I was dreaming again, stuck in a horrible nightmare, watching Cory stuff hundreds or arsenic-icing-sugar donuts into his mouth. Then Carrie, lovely, tiny, grown-up Carrie, began to do the same thing. They grinned at me widely, impervious to my shouts of warning, telling them to stop, stop! But before my eyes they withered, still grinning, and died. I was sobbing, pounding the floor with my fists. Not our beautiful twins, God, no! Not again!

Then Chris' arms were around me, and trying to calm me, and I was waking.

'Shh, darling. Shh. It's just a dream. You're all right.' I turned into Chris' chest, hiding my face into it and crying more quietly as a result. He held me close to him, rocking me.

The tears began to subside, and I scrubbed at my face with my hands. Chris took a tissue from the nightstand and gently rubbed the tears away instead.

'What was it this time, Cathy?' He asked me gently.

'It was...the twins.' My voice trembled dangerously. 'They were poisoning themselves, Chris, and not listening when I said not to eat the donuts!' I almost broke down again, but Chris planted a soft kiss on my mouth, and I calmed.

Rubbing my back, Chris told me not to worry. 'You remember the twins are in a better place, Cathy. You told us yourself. They're with Daddy. That's just something from our attic days haunting you.'

I nodded, trying to remember that. We had a wonderful home and family now, and everything was going fine. Chris was a doctor, I taught ballet...nothing was going wrong.

'Can you sleep again, Cathy?' Chris asked me, and I nodded and kissed him and turned away from him so he could spoon me. It was how I felt the absolute safest: when Chris' body was pressed perfectly into the shape of mine, his arms around me as we slept.

'Good morning, Emma,' I smiled at the slightly plump, brown-haired woman in the kitchen. She was our help, but it was hard to give that help a specific title. Emma looked after our children when we weren't home, kept the house orderly, and cooked for us, among other things. Being a nanny, housekeeper, and cook, she was an all-around lifesaver-and at this point, part of our family.

'Good morning, Cathy,' she replied, looking up from the eggs frying on the stove. 'It's looking to be a fine day. Jory already went outside.'

My eyebrows lifted and my gaze went to my watch. It wasn't even 7.30 on a Saturday and Jory was already outside! How uncharacteristic of him.

'Well, that's wonderful,' I said hopefully. 'I wonder what he's up to.' Drifting over to the window, I tried to see if I could get a glance of our elder son. At ten, he was already starting to become more quiet, reasonable, and dedicated to things.

I decided I would go out in a minute to see, but only after setting the table and seeing that Chris and Bart were up.

When I went to check on Chris, he was still in our bed, curled up on one side. I went around to him, stroking his hair and kissing his face.

'Breakfast is almost ready, Christopher Doll,' I sang in his ear. It was a pet name I rarely called him these days.

He groaned a little and shifted slightly, but didn't make any move towards getting up.

'Come on. Don't you want to eat? Aren't you hungry?'

'I'm hungry,' he mumbled. 'For you. Come back to bed, Cathy, and we'll have our breakfast here.' One eye opened to look at me, glimmering with mischief and unspoken promises.

'I can't, Chris,' I said, although I dearly wanted to. 'Early class today.'

He groaned again, louder this time, and covered his face. 'And I have late rounds at the hospital tonight. I won't be back until nearly two.'

Then, almost under his breath, he said, 'We never have time for making love anymore.'

It was true, and we both hated that. Even when the boys were both much smaller we had more time to spend in intimacy. Now we seemed to have stretched ourselves too thin with mismatched schedules, and barely were in the house at the same time, lately.

I sighed in agreement with Chris and stroked his hair, leaning down to kiss his mouth gently.

'I know, and I know we're both sorry about it. We'll find time, Chris. Soon.'

He smiled up at me, ever the optimist. 'Of course we will, my love. Soon.' We kissed again, and I left him to dress himself as I went to check on our youngest.

Bart was still curled up in bed, fast asleep, his little fists up near his chin. I sat at his bedside and gazed down at my younger son with love, gently touching his cheek.

'Bart, honey, time to rise and greet the day.'

He mumbled, curling up tighter in on himself.

'Not hungry. Wanna sleep.'

'You can't, honey. There are things to do today. And Emma's making eggs specially for you, made easy-over.' I'd seen the eggs in the pan and immediately known who they were for; Emma knew us all so well these days!

Bart perked up a little. 'Really?'

'Yes, sweetie. Just get dressed and wash up and come downstairs, and we can eat.'

'Is Dad up?'

I smiled. 'Yes, but he was almost worse than you when it came to getting out of bed!' Bart laughed at the idea and we heard Chris' laughter join ours as he strode, newly suited up, into the room.

'Up!' He slung a giggling Bart over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes and left the room with him.

I descended the stairs and smiled to myself. The day was off to a good start!

