CHAPTER 13: THE NIGHT BEFORE AND THE MORNING AFTER
"Up on the bed, Maria, darling."
She found it easier to simply obey him, than to have to think about was going to happen next. Maria scrambled onto the bed and watched as he disappeared into the bathroom. The wait seemed interminable, and with every second, her resolve gave way to misgivings. When she felt herself begin to tremble, she realized it wasn't only because she was apprehensive about lying with him, but also that she had not entirely put last night's ordeal behind her. The roar of her heartbeat drowned out the sound of the sea from beyond the window.
The Captain emerged, wearing only a dressing gown and a reassuring smile which vanished the moment he looked at her.
"Maria? Please. Don't be frightened of me. I couldn't bear it."
His voice was kind, which somehow only served to infuriate her.
"How," she took a deep breath, "how can you say that to me, Captain? After last night?"
He shook his head. "Maria – and since I'm using your given name, perhaps you could try to use mine? - Maria, what happened in the cave is not going to happen again. You'll see."
Perhaps she should have forced him to explain himself first before agreeing to this. Because despite herself, despite wanting him desperately, Maria suddenly could not get past the hurt and anger. The words spilled from her mouth before she even knew what she wanted to say.
"You behaved as though you were giving me a music lesson!"
"Now, hold on-"
"You didn't even kiss me!"
"That can't be right. I'm quite certain that I did."
"Well, you didn't," Maria countered, and then before she could stop herself, she added, "not on the mouth, anyway."
There was a long moment of shocked silence.
Would she ever learn not to say everything she was thinking? Drowning in embarrassment, Maria turned over, burrowing her flaming-red face in a pillow and pressing her body into the mattress, wishing she could make herself disappear entirely. At least the heavy bedding muffled the roar of his laughter.
"Oh, God. I'm sorry, Maria. Please turn over and look at me. I'm not laughing at you. I'm laughing with you! Because that was funny, darling, very funny! How is it that you are still a virgin and already so good at making naughty jokes?" He bent over, putting his lips as close to her ear as he could manage. "Naughty, yet tasteful, if you understand my meaning."
She was beyond embarrassment now, and heading straight for humiliation. Yet at the same time, that silky voice perfectly evoked the remembered shape of his wicked mouth, the scrape of his tongue in a place she'd never even touched herself.
"Come on out of that pillow, Maria, please. So I owe you a kiss? It's a debt I'll gladly pay. You can't still be too angry at me for last night, or you wouldn't be here in my bed," he said, brushing his fingers tentatively across her bare shoulders. "Naked. And splendid, at least from what I can see. Turn over, now, and show me your sweet breasts. I was so mad to taste you last night that I didn't pay them half enough attention. Please, please don't be angry at me, not after we've come this far."
She did like that he could speak aloud of things she was ashamed to even think about, things like being naked and her breasts and how he had tasted her most secret places. She liked the way her name sounded on his lips, no longer like the problem it had once been, but like a caress. She liked hearing him plead with her, too.
"It's not," she muttered, lifting her face out of the pillow for a split second, "it's-".
"Perhaps you're just feeling a bit timid. It's perfectly understandable."
Standing by the side of the bed, Georg leaned over, gathered her curls in his hand, and tugged gently. He was a bit startled when she arched her neck against his palm.
"Come on out of that pillow, Maria. I won't bite. Not until you ask me to, anyway."
He felt a tremor under his hand, one that felt suspiciously like a giggle. When he cupped her shoulder and gave a gentle squeeze, there was no objection, so he climbed over her where she lay, and swept his thumbs down either side of the tense ridge of her spine, a line pulled taut, and then back up again.
Her skin was impossibly soft. Once she relaxed under his hands, he took his time with her, kissing her from her neck and down the supple curve of her back and lower, lingering along the way to caress the jut of her shoulder blades, the back of her sturdy knees and her slender ankles, gently kneading her round bottom.
"Oh. Oh," she whimpered. "That's- oh, please, please, can't you -"
By now, she was squirming restlessly, pushing the lower half of her body into the bed in a promising gesture of carnal instinct. If he hadn't known better, he'd have thought she was inviting him to take her just like this – but no. Not this way.
