Chapter 8

I found out that same evening. After finishing our evening tea and heading off in separate directions to get changed and ready for bed, Laura turned up in my bedroom and actually got into bed before I did. The way she looked at me was a challenge - defying me to send her back to her own room. I didn't take the bait and simply got into bed too. "Listen," I said. "We got to keep up appearances. The cleaning lady knows you are living here. Your bed should look used."

"No problem!" she replied. "I'll simply take afternoon naps in it on those days when I don't work."

I smiled. She really had thought about this. I kissed her - a first - and switched off the light. We snuggled up spoon-fashion again and exchanged 'good nights', but even though her breathing soon was regular, I knew she wasn't asleep yet. "Last night," I started gently. "It wasn't the first time you've come to my bedroom, was it?"

There was a brief silence. "No," she said. "It wasn't. Far from it. But how did you know? I thought I had never awakened you before."

"You hadn't," I replied. "But I have had recurring dreams of you standing in my room just looking at me. I must have sensed you somehow."

"Oh!" she said, startled. "That is so weird."

"I don't think it's weird." I replied. "Hey, it may sound lame, but think it just shows there is a deep connection between us. I have felt that from the moment I met you."

She didn't say anything, but she pulled my hand closer on to her belly. We were lying closely like that, starting to drift of when I felt a fluttering movement under the palm of my hand through the flannel. "Hey, did you feel that?" I asked

"Yes!" she said excitedly. "Is that what I think it is?"

"Yup, that was one of your babies moving," I replied. "Haven't you felt it before?"

"Oh, this is so cool!" she said with pure joy in her voice. "And, yes, I think I may have felt something for the last couple of days, but I wasn't sure what it was."

"It makes it all much more real, doesn't it?" I asked.

"Sure does. Oh, I'm so glad you got to feel it too," she said.

"Me too, sweetheart, me to," I replied. "Anyway, let's sleep."

This pattern continued for a week or so. Most mornings we would wake up snuggled up closely. In general I had 'morning wood', but Laura didn't comment. On more than one occasion my hand was either on her breasts or in her crotch with her hands firmly over it. I in return didn't comment on that, but I was worried that borders were being crossed. Laura was being good to her word - outside the apartment, there was no visible change, but when we were alone at home she was openly affectionate - the constant touching now involving real kisses and hands in 'inappropriate places'.

Much as I enjoyed it, I knew it was problematic and didn't know quite what to do. So when I was having a private conversation with Joyce on the Friday - planning my impending fiftieth birthday party, I had decided to test the waters. As usual, she beat me to it, sensing something was on my mind. "Spill the beans, George. Something is bugging you."

"It's Laura," I said. "She is being - how can I put this? - affectionate. Very affectionate."

Joyce smiled a little smile. "Ah!" she said. "Yes, I was expecting this."

I must have looked like a big question mark. Joyce's smile looked teasing now. "I'm sure you can work it out. Think back twenty one years, George. Think second trimester. Think no more morning sickness. Think no worries in the world. Think being cared for and loved."

I still didn't get it and said so. She gave me more hints. "Well, it is partly emotional, partly physiological. The physiological explanation is an increased blood supply to the genitals."

My blank face finally made Joyce give up. "She is a hundred kinds of horny, George!" she said.

The penny dropped. I was stunned, and I'm sure it showed in my face. Joyce carried on. "In Laura's case it must be particularly confusing. She was a complete virgin when she was raped. She has never dated, so no one has ever touched her. Probably not even herself - I'm sure her parents' hell-fire religion would have discouraged anything like that in the strongest possible terms. Mine certainly did. I knew how terribly bad 'it' was long before I had any idea what 'it' actually was."

I laughed, then sobered up. "Well, what am I, what is she, to do?"

Joyce gave me a flat look. "Listen, if a girl is horny, she can do three things: Use her hands, but that doesn't help all that much. Get a dildo, but that is not a good idea when she's pregnant. Or take a lover." She shot me a devilish grin. "If I recall rightly from transcribing the recording of your conversation with her mother, you offered to take care of all of Laura's needs. I leave it to you to work out what that entails. Now, if you will excuse me - I have to get home. Have a nice weekend George!" and she left the office.

I think I must have driven home on 'automatic pilot' - at least, I have no recollection of the journey. When I got up to the apartment, Laura was cooking dinner - something she had taken up doing recently with great enthusiasm and growing skill. I walked up and hugged her from behind. "That smells fantastic," I said while gently rubbing her stomach.

