Wet

This woman . . . Am I in in a dream—like one of my dreams when I was twelve and obsessed with breasts?

I feel kind of drugged watching her, like the walls in the room are wavy and her large, amazing breasts are all I can see. My hard-on is getting painful. “You know you’re making me crazy, right?”

She drops her hands down and bites her lip. “Sorry about that.”

“You should be. You know about my issues,” I say with a mock stern voice.

“I got carried away. It’s just all so fascinating how different my body feels.”

“So how are you going to manage this? It’s not like you can be touching yourself in public.”

“I went sexual relief shopping after the appointment.”

She carries over from the desk a bag from a bookstore and starts lifting out the contents. Each new book looks smuttier than the last.

I nod. “Impressive.” Frankly I’m just so relieved she won’t be looking for real sex in the world at large that I’m in full support of her lack of regard for fine literature. “Well, you’ve got hours of fun ahead of you with that selection.”

“Wait, I’m not done. I also went to the Pleasure Chest.”

“The dildo place?”

“Oh they’ve got everything.”

“But I thought you already had a vibrator.”

“I do, but I’m afraid my deluxe rabbit has to be put out to pasture for a while. It’s just too intense and I’m ultra-sensitive right now.”

“Back in the day one of my hook-ups showed me her rabbit. That thing is crazy! Is what you usually use?”

She winks. “I like it intense, but now it’s just too much.”

I lean back in my chair. “Wow.”

For a moment I allow myself to imagine what it would have been like if we’d met during my wild days and before she was married. Without a doubt the sex would’ve been mind-blowing.

I watch her open up the package for the simple vibrator, unscrew the back and slide the batteries inside. She turns it on and strokes it, then gives it a nod of approval. “Much less intense.”

“Are you going to demonstrate it for me?”

“You wish,” she says with a teasing tone while glancing down at my plate. “Hey eat up. Your Stroganoff is getting cold.”

Chapter Ten

AGAINST THE WALL

The following Thursday as I drive to my parents it hits me that I should’ve pla

Strike one: she’s a divorcee

Plus one: she baked an apple pie and brought it to our house for di

Plus two: she went out with Patrick

Strike two: she rejected Patrick

Strike three: she got knocked up out of wedlock

Plus three: she’s having a baby and Ma says babies are gifts from God

As for the issue that I’m going to be Uncle Paul? I have no idea how they’ll rank that surprise.

My head is spi

During a rare quiet pause in the conversation I share my big news rather nonchalantly.

“Hey, guess what?”

Dad takes the bait. “What, son?”

“I’m going to be an uncle.”

My parents push their chairs back in unison with such force that the table pitches forward. They almost knock Trisha over trying to hug her and I instantly realize that being spontaneous was a sucky idea. I have given them the completely wrong idea and Trisha is giving me the “you will pay for this asshole” look in a profoundly convincing way.

“Paddy, Paddy . . . We’re going to be a grandparents!” Ma yells, even though we are all within feet of her.

I leap to my feet. “Wait! Wait a minute! It’s not Trisha!”

In unison their gazes move to Patrick and back to me.

“What are you talking about, Paul?” my father asks. He’s not amused with my shenanigans, and obviously he wants some answers.

“It’s Elle.”

Patrick gasps and Trisha snorts.

“Elle?” Ma says. “What does that have to do with you being an uncle?”

“The guy she was seeing wants no part of it so I told her I’d help.”

“Help how?” my sister asks.

“Yes, what exactly do you mean by help?” My dad asks with a scowl on his face.

“I bet he’s in charge of diapers because he’s so full of shit,” Trisha says.

“Shut it, Trisha,” I growl.

She points at me. “Don’t even . . .”

“Paul? Help how?” my mother says in a stern tone that I recognize. If I don’t start making sense soon I’m going to be in the doghouse for sure.

“You know . . . just being supportive. We’re good friends so I calmed her down after the guy was an ass about it.”

My father shakes his head. “Ass indeed. What kind of man can he be?”

My fingers instinctively curl into fists. “Don’t get me started. I want to beat the shit out of him.”

“Goodness. You are supportive,” Ma says as she studies me.

“I am. I did some research online and bought her pre-natal vitamins.”

Patrick jumps in. “Those are very important.”

“How do you know that?” Trisha asks with an arched brow.

He shrugs. “Doesn’t everyone?”

I glance over at Mom and her expression has softened. She looks at my dad, and then back at me. “You bought vitamins for her baby?”

I nod. “It wasn’t a big deal. I’m happy to help her. She’s a good woman, Ma.”

Patrick nods.

“She is,” Ma agrees. “Poor lass to be in such a situation. It’s a lot for one woman to manage—too much really.”

“And a baby needs a father,” Dad says.

His words sting because no matter how supportive I am, being an uncle is nothing compared to being a dad.

Ma turns to Patrick and Trisha. “You two, we need a word alone with Paul.”

“Why can’t we hear?” Trisha asks.

“Do you really need to ask that? You and your agitating comments . . .”

“It’s part of my charm,” Trisha remarks with a grin.

Patrick stands up. “Come on, Trisha, let’s go do the dishes.”

Ma waits until she hears the water ru

I can’t help but squirm in my seat. “No. Why do you ask?”

“I just can’t imagine why you would take this on if you aren’t involved. Saying you are going to be an uncle is a serious business. You can’t just flitter in and out of the wee one’s life.”

“I’m not the flittering type, Ma.”

Dad rests his hands on the table. “We know that, son, but you haven’t known Elle long. Do you really know what you are getting into? She’s embarking on the biggest job and responsibility of her life. And although I’m very sympathetic, how will you handle it if she asks too much from you?”

“That’s not her style. If anything she tries to do too much on her own, when she should ask for help.”

Ma twists her hands together.

“Do you think badly of her for this unpla

“No,” she scoffs. “That’s life—mistakes happen, but a baby is a gift regardless.

And Elle is a lovely woman who’s been married . . . she’s not a sixteen year old girl who was careless.”

“And we’ve always liked her,” Dad chimes in.

Ma nods. “She just needs to make the best of it, and it sounds like she’s trying.”

“She is,” I agree.

Ma gives me a stern look. “Okay, but how are you going to meet a girl and have your own family if you’re so busy being uncle to Elle’s baby?”

“And what if the father changes his mind and decides to be with Elle after all?”

“Believe me, he’s a whack-job . . . I really don’t think that’s going to happen.”

“But you can’t know that for sure,” Dad says.

I stand up and push my chair back. “Look, I appreciate your concern for me, really I do . . . but the bottom line is that I truly care about her and she really needs my support. I figure the rest will be worked out in time.”