By now, his desire was like a wild bucking thing, clawing and howling, trapped and thrashing for release, but he clung to his resolve like a drowning man. He wasn't quite ready to let her turn over, telling himself that the slow buildup was for her benefit. It was her first time after, all, and he wanted it to be good for her. She deserved it, after everything he'd put her through. And even if Maria was eager for what came next, he was uneasy. No matter what the little governess thought she wanted, how could she possibly understand what it would be like when he pushed his crude body into her immaculate virtue?
Unfortunately, with that thought of pushing anything anywhere, the last of his self-control evaporated, and he gave into her pleas.
He turned Maria on her back and bent over her, frantically mouthing her lovely breasts until her ragged moans filled the room. In a haze of lust, he shouldered her knees apart and went at her center, licking her open for him, lapping at her sensitive skin like a starving man.
Georg felt her hands tug at his hair and her nails dig into his neck until he was certain she had drawn blood. It seemed that his angel, so biddable just minutes ago, had been transformed into a little witch: fearless, passionate and unbelievably responsive. It was only a matter of moments before she detonated, thrashing wildly against his mouth as she cried out in ecstasy.
It had been different this time, Maria knew, even before she could draw a breath, even while she still trembled from the onslaught of pleasure that had come in blissful waves. Last night when it had happened to her, he had been benevolent: kindly if removed, taking the time to coax her gently back to earth, murmuring gentle reassurances, but seemingly unaffected even as she fell apart.
This time, although he was silent, it was a silence that crackled with passionate intent. He pressed his mouth to her belly, once. Then he stood, shrugged off his dressing gown and turned to face her, revealing the elegant, naked, aroused Captain she'd last seen under the waterfall. Her skin prickled with desire at the magnificent sight.
He crawled over her, blue eyes gleaming in his flushed face, looking ready to devour her.
"I don't," she swallowed, "I don't know what I'm supposed to do, Cap – ehrm-"
"You don't have to worry about anything. Except remembering to use my name, that is. Leave the rest of it to me."
Maria wasn't sure how she felt about it, that confusing mix of resentment and relief she experienced when he ordered her about in this fashion. For now, at least, she would gladly put herself in his hands. Or the opposite, in this case:
"Take me," he growled, pushing himself, hot and horrifyingly huge, into her hands. Maria was eager to please him, but she thought that if she saw any more of him – it – she would lose her nerve, so she squeezed her eyes closed and wrapped her fingers tentatively around his length. His hands over hers, he showed her the motion, how to use both hands, where to put her fingers.
His breath came in harsh groans. "Harder. Please," he added, but there was no mistaking the command. "Harder."
Curiosity overcame fear, and she was just beginning to consider taking a look at things when she felt him push her hand away and drop down over her, anchoring her with a measure of his weight, until the heat of his lithe, muscled body surrounded her. She felt his knee push her legs open and the hard part of his body bump against her center.
"Eyes open," he admonished her. "I'll try and be gentle."
"Why start now," she smiled weakly, instantly regretting the mild joke when she felt it: a sting and then a sharp tear, followed by the astonishing sensation of being stretched open and filled.
Through the fog of shock and pain, she kept herself focused on those treacherous blue eyes. She heard him choke out her name, a sound between a moan and a whimper, an oddly reassuring sound that gave Maria confidence and spurred her on. Although she was very nearly overwhelmed, she tried to take as much of him as possible, attempting to think of each moment as the memory it would soon become. Because if tonight was going to be their only time together, she wanted to remember all of it. She ran her hands across his sweat-dampened back and lifted up against him, again and again, pressing closer as though to imprint the feel and touch and sound of him buried inside her. As though she could memorize the rasp of his hair-roughened skin, as though if she held onto him tightly enough, she could make tomorrow vanish.
Now he had worked himself inside her, filling her inch by inch until he reached a place so far inside her that she felt him everywhere. When he began to rock against her, she felt desire blossom every place his body slid against hers, the pleasure warm and heavy, deep in her belly and between her legs, heat licking through her veins. She felt him pulse inside her, she was on the verge of something -
Suddenly, his low groans gave way to a roar, the cry of an animal, wild and untamed. There was a flurry of motion as he pulled his body out of hers and sealed himself against her belly, giving her his full weight for a few uncomfortable moments before he rolled away, leaving her skin strangely damp and sticky.
The room filled with a peaceful silence, broken only by the sound of waves lapping at the beach.
