Chapter 22

"See you tonight, Tommy!"

That, and a quick kiss on my ear, was Beth's way of telling me she was leaving for work. Since I didn't have anything on tap that morning, I just mumbled something endearing, rolled over, and was gone for another couple of hours.

I don't consider myself a chauvinist of any sort, but I WILL admit the first couple of times Beth had to climb out of bed to get to work while I could snooze for a bit longer did give me a little twinge of guilt, but then the thought of the number of late nights I spent slaving over Photoshop while my lady snored quietly, snuggled in our bed, quickly eased the guilt. Now it was just our usual routine.

Beth's summer job was across town, so she wouldn't get home until about six. That meant dinner was my responsibility. See? No chauvinists here.

Of course, there were those nights when preparing dinner meant that I had to drive to the Palace, or whichever restaurant we chose, but still...

Once I rolled out of bed and cleaned up for the day my first chore was checking my email. Ever since I'd added my email address and the URL for my web site to my fliers I'd found a substantial portion of my work came my way electronically, almost as much as I got from referrals. That morning—nothing but a few pieces of spam that had sneaked past the filters.

Right at six my lady charged in the door. "Tommy, it's the Palace for dinner, let's go."

I knew that tone meant I shouldn't ask any questions. At least not until I was moving.

As we drove west Beth didn't say much, just sat there, fuming. Something must have really gone wrong at work. Janine greeted us at the door and, being the sensitive hostess she is, immediately recognized Beth's mood and quietly led us to our booth.

She'd brought our Cokes and taken our order before Beth loosened up and let fly. Apparently someone had made a few disparaging remarks about an idea she'd had and my lady had taken them as a personal attack.

By the time she stopped to take a breath she was well into language that would have most sailors looking for a dictionary, but what was most scary was that her voice never rose. It was downright spooky—listening to this non-stop string of invective delivered in a total monotone.

By the time she ran down our pizza had arrived—with onions, this was no time to quibble over food preferences.

"Beth, isn't this the same guy you've had trouble with almost since day one?"

"Yeah, Henry. That—"

And she was off again.

I was halfway through my second slice before I had a chance to say anything else.

"Beth, what was your idea and why did they say it wouldn't work?"

"It's so damn simple. We do it all the time at my folks' shop. You just have to edit the g-code so..."

I love my lady dearly, but when an engineer, or even an engineer-wannabe, says something is simple, I start looking around for a seatbelt. On top of that, as soon as she said g-code, my thoughts went to "g-string," which had my mind wandering back to memories of our first Saturday together and those lacy white panties she bought on our first shopping trip. The ones that had led to everything else that weekend.

Suddenly my jeans were getting tight and I never did catch the rest of her explanation. Not that I would have understood it anyway. I mean, I could—barely—maneuver the big, old manual Atlas mill in the shop's basement, but I'd never even tried to understand the big numeric control machines on the main shop floor, or the programming that ran them.

Eventually she ran out of steam and settled in to eat what was left of the pizza.

That night I had to resort to one of my special backrubs to get her to settle down, and I began to wonder if her new job was such a good idea. Eventually my princess drifted off, leaving me to spend most of the night wondering if I'd ever be able to roll over again without damaging myself. Those "special" rubs can get a little intense.

The next afternoon I was in the driveway, washing my Jeep, when Greg got home. He was working for his father again, restoring another of the duplexes in the neighborhood. Listening to him talk about what they found in the old house brought back memories of our experiences when we moved into this place.

"Tommy, could I talk you into taking some pictures of what we're doing?"

I bit down on my tongue as I thought of Greg and Cindy together.

"You're talking about the rehab of the duplex, right?"

The penny dropped and Greg punched me in the arm. "Yeah, you dirty old man."

"Me? I'm not old!"

"Tommy, I'm serious. Dad asked about getting some pictures of our work."

"Okay, I'll be serious. I've got jobs the next couple of days, but after that I should have some time."

"Um, how much do you charge for stuff like that?"

"Hang on for a sec," I said as I dug through all the stuff in the glove compartment of the Jeep. "I should have a price list in here ... somewhere."

I remembered the last time I did pictures for Greg and wasn't going to make the same mistake of trying to offer him a special price. I'd stepped on his pride once and didn't want to do it again!

"Here," I said, handing him a copy of my list. "Show your dad the list and let me know what and when.

"By the way, how are you, Cindy, and John doing? We haven't seen much of you lately."

