AN: Still SPOV. Still Charlaine Harris, 24/7 and Goddess owns her fabulous folk. Maybe not Sven, but I'm willing to loan him out if I can watch. Very explicit again, and going to be even more so in future chapters. No way to skip it, sorry.

San Francisco c. 1978 Part I

Late Spring

I am sitting alone at the Elephant Walk bar at the Embarcadero in San Francisco decompressing after my final rounds of interviews and sipping a diet soda. I am once again musing about the curious ending to the Fourth of July weekend of several years ago when I look up to see a gorgeous man in boating kit headed in my direction. I watch him as he comes closer, and then am astonished as he stops directly in front of me.

"Sookie, yes? Although we know each other very well, I'm fairly certain we were never introduced that night in my twin's bedroom." He gives me a heart-stopping smile.

I am silent, completely freaking at the coincidence of seeing him just as I am remembering that weekend after so many years. He speaks to me again, a little more urgently this time.

"Mind if join you? I'm Sven Nordmon, if you don't recall. I myself never forget a beautiful woman." What a cheesy line. He gives me what I guess is his most persuasive smile. Is he a little desperate at the idea of being turned down in such a public venue?

I nod. "Please. Sit." He sinks down on the sofa right next to me, his thigh almost brushing against mine. Yep, has to be the same guy. His hand is on his thigh; his long fingers stretched out and slightly splayed. He has very nice square nails. I happen to have a hand fetish and he definitely makes the grade.

"So, what finds you in San Francisco?" He asks innocently, but his expression does not match the bland sentiment of his words.

"I'm completing an MBA at Stanford. Turns out I was really good at math and statistics and less so at biology. With so many career opportunities for women with financial firms in the Bay area, being accepted into the program seemed too good to pass up. I've just come from a third round of interviews with E.F. Hutton for a paid position as a summer intern in their offices in Palo Alto."

"So, will they make you an offer?"

"I expect so. They agreed to call me tomorrow, but the last interviewer said to expect a very nice offer. I'm ranked number two in my graduating class."

"Well, let's celebrate. Can I take you to dinner, Sookie?"

Why not? I think. "Only if you begin calling me Susannah. Sookie was a childhood name my parents used for me."

I flash briefly on the events of the last five years. My parents had indeed sold the lake house at the end of the summer, but it was my dad who moved to Tampa with his new girlfriend, leaving my mother alone in the house in Brookside. Jason had relocated to St. Louis to live with Gran, who also had not fared well, suffering a stroke that next summer to eventually succumb to pneumonia a few months later. My mom seemed to age overnight with the loss of her mother. She took a hostess job in a bar on the Plaza and began to be always gone, never home when I called from Columbia. She had a string of what my brother felt were inappropriate lovers and I drifted away from the closeness I once had shared with her. My dad now only called on holidays and we had little to say to one another.

Gran's passing resulted in a large amount of her estate being transferred to her grandchildren, making it easy to fund my studies at Stanford. I still missed her intensely and was sad the momentum in the early seventies for the E.R.A. had faded. She would have been so disappointed.

Pulled from my gloomy thoughts by Sven's agreement to using 'Susannah', I realize I had committed to having dinner with him.

"Let's go. Want to take a taxi, or feel like walking? It is several blocks but we can take it easy."

We walk to the Fog City Dinner, which turns out to be a romantic lushly appointed traincar converted into a restaurant with an excellent menu. Luckily I am accustomed to walking in three-inch heels. I am now over twenty-one, so I order a champagne cocktail while Sven has a scotch. I feel very grown-up. Our conversation during our walk had touched superficially on several topics, but I do not expect it to remain so casual in nature. I am not disappointed as Sven wastes no more time discussing the lighthouses being torn down on the coast.

