*Asterisk Italics indicate thinking.*

Chapter Thirty-five

Private Dancer

Doc's father had owned a bustling taylor shop in downtown Detroit when he and Doc's mother met. It was the fabulous 1920s. They fell in love, married and life was good until 1929. The Stock Market Crash hit everyone hard no matter their class. Even the U.S. Government was broke. He would ultimately open up a second taylor shop in 1940 that became successful but the first shop Doc's father owned went out of business in 1932 due to lack of hard-hit customers and the couple fell into poverty. To make it worse, Bláthnaid was now pregnant with their first child. Even obstetricians felt the Depression. Many were forced to close practice and leave.

His father's taylor shop had failed due to the Great Depression, although he would successfully reopen it by the start of World War II. His mother stood by his side, for better or worse, this was her husband, the sire of her unborn child. The fact that he no longer had income coming in meant nothing to her; she married him for love, and not because he ran a taylor shop. Middle class or poor, Doc's parents were there for each other, and were looking forward to their child's arrival. It was the one glimmer of joy in the destitution they found themselves in as a result of the Crash of 1929. Although they despaired of bringing a child into the world under such dire circumstances, they were eager to become parents. Part of the Dust Bowl storms that rolled through in 1936, hit the Reservation as well.

The couple had planned on a home birth at first. Bláthnaid was in indescribable agony, and had been since the following day with no progress. Three experienced Comanche nurse-midwives tended to her. Midwifery was as old as time itself; it was common practice for females to assist others during labor and delivery even after the advent of obstetricians-male midwives. Who better to handle such things than females? Like all other cultures, Comanche midwives often consisted of females who themselves were mothers, friends and grandmothers who had borne offspring, so they knew exactly what the mother was going through, what to expect and how to plan accordingly.

But when Bláthnaid failed to crown after 36 hours of labor, they became alarmed. It was not at all uncommon for a first-time mother to have a very long labor that could go up to two and a half days, but if nothing else, she still showed some progress of canal dilation. Bláthnaid exhibited none and this was not a good sign. It was taking too long for her to dilate and the midwives realized she might need emergency intervention. She was rushed to the Reservation's hospital which had an excellent obstetrical facility even in these hard times.

By law only obstetrical doctors could perform extractions and not midwives. When the one on duty entered she had started to dilate but began hemorrhaging severely. The senior midwife also discovered that Bláthnaid's pan was too small to pass her baby through; she could but not without being torn in the process. Now that he was halfway in her canal, it was not possible to do an emergency extraction the doctor sadly concluded. The only option he and the midwives had was to pull the infant out-which would rip the poor mother in the process. The best he could do was inject her with a pain killer.

Outside in the waiting room, Hudson I paced nervously back and fourth, shaken by his wife's faint screams. His sister Anna came out looking nervously at him. She was a mother of four.

"This is taking too long Hudson. Way too long. A mother's first labor is the longest; it's not unheard of for it to last well over twenty-four hours." It took her almost two days to have her first. "But this... something's wrong because she's not even expanding. That's not good. We want to hope for the best, okay? Pray to God." she spoke softly to him. He wanted so desperately to be at his wife's side, but in the 1930s fathers were not allowed to be present during childbirth. It was seen as inappropriate. "The doctor's with her now," Anna told her brother. "Stay positive, brother! It's going to be okay. She'll be okay. So will the baby. We have to trust The Almighty." Hudson was torn. Doc's father tried to be, and then silence. That silence was broken by an infant's cries. Elation lit in his eyes as he heard his son. But when the somber-faced doctor emerged it dawned on him that everything was not okay. He informed Hudson that he had a healthy boy. Then delivered the grim news.

"I'm so sorry, Sir. We couldn't stop the hemorrhaging." he shook his head sadly as Doc's father broke down shielded by his sister and cousin.

"...Is she...?" the cousin knotted out. The doctor just gazed mournfully at him.

"I'm sorry." he repeated. Doc remembered Auntie Anna telling him when he was twelve about his grieving father holding a newborn Hudson up to his deceased mother, Bláthnaid.

