Note: The private musings of Carole Hudson are a stylistic rip-off of Molly Bloom's great stream-of-consciousness soliloquy at the end of James Joyce's Ulysses. Read it before you've "shuffled off this mortal coil."

On the last Friday of school, after Mr. Schue's and Puck's Over the Rainbow serenade, Finn walked Rachel to her car, still holding her hand with intertwined fingers, reluctant to let her go.

"Movie, tonight?" Finn suggested.

"Sorry, I have other plans," Rachel replied pityingly to Finn's obvious consternation. "You see, I'm inviting my marvelous handsome sexy boyfriend to a home-cooked dinner at my house at 7, after which I have a very special surprise in store for him," she said with a mischievous smile.

"Well, dinners don't take that long. Maybe I could see you after?" offered Finn, grinning with newfound conceit.

"This dinner is going to take all night, perhaps into the next morning. My Dads are gone for the weekend and my marvelous handsome sexy boyfriend usually stays up as long as I need him to these days. So if you'll excuse me, I have to get home to start preparing. I bought a new dress and some frilly lacy underthings that I'm anxious to try on."

Not as anxious as Finn had just become, whose parting kiss left her weak at the knees as he sprinted to his car. Finn drove to the supermarket, bought a dozen roses and a package of condoms, got a new shirt at the neighboring discount store, and raced home without hitting any mailmen. He pressed his only pair of dress pants, shined his shoes, showered and shaved, dabbed some cologne, grabbed the flowers, pocketed the latex, and went into the kitchen to kiss his mother goodbye. "Bye mom. I may be late, so don't worry and don't wait up."

"Finn. Please. Be careful."

Carole Hudson was nobody's fool. She knew where her son was going and why. She took an opened bottle of cheap white wine out of the refrigerator, got a tall glass, and went out back to sit on the patio in the warm June evening. She took a quick swig of the wine and reclined on the plastic-ribbed chaise longue.

yes he'll be late sunday if I'm lucky shined shoes pressed pants oh yes for rachel berry he shines shoes and presses pants she's a formidable girl that one talent brains an odd beauty that drives some boys insane she's sure been driving finn insane she'll eat the likes of quinn fabray for breakfast and spit her out one day I saw how she and finn looked at each other at regionals god I remember how that feels first love first sex a boy's hands a boy's mouth a boy's cock sometimes the mere thought of it can still get me hot burt's great sexy warm comforting but the thrill is never the same as when you're sixteen

godspeed finn I just pray rachel berry doesn't hurt you too badly she's one tough cookie you can see the steel in her from the 30th row but the joy my god the joy when she sings I can't take my eyes off her even when my own son is right behind her what does she want with him oh yes yes his body like his father's did to me gets her wet doesn't matter how smart how worldly when you see a man like that the strength the power wanting to feel it inside you wanting it to open you up wanting it to explode in you wanting it and when you stop wanting and needing and other men come calling with more money more brains she'll leave him what can I do warn him stop him fat chance too late his heart's too far gone he's hard for her all the time yeah I did that to his father too when my tits were firm and I couldn't keep my hands off him and when my pussy grabbed him I had him she'll have finn all right oh well at least she's good kind sensible not like those cheerleader sluts who come sniffing cats in heat tails up god this wine sucks next time a few bucks more what the hell one more glass and I'll be rid of it

rachel rachel berry berry in my day a girl like that not too pretty but sly as a fox would have had half the male faculty by now even the unmarried ones hah I bet that cheerio dyke coach tried her luck and cutie pie schue must have thought of it wish he'd think of me I'd fuck him anytime oh burt just kidding you wish good luck finn screw her good kid she'll love you for it I should know I loved your father for it I love her for loving you for it what else really matters but loving and fucking yes

Finn got to Rachel's at a quarter to, so he drove around the corner and waited before pulling into her driveway and walking up to her door to ring the bell at precisely 6:58. She greeted him looking impossibly lovely in a simple white low-cut, mid-thigh summer dress held up with spaghetti straps, waves of silky hair cascading over her bare shoulders. Almost average height in very high heels, with no hint of the schoolgirl about her, she smiled at him with the warmth of a thousand suns, at his shined shoes and pressed pants, and gushed over the roses. She kissed his mouth with a luscious tenderness, and whispered "later" when he tried for more.