"I'm thinking maybe you will accept dinner as an apology from me? That night, I did not know that you and my twin were…that you were still an innocent." He winces at his own words and does not look at me. I feel a blush beginning and am annoyed at myself. I've managed to remain immune to his many physical charms so far, but this apology seems to do the trick, reminding me he is equally as compelling as Eric had been. Yikes, could I be feeling aroused? He does look like he'd be an amazing fuck, and I've already seen his impressive package. I wonder if he still shaves his body hair.

Too long a time has passed for no response from me. He now is watching my face and perhaps suspects my thoughts are on other aspects of that night. I decide to be blunt. The practice will no doubt serve me well in my future career.

"You could redeem yourself by telling me what happened after you both left. I walked back home in the dark, and never saw Eric again." I feel funny saying his name aloud, as I had succeeded in banishing him from my thoughts when he didn't appear the next day to discuss events. Even my mom had been puzzled when I came back from a boat ride the next afternoon to his cove to report the house was locked up and the cars gone. She never mentioned Eric again to me.

Sven gives me an uncomfortable look.

"As twins, we were always competitive." He pauses, shifting in his seat. "I should not have done what I did. Look, it was a long time ago. Let's move on. I'm a stockbroker myself. We seem to have some things in common. Who did you interview with at Hutton? Maybe I can do some behind the scenes snooping and put in a good word for you."

The dinner progresses along more normal lines and I feel a genuine interest in him as well as a building attraction. We order dessert and Sven scoots closer to me and begins to feed me the tiramisu. I definitely do feel arousal and play with pursing my lips in a teasing, suggestive manner as I take the delectable bites from the end of his fork. He looks happily at me after we finish dessert and suggests he would like to see me again. We make plans to have lunch on Sunday and we catch a taxi back to Embarcadero where we both have parked autos. He indicates he would like to kiss me. Thank god he cannot smell my arousal or he might do so much more than kiss me. The gentle kiss he had clearly planned blossoms into a passionate exploration of each other, tongues urgently moving in a wicked, unmistakable dance of mutual, flaming desire. I reluctantly pull away as doing it in a parking lot in the financial district just might impair my Hutton job offer if I were caught. Instead of Sunday, we make plans for tomorrow after work. He truly is the most gorgeous man I have ever seen. I'm giddy with excitement as I drive back to my condo in San Mateo. I do not sleep that night and it isn't from the successful interviews.

Several months later

It was an odd beginning to what became the most intense physical relationship I had enjoyed since my night with Eric. I'd thought I had a lot of experience. Wrong.

But even more exciting to me than Sven's liberating 'anything goes' attitude towards sex was the momentum building in the financial world that he was closely tied into as part of that community. My job at Hutton ended too quickly and the first part of the school year had passed in a blur. I now was more than ready to graduate in a few months, still maintaining my number two spot. I intended to stay in Northern California, both to be with Sven and because the salary offers and perks had been amazing so far.

It was two weeks before Christmas. Thanksgiving had come and gone with the two of us holed up in his Woodside house to fix our own dinner and make love off and on for four sex-soaked days. I know is it a cliché to say a man is tireless, but WTF. He was both inexhaustible and amazingly tender. He was just starting to introduce me to some light bondage practices and had promised to take me to a club that specialized in bondage entertainments when I was ready. San Francisco was a very sexually forward city, tolerant of gay and alternative lifestyles in a way the Midwest would never be. We had much to explore together. I thought, rather smugly, that we even looked incredible together. Of course, he had cut his hair a long time ago, but he was one of those men whose casual clothes reflected that he was a very sensual being. Just to look at him, you knew he wouldn't hesitate to spend an entire vacation at a wildly expensive resort locked in the room between your legs. It would be up to you to remember to order room service or you both would starve.

"What shall we do over the Christmas break?" I ask casually. I wait but he isn't quick to reply.

"Are you planning to spend it with your mom and brother?" He replies in what I might have said was an unsure tone of voice except I couldn't believe it.

Feeling confident I was on the right track, I say: "I'd rather spend it with you, darling lover."