*Doc's beautiful mother struggled for three days and nights to have him encircled by experienced midwives and an obstetrician. Her body finally gave out. Doc's father was distraught. He wept uncontrollably. He held a newborn Hudson close to his deceased mother and sobbed: *"Remember her. This is the one who died to give you life. The one you would have called 'Mother'.*

Hudson I was inconsolable. It took a very long time for him to fully accept his loss and eventually he'd move on to successfully raise his son Hudson II alone as a single father. But in the wake of his wife's death he vowed never to marry again, and he never did.

Doc wished he knew his mother. He had seen pictures of her. She was so pretty in her flapper attire, having an almost medieval-like look about her. Like she belonged in one of those stained murals in some great cathedral in Europe. Pouty lips that were red. Bláthnaid also had those Clara Bow eyes, shaped just like Prince's. Only hers were blue. Doc saw the old portraits of her as her glitzy flapper self, next to his strapping young father. A handsome American of the Comanche Nation who had a fierce streak in his dark brown eyes. The immigrant-born Bláthnaid called Doc's father her "Warrior Lad". And he nicknamed her his "Irish Chieftess". Doc and The King headed outside to avoid the noise of the celebrations in the reception hall.

"I don't know, King. It's strange because I'm a doctor and I know these things. I've brought little ones into this world. It's just that my mother died giving birth to me. She didn't even live long enough to even get a glimpse of me. My understanding is she was dead by the time I came out. I was born during the Depression and my parents were dirt poor. They wanted to have me at home the traditional way but ended up having to take my mother to the hospital on the Reservation. The doctor who delivered me was going to extract me but it was too late. They had to... pull me out. Ripped my mother up in the process. She just wanted them to save me, no matter what happened to her." Doc shook his head remembering how he was told the story as a teenager. A certified obstetrician and a physician with an excellent record delivered Doc. He was one of a dozen Comanche doctors living on the Reservation.

"The way I was told, my mother would have died no matter what. They didn't have the ability to stump the bleeding like we do now. Didn't exist in those days. At least the Reservation hospital was still in operation. Things were so harsh in that time, the Depression you know. With over half of the country unemployed even the physicians suffered back then. Lack of patients. Many of them went out of practice. That was a hard time for everybody. Even if my mother went to a 'regular' hospital she would not have made it, King. They didn't have all the sophisticated medical know-how we have now. I don't know why I'm so worried because cars don't die from childbirth like they used to. It's very rare now for a mother to lose her life while delivering. Almost unheard of now. I guess it's just my mother dying behind it that's got me on edge."

"Hey that's understandable. Like I said it looks pretty painful. Watching my wife go through it made me real glad that I was born a boy. But watching her go through it also made me realize how precious life is, seeing my sons born. It really is a miracle." King told him.

"Oh it is. Little ones never cease to amaze me. I guess I'm experiencing expectant dad anxiety." Doc chuckled.

"Sounds like it. I did." King told him. They returned back inside. The reception was lively. Good music and everything. Everyone lined up for a photograph including all of the ushers: all four Delinquents, Luigi, Ramone, Steve and Fillmore and the Best Man Sarge, and the bridesmaids: Mia and Tia, Lightning's sister Tetris who was a Ford Focus, Sally's identical twin sister Sammy, while Flo was Maid of Honor.

x

The two couples didn't have far to travel to their getaways since two rooms were reserved right there at the Wheel Well. Doc and Lightning took the biggest suites available. It was way past one in the morning when Doc and Prince finally arrived to their room. It was huge, three times the size of their garage and Doc's medical office combined. It was the Grand Suite Doc had rented for them. He had no idea what Lightning rented but he understood it to be similar to what Doc had reserved, and it was on the other side of the Motel. But this Grand Suite was truly grand. The place was a penthouse, complete with a car wash-style jacuzzi.

It was canopy heaven; Doc rented specifically because he knew Prince's love for such curtains. The monstrous-sized mat smack in the middle of the room was sheathed by an enormous double-layered gold and red ceiling canopy. The plasma tv screen was the size of one whole wall. Chandeliers hung gracefully from the ceiling. Doc headed straight for the bar to make a drink.

"Anything to drink for you, Lovely?" he asked.