"Great! Cindy's back at the drug store and her mom is taking care of John. She grumbled when Cindy first suggested the deal, but you should have heard her howl when we said we'd find someone else."

Beth got home from work and we had just enough time to grab a quick bite before running to the theatre for rehearsal.

The first rehearsal was the usual administrivia—filling out bio forms for the program, going through how the theatre operated for all those who hadn't worked with this group before, explaining what was where, introducing the staff—all the stuff that keeps everyone on the same page.

Speaking of pages...

Dan, the director, got up, talked for a few minutes about the show and introduced the rest of the production staff, then looked over the cast.

"I notice some of you came equipped with your own copy of the script. Well, you can put them back on your bookshelves." He held up a folder. "Since there're at least four versions of Grease out there, and a show just seems to run smoother if everyone is on the same page, so to speak—" He waited until the chuckles died down. "We'll give everyone a copy that we want you to use for this production."

I had done some web surfing and found that the original show was pretty raunchy—oh, not Hair or Oh, Calcutta raunchy, but not something you'd want to bring the kids to. The later versions ran from that to a totally G-rated version adapted for middle school productions. And then there was the movie script ... Anyway, I could see where letting everyone use their own script would be a nightmare.

Eventually all the paperwork, reminders that we were in a city park so behave yourself—this to some of the teens—and all the other bureaucratic stuff was over and we got through a quick read-through. All in all, a normal first rehearsal.

"Tommy, I'm glad to see you're back! Accepted the inevitable, eh?"

Beth and I were getting reacquainted with the cast members we'd worked with before when Dan came up.

"Yeah, I figured I might as well give in," I replied with a grin.

"Of course, you realize this isn't going to get you out of a few set-building Saturdays..."

Community theatres all over had grappled with the us-vs.-them attitude forever. It seemed most actors felt working on sets and costumes was beneath them, and the stage crews often felt that the actors were prissy prima donas ... well, let's just say there was sometimes a little friction between the factions. And here I was, with a foot in each camp.

As we walked back to the Jeep I looked over at my princess. "So are you excited enough for a trip to the farm?" I asked with just a little leer.

"That sounds good!" she replied. "A dip in a nice, cool pond after a hot rehearsal would feel great."

That wasn't the type of dip I was thinking of, but one step at a time, I guess.

When we got to the farm I got out, opened the gate and drove through. When I got out to close the gate behind us, I saw Beth reaching for the hem of her cropped t-shirt. By the time I got back in the Jeep my lady had pulled her shirt off and was leaning forward to unhook her bra.

There's got to be some sensual connection between theatre and the farm, I thought as I pulled into our regular spot. By then Beth's shorts and panties were sliding down her long legs and my shorts were getting very tight.

Beth jumped out of the Jeep, grabbed the ever-present blanket from the back, and spread it out on the grass. By the time I got my door open so were her legs and the look I'd seen so often warned me I'd better get over there.

I tripped trying to pull my shorts off while I maneuvered around the Jeep. I lost my battle with gravity and landed on the blanket, face-down between Beth's beautiful thighs.

"About time you got here," she said in a throaty whisper, as she pulled my face to her. I managed only two or three quick licks before her bottom came off the blanket and she announced to all the local wildlife how much she was enjoying herself.

As soon as her concert was over she flipped me over and climbed aboard my hips. It didn't take too long before I was adding a counterpoint to her chorus.

As we lay on the blanket trying to catch our breaths an odd thought flitted through my mind—if we kept up like this, the blanket was going to be due for a good cleaning. Just like the first one.

I must have drifted off for a few minutes because the next thing I was aware of was a hand gently stroking me in a way guaranteed to get my attention. I looked up and saw an absolutely beautiful sight. In the light of the full moon I saw my lady's beautiful face looking back at me.

"Hello, my prince," she said.

"And hello to you, too, my princess," I replied as I reached up to caress one of her breasts. I felt her nipple stiffen in my palm and her caress took on an urgency that soon had me nudging her onto her back and slipping into Nirvana again.

After we had both exploded Beth looked at me. "Tommy, does a moonlight swim sound good?"

Silly girl, asking a question with such an obvious answer. I got to my feet, bent down, picked her up, and walked toward the pond. The trip was more of a leisurely stroll as opposed to our usual quick dash. Something about the moonlight hiding all the obstacles along the way. Since I had my most valuable cargo in my arms I wasn't going to take any chances, and I definitely didn't want to stick a foot in a gopher hole and break anything.