A/N: I did promise an epilogue. Hope you like it.
Charlaine Harris birthed Eric and Sookie. I'm just playing with their minds.
MariaTerese has endeared herself to me, developmental & copy-editing skills aside. I'll miss her now that I've completed this story. All remaining errors are mine.
To all who have so generously offered comments, ideas, and your friendship during this little adventure, thank you. You've made it all so very worthwhile.
SPOV.
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San Francisco c. 1979, October--Epilogue
"I have absolutely nothing to hide." Louis Abolafia.
Louis wasn't wearing much when he made this announcement, just an American Flag beach towel draped over his shoulders. He wasn't your usual ego-bloated Presidential candidate; he was running for office under the banner of The Nudist Party. His fundraising speech had kicked-off tonight's event, emceed by his good friend Perry Mann. This party was all about free speech, fetishes, and bare flesh, among other things.
The event was the first of its kind held at California Hall, a downtown architectural landmark. It was promoted as a Ball, and featured a new band, Huey Lewis & The American Express. It was a smaller venue, but it still offered multiple stages to accommodate the performances of several Bay Area musicians. While the music was a plus, the real draw was the promise of the antics of the attendees. Stories had circulated about last year's outrageous activities and Sven had insisted we be part of the first official Exotic Erotic Ball this year. But Sven wasn't the one holding me as the music swirled around the room, dancers and observers equally enthralled by the unconventional sights and sounds.
Stiff golden hairs covered the bare muscled arms enfolding me from behind. I snuggled myself closer into Eric, the contented feeling nearly overwhelming me. After a six week absence, he'd returned from Hohn only last night, just in time to join me, Sven, Joran and Camilla for this experience. I was disappointed he would have to leave again in a week and wouldn't return until after Thanksgiving. My only consolation was that he'd promised to stay several months when he returned after Thanksgiving. Even though I knew it was because he needed time to finish his work on his dissertation and prepare his manuscript for publication, I wasn't going to complain. This was his path and I'd have to accept it.
Pushing that thought away, I resolved to enjoy the moment. I'd missed him so much that I couldn't stop touching him and he seemed to feel the same way about me. His lean torso was molded to mine, both of us swaying with the music as his chin rested on the top of my head. It was all I could do to not throw him to the floor and straddle him. Although to reach that floor, I would have to shoo away a few other bodies already occupying the choicest spaces. I'd also already spent a good portion of the evening averting my eyes from the stage area where the headliner band was performing; to do otherwise was to surrender to the many images of the less inhibited party goers enacting certain scenes I was content to only imagine for now.
After peeling off earlier for their own explorations, Joran and Camilla had briefly re-appeared after a walk around the perimeter. They'd both sported slightly stunned expressions in spite of their own over-the-top costumes. Camilla was dressed as the main character in Histoire d'O, including makeup to evoke the supposed whip marks on the tops of her breasts, visible above a tiny coral bustier, and on the backs of her slender thighs. Her very long legs didn't need the extra emphasis, but she'd completed her look with a six inch pleated skirt and the mandatory four inch heels. Joran, still towering above her, was portraying their interpretation of a tamed Rene. He had just one item of clothing, a pair of low-slung tight leather pants. His thick auburn hair hung loose, cascading over his shoulders. I knew Camilla had applied eyeliner to accent his hazel eyes. I sincerely doubted the 'real' Rene, if he existed, had looked half as good. It was Joran's lean flat stomach and sculpted chest, readily displayed beneath the studded collar he wore, that was the real treat, though. I wondered if there was an inside joke to his whole outfit when I saw that his collar had a chain attached, the end of which was wrapped around Camilla's wrist. Camilla being a veterinarian, I assumed she hadn't had to search very far for the chain.
They'd modeled their outfits for us earlier tonight before we'd all left the house together. When they made their entrance, both Eric and Sven had stopped mid-conversation to stare at Camilla. I'd been equally stunned by the transformation of my year younger brother-in-law, who often drove me crazy with his antics, into every woman's wet dream. Eric and Sven had recovered quickly, and had stood to model their own outfits. I knew the show-and-tell was definitely for Camilla's benefit; Joran could care less and I'd seen them both already. I giggled again as I recalled their preening and her wink to me as she lavishly admired both of them just as they'd been hoping.