She took his hand and led him to the couch in the den, brought a vase for the flowers, and departed to quickly return with a tray holding a bottle of wine and two crystal wine glasses.

"Do your dads let you drink their wine?"

"They've been giving me sips since my Bat Mitzvah, and whole glasses when I cook dinner for them. They think I need to develop sophisticated tastes. They have a European attitude about such things. Very French. This is their best California Cabernet. To get the greatest pleasure from it, first put your nose inside the glass, take in the aroma, then sip it very slowly with your eyes closed. Concentrate, pay attention to all the flavors."

Finn understood it wasn't just wine she wanted him to learn how to taste.

She poured a few ounces into both glasses, handed him one, clinked hers against his to produce a clear bell-like sound and, after a "to us" and a kiss of his cheek, began to sip. Finn did as instructed, noting the fruit and acidity, the layers of the sweet, the soft, the dry and the sharp, followed by a subtle aftertaste when he swallowed. It was complex, rich and altogether wonderful, totally different from anything else he had ever drunk. It reminded him of why he loved Rachel Berry.

"I guess it was just some coincidence your dads happened to go out of town tonight, of all nights?"

"I don't depend on coincidences or chance, as well you know, dearest Finn. I checked the internet to see if there was something not too far away that would interest them, and a Cleveland Orchestra Beethoven concert did the trick. Of course, they wondered why I so anxious to get them out of town, so I had to tell them the truth."

"Which was?"

"That I was in love with the boy they saw sing with me at Regionals and wanted to spend the whole night with him, in my own home, in my own bed. That I wanted to wake up next to him and not have him worry about the nearby presence of my fathers. They'd seen you and liked you and trusted my judgment about when I was ready." She told him this quietly and seriously, biting her lip and smiling shyly afterwards.

Except for one very localized area of hardness, Finn nearly melted. He thought he could hear his heart beat. He reached for her hand, kissed the back of it, then her temple, cheek, ear, and neck. He tasted her skin and buried his face in her hair, holding her tight to his chest, so overwhelmed with love for her that he couldn't speak except to murmur her name.

After a while, Rachel undid the top two buttons of his shirt, kissed his chest, and got up to escort him to the dining room. The entire meal was an aperitif to the anticipated love feast of the bedroom. Salad was served with her bites of his neck and his touch of her breast and ass, the steak made the wine and their tongues taste even better, the ice cream atop her home-made peach cobbler was eaten with his warm hand on the cool skin of her upper inner thigh. The cherry and whipped cream were being saved for later.

When they finished eating, he turned to her. "It was all wonderful. You're wonderful. I'm only sorry I don't know enough words to express everything I think and feel about you and have to keep saying 'wonderful' all the time."

"Just keep showing me. It's all I need," running her hand across his forehead and down his cheek.

Finn got up, stacked the dishes and brought them to the kitchen sink to rinse them off before putting them in the dishwasher, all with the same care he would have devoted to bathing an infant and laying it in its crib. Her dads had allowed him their daughter Rachel, for which he would be eternally grateful and mortified if he chipped a piece of their fine china. She watched the entire spectacle leaning against the door jamb, not knowing whether to laugh or cry and so did both simultaneously. When Finn had completed his voluntary household chore, she ran across the tile in her bare feet, and leapt onto him. He grabbed her around the waist and, holding her tight to him, they kissed with a passion that offered their entire beings. Their mouths had never tasted as sweet to each other, but maybe that was just the peach cobbler.

"Take me to bed, Finn. Please take me to bed."

Finn carried her as a groom might his bride, her arms wrapped about his neck. They had travelled up those stairs many times since Regionals, and often ended up lying naked together. Tonight, though, they had embarked on a greater journey, to a distant realm of magic and mystery, the first visit for Rachel and the first for Finn with someone he loved. He was going to be amazed at what a difference one's companion makes.