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He pulled them up over the top of them and held her
tight. The heat from her wounded rear end warmed the front of his
thighs. He rubbed gentle fingers over the welts on her wrists where
the ropes had dug into her flesh. He listened to her gentle
breathing and was reassured. She no longer cried but snuggled back
into him, finally content at last on what had been a truly awful
day.

Chapter Six: Making
Changes
    They actually slept for a while,
though it was only barely noon when they got back from the doctor's
office and finished their play. They awoke in the early afternoon,
though neither of them could tell what time or day it was, huddled
as they were underneath the blankets. The woke together, one being
breathing life into the other with gentle kisses and caresses, soft
spoken words exchanged between them like song lyrics to the world's
oldest tune. In deference to her tender rear end, Joe relinquished
control for once and Elsa rose above him before settling into a
rhythm that pleased her. They made slow, sweet love, a direct
counterpoint to the violent passion of before. She lost track of
the number of times she came for him, his clever fingers plucking
at her tender nipples and his perfect lips trailing kisses of fire
along her jaw and neck. She buried her hands in his thick, dark
hair and moved with precise flexation of hips, knowing what he
liked and what she liked. When he came this time, he sat up halfway
and cupped her shoulders in his hands, whispering her name into her
breasts as he shook with the power of it. She wrapped her arms
around him and loved him more than any woman has loved a man, she
thought, in all creation.
    Once again sated, they talked in
hushed tones about the future. They didn't speak of her health
problems, only to say after they dealt with the present, they would
decide if they wanted a summer wedding on the beach or a rowdy
wedding in Vegas. They agreed: beach wedding all the way and
admired the sparkle of her ring in the gloom beneath the blankets.
What kind of band should they have at the reception? she wondered.
A blues band, the dirty blues, so she could dirty dance with him in
the sand, he answered. They whispered all their hopes and dreams
into each other's ears and envisioned a future so bright they could
nearly touch it. Children, he breathed into the delicate shell of
her ear, several at least. Several, she echoed, and sealed the
promise with a kiss.
    Eventually, hunger drove them from the
bed and into the kitchen. She was draped in their bed sheet like an
Egyptian queen and he wore nothing as the gods had intended,
perfectly glorious in his skin, in her opinion. But once they
reached the kitchen, her new reality intruded and tough decisions
once again reared up to bite her in her riding cropped
ass.
    With despair, she surveyed her
well-appointed kitchen and all of its gleaming surfaces. Shortly
after moving in with Joe, who was purchasing his house when they
were dating and who had added her name to the mortgage when he'd
decided to spend his life with her, they had remodeled the kitchen
to fit the needs of a chef and aspiring cookbook author. Since the
remodel, she now had a gorgeous island adorned with a ceiling rack
where her copper bottomed pots and pans hung like gleaming warriors
awaiting their turn at sparring. Her Kitchen-Aid mixer and all the
attachments stood watch on its own section of counter space and her
coffee machine and espresso maker nestled together in another
corner. All of the beautiful cabinets were sleek and modern, with
glass fronts. The backsplash was sea glass and the kitchen sink was
large enough to bathe in. She loved her kitchen but at the moment,
it seemed like the enemy. She sank gently into one of the high bar
stools at the breakfast counter. She knew she was at a crossroads,
one of many to come: she could either wallow in it, or suck it
up.
    "Right about now, I'd be ready to make
some crispy on the outside soft on the inside brioche French toast,
with a