Be Careful What You Wish For

Part 1

Foreward:

Catching up to Hando and Tina…

The last time we heard, they had validated their existence as a couple and had gotten married. What we don’t know about is what happened on their honeymoon in Australia. Join the program already in progress and see what’s going on with those two…

TINA:

“That’s it. Off to the doc with you. No excuses. NOW!” he said.

I pouted. I stomped my feet. I begrudgingly dressed and slumped into the jeep. It’s just a cold, I dunno what his problem is, I thought.

As we drove towards the medical center, he muttered comments about how I should have gone the minute we returned from Oz, how stubborn I was, how silly I was acting. His right hand was casually stroking my thigh – his way of calming me as he mildly berated me for not taking better care of myself.

It wasn’t that simple. He wouldn’t understand. I don’t understand most of the time. I guess it’s like a car. You know, how it’s just not the same after a wreck? Body shop does an impeccable job correcting the dents and laying on a new paint job. Mechanics fix all the engine problems. It just doesn’t drive the same – even though it seems fine to everyone else. I’d felt this way since, well – since kicking the prescription drug monkey during my recovery long before our trip to Australia. I had chalked much of my current physical shape to the honeymoon. The long plane trip… The hourly consummation of our vows - which never seemed enough... The other things that happened…

“Ya sure you don’t want to go to your doc in Memphis? Someone you are familiar with?”

The thought of stepping another foot in that office, into the waiting room where I spent so many uncomfortable moments wondering why I was still alive…no thank you.

“Nah. If you’re gonna force me to go to the infernal doctor’s office – well, I’d rather start fresh and go somewhere local. This is our hometown.”

Our hometown. Our.

“Ah, love” he spoke with a gleam in his eye, “you like it when I force ya…”

As hard as I tried, I couldn’t keep a straight face. “Oh, shut up.”

~~~

The waiting room was just like any other. Current and out of date magazines. Sterile floors, walls, and ceilings. Token young blonde receptionist, with whom Hando was flirting mercilessly. I couldn’t begrudge him. I’d rather see him act that way than to be intimidating and harsh. He’s a local businessman. It wouldn’t be good for business. I still gave him a look over the top of the clipboard of New Patient papers I was filling out.

Last Name: Martin.

Martin. Still brings a smile to my lips when I write that.

List any major surgeries you’ve had.

A quick gnaw on on my lip and I wrote n/a. I didn’t feel like writing a novel that afternoon. If the subject came up, I’d come clean. Maybe.

List any medications you are taking.

Thankfully, none. Anymore. Even stopped the antidepressants before the wedding. That made it interesting around the house, yes indeed.

The next page was nothing but a yes/no list of common maladies. I blindly answered no and signed my name. Hando was leaving his business card with the girl – seems her husband was in the market for a new ride – as I walked up to the reception window to deposit my papers.

“H, you can go back to the shop – I’ll call you when I’m done.”

He hates – I mean hates – waiting. And I wasn’t in the mood to pacify him until the doctor was ready.

He smirked, pulled the Cycle World magazine out of this back pocket, and sat beside me. Soon, he was lost in the depths of torque and compression. He wasn't gonna chance me slipping out unnoticed, I guessed. I picked up a Good Housekeeping and tried to read, but lost myself in a memory…

~~~

December 2003 - The Thorne Residence

“Girl, come on. Quit holding out on me. I want to know all about the honeymoon.”

I laid flat on my back at the foot of the bed that Lachlan and Heather had been sharing at Uma and Terry’s house. The guys were out on what could be an all night bender doing things I probably didn’t want to know about. I’d planned on calling it an early night, but Heather would have none of it. She snagged some ice cream and chocolate syrup from the kitchen and told me that if I didn’t get my ass into her room, she’d camp out in mine.

“It was just like any other, I guess, Heather – you know.” I grinned wickedly, avoiding the subject entirely.

“Grrrr. This is Hando…this is you! Nothing about the two of you is 'just like any other' couple.”

I looked at her. The expression on her face was open and sincere. It was time. I hadn’t talked to anyone about the trip. I wasn’t sure what to make of all if it myself. She would keep my confidence if I asked her to. I didn’t have anyone else to have girly talks with. Keeping everything bottled up wasn’t helping, I was sure.