If it had been Maria's first time, it had been a novel experience for Georg as well. For one thing, rather than falling into the usual post-coital stupor, he had never felt more alive, so full of energy he could barely be still. Which was just as well, since she probably required more looking after than he was accustomed to providing. His knees were still weak when he brushed a kiss onto her forehead and rose unsteadily from the bed.
When he returned, hands full of basin, sponge and towels, she was sprawled on the bed, drowsy and limp, eyes half-closed, her golden hair strewn wildly against the pillows. If he was feeling energetic, Maria was the picture of near-repose. In Georg's experience, women almost always wanted to talk afterward; perhaps this was an unprecedented and welcome reprieve.
"Let's get you cleaned up, love."
Her blue eyes sprang open and a look of alarm crossed her face.
"You don't have to do that."
"I don't do anything I don't want to do. You should know that by now," he said, and went to work while she watched.
He caught her staring, fascinated, as he wiped away the sticky patch on her belly. This was one of the things he found most enchanting about Maria, the mix of innocence and worldliness that kept a man guessing. Would a girl from her background realize what he had done? Woman, he corrected himself. He'd never be able to think of her as a girl again. She was, he reminded himself grimly, his wife as well.
Not that it mattered what she understood. She was his for good now, not only because the marriage could no longer be undone, but because he simply could not allow her to lie with another man. Why, was something he would think about later, along with what to do about it.
"I have a question," she whispered.
Apparently there was to be no reprieve after all.
"I'm sure you do," he said, steeling himself for any number of questions he'd rather not answer. He'd been so hungry for her, he'd have promised her rubies, a yacht, castles, anything. And anything would have been preferable to nosy questions about his past.
"Did you – did you like it?"
"Oh! Did I like it? Of course I did, Maria. Very much. You were spectacular. This was something I wanted for a very long time, and it was even better than I dreamed. You did me a very great honor, letting me be your first, and I do thank you for that."
"Oh, the pleasure was all mine," she blushed.
"It wasn't, though, was it?" he said slyly. "Not the second time, anyway."
"But I did like it, Cap – erhm, Georg. I did. I mean, I liked the second part quite a lot, even though it was different from when you - ehrm- but-" he watched the red tide of color wash over her cheeks as she struggled to explain something she probably didn't even have the words for.
He squeezed the sponge out into the basin.
"That's to be expected. It gets better over time, though."
She tilted her head.
"Then I have another question. Do you-"
Please, Maria, he thought to himself, please don't ask me that.
"Do you want to do it again?"
Georg laughed, as much amused as relieved.
"What happened to my demure little Fraulein?"
"I left her at the waterfall," she yawned widely.
Gently, now, between her legs. He was relieved to see she hadn't bled much.
"If you mean right this moment, no. You'd need a younger man for that, I'm afraid. And you'll be sore for a day or two. "
"How many times have you done this?"
"I beg your pardon?"
"Been with a virgin, I mean."
He looked down at the towel in his lap, focused on folding and unfolding it.
"Only two."
"Counting me?"
"Yes," he said tightly, "counting you."
Georg did not like it one bit, the smug smile that flitted across her face, even though it was gone in a moment.
"Do you think you could-"
"No more questions, darling. We can talk in the morning. Right now you ought to rest."
"But I'm cold," she complained. "I only wanted to ask you to close the window."
"Let's try another way to warm you," he suggested, putting aside his supplies, stretching out on the bed and turning her to spoon against his body. "Now rest," he ordered. For once, she obeyed: she nestled against him, gave a satisfied sigh, and was asleep in moments.
It had been a momentous day. Georg was too exhausted to even feel relieved at having successfully liberated his family from their temporary haven in favor of a more secure one, or to worry about having sent them far away, overseas, without him.
But for the second night in a row, there was no question of sleep. Not while the memory of the encounter in the cave hung over the day like a dark cloud.
Had it really been only twenty-four hours since Maria had come to him in the cave, trusting him with her innocence, willing to give him everything, despite knowing he could give her nothing in return? He had been a fool to think he could avoid taking her virginity, though he didn't blame himself for having done the honorable thing by trying. But he didn't think he'd ever forgive himself for threatening her, for treating her so shamefully.
Even while preoccupied by sending his children away, he had spent the day doing everything he could think of to make it up to her, with apologies and compliments and gifts, with embraces and caresses. With apparent success, he'd successfully navigated the tricky balance between giving Maria the direction he thought she needed while respecting her independent spirit and restoring her self-confidence. And he had given her the one thing he knew how to offer: terrifyingly, stupendously, screamingly good sex. She was inexperienced, but wildly responsive; undoubtedly she'd be thrilled at how much more there was to discover about her body. And his.
