Never too Much

Tuesday weeks later

"Inmate Blake, you finally have guests. Place your hands through the bars."

Philip rolls his eyes. I guess my wife decided to crawl out from under the rock she uses to shield herself from the colossal fallout of the trial. The dull grey of the jumpsuit and the lack of sunlight from his solitary confinement make the dark circle under his remaining eye ever more pronounced. He reaches the Visitor's Room searching the seated occupants for her familiar blonde hair but comes up empty. The correction officer shoves him from behind until he reaches a table situated in a corner. The crisply dressed gentlemen's ferocious glare is ominous. "There must be some mistake. I do not know these men," he speaks over his shoulder.

The officer shrugs, "My job was to deliver you to this table and return you to your cell. You have twenty minutes." He pushes him down onto the bench seat and walks away.

Before he can open his mouth to question their presence one of the table occupants speaks, "My name is Andre Wilson and this is my associate Jeffrey Grimes. We decided to allow you time to settle in before we explained how you will end the rest of your life."

I finally have a face to attach to the name. Philip stammers, "End…I do not understand…the criminal case…double jeopardy."

"The criminal case is the least of your worries but I am confident you will spend a great deal of your time and energy on appeals and outlandish and or outdated legal technicalities to attempt to gain your freedom no matter how futile. We are here to address the additional purely punitive obstacles he deliberately placed in your way based on civil statues," Jeffrey explains pointing to his left.

Andre chimes in, "My network is vast thus no respectable attorney will take your calls or agree to a consultation. Further, the civil litigation filed against you pending trial by jury freezes every property and or account domestic or foreign." Blake's eye roams the hardened features and the grey hair. Andre glances at Jeffrey and they both laugh, "You actually are dumber than you look. In the event of our death I secured younger counsel just as resolved to guarantee justice is served. To be clear, on your death bed your last thought will be…I regret every action in relation to Michonne Grimes."

Wednesday

Quinn taps her Reeboks impatiently against the metal slotted escalator stair. She thoroughly enjoyed her non-mommy time but she needed her precious baby boy back in her arms. She searches the sea of faces for her family bursting into laughter at their ridiculousness; a huge Disney inspired sign: Welcome Back Ariel!

Xavier waves the sign above their heads while Jesus bounces Javier on his hip, "How is Poseidon?"

She slaps his arm before yanking her son from his arms to engulf him a tight hug. "Stop calling him that…you know he is the Executive Officer on a Navy submarine."

"His submarine must be nuclear powered honey…because you are glowing," Xavier sasses.

Quinn plants kisses all over Javier chubby cheeks, "You are so big…tell mommie what I missed."

"Ooh, she did not respond which means the details are too dirty for euphemisms."

"Let's just say we probably need to stop for more wine," she winks before heading toward baggage claim.

Thursday

"Pencils down…We have concluded the written portion of the Sergeant's exam. Please pass your booklet forward," the proctor announces to the group. A few groans and exasperated sighs fill the sterile grey classroom with blue industrial carpet. Many of the seated participants stand to stretch their backs. The proctor's assistant uses a scanner to account for each booklet before unlocking the door. "Thank you for your participation. Please remember the schedule for the physical component is delivered via e-mail. Do not forget to pick up electronic devices from the front desk attendant. Once again, good luck to each candidate."

Rick is the first out of the door. To his surprise the four hour exam block was more time than he needed. Test preparation with an attorney on bed rest had nearly prepared him to take the bar exam. He stands in the lobby checking for text messages or voice mails to his relief there is only one: Good luck; not that you need it and hurry home…we miss you. He responds quickly and makes his way to the parking lot.

Michonne pushes up off the couch placing her left hand against her aching back waddling toward the kitchen. She retrieves the balsamic marinated beef strips and cherry tomatoes from the fridge and heats the cast iron skillet. She manages to assemble the sandwiches on Italian sourdough rolls before he arrives.

His nose carries him to the kitchen, "Lunch smells amazing; but how long have you been on your feet?"