In an echo of our first morning together in the apartment, she replied "That feels fantastic." She turned around and kissed me, then ordered me to set the table.

We ate dinner, talked about how our day had been and discussed plans for the weekend. For once we watched TV in the den, snuggled up closely together and drinking tea. Before long we were both yawning and decided to call it a day. The pattern of the last week repeated itself with Laura joining me in bed after she had gotten changed. But although I hadn't mentioned my conversation with Joyce, something was very different. As we 'spooned' up and I put my hand on her belly, she grabbed it and moved it up to her swelling breast. I gently squeezed first one nipple, then the other through the night gown while nuzzling the back of her neck. She was audibly purring. "Oh God, that feels so good!"

"I agree - it feels fantastic. But we have to talk," I said.

She rolled over, facing me. "Do we?" she said - and her hand went to my crotch. She traced the outline of my now extremely hard dick. It felt more than fantastic and my resolve started to waver. "You know, I've actually never seen one of these," she said, looking me straight in the eyes.

"Laura, I'm serious. We have to talk. I'm not saying I don't like this and if I did, my dick would call the lie, but we've got to set some ground rules!" I managed.

She gave my dick a little squeeze that nearly took me over the edge, but then let go. "OK," she said playfully. "Let's talk."

I took a deep breath. "Right! Let's take the easy part first. We love each other." Her eyes opened wide. "It is as simple as that. I know 'love' means many things and there are many people that I love in different ways - my daughters, Joyce and Lisa, Jock, Mother Marianna and so on. But what the two of us feel for each other covers all of those meanings and more. What I'm trying to say is this: I not only love you, I am in love with you - and I am certain you feel the same."

Her eyes opened even wider. She stared at me in amazement. "I thought it was supposed to be difficult and awkward declaring your love for someone, but it's not, is it? I am totally and utterly in love with you too!" She leant in to kiss me and for the first time our mouths opened and our tongues came into play.

Before we got too carried away, I reluctantly broke the kiss. "No, as I said that is the easy part. I never expected this, but Mother Marianna and Joyce - and even Jock - all saw it right from the start. Anyway, on to the difficult parts. I am thirty three years older than you - and thus three times your age. You are four years younger than my youngest daughter. Society will not look with kind eyes on this."

She pouted. "As if I care what people think!"

"Laura, my love," I replied, "I know you don't and neither do I, but what's more - and really important - if I gave in to the temptation and put that thing" - I placed her hand back on my still very erect dick - "where we both so want me to put it" - I placed my own hand in her crotch and ran a finger along her pussy through her panties, making her shudder - "I would be just as guilty of rape as the asshole who knocked you up."

"But how can that be?" she protested. "It can't be rape if I want you to!"

"Oh yes it can," I replied. "Under state law it is a felony for a person over twenty one years of age to have sex with anyone under seventeen. That's why Michael raped you - regardless of what he and your bitch of a mother claims to the contrary. The simple fact of your ages condemns him. That's the main reason your mother let you stay here - even if she never signed the forms, so don't argue with that one." She nodded. "And it would equally condemn me," I added. "I am a wee bit over twenty one myself!"

"But who would know?" she asked.

"No one, obviously. But you can't ask me to commit a felony," I replied.

"Suppose not," she sighed. "So it's no sex then?"

"No," I said, "we can't have sex."

My emphasis on the last word was not lost on her. Her mouth curved upwards in a sly smile. "OK, so what exactly is sex?" she asked.

I had read up on the penal code, so my reply came promptly. "Vaginal, oral and anal penetration. Oh, and when it comes to oral sex, tongues are deemed to be penetrative agents too, but performing oral sex on a pregnant woman can be dangerous - even fatal - so that would be out of the question anyway."

"That leaves hands..." she said, starting to rub my dick through my pjs again.

"Yes, that leaves hands," I agreed, returning the favor, circling her clit through her completely soaked panties."

"And that is not 'sex'?" she asked - extreme arousal obvious in her voice.

"No," I replied - my own breath getting labored. "That is called 'sexual contact'."

"And that is not illegal?" she asked - her hips moving rhythmically to enhance my touch.

"Yes it is," I replied - feeling a tingle in my balls. "But it's not a felony. It's a class B misdemeanor."

"Even with your clothes still on?" she panted.

"Even through clothes. The law is very specific," I managed.