While I was enchanted to have Eric alone again, I couldn't help speculating about the whereabouts of my other husband. He needn't have worried that either of his brothers would outshine him tonight. While I'd been momentarily distracted by Joran, Sven was the clear winner for outrageous costume. And I'd purchased all the items for him during lunchtime expeditions to the Haight from my sales job at his firm's offices. He'd been grumbling about his lack of a costume when I'd surprised him earlier today while Eric slept off the effects of jet lag. We'd had to be quiet, but it hadn't prevented me from showing him exactly how to wear and then remove the wrappings. There weren't many pieces, but they did the job and emphasized the immaculate care he took of his body. I'd also insisted once again on braiding his hair. It was easier this time as it was several inches longer now than the last time I'd done so. I'd also told him to keep the five o'clock shadow. To describe him as the living embodiment of an insatiable satyr would be to miss the truly lovely jaw line, soft eyes and beautifully shaped hands that took the edge off his dominant male personality. They made his beauty somehow both more androgynous and more approachable than the face Eric presented.
I'd saved my favorite inspiration for Eric, though. He was more modest than Sven. So, though he'd come back expecting to find a legionnaire's costume waiting for him, threatening to go commando under his leather subligaculum if he didn't like my own costume choice, I couldn't see him being comfortable wearing just a loincloth.
Instead, I'd dressed him as a risqué version of his favorite action hero from the summer hit Mad Max. Because he had so much stored motorcycle gear, I'd had only to pull the heavily buckled black engineer boots and leather chaps from his closet and pair them with matching gladiator-style leather briefs and vest to complete his look. I'd gone to a costumer's to find the nightstick and the replica sawed-off shotgun that should have been strapped to his leg. He'd refused that piece of the outfit, but had quickly rigged up a strap to secure it and the nightstick flat against his spine. The handcuffs I'd picked up where I purchased Sven's stuff. I'd also braided his pale hair with some leather strips. The long braids looked like two evil quirts hanging down his back. Paired with a black beaded headband and leather wrist bands, he looked sufficiently deadly to face off against any number of motley crews of criminals in the desert heat of Australia. As an added touch, I'd found a silver six point star that he wore pinned to the front of his vest.
As I'd inspected my work before Joran and Camilla had arrived, I'd questioned my own sanity in leaving the house with two such delectable husbands in tow. I quickly reviewed my limited options for a successful defense against the variety of temptations they were likely to encounter tonight and came up short of strategies. Unfortunately, before I could fake a major headache, backache or brain injury as reason for cancelling our plans and staying home, Joran and Camilla pulled up in the drive. I was forced to temporarily set aside my fears and join the others in the Volvo for the cramped ride into San Francisco.
Thinking back to how reluctant I'd been to let Sven out in public in his costume, I whispered now to Eric that I was worried about Sven's extended absence and suggested we go track him down. The request was sincere, if a slight subterfugeon my part. I had news to share with Eric I was putting off telling him now that he'd finally returned. I wasn't sure tonight was the right time, either.
He agreed we should start looking. I didn't ask why he'd agreed so quickly. We were both likely worried about the same thing. And so we began our own odyssey around the edges of the large ballroom, most of which was in shadow because 'colored lights can hypnotize', past the hundreds of exotically clad or unclad people huddled together in clumps. It seemed there were many more hundreds with the same idea, trolling along in sync with us. We guessed they were also on the hunt for their friends, if not something else.
As Huey and crew belted out the songs from the album they had released plus a few covers, we held hands as we guiltily scanned the couplings that were taking place alongside the three makeshift stages. Although public nudity was forbidden by the organizers, the attendees were not discouraged from their own displays of wanton behavior. It was impossible to avoid staring at the far too many virtually naked men roaming the room, covered only by a not-so-discreet dangling sock. I saw several with well-toned bodies, some heavily covered in tattoos, backed against the stage or lined up along the walls, socks abandoned on the carpeted floor. Their expressions said it all as they enjoyed the benefits bestowed by their admirers kneeling in front of them, usually but not always two women taking turns. The women themselves appeared to indulging their own fantasies, almost always dressed for the event as either strippers or hookers. Or they could have been the real deal; it was just that kind of night.
While we scouted, Eric saw a roaming vendor selling beer and stopping, asked me if I was thirsty. Distracted by yet another virtually naked man brushing past me, too close for Eric not to abandon the vendor and position himself protectively by my side, I remembered my vow to stay away from the alcohol and declined. The vendor had followed Eric to make the sale and now, his beer in hand, we continued to scan the crowd for the errant one.