I found Jory outside trying to dance to Coppélia. He'd brought an old wind-up Victrola of mine into the yard and dug through our record stash to find the ballet.

Not wanting to interrupt my son, I stood back with a small smile on my face. He certainly tried hard to do everything right, and someday he was sure going to be something, even though he wasn't even close to perfect right now.

Chris came up from behind me and stood next to me, putting his arm around my waist and drawing me into his side as we stood to watch our son dance.

'He's going to be something, isn't he?' Chris asked me in a low voice, never tearing his eyes away from our son, who spun into a dizzying display of pirouettes.

'I hope so,' I sighed, squeezing Chris. 'I think he will.'

'Well, you know about that some, don't you, Catherine Dahl?' Chris said softly, looking down at me.

I laughed a little. He'd used my stage name, when I was in the ballet, and becoming, to some degrees...famous.

'I guess I do.'

The music ended and Jory bowed, to our thunderous applause.

'That was wonderful, Jory,' we both praised him.

'Now come in to eat, Dancer Boy,' Chris teased him. 'You're brother's already at the table, and I bet he's not too happy having to wait for his breakfast.'

Jory laughed, and we helped him gather up the Victrola and headed into the house.

Breakfast was wonderful. Eggs done just the way each of us liked them, slices of bacon still hot from the griddle, buttered toast, and bowls of fresh fruit. I beamed at Emma as even the fussiest of all of us, Bart, dug in heartily to the meal.

'What are you going to do today, Bart?' I asked him.

He shrugged, mouth full of bacon.

'Not sure. Goin' outside maybe.'

'Going,' I corrected him gently. 'That sounds nice! It's set to be a really beautiful day outside, very hot and sunny.'

'Don't like too much sun,' Bart complained, and for a second a dark shadow passed over his face. He was usually a very happy, amiable, imaginative child, and his protest confused me.

'Well, just wear a hat,' I suggested, and he brightened, enjoying his hats with the fascination many six-year-olds hold for unusual things.

Chris smiled at me from across our small table.

'And you, Jory? Do you have anything planned for after class?'

Jory shook his head. 'Mm-mm. I guess I could try to teach Clover to learn how to fetch again, but he's not very good at it.'

I almost laughed out loud! Clover was Jory's puppy, who loved the balls we threw for him, but didn't understand yet that he needed to bring them back to us in order for them to be thrown again! Jory had only had him for a few weeks, and wasn't particularly patient with the puppy's current capacity to learn, just yet.

'Yes, you could do that,' I replied, trying to sound serious and hiding a smile. 'He could use the help.'

Emma started to clear our dishes, and I rose to help her. Chris snapped the newspaper which he'd opened on the table closed, drained his coffee mug and stood up to kiss me.

It was a brief press of lips since we couldn't afford much more at the moment. I squeezed him briefly, straightened his tie and a wayward lock of hair, and smiled up at him. 'Drive carefully,' I told him, sounding for just a moment exactly like Momma.

Chris nodded. If he'd noticed the similarity he didn't show it or comment.

'I will, Cathy. I love you.'

'I love you too.'

'See you later, boys!' He called out to our sons, and then he was out the front door and down the driveway.

'That's it.' I concentrated on the young dancer in front of me with a firm, critical eye. 'A little tighter, Melody. Your arm needs to be angled more.'

The student in front of me about Jory's age, Melody Richarme, was a promising young pupil. Just today she and Jory had danced together in front of the class. Separately, they both had potential, ambition, and the possibility to go places-even at this age it was easy to tell. But together-together they were something else. Despite fumbling mistakes and moments of inelegance, the two had made a beautiful dancing pair, elegant, gentle yet firm with each other, and able to play off one another's strengths. They complimented each other as peanut butter and jam do.

'Lovely, Melody,' I praised her, as the entire class erupted in applause. We were having our bi-monthly progress tests-in front of one another, as always, which helped the dancers get used to being in front of an audience and under pressure. The tests almost always bore the fruits of hard labour, obvious in the curl of a toe or movement of a head, showing the progress of every dancer.

'That will be all for today,' I told my students, smiling. 'Wonderful work, everyone! It's obvious that you've all been working very hard. Keep up the good work!'

Jory came up to me, smiling and beginning doing pliès at the barre next to me.

'That was a good class, Mom, wasn't it?' He grinned.

'Yeah, sure it was.' I ruffled his hair. 'You did well.'

Jory smiled his thanks, preoccupied.

'Are you ready to lock up and head home?' I called over my shoulder to my son as I headed to the studio office to lock the door and wait for the dancers' parents to arrive.

'Sure. Anytime.'

Jory followed me slowly, a sheepish, thoughtful look on his face.

'Come on, what's eating you?' I teased.