“Damn, I still can’t believe your face – your arms – and hands! T. That plastic surgeon must have used some new technology. I can’t believe how fast it healed. You were only in Oz for what, a month?” She picked up my hand and turned it so, looking at it from different angles in the light. “What did you say the surgeon’s name was?”

First truth. “I didn’t.”

“Come on, what is with you? You are being far too coy, and…”

Heather’s eyes met mine. The smile melted from her face when she digested my blank expression.

“What happened in Oz, Tina. Tell me.”

~~~

“Miz Martin, you can come back now.” A short plump nurse announced from the side door of the waiting room. Hando followed me. making wisecracks in my ear about the nurse and her pantyhose – something about friction starting a fire. I can’t take him anywhere.

I did the ritual pee in a cup, have finger poked for blood, have weight taken routine. Answered some questions, but when it came to describing my symptoms, Hando chimed in and took over. Instead of making snide comments and being a clown, he was serious and very much all-business. He told her things that I didn’t know that he had noticed.

“We returned from a trip to Australia on the first of November. She’s been a right ornery shelia to deal with since then. What with her sinus allergies, loss of appetite – she either sleeps all the time or not at all. Look at how skinny she is. She’s lost a stone and is working on another. My brother had the flu recently, and she thinks she’s got it, but I want to know for sure.”

The nurse made notes in my file, and was greeted to an icy stare from Hando when she tittered at his comments.

“Ok sweetie. You’ll need to change into a gown for the doctor. They are on the shelf in the bathroom through that door. He’ll be in soon.”

Not that I needed it, but H did help me out of my clothes. And was about to help me right up onto the sink that the declared was the perfect height for a good roger. Not knowing what parts of me the doctor would be inspecting, I opted for a midday snack instead.

I pushed Hando back against the shiny cold blue tile wall and knelt between his legs. Leaning in, I rubbed my face against his crotch and the heavy need growing there.

At war with his desire and the concern for me, he alternated between moans, growls, and words: “Love, you don’t have to…”

I would not be denied. Not once had I felt physically bad enough not to satisfy him or myself – I wasn’t about to ruin my perfect score now.

I pressed my nose further into his crotch, inhaling his musk. He purred and massaged my scalp with his fingertips.

“What you do to me…” he panted, breathless.

“Show me. Show me what I do to you, Hando.”

With his head cocked to the side, his hands moved to his belt buckle. An index finger began pulling the leather through as the other hand pushed it. The other index finger extracted the brass pin from the hole as the opposite hand held the leather taut. I loved that motion. I loved watching his hands move. Watching them grant me access to the one thing that never fails to make me feel so gooooood.

A swift intake of breath to allow room to unbutton his snug jeans. His index finger and thumb find the zip and push it down.

So close. Like I haven’t seen it in days, when it was just hours ago. My mouth began to water at a pace that rivaled the moisture slicking the area between my thighs.

With both hands, he hoisted himself out of this tighty whities and allowed his length to spill over, out of his open fly. His robust scent was as intoxicating as the sight of his swollen head sprouting out the sheath of foreskin.

Hando playfully bumped my nose with his cock as he ran his hand up and down it’s length. His tongue danced around his bottom lip in anticipation of where his dick was about to go. He drew his precum around my lips with the same dexterity and delicateness he would use if he were pinstriping a motorcycle fender. When I was sure he was pleased with his work, I laved his gift from my lips and took him in my mouth.

Although I love to watch his face contort in pleasure at my ministrations, I equally adore closing my eyes and listening to the beast within. The primality overwhelms me each time. The hiss of air passing across his clenched teeth. The rumble in his chest as he inhales my arousal I’m aware that he can surely smell. The need to rut grows stronger and the pushes himself into my mouth. White knuckles surround the assist bar bolted to the wall. His knees quiver in time with the rest of his muscles. I take as much as I can of his cock into my mouth, down my throat with each pinion. My nose pauses in the nest of hair at the base of his genitals, I draw in the aroma, only making myself more insane. I realize that I’m neglecting his throbbing sac, that is contracting and becoming tight as he approaches his peak. Rolling his balls around in my hand, I know it’s the beginning of the end. His grip on the assist bar is all that is keeping him from buckling and falling to his knees. His head is thrown back and he mutters curses to God. I keep the pressure and the speed to his liking, dictated by his hand wrapped in my hair. My final assault. I gently ran my finger around his perineum, teasing the opening.

He came with a gush that I wasn’t entirely prepared for. His seed dripping down the corner of my mouth as his stiff body pumped.

He sank down the wall to a sitting position, his cock softening as he worked to regain his breath. I cleaned myself up at the sink, aware that he watched every motion, every touch.

Granted, he wasn’t a man of romantic words so when he did speak – I knew the worth of the sizable withdrawal from his masculine account.

“You’ll never know what you mean to me –“

“Knock knock – are you done in there?” the doctor’s voice interrupted.

“Yeah, mate – just uh…helping her get this gown on. Hold your horses.” I stifled a giggle and know that we looked guilty as sin when we exited the bathroom.

I felt a wave of weakness roll through me, causing me to lose my balance as I made my way to the examination table. Hando caught me with his arm, picked me up, placed me on the table and kissed my head – all while giving the doctor a once over.

“I’m Dr. Clark and you are….Tina?” I nodded. Hando leaned against the wall, arms crossed in his typical “I’m the alpha-male in this room” stance. Dr. Clark seemed oblivious to it all, no doubt he’d seen many people and many things in his day. He looked to be at least 65 if not older. Kind face, bushy eyebrows, with some rather strong prescription bi-focals balanced precariously on his slender nose.

He read my chart to himself, pausing to ask questions to which he would make more notes. He pulled up a stool and sat next to me. With a grimace as he tilted his head back to view me through his bifocals. He carefully examined me, gently pressing on specific parts of my body. I saw Hando’s frame become a rigid myriad of tense muscles. It was clear he didn’t like this man – this elderly man, mind you – touching me.

I rolled my eyes and kept on answering his questions, telling him what hurt and what didn’t.

“Hmmmm. That’s a nasty sinus infection you have there. I’m gonna check on your blood work before I make a diagnosis, though.”

Hando’s cell phone rang as the doctor was speaking. He quietly slipped out the door and took the call. Dr. Clark paused and furrowed his brow at me – I couldn’t tell if he was perplexed or if he was trying to make up his mind about something.

My tryst in the bathroom with Hando had left me a bit drained. I laid my body down on the decidedly uncomfortable table and waited for Hando to return after the doc left.