The variety of costumes, for it was a costume party scheduled one week before Halloween, was mind-boggling. There were countless harem girls and princesses in various states of undress, and being San Francisco, every variety of BDSM outfit probably sold, with lots of horror inspired disguises mixed in as well. Although Sven was wearing the black leather blindfold with eye hole cutouts I'd found for him, as were many other patrons, his height and braided hair should have made him easy to find. He had so much skin showing, we only needed to keep scanning the mostly naked to find him, I was certain.
Before we could make even a complete circuit of the giant ballroom, we came upon an agitated circle of men with a few women observing an obviously frightened and gorgeous, well-endowed younger woman. Her spouse or boyfriend was ineffectually pushing back two burly men, each with mouth fastened to a naked breast. She was loudly protesting the fact that both appeared to be tugging at her in what must have been a painful manner. When we stopped, Eric thinking about interceding if necessary, we overhead someone in the crowd say that the husband had taken off her top and started offering her to anyone who wanted a lick. It had gotten out of hand very quickly, but while we watched Security eased into the center of the circle and start pulling on the two bigger men to release the young woman. Seeing this caused Eric to tighten his grip on my waist and propel me clear of the event. I also was eager to get away.
Eventually we ran into Joran and Camilla again, finding them standing in line for the limited alcoholic beverages being served. They had waved us over, likely anxiously scanning for someone they knew as well. The four of us formed our own tight little clump and Eric consulted with his brother about our missing third.
Joran's eyes had slid away when he answered, "Haven't seen him." I felt sure he was lying. I checked Camilla, but she didn't know Sven well and would not have recognized him as easily as his brother. Eric clearly felt the same anxiety I did, because he grabbed Joran by the arm, and edging him away from where I was standing next to Camilla, began whispering in his ear.
I saw Joran look at one of the nearby double door sets that exited the main Hall into the lobby area, and guessed this was where he had seen Sven leave, but with whom?
Camilla now took my arm and gently turning me away, propelled me to a few feet away from Eric, saying "Looks like our boys have something private to discuss. Let's give them a minute."
I didn't like her patronizing attitude, but decided to wait for Eric to report. However, I was astonished to see him nod to Joran and without looking at me, walk swiftly off in the direction of the doors, disappearing through one. Joran reluctantly marched over to us to keep watch over the women, or so I surmised, my temper surging as I felt my throat muscles beginning to tighten. I refused to cry in front of so many strangers; it would be too pathetic. I needed answers.
"What's going on, Joran? And don't lie to me. Where is Sven?" My voice was harsher than I'd planned.
Not looking directly at me, he replied, "I don't know for sure. I thought I saw him leave a few minutes ago through that door. Eric went to check if I was wrong."
In my mind, his use of the word 'wrong' confirmed my worst suspicions.
Camilla, hoping to distract me as she gauged my mood, started talking about the music and the performers, saying that the next round of concerts would be starting up again in thirty minutes or so. I'd been so focused on finding Sven, I'd completely missed the end of the shows. I'd been listening to piped-in music and hadn't even noticed the difference.
As people had begun abandoning the stages, bored by the frantic tear-down of equipment, and started circulating through the crowd, it had become more difficult to retain our position by the refreshment bars. Although we were all nervous about losing track of Eric when he returned, with or without Sven, we moved to stand by some open wall space not far from the double doors.
My own unexpected emotions threatening to swamp me, I concentrated on calming down. I knew hormones could rage out of control, but the swiftness and intensity of my earlier reaction had surprised even me.
Speaking of inconsequential things, I grasped that neither Joran nor Camilla were even pretending to scan the crowd for Sven in case Eric did not locate him. I didn't like the implication. Tuning them out, I tried to remember the last things we'd spoken of before Sven had turned and walked away into the crowd. I recalled guiltily that as soon as his back was turned, I swung around to enjoy some very passionate kissing with Eric. We'd been motivated as much by the uninhibited displays we'd seen around us as by the first real Sven-free time we'd had since he had returned the previous evening.
Maybe this was my fault, yet again. Sven had had me to himself for the last six weeks and we'd enjoyed ourselves enormously. We'd easily recaptured the same feelings we'd shared during our honeymoon in Barbados, and Sven had jokingly referred to it as our second honeymoon. Preferring each other's company, we'd holed up in the house after work, our intimacy more intense for the lack of anyone to interrupt us. A week or so before Eric was due to return, that intimacy had been briefly, inexplicably shattered. I'd awakened, alone, one afternoon to find Sven gone from the bed. I'd eventually found him at his desk in the den he now shared with Eric, moodily sorting through some bills that had come in the mail. He'd snapped at me, narrowed eyes and pursed lips, and then refused to speak to me or tell me what was wrong. He'd been in the same mood for the entire day, only thawing when it was time for dinner, not truly regaining his equilibrium until it was time for bed.