'Oh, nothing,' he said, completely honestly. 'I was only thinking of Melody. She's a very good dancer, isn't she?'

'Yes,' I admitted. 'And very beautiful, too.'

Jory gave me a look. 'Mom!'

'Well, there's no sense beating around the bush, honey. Melody is a talented dancer, she's friendly, she's attractive...' I shrugged, as if to say, 'what else do you need?' and grinned at my eldest son, enjoying teasing him.

His face was reddening. 'I'm too young for a girlfriend, Mom!' Jory protested.

I ruffled his hair, laughing. 'I know. I was just joking around.'

He smiled at me in a relieved sort of way, and I sent him to go get changed while I locked up the office.

I always felt distinctly melancholy when Chris worked late and couldn't join me in our bed. It always felt so empty sleeping alone. This usually resulted in my staying up as late as I could waiting for him, in the sitting room, with a lamp on, drinking tea and reading something, or listening to the radio.

Tonight was no exception. I made myself a pot of strong mint tea, letting the leaves infuse, and carried it into the sitting room, pulling my legs up under me and reaching for a book.

I got through three cups of tea before having to use the bathroom. Upon my return, I found myself yawning and my mind blurry, and took the afghan off the back of the sofa and covered myself with it.

The next thing I knew, Chris was home, kissing my face gently. I didn't remember falling asleep, but I must have done so; the clock read quarter after two in the morning.

'Cathy, darling,' Chris murmured. 'Come to bed. It was sweet of you to stay up for me, but I'm here now. Let's go to bed. I'll just take a quick shower and come join you.'

'Okay,' I murmured, still thick with sleep, like a tired child. I began to get up but Chris, despite his long, trying day, swept me up into his arms and carried me like a damsel to the bedroom. He laid me down, pressed a kiss to my hair, and was gone.

Vaguely, I heard the spit of the shower starting as I began to wake up. I felt strangely invigorated after my slumber of a few hours, and no longer wanted to sleep-if Chris wasn't with me, that is. Getting up, I slipped out of my clothes, letting them fall in a silken heap to the floor, and padded quietly to our adjoining bathroom.

Sometimes Chris would hum in the shower, but tonight he didn't. Poor Christopher Doll-it had been a long day for him, and he was surely tired.

I pulled the curtain back and glanced in. Chris' back was to me, his head raised under the spray as if inviting a much-needed rainfall, eyes closed. Steam rose from the floor of the tub as I stepped quietly in, appreciating him.

It didn't matter how long we'd been together. I always loved his body, how strong and lithe it was. The thrill of seeing him never dulled in me, no matter how many times I'd seen him unclothed.

His strong shoulders and back, bronzed from long hours outside in the sunlight when we went swimming in the summer, had supported me more times than I could count. His arms had held me without fail. His legs told the tale of long days walking around the hospital, strong and toned.

Chris shifted slightly under the water, not noticing me yet in his absorption in the hot water. As he did shift, I saw his manhood was engorged and stiff. We hadn't had much time recently to relieve any pressure together...perhaps he had intended to take care of it himself before coming to join me in bed.

Smiling, I came up behind him, wrapping my arms around his waist. Chris started at my touch, but relaxed in an instant when he realized it was only me.

'Cathy,' he said. His voice sounded unused; gritty. 'I thought you were sleeping.'

'My little nap woke me up, apparently,' I said, rubbing my face gently across his shoulder as I spoke, enjoying the feeling of his skin against my skin.

'What's this, Christopher?' There was a teasing lilt to my voice. Reaching out, I wrapped my hand around his erection, giving a little squeeze.

His laugh was breathy. 'Oh...nothing. I just missed you, a little, Cathy. And I carried you to our bedroom...it's just been so long since we've-'

'Made love,' I finished for him, pressing a kiss to his shoulder and letting go of him entirely, so he could turn around to look at me. 'I know. It's been so busy.'

He turned, gazing down at me for a moment. His golden hair was straight-wet with the water, and droplets clung to his face. Chris' eyes, the bluest of blue summer skies, swallowed me up. He swallowed, thickly, and reached a hand out to cup the back of my head gently. Leaning down, his kissed me, the gentlest of kisses, his moist lips brushing against mine feather-light.

It was the spark to start the fire. Wrapping my arms around his neck, I kissed him back, more forcefully, feeling Chris pull me hard into his body.

An emphatic, 'Mmm,' came from his throat as his hands drifted down my back, reaching underneath my bum and pulling me up swiftly before pressing me against the wall, his mouth demanding on mine.

Breaking away from his mouth for a moment, I nuzzled his face. 'My Christopher Doll,' I sighed. 'Let's not do this here. Let's go to our bed.'

He nodded, not wanting to stop, but wanting at the same time to take a little bit of time making love.