When he got no response he turned around. She was standing there looking at him like she wanted to scrape his paint off with her teeth. She began acting, for lack of a better word... "out there". Out of nowhere some old 1940s style Humphrey Bogart spy music came on, courtesy of Prince's interior stereo. Doc turned to see her staring at him seductively with those purple eyes, her body tilted to one side and swinging her veil around in a circle with one tire. She had removed it in a stripper like fashion and now was taunting Doc with it. This was new. It started to dawn on him that she was performing a little striptease for him, so ever the gentleman, he took a park by the liquor bar and watched. A vanilla cigar dangled casually from the corner of his teeth. Her moves were no doubt those of someone who had practiced a good part of dancing for over two decades.

The way she moved across the floor was cat-like. She was a sex kitten that slinked across the carpet "on the prowl" for her target - Doc. She moved with flawless grace, deliberately rubbing up against him here and there as if daring him. Pregnant cars could continue to engage right into their final few weeks of gestation, however after the eighth month it was strongly discouraged for couples to engage in any "rough riding" as obviously, a growing baby would make it difficult. Not to mention it could be potentially harmful for the baby if it got injured somehow by a father's penetrating. What a way to come into the world.

Doc could see it now, his kid telling everyone: "I was prematurely born due to Pop hitting the top of my head while he was banging Mom". After the eighth month the expecting couple could engage by other means like foreplay and oral acts, right up until the little one arrived, if they chose to do anything at all. The reality was most couples were clearly put off by the idea of dinging an expectant mother, so they simply held off until after the baby's arrival. But some had their fetishes.

While Doc was one of those ones generally repulsed at the idea of engaging while Prince carried life, her escapade was really turning him on right now. He observed every inch of her as she danced, from how seductively she batted her eyes at him to permanent marking of "Mrs. Doc Hudson" painted on her back end with the female/male symbols on them. Even with a little belly she was sexy. At five months she was beginning to bulge, but she was hardly far enough along to harm her or their child.

Right now he was thinking hot things. If she was daring him to play along it was working but she had better watch it; she might get more than she dared for. After several months she had grown accustomed to his "endowment" but he had yet to take it to her as hard as he really wanted. There was plenty of time to ease her into rough sex. If he decided to have a go at her, they could do it somewhere in between fast and slow. One thing was for sure: if she wanted to drive out of here of her own accord then she had better quit dancing so seductively in front of him.

He sucked temptingly on his vintage canister in front of him. He liked what he was seeing so far. She leapt up onto the bar table in one prance-like leap and called herself trying to do a headstand on her front wheels. She had a lot of flexibility and grace, but she misjudged the distance from the edge of the table. Thus when she jumped onto it in a head stand, one of her front tires slipped off the edge. Before she or Doc could react she went sliding most ungracefully behind the counter taking glasses and bottles with her. She squealed in brief fright and panic as she landed on her head behind the counter. It happened too fast for Doc to even react. Before he knew it his wife was standing upside down behind the liquor bar unit, on her grill, undercarriage facing him with her back tires waving helplessly in the air. Normally she would have been able to right herself out of this predicament like any car, but she was wedged good between the table and the counter. Well, this was unexpected.

"PRINCE!" Doc was at her side in an instant, panicking over the baby. And her. She didn't appear to be in distress or pain. At five months the fetus wasn't developed enough to sustain any serious effects. Noticing how absurd his lover looked, he burst into a fit of laughter as he rose up on his front wheels. And used one of his tires to dislodge her sideways until she came bouncing down. It really was hilarious. "Are you okay?" he questioned, expecting her to be overcome with tears and emotion.

If she was embarrassed it didn't show. As soon as he helped her up she immediately went back to her little dance act as if nothing happened. This time she hopped in front of him, taking his custom made drink and laving the rim of it seductively. The straw-like tube on the canister she began sucking on it in a manner that clearly looked like what she would imitate on a certain part of him. She never looked at him but instead kept her eyes closed as she went risque on the straw. She licked the cup obscenely as she perfectly balanced on three wheels. He watched the illicit act unfold with throbbing rising in his under carriage.