I never did discover the reason for his anger, if that's what it was.
Now, as I rethought it, I wondered if he'd seen evidence of my secret in the bills that had come in. No, I was certain my insurance had covered the costs of the tests. There should have been no need for any additional payment. It was the first time I'd actually had reason to use the insurance, though. Maybe I'd missed something.
I began to feel anxious, both about the reasons for Eric's prolonged absence and whatever Sven might have discovered and his reasons for concealing his knowledge from me.
Camilla was waving a hand in front of my face, calling my name softly. When I looked at her, she pointed to a crowd gathering around a smaller stage that had been hastily set up in front of the main stage. What appeared to be a skit or maybe some improv was about to begin. The area had drawn quite a large group of people. I gulped, thinking that whatever this crowd deemed worthy of staging would probably be way over the top. I was right.
Three actors, a man and two women, had climbed on the stage and were engaged in a frenzied exploration of one another, shedding their street clothes at a rapid rate. There was a fourth man, a narrator, who was describing the characters they were playing and their motivations. In my opinion, it looked like a thinly veiled excuse for simulated public fornication. Just what I wanted to see: real live pornography, up close and personal. Camilla and I were near enough to the action to have a clear view of proceedings and to hear the narrative. It was just too much, combined as it was with the fact that I'd started to feel a little too warm. I dreaded the onset of the overheated feeling, kwowing that it would lead to a queasy sensation I'd become too familiar with over the last few weeks.
"Susannah, you look a little green around the gills. Should we find a place to sit down away from the noise and the crowd?" She was giving me a sharp look, almost as if she was inspecting my face and finding something that shouldn't be there, when I nodded in appreciation of her idea.
"Let's go out that double door by which Eric left; perhaps we can find Eric and Sven at the same time."
Joran clearly did not like this idea, his frown directed at Camilla as he made to dissuade us from this plan.
"If we move, Eric and Sven may never find us. There must be a thousand or more people here, and the costumes and lighting make it doubly hard. I vote we stay in this area."
"Joran, sweets, Sookie, umm, I mean Susannah, needs a chair. She may even need to go outside the building for some fresh air. She's feeling a little queasy."
The thick cloud of drifting cannabis smoke had assaulted my nose from the moment the doors to the Hall had opened. I'd gripped Eric's hand in response, hoping it did not trigger any reactions or cravings for him. He'd smiled at me to let me know he was fine. However, I saw that most everyone had a joint in hand, not bothering to hide it in this venue. But along with drinking, smoking was not a good idea. Yeah, away from the smoke would be a big improvement.
Joran looked from her to me, and as if noticing my subdued state, slowly nodded in agreement. He began herding us to a different exit, I noticed, but I was feeling too dejected and odd to protest. We made it outside in record time, passing through the lobby area as quickly as my feet would carry me. Although I swung my head in both directions, I was unable to catch sight of the two 6'4" men who should have stood out, even in this crowd.
We remained outside of the building, looking at the line that still snaked from the ticket counter down the block. Evidently, one in the morning was as good a time as any to join the party. Joran saw me looking and explained that the tickets were reduced now that the headliner band had played and left.
The fresh air was nippy and damp, but I started feeling better and was about to propose that we return inside when Joran spotted Eric through one of the open sets of double doors. He was very obviously searching for us. Joran whistled to get Eric's attention and amazingly, Eric heard him over the buzzing of hundreds of people. He made for us, his face telegraphing his relief before he arrived.
He walked up to me, ignoring the other two, and looming over me, began murmuring something against my forehead I couldn't hear. Gradually, I understood him to be saying the word 'safe' over and over again.
That was far too dramatic for our thirty minutes of separation. I pulled back, and though glad to be reunited with him, asked the question all three of us were thinking.
"Did you find Sven?"
"Well, yes, but I still think it's time we head back to the house. You look beat and my energy has begun to wane as well. Joran? Camilla? You two ready to leave, I hope?"
I was confused. We were going and leaving Sven behind? How would he get back home tonight? We'd all come in Eric's Volvo.
