.

Chuckling, Gregg opened the door and said, "Well, I probably wouldn't have done much better." Out of the corner of his eye Gregg saw a yellow blur speeding toward them and he took a step back. Chad apparently had quick reflexes because he was ready with open arms when Heather threw herself into them. Even though Chad didn't have E'dan's massive build, he still managed to give her a spin or two before putting her down.

To Chad's pleasant surprise, Heather didn't immediately release her hug, giving him a kiss on the lips that bordered on being more than casual. She also whispered something in his ear that caused the color to drain from his face and do a double take toward Gregg. She then whispered something else and he gulped and nodded, smiling nervously and replying, "Well, only because you asked so nicely." Heather led Chad in and made introductions, pleased with herself over the tent she'd made in the poor boy's jeans. Heather's observant neighbors also noticed, but were polite enough not to say anything ... but again, they traded not-so-secret smiles.

Gregg smiled to himself, having heard through Chad's thoughts what Heather's words were. It wasn't hard to do, her words were reverberating through the boy's subconscious like an explosion in an echo chamber. First she whispered, "I know all about your farewell party with Emily and Gregg." The second thing she whispered was "Next time you have a party, I get to be the meat when you two make a sandwich."

"That was absolutely incredible Rivkah, but please, no more. I'm stuffed!" Chad felt a little guilty that he had to physically deflect Rivkah's attempt at putting yet another steak onto his plate. He had eagerly taken seconds, and graciously taken thirds when she dropped the meat on his plate, but a fourth helping would have been overkill. Rivkah and E'dan were only too happy to keep on heaping serving after serving on everybody's plates. "Honestly, since I've returned, I've done nothing but get taken to restaurant after restaurant by my parents. This is the first home-cooked meal I've had in months! And it was absolutely incredible. But if I eat another bite, I may just explode!"

Their hosts beamed with pride, and Rivkah relented, returning the platter to the kitchen and sitting back at the table. She eyed Chad with a critical eye and said, "Well, I'm glad you like it. You're always welcome back for more ... besides, you're too thin. You're a growing boy and you need to eat!"

Everyone laughed and Chad excused himself to run downstairs out to his car, only to return with several thick envelopes rubber-banded together. For the next half-hour, Chad passed around his pictures and told them all about the places he visited while touring through Israel. E'dan and Rivkah were especially interested, asking lots of questions and demanding much commentary. It was clear that Chad's pictures were bittersweet reminders of the land they had left years ago.

One picture in particular caught everyone's attention and even brought a slight blush to Chad's face. Tucked into his pictures of Tel Aviv was one of an absolutely beautiful woman who looked a little like Rivkah. Given the skin-tight black pants and cropped black top, it wasn't hard to make out her incredible figure. Her hair was pulled back like Rivkah's in a braid. The best part of the picture, at least according to Chad, was the rifle slung across her shoulder. Apparently the woman was the guard assigned to his tour bus when he visited Massada. Chad indicated that they became friends after he jokingly challenged her to a race up to the top and only lost by a few lengths. The next day, she took him on some "private tours" that included her apartment. Gregg and Heather gave wolf-whistles, but E'dan and Rivkah didn't seem that surprised.

It was Chad's experience at Tel Habad that intrigued Gregg the most. Apparently the archeological dig found a way to be self-sufficient as a tourist trap by getting visitors to stay at a nearby kibbutz and actually do some of the dig-work themselves. In other words, tourists were PAYING to work for the dig! An idea sparked in Gregg's mind, one that needed some careful thought before making any decisions.

Heather and Rivkah stood from the table and began clearing dishes. When the men tried to help, Rivkah wouldn't hear of it and commanded them in no uncertain terms to stay where they were. Given how long it took between trips to and from the kitchen, it was obvious the women were planning something, masking their conversation behind the sound of the kitchen faucet. Either E'dan could understand what they were saying or he had seen his wife play this game before, but given his mirthful smile, it seemed he wasn't surprised by what happened next.

Once the dishes were cleared, both girls came back and sat at the table, coincidently on either side of Chad. "E'dan love," Rivkah said in the cloyingly sweet tone of a woman who wants something. "We didn't prepare anything for dessert, could you run down to the corner market and pick up some ice cream?"

E'dan might have argued that there was a fresh fruit salad in the fridge (another result of his handy knife work), but some miniscule signal that could only be understood by years of marriage kept him from correcting her. It had been years since he'd seen that glint in her eye and he hadn't lived as long as he had by being stupid.

"Gregg, honey," Heather asked, mimicking Rivkah's dulcet tones. "Why don't you keep E'dan company. While you're gone, Chad can show us his pictures from the Dead Sea — I'm sure it's nothing that would interest you." She was playing it cool, but Gregg could feel through her excitement reverberating through the room like a subwoofer blasting out a deep bass beat.

Both men stood and wisely obeyed their respective loves, leaving an unsuspecting Chad to unwrap another envelope of pictures.