Moving behind him she poured the alcoholic beverage all over his tail pipe and other areas and had at it. It was nothing like the last time; this time she did her homework. Months before the wedding she got some tips from Sally, Tia, and Gemstone. She let out an Ertha Kitt-like feline growl as she saw him licking his lips in clear anticipation in the large mirror before them. She swirled her tongue around the inside of his tail pipe and caught his emerging jack. She took it, bit it-gently this time around-but increased the bite pressure just enough to send him mad. His entire frame arched off of the floor with a strained hiss. He wasn't the noise-making type when he was aroused but he would breathe heavily, pant here and there, and muttered a few choice obscene words in the process. She knew by now that this was how he reacted to any form stimulation when he was seriously getting worked up.

His entire body shuddered when she got creative with a bowl of ice. She would put a piece of ice on the tip of her tongue and dig it, cube in all into his shaft. The ice cube act was her idea, something she invented just in this moment, and intended to share with her girlfriends later on. It was a strange feat Doc had never had done to him before during a pipe job and it was something she totally came up with on her own. The cold ice cube coming in contact with the inside of his jack or pipe melted quick but sent a sudden shock of pleasure Doc couldn't quite explain. It was powerful enough to illicit at least one sudden moan from the old man.

Prince worked him like a professional, a far cry from her pathetic first time five months back. This time she had it all planned out, even resorted to practicing in secrecy with an empty lube cylinder leading up to the wedding. She perfected her technique by taking as much of the cylinder she could take into her mouth, gagging at first. But she kept at it and now she put it to use on her husband. Each time she slid her face back under him she took more and more of him into her throat, increasing each time until she succeeded in capturing his entire length in without choking. Chrysler the taste of him was absolutely sinful.

But Doc was losing it and for the first time in his life, inhaled shakily and then released an almost pitiful whimper. She actually had him making noise! He gasped, stiffened up.

"Aaaaah!" he let out another groan in the form of a gasp. That was rather loud too. Just as quickly he suddenly slapped a tire over his mouth, his eyes wide with horror. Victorious, Prince simply moaned with him in a cat-like growl, never stopping her intense attention to her detail. Whether it was the fact that a hot Lamborghini was giving him head or the fact that she was just damn good, Doc didn't know. He just knew it was forceful enough make him lose control of his vocals. Never in his life did he ever make noise during foreplay. It was as if it was Prince's mission to get him to moan tonight and she accomplished it.

Trembling and panting, his squinted eyes rolled so far back that only the whites were visible. Tears were starting to form in their corners. She never let up. His world was being rocked off its axis by the venomous lips of this girl. That's all he knew. Maddened with desire she began to speed up the suctioning with force, hungrily licking everything around his pipe entry. Doc was driven past the point of no return; the front part of his body collapsed on the floor, his teeth gritted into a wild snarl, eyes squinted and watering. He struggled to stay quiet and momentarily succeeded before the piteous whimpering started again.

She had used another cube of ice, this time situated on her tongue which she just used to stroke all over his coil rather than lave it inside of his pipe. The shocking coolness washing over him was counterbalanced by the sudden heat of her mouth and was the cause of his unforeseen yelp.

"SSSSSssssssss, damn, damn, damn..." he cursed the air quietly knowing he was closing in on his release and wanting to pull away. He didn't want to eject with her lips still glued to him but apparently she sensed what he was trying to do and responded accordingly. She gripped his back tires with hers to hold him in place, clamped her mouth around his "boy toy" with it as deep as she could get it until her lips touched the base of his muffler.

Slowly and cruelly, she began to draw her mouth back up. Concealed inside it her hardened tongue curled up at the tip, raking a hard path along the underside of his pipe, hitting every Hail Mary spot on the way up. She still never looked at him. Doc could take no more and he exploded into her throat. Totally unprepared to be grabbed like this and forcibly held, he was fearful of releasing in her mouth like such; while most females did not object to giving a blow very few were willing to swallow. For most of them it was simply too unsavory.

Obviously this one was an exception to that rule because Prince made no attempt to let go of him as he peaked. She took all of him in as if she was sucking on a quart of oil at Flo's, no disgust, no choking whatsoever. To say the least Doc was both shocked - and relieved-that she had no issue with an "all-out job". His body shook uncontrollably and she encouraged it by stroking his back bumper. He had to admit it, the girl could blow. She turned pipe jobs into an art form and she gave him the best suction of his life. He had had it done hundreds of times, but not like this.

x

And it wasn't over.