For now, though, the way she curled against him, sleeping peacefully, told him that he'd successfully soothed her fears.
Now he had to reckon with his own.
Georg slid from the bed and wandered restlessly around the room. Years of living in small spaces had made him compulsively tidy; without thinking, he put towel, sponge and basin back in the bathroom, hung up his dressing gown, arranged her scattered clothing neatly on a chair.
What he needed now was air and the sound of the sea. He went to the window, throwing it wide-open, filling his lungs with deep breaths of sea air and pondering the sky, where a sliver of moon hung amidst a sprinkle of stars. He had always done his best thinking this way, with the sea and the sky to advise him.
His thoughts went to his children, who were moving farther away from him by the minute, though he took comfort in knowing that they slept under the same sky above. Now that he was cut adrift from family and country, the young woman sleeping in his bed was the only remaining anchor to his old life, and there were no excuses left, no reason to avoid the self-examination he knew was overdue.
Maria had asked him about the women who had come after Agathe. But was that even the right place to start? It wasn't that he didn't know what to tell her, because he did. Over the years, Georg had given quite a bit of thought to the question of why he'd bedded what had seemed like half the women in Europe, and why he'd stopped. And, although Maria hadn't asked about it, he also knew exactly what had gone wrong in the cave. He knew the real reason he'd taken off Agathe's ring when he left Austria, though he hadn't wanted to admit it to Maria, or to himself. Memories of the tsunami – he hadn't quite sorted all of that out yet.
After tonight, there was no going back to the way things were before, even if he had only a vague plan for what to do next. He had behaved atrociously, and the only way he could make up for it, what his sense of honor required of him, was that he tell her what she wanted to know, and even some things she didn't know, but needed to. And then he would explain it to her, what would have to happen next. He wasn't sure if he was doing the right thing, on top of everything he'd already put her through, but there was no point in asking her opinion, because there was no choice, no other option, no way out. All he had to do was summon the courage to tell her.
The hour was late, and tomorrow would bring fresh challenges. Georg climbed into bed, threw an arm across his companion, and let himself slide into sleep.
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He took her again in the morning, even before the sky had begun to lighten. He had, of course, intended otherwise, having resolved to devote morning's first grey light to a sober discussion of where things stood between them. But after a few hours' rest, surrounded by her sweet scent, and with her taste still on his lips, desire for her began humming in his veins even before he was fully awake.
Georg opened his eyes to find her seated cross-legged next to him, her arms crossed neatly across her breasts while she assessed him from head to toe with a gaze as carnal as any caress. Her blue eyes found his, looking up at him through a dark fringe of lashes: the same enticing look she'd fixed on him by the woodshed, the afternoon of their first kiss.
He was instantly as hard as stone.
"We are going to," she breathed. It wasn't a question, or a request, or even a statement. It was a demand, really.
"We can't," he pleaded. "I don't want to hurt you."
Her eyes stilled him with a wordless response: they both knew it wouldn't be the first time he'd hurt her, and it might not even be the last.
And there would still be plenty of time, afterward, to say what had to be said. In another hour or two, the sun would be climbing its way up the sky, and after he spoke his piece, perhaps nothing between them could ever be the same.
What else could he do? It was what he always did, after all. He eased Maria onto her back and covered her, cupping his hand between her legs to find her slick with desire.
A sudden surge of tenderness overtook him, so different from last night's raging passion, though he couldn't say why. "Like this, love," he murmured, sliding into her as gently as he could, showing her how to wrap her arms and legs around him until she clung to him like a vine to a tree. "Hold on, now, and don't let go."
"I won't," she gasped, pulling him deeper inside, until he wasn't sure where he ended and she began. "Just please don't stop."
"I won't," Georg promised.
Knit together, they moved as one, slowly at first, riding along on a gentle current that was as mild as a breeze, as soft as a sigh, as sweet as a dream. Leaning back, he drank in the sight of her sublime beauty, innocence transported by ecstasy. She felt like heaven around him, and he wanted it to go on forever, but already, the storm was gathering its menacing strength.