Voice a little too certain, Eric explained he'd finally found Sven in the parking lot. He'd had too much to drink and feeling sick himself, he'd told Eric he would be catching a taxi to his Market Street place to sleep it off. He'd come back home in the morning.
Joran and Camilla seemed to accept this without question, but I was very confused. Sven had seemed fine all evening, and he never drank very much. Suddenly worried, I wondered if someone had slipped something into one of his drinks.
"Eric, I'd feel more comfortable if we swung by the condo to check on him, make sure he was ok. If someone got hold of his drink and doctored it…." My voice trailed off as I saw Eric's expression close down. I could tell what his response would be before he spoke.
"Hey, wife, it is the first night I'm back and feeling more myself. Let's take advantage of our private time tonight. Sorry, bro', if that's too much information for you two." He looked contrite as he spoke to Joran. "I'm just feeling like it's time to go, and I don't want to fight our way through downtown traffic twice this late at night."
Seeing my expression of protest forming, he continued quickly. "You can call him when we get home if you like. Okay, my love?"
Without any other reasonable argument at my disposal, and feeling sleepy myself, I gave up. But without the benefit of Sven's knowledge of the downtown parking lots, we had to search to locate our car. It was parked just six blocks from the Hall, but we probably walked twenty blocks before finding it. Eric in particular was barely able to controll his frustration at our lack of foresight in not paying closer attention to such an important detail.
The extra walking had also exposed us to more of the overflow of the event's seamier side into the surrounding area. The streets were crowded with the attendees in various states of undress; we detoured around way too many couples of all persuasions enjoying their one night's free pass to engage in erotic acts in a public place. While I'd seen or done it all before, it was impossible to avoid stumbling across the naked couples, many of whom had chosen the City's dirty sidewalks or the sides of parked cars as acceptable surfaces for their activities. Considering my own situation, I wasn't easily shocked, but I was still relieved when we made it to Eric's car and buckled up.
When we arrived back in Woodside, Joran and Camilla immediately left in her car for the short trip to her place. I'd fallen asleep in the front seat. Eric easily lifted me to carry me inside, kicking the front door open since I was too tired to assist. The dogs were whining in their bedroom, and after setting me down on the couch, he stumbled into the kitchen to let them out for the night, knowing they'd stick close as they waited for their breakfast. At least we wouldn't have to get up to let them out in the early morning.
I guess I'd fallen asleep again, because I barely knew that I was in our bed, Eric having removed most of my clothes at some point. He'd dropped down beside me, leaving his own clothes somewhere other than in the hamper, I was certain. He was snoring lightly, the two beers from earlier in the night making his sinuses a little more congested than usual.
Squinting at the digital clock face by the bed, I saw it was just 4:45 a.m. Didn't matter; I was feeling some serious pressure on my bladder that required I drag myself to the bathroom, tired or not. If my life was going to be like this, I'd be miserable the entire time. My choice and freely made, I scolded myself as I tripped over the decorative pillows Eric had pushed off the bed sometime last night. I reminded myself I was the one who'd agreed to his plan for my future.
Crawling back into bed beside my newly returned spouse, I remembered I had not called Sven. If he was well, he would be sleeping soundly and not happy I was phoning. If he wasn't okay, I reasoned, he would have called us if he'd needed any help. Satisfied with my logic, I drifted back to sleep, and did not awaken until after ten that morning.
When I opened my eyes, Eric's were inches from mine. He was the reason I'd finally stirred. I was so thrilled to have him back in our bed, I stifled my groan at being pulled from sleep before I was ready. We'd had a lot of exercise last night at the Ball and I could have used more rest. But the gift of his presence, alone and in bed with me wasn't one I was willing to squander.
"Last night I saw a lot of things that turned me on.", he said with a wide grin, teasing me. "How about you? Missed our practice sessions, love? I've been gone six long weeks, you know. I'm more than ready to return to where we left off." He paused as if waiting for my response. "Well, zen, allow me to consult mine lesson plan and we vill begin." The last, delivered in the Germanic accent he favored when we played this game, alerted me he was thinking of the schoolgirl outfit I'd donned on our outing last night. My costume had been both a tribute to the continuation of our earliest fantasy we'd recently shared with Sven and a sign to him that he was more than welcome home after his absence. I knew Eric would both get and appreciate the multiple meanings. He always 'got' me.