Another inscrutable pause. "I likely will have to work on the large M&A I'm not allowed to tell you about. Maybe you could go back to St. Louis so I don't have to worry that you will be bored by my absence." He gives me his best 'buy this company's stock in quantity' grin and I know I am being buffaloed. I think he too late realizes I know his expressions pretty well, so he walks into the bedroom, suggesting I come with him. If he hopes to distract me from this conversation, I would have to admit, lying drained and naked in his bed several hours later, that he is a master of the art of distraction. But the sex hadn't gone as I'd expected.

Sven had already removed his crushed silk black slacks when I entered the bedroom door. He always went commando around me, and his ivory button down shirt was being swiftly unbuttoned one-handed from the bottom up when I command him to "Halt'. I want to remove that shirt after I see what is standing out fully erect in front of the garment's now parted front halves. He lifts his head to watch me, pushing his chin length dark chestnut hair away from his face, and dropping his other hand to grasp his shaft. He begins to stroke himself, rubbing his thumb over the tip at the top of his stroke, while bending his knees slightly and pushing his hips forward. I give an involuntary moan when I see the familiar wanton expression in his eyes. I cross the room in a similar trance-like state, slowly dropped to my knees in front of him as he grasps my hair. He digs his fingers into my scalp and twists my long hair in a loop around his hand as I purse my lips to smooch him gently before doing as he had indeed finally taught me. I relax my throat muscles and make a heated, slickened opening for his extra large size. He groans as he slides inside my mouth and then calls my name over and over as he mouth-fucks me, in his enthusiasm pulling my head forward to meet his length as his silky hips slid back and forth between my eager hands. I firmly cup his muscular checks as I feel him begin to lose control and he starts keening his excitement and desire as his legs tighten and he stands up on the balls of his feet, as he is wont to do in this position. A part of me pulls back as I am still locked in the moment and he in my throat. I realize I feel more than strong affection for him. He is very familiar to me and perhaps I am in love with him. Is this what love is like?

I stay kneeling, draping my arms around his hips after his release and placing my check against his stomach as I begin softly stroking his skin where my hands met. I make to massage his opening as he likes, but he pulls away, "Not yet." Said in a very soft tone for him. He sinks onto the white satin comforter, about which he is usually very prissy, and pulls me onto his lap. "I'm so sorry, Sookie." I'd begun allowing him to use my childhood name just when we were intimate, and he seems to relish it, using it frequently during our lovemaking.

"No need to apologize…" I start to reply, when he kisses me to stop me. It isn't a passionate kiss, so I am a little confused.

"Ok, explain then." More direct than I'd intended.

He pulls me down flat, covering my clothed body with his full length. Several minutes of silence ensue. I am content to let him speak when he is ready. In the interim, I play my fingers lightly over his back and thighs and blow softly in his hair. No reason to waste a single moment with him.

With his face buried in my hair, he begins. He is committed to spending the holidays with his family at their ranch in Napa. His sister Tara and her husband will be there as well. I wait for him to mention Eric, who has never come up by name in conversation between us during the eight months we has been together, other than as brief references to 'his twin' or his 'little brother' and quickly dropped. I also haven't asked as it seems events concerning him had passed into ancient history and don't bear examination.

He explains they all always spend the holidays at the ranch. Eric will be coming in, this time Sven using his name. He stops, but I had decided not to ask him questions now about Eric. If he wants to tell me, he can.

"Eric and his wife Selah are flying in from Reykjavik on Tuesday. I will pick them up at the airport and drive them up to Napa to stay a week at the ranch and then they will drive back to Tiburon to stay with her family until New Years. I usually join them in Tiburon and stay in the Mill Valley condo for a few days."

So Eric is married. Not surprising. And Selah is the girl who wanted to have his children, from the wealthy family. I recall he had broken it off with her before he and I spent the weekend together. Good for her, she got him. So what? I feel I have the better brother, naked and temporarily sated, the little satyr, in my arms.

