CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

Rain pelted against the window of the hotel room where Jarod and Miss Parker were staying. So much for demanding the top floor, he thought, turning off the laptop, and unplugging the converter from the wall. He could hear Miss Parker in the washroom, putting the coins in the machine that turned on water for the shower, removed his trousers, shirt, and waited; his clothes now in the drawer, the outer door to the hall locked against little intruders with childish voices.

He was overcome by an instinctual need and he kept imagined Miss Parker in one of those short Baby Doll negligees – well, forget the negligee, Margo!

She stood now at the door, her hair dripping, dressed only in a towel. "Are the children asleep?" she asked.

"Yes, and I called the hospital, he said in a stilted voice as if trying even more to control the beat of his heart. "Sydney is sleeping peacefully. Oh, and the babies?"

"The room across the hall with their grandparents.. You seem rather solicitous of their care, Jarod."

"Seeing I felt for years that I'd never be a father."

"True, but the Centre didn't want you to know of your ah-abilities."

He moved closer to her, his hand reaching for the towel. She almost thought of raising her hand to slap him away, but there were those chocolate brown eyes, and that sardonic smile.

"The bed, Jarod," she said. "I haven't had it for so long."

He knew what "it" was. "You don't have your gun with you."

"Oh but I do," she said with a smile, reaching down to bring her gun from between her breasts. "Oh and I can use it."

"After you remove it from the plastic bag,"

She did that, pointing it at him.

"And I have one too. Remember the rules, every Favorite gets a weapon and bullets to protect his owner, and possibly to protect him from the owner in case her mind goes awry."

They were now falling on the bed, guns forgotten on the floor, the rain incessant against the windowpane, their hearts beating. "You know what will happen now, Jarod."

"I'm on top, this time."

"This is not after the Official Joining. You do not have that right. I own you."

"But I am physically stronger than you, and for the sake of procreation, the chance of your conceiving is considerably greater if I am on the top."

"Do you really want me to go through that again, you male chauvinist pig?" she asked, her eyes belying the serious set of her lips.

He moved his hands down her side over the long tanned thighs. "Yes I do. And I'm quite good and I got the book." His eyes moved towards the dresser where there were two books, one recently put out by those Nannies, and the other, The Dominant Book written by Antonio Waldo Lambourni Angela.

"What one do you mean?"

"Both of them, Lady Angela." He smiled, his eyes twinkling.

She put her hands in his long dark hair. "I like that, but for your prowess, you're not exactly that action movie hero, Steve Se —"

"No, I'm better and I don't sit cross legged to meditate before getting down to ah business."

"Thank the Holy Mother for that." She parted her lips and they kissed long and hard..

She smiled, feeling his long body on hers, waiting for the ultimate joining that would once again start the circle in her of conception, the whole instinct of man and woman joining since time began. There was no need of chains, no need of handcuffs, no battle of the sexes, no "me running" and "you chasing" as before.

Here on this rickety bed in a nineteen thirties hotel in Dublin, they were making love, the erratic breathing, the sound of the metal springs underneath as it creaked to the sound of their bodies rejoicing in each other, sheets kicked to the foot of the bed, short breaths, hearts beating: the sound of two lovers engaged in passion.

And then it was over and like men had done since God first created Adam and Eve, Jarod rolled off her and was soon asleep, and Miss Parker was listening wondering why it took so long for her heart to slow down.

She lay there for an hour and then suddenly sat up, "If I've gotten pregnant, what should we name this four?" she asked.

"Oh something like Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Sailor," said Jarod sleepily.

She took the pillow and threw it at him and they both collapsed back on the bed, she laughing and he snickering.

"How about Fee, Fie, Fo, Fum?" retorted Miss Parker.

"Or Eenie, Meenie, Minnie, Mo?"

"Do you know with our choice of names, this next bunch is going to be the most maladjusted kids we ever will have?"

"Do you feel sorry for them, Miss Parker?"

"No," she said, "Jarod, you were sensational!"

"I know."

And with that, both of them feel asleep, exhausted.