Although I had no doubts where his remarks were leading, my easy acquiescence to his plan for some pleasurable catching-up was foiled when his hand passed over my face and covered my mouth. Had he learned some new tricks while he'd been gone? If so, I wanted to know who'd been teaching him.
"Oh, wait, isn't there something you should be telling me, dearest wife?" His expression had changed into a glower. He couldn't be serious, could he?
I pointed at his hand over my mouth, my meaning clear.
"Cat got your tongue? No, wait, we don't have any cats." He continued to glower at me.
I soon figured out that he must have guessed my secret. Was it the reason Sven had disappeared last night? Would all my fears turn out to be groundless?
I began twisting around in a half-hearted effort to dislodge his hand over my mouth. I was going to bite him in a minute if he didn't let me go.
He began laughing at me, my temper starting to flare as he continued to hold me down, hand over my mouth.
Ready to play a little dirty, I slid my hand quickly between us and made to grab his sensitive parts. He'd been expecting my move, because he rolled off of me, still laughing, and covered himself.
"Wouldn't want to damage the equipment that put you in this condition now, would you? What if you wanted to do it again sometime?"
Well, my secret was no longer just mine. It appeared both Sven and Eric knew what had finally happened a few weeks before Eric had left for Iceland.
"You may think you know everything, Eric. But I still have a secret that I may or may not share with you, considering your actions right now. I was waiting to tell Sven until you returned because I wanted both of you to know at the same time." I stopped, smug that I still knew something they did not.
"Well, my knocked-up wife, out with it. I'm all ears--for the moment, at least." Belying his own words, he began rubbing the eager culprit very suggestively and moving his hips in an unmistakable motion. I didn't need to tell him I was interested; he could see it in my eyes. Our rushed time together yesterday before we dressed to go to the Ball had been less than satisfactory, especially as I knew Sven was in the bathroom and could hear everything we were doing.
"Before I spill, why didn't you say something last night? And just how long has Sven known and not said anything? He's always gone before the nausea starts in the morning. What gave me away?" Since I was actually very excited to finally be discussing this subject with Eric, my aggressive tone was just for show.
In fact, my secret wasn't totally unexpected. It wasn't confirmed yet, but if yesterday's phone call from my ob-gyn about elevated HcG as a marker was anything to go by, it was just a matter of a test or two. She'd scheduled me for the first one next week, but advised me she would soon be able to confirm her suspicions by just the sound of their little fluttering heartbeats. I expected both guys to accompany me on Wednesday to her office. Their dual presence in the examining room with me would be sure to cause a major stir among the nurses.
While I was enjoying imagining the shocked expressions on the faces of some of the nurses who'd come to know me rather too well, Eric had responded.
"You were asleep when we were finally alone, remember, dear heart? You'd have to ask Sven for the particulars. He won't be back until later this afternoon. We have several hours for just you and me. Then he'll join us in bed. In fairness to him, maybe you should wait to tell your secret until he returns?" When I nodded my agreement, he continued. "God, I've missed you, woman. Whatever should we do while we wait for him?"
In a surge of masculine display, Eric had made to launch himself on top of me. But, if poor Eric had been expecting a steamy reunion this morning, he was about to get an introduction to my altered version of reality. Most mornings, my universe had shrunk to an hour or more of feeling queasy, some intermittent vomiting and then a quick nap and shower that left me feeling marginally more myself, if lethargic. I'd usually recovered quickly enough that I'd been able to drag myself to work fairly close to ten when I was scheduled to start on the phones. Last night had been the first time I'd suffered the malaise other than in the early morning. I'd hoped its unscheduled appearance had meant I would be spared it this morning.
"How is Sven feeling about the news?" Not the answer Eric had expected from me, judging by his startled expression. But I'd asked the question more to distract myself from the growing certainty that I needed to return to the bathroom immediately than from thinking I wouldn't find out soon enough.
"He was a little hurt you didn't tell him first, although he doesn't want you to know that piece of information. Other than that, ask him yourself. I think you'll be pleased." He stopped, finally noticing something was off.
"Lover, you look a little pale. Are you, is everything…can I do something?" He ended on a high note as I flung myself from the bed to race to my increasingly familiar supplicant position by the fricking bowl. Sex was the furthest thing from my mind, I thought meanly. He'd had his fifteen minutes and blown it by talking. The little wrestling match probably hadn't helped.
Adopting a more collected tone, Eric's big feet were suddenly in my narrowed line of vision. "I know this is normal, but I'm sorry for you. Could I get you some crackers, or some water…." Just the thought of the crackers sent a huge swell of imaginary buttery smells to my brain and started the heaving.