"So, Eric does not know you and I are…spending time together?" I finish up lamely. What were we doing together? Is there even a sanctioned term for spending every free minute together when you aren't living together? He is more than a boyfriend to me.

Still not looking at me, Sven shakes his head. I feel a shudder run down his body and am puzzled by all the emotion. "What's wrong, baby? It's fine if you need to spend family time together. We have plenty of time with each other. I'll head back to St. Louis or make other plans. Don't have a guilt attack about this. It is too minor to cause either of us any grief."

I think it might be acceptable to acknowledge some of my other, deepening feelings in this moment. So I do.

"You know you are very precious to me, yes, Sven? I will miss you very much over the break, so when I return I expect to see lots of you, and in every position. I can only hope you don't require treatment for exhaustion after I'm finished with you." I tease him gently. He is very dominant in all his public relationships and I suspect he appreciates the need to be less so when he is in private with me.

"You know these few months of my program will be very grueling. I also have my project research to complete, and data assembly and reporting to document. This separation might be good practice for us, as I will likely need some more time to complete my degree." My thoughts had progressed naturally to other commitments and saying this out loud, I miss the implication. Sven does not.

He rises up on his elbows to stare into my face. He looks intently into my eyes for the longest time, not speaking. When he does speak, it is as if the words are drawn from deep inside. "Let's go to Las Vegas tonight." I can feel him hold his breath as he waits for my reply. Unfortunately for him, I am too shocked to reply.

The term 'go to Las Vegas' has become an affectionate joke between us for all that is wrong with modern relationships after we learned it was the quickie marriage capital of the United States. The city itself was so schlocky and run-down, it had morphed from a gambler's den to a family-run amusement park that happened to have one-armed bandits and craps tables. Sven had made me swear more than once that if he ever even mentioned the name to me, I should insist on taking him to the emergency room for an immediate lobotomy. Right now, I am certain he wasn't serious about the lobotomy pledge.

"Yes, I mean it. I love you and am shaken every time I think about losing you. We mesh on every level, sexually, careers, geography, and our need for independence. You will graduate soon and I can guide you to become even more successful. You and I may even eventually end up working together in our family firm. You know how I think about you."

Well, somewhere in there he said he loved me, but it was jumbled up in a lot of other thoughts. Trust Sven to mention sexually compatible first, but maybe that was just a guy thing. Too many thoughts are swirling through my head. I say so. "Give me a minute to react." I beg him.

"Sookie, say 'yes'…..please. Just say it." Sven didn't say please very often, maybe only once or twice since I've known him. This was also very impulsive for him, and he was a man with grand impulsive appetites.

After a minute, I know what I want.

Nine hours later, we are ensconced in the nicest hotel room Sven could find. He'd had his assistant call the travel agency on a Saturday afternoon while we hastily packed and then drove his black Porsche to the desert oasis. It wasn't a comfortable car for long distances, but I truly did not mind. I am euphoric. We had pulled over several times, overcome with passion and forced to fuck once on the side of the road so we could continue and focus on driving on the darkened, empty roads.

First, though, Sven had finally given me the opportunity to tell him I loved him as well. He'd surprised me further by showing me a pale blue-green leather box with a very beautiful ring he'd purchased some time ago for me. It was not a traditional setting, but instead a rare golden sapphire with chocolate brown pearls on each side. It is stunning and unusual. I love him all the more for the sentiment and his unique choice. It fits perfectly.

I wait until after the ceremony at the White Chapel (tacky, but efficient) to find a pay phone to call my mom. Of course, she isn't in, so I leave a message on her answering machine. I'll call Jason tomorrow, I reason, as I now have a new husband who needs my complete attention. I expect great things from our first night of passion as a married couple. Sven never disappoints

AN: I swear, it gets even wilder. Otherwise, just ask any man, what's the point of having twins?

BTW, still trying to write present tense. I live with the gremlins; they leave their towels on the floor.