"Stay with me," he ordered, and then "stay with me," he repeated, begging her now, and after that, the breath strangled in his throat. Every part of him was swept along in the dizzying rush, as he pressed into her, hot and deep. When he felt her tighten around him and heard her high, sweet cry, when the towering wave broke and pulled them both under, he could no more have left her than stopped breathing.
They lay in the aftermath, listening to the waves outside the window slap at the shore. Maria looked up at him, blinking dazedly, while he smoothed his fingers through her wild golden hair. He felt utterly at ease, oddly unconcerned, other than mild curiosity about whether she realized what he had done. Or failed to do. Suddenly, she lifted her head and sent an enchanting smile his way, one that outshone any sunrise. It was a joy, to see her self-confidence restored, like a thirst-slaked plant.
"I suppose it's my turn to ask: did you like it?" he teased.
"You know that I did," she blushed.
"It's not like anything else, is it?"
"Well, no. It's astonishing, really to be so-" she groped for the word, "so intimate with another human being. Now I appreciate what all the fuss is about! It's brilliant, so much, much more than I ever could have imagined. Although," a little smile curved her lips, "some things about it were familiar."
Had the little governess indulged in some self-exploration? He felt a stir of interest at the thought of her lying in her virginal bed, slender fingers pushing aside her heavy nightgown, drifting upward, gently stroking. "And exactly what in your experience, Fraulein Maria, was familiar about that?"
"You."
"I beg your pardon?"
"You," she shrugged, laughing. "You are the exactly the same in bed as you are everywhere else! So high-handed! Telling me what to do. Directing me to take my clothes off, where to put my hands, my legs, my-"
"Now hold on a minute." Georg wasn't offended, not exactly, just surprised. "You didn't seem to have a great deal of confidence. Understandably. If I'd waited for you to decide what to do, we'd still be in the parlor drinking brandy! And as for telling you to undress, I was trying to give you a bit of control over things, rather than taking your permission for granted and stripping you bare myself." Acting purely on instinct, he reached to capture her wrists in one hand and pulled them gently over her head. "And don't think I couldn't have."
Her eyes went wide and bright, not with fear, but with something else, something that made his breath catch. In the cave, before he'd lost control of things, he had dragged his fingers, hard, against her breasts, and she had cried out, shuddering with pleasure. "You – ehrm – you needed a firm hand, is all," he fumbled. Now that he had made his point, he let her hands fall. "And, Maria, you liked it, didn't you? The truth, now."
For an answer, she turned bright red and buried her face in his neck. That should have been answer enough, but the moment was too promising to let go.
"Maria." He tugged gently at her curls, pulling her away, forcing her to face him. "There's nothing to be ashamed of. And I'll prove it to you. There's nothing says we can't switch it around."
"I don't understand," she frowned.
"Next time, you can tell me what to do."
"You taking orders from me?" she scoffed.
"Oh, but I would like that very much. You can even," he ran a gentle finger down her throat and lower, skimming across her breasts, "be on top. Would you like that?"
That voice again, like rough velvet, dark and sweet. On top? Up until a few hours ago, Maria had had only the vaguest idea of how men's and women's bodies were supposed to fit together. She wondered what else she had no idea about. The thought was positively thrilling.
The Captain – Georg, she told herself, Georg, stretched out next to her, propped on one elbow, watching her as though she were the most important person in the world. Maria thought she might explode from happiness, sending blissful little bits of her floating up into the sky. The misery and humiliation she'd endured in the cave receded into memory. "Next time," he had said. So there would be a next time, and maybe a time after that. Of course, Maria knew this was a temporary interlude. The Cap – Georg would be going on to England as soon as he could. She wondered what would happen now that their marriage could not be undone. But she wouldn't think about that right now.
As if he'd read her mind, he sat up and took both of her hands in his. "Maria," he said quietly, his eyes fixed on hers, "we need to talk about what's going to happen next. With us, I mean. And about your going on to Vienna."
Tap-tap-THUD. Tap-tap-THUD. THUD. THUD. Tap-tap-tap.
He froze for a moment before letting out a curse and leaping from the bed.
Maria let out a strangled groan of frustration. Who could possibly be knocking on the door at this hour? No one knew they were here. And he had been just about to say something, he had been on the verge of -
"Don't go," she pleaded. "It's probably a mistake."
But then the summons repeated.
Tap-tap-THUD. Tap-tap-THUD. THUD. THUD. Tap-tap-tap.