"Shit, Sookie, what can I do?" Through my fog of vomiting-induced despair, I heard the concern and worry in his voice.
"Cool washcloth, please." I managed to choke out before another wave took me.
And that was our morning, as the nausea seemed to have reached a new plateau. In a lucid moment, I wondered if I would ever be able to work again. Maybe I'd spend the next seven months confined to our bathroom and bedroom. If we were having twins, I'd grow so huge no one would ever want to touch me, possibly for years. At that thought, and the certainty that both Sven and Eric would end up cheating on me out of sexual frustration, I started sobbing in earnest. It was too much for Eric to handle alone. He'd left the room to call Sven when he'd been unable to talk me out of the tears. I overheard him telling him to hurry, he needed his help. Eric had never been able to stand seeing me cry.
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When Sven's taxi dropped him off forty-five minutes later, I'd relaxed enough to taste some warm water faintly tinged with beef bouillon prepared by Eric. It was slightly salty. It was just barely possible that I might be able to leave the house today after all. Unfortunately, I was so sleepy I couldn't begin to think about the effort required for taking a bath. I heard both of them talking outside my door, but before I spoke to Sven, I'd just close my eyes for a minute.
When I awoke for the third time that day, several hours had passed. The room was slightly darker; shorter days meant we were well into the fall season. I hated that I had slept away the entire day; the clock read 4:30 p.m. I was ravenous and hoped someone had some food ready. I called down to Sven and was rewarded with him entering the room; apparently he'd been waiting outside the hall in a chair I'd noticed was missing from our bedroom.
"I'm glad you called for me, my lovely girl." His tone was warm, his eyes expressing a multitude of emotions that all seemed positive.
"Are you very angry with me, Sven? Was this the reason you wouldn't speak to me last week? Why didn't you say something? God, I love you. Come here."
My hunger for food was displaced by my hunger for his touch. He came willingly, eager to hold me as well. Thank goodness I'd brushed my teeth earlier. At least my breath wouldn't send him into someone else's embrace.
"Eric's sleeping downstairs on the couch." He whispered this news into my hair. Maybe my breath was worse than I thought. "He's still worn out. He wanted to stay here with you on the floor, but I told him he'd only keep you awake with his snoring." We both smiled now at each other, sharing the memory of how many times I'd pinched Eric awake when Sven and I were unable to fall asleep next to him. "I've missed his snoring as much as you have, you know." He kissed me then, bad breath not a deterrent to his need for affection.
Safer now in Sven's embrace, my nausea at bay for the moment, I was happy and relieved. I could do this, and Sven could handle it. He'd help me when Eric was away again.
"I love you, Sookie. I do so love you. And now we'll have a child between us to love as well." Sven had said exactly the right thing. Hearing it, I was finally able to let go of my last drop of anxiety about his reaction.
Then I grinned at him. 'Children', I said, but only in my head. I wanted to correct him, but I'd wait until Eric was awake to share that news. It was only fair.
We were silent now, Sven rocking me gently in his arms, nuzzling my hair as I thought about our future. I hadn't felt this secure, this relaxed and confident since my parents had divorced the summer after I met Eric. I'd forgotten how good it felt.
The unexpected sound of my stomach rumbling was startling in the quiet of our bedroom, a reminder I'd been starving before he entered the room. But when Sven suggested we all go out for dinner to celebrate now that I felt better, I shook my head.
We could save the special meal for another night, I told him, smiling again. Tonight, I wasn't sharing either of them with anyone else. We'd order pizza and spend the night engaged in our own special celebration. It was his turn to smile now. I recognized the heated look in his eyes and knew just what he was thinking, at least for the moment.
In truth, I might not know exactly how our lives together would play out, but I wasn't going to worry about it anymore. In fact, I really only knew one thing for sure: Sookie Stackhouse-Nordmon would never again attend the Exotic Erotic Ball. Once was plenty.
Everything else? We'd improvise.
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A/N: Twins for Sookie. ;-) One of each, I bet.
BTW, I attended the Ball ten+ years after events described herein. Other than the bands mentioned, I've given you an eyewitness account of just some of events we experienced.
This epilogue completes this story under this title. When I post the scenes that occur ten years after this one, I'll identify that story as a sequel to this one.
Goodbye for now. Hope we meet again when I post a third E/S story I'm writing.