"Barely forty-five minutes. I spent the morning folding the most adorable baby wardrobe ever and Carl doesn't get here until this evening with hopefully two but probably only one case file for my review since y'all are conspiring against me," she pouts.

"Gorgeous," he warns, "How 'bout we finish lunch and make the most of this early Georgia heat?"

She hums in delight around a mouthful of food, "What did you have in mind?"

He wipes his mouth on the napkin at his side before rubbing his hands together, "We could test out the new floating lounge chairs."

Michonne frowns, "I doubt I can fit in the chair or any of my swimwear."

He wiggles his brows, "Even better…skinny dipping sounds like a great way to spend the afternoon.

She laughs, "We have neighbors…most of which are retired."

He cuts her off, "The bushes you hacked down to nothing are back…lush and green ready to conceal all manner of dirty deeds." He watches the mischievous glint in her eyes. "Plus, once the babies arrive when will get another chance. We owe it to ourselves to check this activity off the list."

"When you put it like that how can a girl say no," she dazzles him with a pearly white smile.

Friday evening

"Justice, this prom dress shopping trip proves you are gifted," Enid praises from the fitting room stall.

The squad co-signs with snapping fingers. "Thanks but I told you I was just in the right place at the right time. We were having our last fitting for Ms. Michonne's wedding and I noticed the clearance rack of never sold or cancelled bridesmaid dresses."

"Seriously though; the money we are saving our moms could finally get my feet in a pair of Jimmy Choo's," America states.

"In what fantasy land…Are you on that stuff…Your tether to reality just snapped," they laugh in response.

"Hey, we all grew up on 'Sex in the City' don't ruin the dream."

"Okay…is everyone ready for the reveal…3-2-1," Sophia announces.

The doors swing open and each girl rushes toward the waiting platform with multiple full length mirrors. The seasoned staff joins in on the gushing, fawning and animated eye-fanning of the teenage group. "I feel like Princess Mia…All I need is a Prince Akeem…Uh, Cinda-who."

Justice takes one final twirl before sending a text with the price and photo to her mom and aunt. Before she returns to the dressing room her notification chimes back to back: Purchase immediately and The Queen came to slay. She beams brightly with her hand covering her mouth. I can't wait for Carl's reaction.

Saturday

Spencer sits at his kitchen table sifting through his mail sorting bills in one pile and tossing junk into the nearby garbage can. A toothless, satisfied smile emerges once he notices the thick envelope from the Kings' County Business License Agency. Stage one complete. He retreats down the hallway to retrieve his laptop and places a call. "What are you up to? Well, our license arrived…How about we spend the evening working on the logo? You are the cutest graphic designer I know…See ya' in a few," he hangs up. I cannot wait until I snatch that security franchise right out of Walsh's clueless hands.

Saturday night

Rick nestles behind Michonne raising her thigh over his opening her to his roaming hand. He reaches her thick folds exploring at a tortured pace. "Why are you so wet?" he whispers in her ear. She can only whimper in response. He pulls his hand away and licks each finger tip producing a juicy smack with his pouty lips. "Why are you so sweet?" She gasps and her engorged breasts heave higher. He uses his sticky hand to guide the almost painfully hard dick into her extra hot spot determined to make her call his name.

Michonne's left hand grips his left bicep and her right hand clings to the satin sheet, "Je-sus."

His hips thrust and pivot relentlessly. He knows his wife's body and he is determined to make sure she still feels tonight's orgasm days later. Her ass rocks back against him moaning at every stroke. He whispers in her ear again, "No, no, no…I can't stop until you say my name. What's my name Gorgeous?"

Pregnancy brain…think…hell, what's my name? "Wait…what…mother of god…sweet," she stammers incoherently. Rick pulls her wider and strokes her tender spot in the right corner on the back wall of her pussy. "Yes…yes…gawd yes…Rick!" she keens before bursting into orgasmic tears.

"Mmm," he grunts. Her gushing, fluttering muscles yank an orgasm from him that lock his hips forward. "Damn," he exhales through flaring nostrils. How am I supposed to survive six weeks without that kind of loving?