~~~

HANDO:

“Sonny, that’s a real fine wife you’ve got there. I’ve been around the block a few times, you know? I’d be willin’ to bet my brother’s cotton crop that you’ve been at her and she’s in the family way – Nurse – could you locate Miz Martin’s urine specimen and perform a pregnancy test?”

Those were his exact words. I'll never forget them as long as I rise every morning to see the sun. He stepped outside the examining room - looked me straight in the eye and spoke. Those. Words.

I was losing...something...it...my handle on everything. I sought out the cool wall and leaned against it.

“Mate, I’m sure you’re a good quack and all, but there is no way that…”

“I ain’t never been wrong, boy,” Dr. Clark nearly growled. He glared, then winked. Straightening up to his full 6 foot 4 height, looking down at me, invading my space...just like a father would. “You ain’t gonna be one of those no-good scoundrels that leaves their woman in a lurch, are ya?”

“No.” I paused. “No sir.” I added, and gulped audibly.

“It’s a good thing. Mark my words – your little woman in there is going to make you a father. She has all the symptoms. I can't believe you young folks – who think they know everything – haven’t figured that out yet.”

I could feel it - I was as pale as a sheet. All I could do is nod at him as he made his way down to the lab.

It’s impossible. It can’t be. This quack doesn’t know what he’s talking about.

A few deep breaths to shake off the prickling on the back of my neck, I pushed open the examining room door to check on my wife.

What I saw...what she was doing...the same thing I saw her do a thousand times at least.

Her face...checking it in the mirror, once again - making sure the scars were still gone.

Reality slammed home. My chest grew tight and I gasped for air. Feeling the familiar taste of bile in my mouth, I ran down the hallway in search of an empty pot...