Millie was pulled out of her contented sleep by a noise…what was it? Slowly coming to awareness she realized it had been a sharp gasp, what she'd heard. John's comforting weight was no longer resting on her body and she felt cold…
She opened her eyes and saw that he wasn't really gone, he had only sat up straight on the couch. But his whole body radiated tension and his face was turned away—he wouldn't meet her eyes.
"What? What's wrong?" She asked groggily, half-sitting up to see him better.
He stayed still another moment, and she could see his jaw clench. When he managed to look at her, his dark eyes were wide and stricken. She felt her stomach lurch. Did he regret it so much? She didn't.
"Millie…." She could hear the tight control he was using to keep the panic she saw in his eyes out of his voice, "When did you say George was coming home…?"
Still half-asleep, she had a second of panic herself, looking around as if she expected to see him there in the living room…No, of course that wasn't possible…Then what had he meant…? Oh….that.
She felt a hitch of irritation. Had he really only thought of it now, now that it was done and couldn't be undone? She'd already considered that—even up against the wall with her arms pinned, she had thought of it. Why was it only her responsibility to juggle both the pleasures of the moment and the consequences of the future, like fragile glass balls?
The feeling of unfairness was a familiar one. Although she'd gotten out of the habit with her husband gone, it had always fallen on her to track her cycles and "deny" him if need be. Even after he knew he'd been drafted and she couldn't bear the thought of pregnancy and childbirth all by herself…The irony was not lost on her that this was now a possibility after all…
Shaking herself out of her thoughts, she realized that John was still looking at her with his big, stricken eyes, waiting for her answer…Let him worry himself a minute, see how it feels…
She'd seen women marching for sexual liberation on the news…Feeling a sympathetic urge, she had half-considered going to one sometime, but George would never hear of it. Well, he wasn't here. Now, naked and post-coital on the couch, she resolved to go the next time she heard of a march happening on the mainland.
But only a few seconds into her intentional silence, she felt her heart beginning to soften. John was not George. It wasn't right to put all of her resentment on him. He had never planned on breaking his vow of celibacy. Really, it had been her idea, her insistence.
Remembering one of his sermons, she heard his voice quoting St. Peter in her head: Above all, love each other deeply, because love covers over a multitude of sins. She sighed. Between the two of them, they might have actually committed an entire multitude of sins tonight. Why add blame on top of it?
She sat up and scrabbled over on the cushions so she could reach him. Bringing her hand to his face, she let her own drop down, resting her smooth forehead against his furrowed one. "Three weeks, a little less than, actually. We can make that work if we have to…My little sister was born four weeks early and nobody thought much of it…"
John gave a relieved sigh and she felt him relax, slightly. He nodded, but his eyes were distant and she could tell his mind was still mulling over all the possible consequences of their actions. She backed off a little to give him some space. Reaching up behind her to grab the throw blanket from the back of the sofa, she loosely draped it over her naked body, then took his limp hand in hers and settled down on the couch next to him. She could wait.
But then it was her brow that furrowed as she realized and dreaded the full implications of her plan: She'd have to sleep with George when he came home. Although she supposed she would've had to anyway after so long apart…
Maybe John had just followed the same trail of thought, because, again, he stiffened, and this time pulled away, completely. Getting off the couch without a word, he started to zip and button his pants and looked around for his shirt.
Millie felt her heart beat faster and her stomach clench. She wasn't ready for him to go, and not like this! She looked at her living room clock, squinting to read the hands of it in the soft lamplight. Midnight, exactly. They could have more time, it wouldn't be light for hours…but she held back, uncertain. He wasn't really hers to stop, now was he?
He was already moving away from the couch. Shirt in hand, he hesitated over by their wall.
"Millie…"
No. These things can wait. Stay with me!
She got up, throwing the blanket aside, and hurried over to him—stark naked. She caught his hand and brought herself up on her toes to kiss him, but he barely responded.
An idea came to her…she'd have to make this good to get him to stop thinking so much…
Still kissing his unresponsive lips, she used her hands to push on his chest, signaling him to step backwards. He didn't budge. So she bit him.
He gasped and jerked his head back. His eyes met hers—surprised, maybe a little angry…but definitely aroused. She smiled at him, naughtily, and used all the strength she had in her arms to push him backwards, and he let her do it, until he was the one up against the wall.
Once he was where she wanted him, she kissed him again, and he responded with a moan. She took the shirt out of his hand and let it drop on the floor, then reached down for his belt buckle, but it was still dangling undone. So much the better. She unbuttoned and unzipped his pants and reached in to pull him out, noting that he was hard again. He groaned into her mouth. Good.
Abruptly, she broke away from their kiss. His eyes opened in response and connected with hers…
She gave a small half-smile, letting her wicked intention show on her face for just a moment…Then she shifted her mood, deliberately filling her eyes with a promise of meek submission, as she slowly lowered herself to her knees in front of him…
Millie hears John's voice in her head, quoting 1 Peter 4:8