Turning off the shower, we shared a towel and returned to the bedroom, and climbed onto the bed together, wrapping our arms around each other. His body was hot in the cool air of the bedroom as any residual water evaporated from our skins. I shivered with both pleasure and a chill to feel him against me as his mouth trailed down from my mouth to my breasts, kissing and kissing me there, nuzzling my breasts, and then suckling. With a gasp at the feeling of his mouth, I arched my back, cradling his head to my bosom.

'Oh...Chris...' The whispered moan made him look up from loving my breasts, and his mouth came down over mine again.

'Cathy...'

I realized he was trembling, and touched his face gently, pulling away to look at him.

'What is it?'

'I just...need you,' he said, 'and I'm tired. Probably overtired. I'm sorry, Cathy.'

'For what?'

'That I need so much from you...I...'

'Don't worry,' I said softly. 'Lie back, Christopher. I need just as much from you as you need from me. It all evens out.'

He lay back on the bed, watching me with tender, but tired, eyes. 'What are you going to do?'

'I'm going to love you, darling,' I said, kissing his flat stomach.

I climbed on top of him, kissing and simply just rubbing myself against him. Breathless, Chris reached between us, directing his cock so he could rub between my lips properly, in all my wet and warm places he so loved and I so loved for him to be. I moved my hips in tandem, enjoying the friction between our bodies, enjoying the slow building up towards a peak. After a few minutes I gently pulled his hand away and sank down onto his cock, right to the root, and rose up again and did it again, extremely gratified by his deep moan. His hands grasped my hips.

'My God, Cathy,' he breathed. 'Do it again.'

I rose again, almost all the way off him, and slid back down again, feeling him solid and hot within me and loving it.

Then I was rolling my hips back and forth, leaning back but grasping Chris' hands, panting. This position only pushed him farther in and rubbed intensely in all the right places for both of us. One more minute of doing this and he would cum, I knew; explode in ecstasy within me. But today, that was something neither of us wanted.

Leaning over, I kissed him. One of his hands came up to cup my cheek, and he kissed me back, slowly, savouring the feeling of our mouths together.

'I was such an idiot,' I moan, sitting up again and riding him harder, needing to feel him deep inside. 'But the young aren't wise, are they?'

'What do you mean?' He asked, distracted by my impassioned movements on top of him. 'How were you an idiot?'

'I didn't see…when we were free…I didn't see you. I didn't see that I already had exactly what I needed, more than I could ever want. We make our own rules. We aren't hurting anyone by doing this, no one.'

'Cathy—' Chris gripped my hips, pushing up into me hard. 'You weren't an idiot. You were drunk with freedom. But now, you realise…like I did long ago. We have each other now.' He kissed me, drawing me down to his body. 'Don't worry. I love you.'

Then he carefully extricated himself from me, leaving me lying against the pillows and kneeling between my legs. He reached hand out to stroke between my legs, and gazed at me there as I bent to his touch. 'I wanted you this morning,' he said. 'I wanted to lick you.' I felt myself flush at his frank words. 'But now is even better. I want to hear you moan, Cathy,' he said, before giving me a brief but intense kiss and then parting my legs.

His tongue was soft, warm velvet on me. Its caress shot lightning bolts of shocking pleasure through my body. I did moan, softly, and wove my hands into his hair, his lovely blond hair.

Now he was sucking my clit into his mouth, sliding two fingers inside me, knowing what it did to me. But just when I was about to tumble down into an orgasm, just when it was starting to build…he stopped.

'Why?' I moaned, reaching my hand down quickly, as if I wanted to finish the job myself. Chris nudged my hand away immediately, sinking inside me again with a relieved moan. 'This is why,' he murmured into my ear. 'I can't hold on long this time, Cathy. We'll have to do it again in the morning. But I want you to cum when I do.'

'Chris…Chris, of course,' I breathed, barely able to think coherently at the pleasure he was giving me. 'Oh…'

Suddenly he gathered me into his arms, sitting up, and encircled my waist, burying his face in my neck. Sitting up like this, I had no choice but to rise up—with his help—and sink back down onto his cock every time. Not that I wanted a choice in the matter…it felt like heaven on Earth.

'I'm going to,' I breathed, moaning into his ear. He pulled back enough to kiss me, never ceasing pulling me up and letting me come down. I bit down on his shoulder as I came, not wanting to wake the whole house with my cries. Chris' movements where faster now, faster.

'We make the rules,' he said, before nudging my face over for a kiss and moaning against my lips. I knew he was cumming; I could feel him pulse inside me, and the growls emanating from his throat were unmistakable. He shoved into me, hard.

'I love you,' I murmured into his shoulder, kissing the bite mark, afraid I'd hurt him in my passion.

'I love you, Cathy,' he said back, lying me down gently in the bed and cuddling beside me. 'Let's do it again, in the morning.'

Laughing, I kissed him.