"It's Leo. That's our signal."
"I thought Leo was gone!"
"If he's come back, it's for good reason. And likely an urgent one."
Georg went to the open door that led into the parlor, shouted something in the direction of the outer door, and scrambled into his trousers.
"It will only be a few minutes at most, darling," he apologized. He kissed her bare shoulder, a tender gesture that was as intimate as anything that had come before. "Do me a favor in the meantime, will you? Put something on. You're entirely too distracting like that, and I keep losing my train of thought. When I come back, we'll have a talk."
Maria heard the outer door to the hallway open, and the low, garbled tones of the two men speaking Italian: it was Leo, just as he'd said.
She slid from the bed, shivering in the breeze that wafted through the window. Where were her clothes, anyway? She looked around the room – there was the carved wooden box she'd carried with her to Italy, that held his valuables, including her wedding ring. Those must be his new books, a stack of slender, colorfully bound volumes.
Her clothes, it turned out had been neatly arranged on a chair. She shook out her dress, the one she'd left the Abbey in weeks before. Not only was it rumpled and stained, but with its high waist and rough fabric, it was more suitable for a village girl than for a woman. No, that dress was not meant for Maria, not anymore.
Another gust of chilly air sent her toward the closet. For now, his dressing gown would have to do. At first, all she saw were men's shirts, trousers and a jacket hanging neatly, but then a flash of color at her feet caught her eye.
A small valise, made of blush-pink leather, sat half-open on the floor. A froth of lace spilled from the top – scarlet knickers, she saw, and another bit of lingerie she didn't even know the word for, although the sight of it turned her cheeks pink. She crouched by the valise, exploring. There were stockings as fine as a whisper, slippers made for dancing. There was a soft bag that held a vial of perfume and a pot of rouge. There was a warm, soft jacket and skirt, the color of golden autumn leaves.
Next, her fingers found something dark, soft as velvet, smooth as silk, light as air; when she lifted the garment and shook it out, she saw it was an evening dress, although one that would show as much skin as dress.
She knew what would come next even before she found it: a small box that held long earrings and necklaces, all sparkling with small diamonds.
The afternoon by the woodshed, she had spoken in favor of scarlet and gold, but he had recommended indigo velvet. Like the night sky. With diamonds.
He had outfitted her for Vienna.
Maria saw it all clearly now: he had arranged these final gifts to her, including the night in his bed she'd very nearly begged him for, that she'd shamed him into. And now he was sending her on her way. She had known, of course, that this was a temporary interlude, but she hadn't seen it for what it was: one whose conclusion had been so anticipated, so carefully, cold-heartedly planned. While she'd been thinking about the next time, he'd been thinking about the end. If she had expected anything else, even for a moment, that had been her foolish mistake.
She'd have to move fast.
First, she went to turn on the tub, and left it running when she backed out of the bathroom, closing the door behind her. If she were lucky, he'd lose at least a few minutes, thinking she was having a bath. Back in the bedroom, Maria pulled on her wrinkled, soiled dress and convent-issued knickers.
Money. She'd need money, or valuables, at least. Her eyes fell on the carved wooden box and yanked it open, only to recoil at the sight: there were the photograph and his medal, there were the Agathe-and-Georg rings, identical but for size, worn with age, and next to them there was her wedding ring, turned black, green and purple. A bit of junk, not even worth keeping. She hurled the box at the wall; it fell to the floor, unharmed, but her heart was shattered.
Eyes stinging, hands shaking, she forced herself to keep searching until she found a knapsack tucked under the chair, a knapsack like the ones they'd carried to Italy, but this one was half-stuffed with currency in many different sizes and colors, tied into neat bundles. Well, he had agreed to pay her, hadn't he?
She hoisted the knapsack onto her shoulders, slipped on her shoes, and raced to the window. It was only a short drop to the beach, and from there, she could make her way around to the front of the hotel and somehow get to the train station in time for the early train to Milan. She hesitated for a moment, but the conversation in the next room had ceased and she heard the outer door close.
Throwing one leg and then the other over the windowsill, she flung herself out into the dawn.
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Thank you for reading my story. Sorry this was so long, but I did could not bring myself to, well, interrupt-us. As it were. "Not on the mouth, anyway" is courtesy of bloomandgrow, in one of the funniest comments I've ever received on any story. I don't own anything about TSOM.