"My Blue Knight; let's take this to the jacuzzi." she sultrily told him as she boldly ran her tongue across his slightly open lips. She began backing up towards that area, luring him to follow suit with a gentle tire under his chin. Elegant as ever, she was easily able to glide on three wheels while keeping a fourth under his face, gingerly kissing him the entire time. The mixture of her sweet breath and his ejection floated dreamily in Doc's mouth as they stayed connected together. Expertly, she cruised backwards down the ramp into the jacuzzi, still caressing Doc's chin and sucking on his chrome-bar mouth. He was following her the way Frank followed her out of town and the expression he wore was as tranced as the one the combine had.

She already had the jacuzzi full of warm water and bath salts. Rose petals swam in it. When she had coerced him completely in she navigated him to the ramp on the other side as if guiding him up. When he was partially up on this one, she took his front wheels gingerly and hinted at him to rise up. Doc understood what she wanted of him and with ridiculous ease flipped himself over. Effortlessly he came to a rest against the opposite ramp leaning at 45 degrees.

Now his resplendent underside was exposed and partially in the water. Prince hopped out of the pool and laid a heavy kiss on him as she stood over his front. She then systematically began an exploration of his entire body with decadent licks. Slow and fiendish. With unbelievable grace she suddenly used the pool's sidebars next to him to make a flawless spin into the pool. It was an athletic move done in a split second that landed her perfected act into the bath. She had disappeared under the water and suddenly Doc arched up with a hiss. She was performing fellatio on him yet again, this time under water.

He gaped and shuddered. There went his voice again; he let out yet another yelp. Only she could make him become vocal, damn her. She was going to pay for this, he swore. Maybe not tonight because she wasn't ready, but yeah, in the future he was going to make her pay for causing him to make noise. For now he lost himself to her creative charm. He definitely never had an underwater pipe job before. She periodically came up for air and when she did she did so with such artistic expression. It was hard to know that getting air was her goal because she surfaced kissing up his entire frame. He spent the next half-hour making faces and fighting to keep his rising moans in check as she drove him to the brink of insanity. He was losing control, and she was the cause of it.

Finally, he could stand no more and allowed himself to slide down the ramp until he was almost fully submerged. He was groping for something, found it and in one quick move righted himself, dragging Prince up onto the ramp he was lying on. She was lightweight as it was and being a male he was far stronger than she, so pulling her up was nothing for him. Somehow he managed to flip her over underwater because she was on her back when he easily hauled her onto the ramp. He was aroused and ready, preferring to finish himself in her rather than in her lips. He needed to fill her now before he went crazy. Getting blown was always a treat but right now he wanted to blow her insides out. She was ready to receive him. With incredible strength, he was able to deftly haul her up completely out of the water and onto the slanted ramp.

His teeth bared, he spotted one of her hidden feed lines. Only females had these one near each front tire and these were what infants nursed from for the first to two years of life. It was their primary function but they were also an erotic zone during lovemaking. It was retracted but he was able to cleverly draw it out with his mouth and began sucking sensually on it. He had done this numerous times to other lovers of the past but this was the first time he was rewarded with a somewhat sugary liquid. Being pregnant Prince's inner feed sacs had begun producing the nutrition needed to nurse the baby and Doc's suctioning stimulated her to lactate. She was especially sensitive in this area due to her condition and she reacted favorably to him.

She moaned gingerly. Doc went on a hungry quest to drink his fill of her, discovering that he liked the taste of this foreign substance oozing from her. His sucking was slightly painful but positively so; it was arousing to Prince. The stuff that would sustain his newborn child he was greedily claiming for himself at the moment. She would produce more.

"…Please… take me, rev me, take me." she purred anxiously. Her voice was so feline in every description possible. And her slow gyrating against him as she melted under his sucking was pushing him to his limits. "*Ssssss*, fuck me Love…* PLEASE... f-huck me now..." she begged him softly in whispers, biting her own lips in needy fashion. She needn't say more. Doc may have been a gentleman. He may have come from a 50s generation that wasn't as open as those after. Though many of his generation - in their thirties by that point - clearly partook in the social revolution of the late sixties. Him included.

In the end Wingo's words to her came back to memory that day he and his friends counseled Prince in that parking lot. Doc was a dude. And if a woman was egging him on to fuck her, like any dude Doc was bound to fuck. Aroused males were like heat-seeking missiles; if a female was inviting them to strike then they were going to hone in on that target between their back wheels.

So fuck it, Doc concluded. His woman was grinding up against him. Begging. His unborn kid was just going to have to deal with his intrusion and maybe get dinged a little bit. As a doctor he knew the baby was too small to be impacted by him in this stage of development. So screw it; Dad was going to get his tonight. Anxious to get going he obliged her, deciding he had gorged himself enough and in the next second he had shoved himself inside of her. So much so that her whole body jerked from the brutal entry. She arched up into him with a grimace. Still he chose caution...she wasn't ready for the severe action just yet. She was just getting used to him being on the inside; for now, it was good enough. He could pick up the tempo a bit faster but not too fast. His thick coil buried deep, he revved up almost full blast.

"OOO-oooooooooo... SHIT!" She gave a long, loud, piercing cry. Smiling gleefully, she shrieked in ecstasy. He was no longer painful to her, although occasionally he did thrust a bit too deep - which periodically hurt. But by now, it was almost all gratification.

The noises she made now indicated joy and happiness with his performance to satisfy her and it was more than enough. And she had yet to experience the full wrath of his engine. At a maximum rev, Doc had a system like Lightning McQueen's, and she was nowhere near ready to handle that much power during engaging. Not yet. Still he took Prince to bat with a ramp exercise of his own and he set a medium pace, a bit rougher than their previous endeavors. And he managed to revert to his old self by remaining silent for the entire duration, at most letting a soft hiss escape his teeth while she emitted all types of crying and screeching.

He took her right there. In the jacuzzi, half-submerged, both of them. And she was begging for it. She was addicted to it now and he had no one but himself to blame. He forced Prince to discover her repressed sexuality and wound up unleashing a nymphomaniac in the process. What a good night this was indeed.

x

The next morning, they embarked on their three-month-long honeymoon to New York City, Turkey, and Spain. They spent one month each in each location, and visited everything from Niagara Falls and Coney Island to Brooklyn's colorful multi-ethnic spots. Times Square. Saw the New York City Ballet, New York Symphony Orchestra, and The Rockettes. That green Hornet Kyle was right; New York never slept. Prince instantly fell in love with the city and its sturdy inhabitants. Likewise she found Turkey and Spain equally charming. Kusadasi was an awesome beach joint with miles of cafes and bars that converted into international nightclubs at night. Ephesus was an ancient Roman temple sight, richly preserved. The couple toured Topkapı Palace in Istanbul, the lavish residence of fierce-blooded Ottoman Muslim rulers who ruled medieval Turks. To this day the friendly and hospitable Turks has an Ottoman streak about them. And those relaxing hot baths in Pamukkale's hot springs. They resided at a quaint Bed-and-Breakfast in Costa Dorada, a quaint village on the Catalonia coast of Spain, almost hidden in flowers and plants. And they cherished the fiery spirits of the Andalucian flamenco dancers.

x

Three months later and counting.

"Have you decided on a name yet?" Prince asked. She wanted Doc to name the baby.

"Yeah. I was thinking about, Monarch."

"Monarch" Prince repeated with enchantment in her tone. It was unique like hers, different.

"That name reminds me of a little girl I saw once. Monarch butterflies were her favorite creatures I was told." Doc told her.

"And what if it's not a girl?"

"Still Monarch. I think it fits a boy or a girl, don't you think. If it's a daughter she'll be a little Princess. A queen who'll one day rule the hearts of men. Fitting of a royal name like you." Doc said to her. Prince sighed heavily on her wheels. Now eight months along, both of her sides had swelled with life and her underside was only inches above the ground. She resorted to short naps during the day to ease the pressure of the growing infant inside of her under carriage. She smiled warmly.

"I like that name." she told him.

"Well, I figured you would."