DUM SPIRO, SPERO
Part 85
 

"The dangerous nymph
Kalypso lives and sings there, in her beauty,
And she received me, loved me..."

"The Odyssey," Fitzgerald Translation. Book 12, Lines 573-575. Used without permission.
 

LANGLY:

October 17, 2001 (early a.m.)
 

I'm sitting here at my kitchen table, my wife on one side, my niece on the other.

Been a long time since I saw my niece-a while since she even sent me an e-mail.

It was really weird. She just turned up here like two hours ago. I didn't even know if I wanted to let her in. I don't know what her game is these days, and I'm still not sure she doesn't have some tricks in her brain that she's working on us. Anyway, when she buzzed, I was sort of dozing off on the sofa with Patrick, and I just about jumped out of my skin when I heard her.

I didn't use to feel this way about her-back when she was about, oh, say eight or nine. She was just fun to goof on in those days. We used to have laughs. I was kind of hoping when she came back with Joanie, she'd be a lot of laughs again.

And then she decided to go work for Evil Dad. If my boss is Darth Vader, then her dad's the Emperor Palpatine (and if you don't know your Star Wars, I'm not gonna be the one to explain it to you). She presumably went to work to sort of spy on his organization. I mean, that's the story she fed us. And maybe she is.

But I'd be an idiot to believe her without some kind of proof.

Only reason I let her in is because she's Joanie's kid. If she wasn't Joanie's kid, then forget it, I would've left her outside the gate to rot. I think. I don't owe Julie shit, but I think I might owe Joanie something. I got no idea these days. Still haven't touched her stuff.

I'm gonna have to do that-in my copious free time, of course.

There's a hell of a lot I wanna ask her. I wanna know what the hell she's really doing in Daddy's organization. She hasn't provided us with jack, and I'm kind of pissed. No, I'm real pissed. She hasn't fed me one thing I can use. She hasn't fed me even anything I can't use, for Christ's sake!

And then she turns up at our house, and of course it's gotta be on a night when Ally's not here. Ally's getting real good at chasing away people. Well, she doesn't always chase 'em off, but she makes pretty damn sure they feel like shit for being here. She says that Jewish guilt thing works wonders. I could've just been asleep on the sofa, Ally would've dealt with the whole thing, and I wouldn't be sitting here with her instead of curled up in bed getting better, which I have to be by tomorrow night, and stay that way, since I've been told in no uncertain terms that I better have my ass back in my office on Monday.

She did manage to notice that I was sort of under the weather, she asked me what happened, but that was about it. She didn't ask much about the kids or about Ally or about much of anything. She was here pretty much for herself, that was damn obvious.

She's like, have you heard from Bryce and I'm like no, I got no idea where the asshole is, for all I know he's dead somewhere, since he won't answer my e-mails or anything.

She looks like she's gonna cry when I say that. Oops.

Says he's been missing a while, about two weeks, she's got no idea what's going on, and she can't find him and it's like he fell off the planet and she's really worried...

Yeah, I bet she's horny, too.

Sorry. I get pissed at somebody, I'm not real charitable. I have a hard time forgiving people. I don't know why, but I do. Even when I can forgive them (eventually) I never seem to forget. It's a bitch. It's not like I wanna hold grudges. I just do. I'm sort of made that way. Sometimes I get worried 'cause Miranda's like that, too, and I think she watches me be this way and she probably thinks it's okay. It's not. And I really get worried 'cause mostly, I just hold grudges and stew in my own juices about it. I've seen Miranda in action, she carries it to the next level. Revenge. Ally worries about it, and I do too.

I'm probably not helping her any.

Usually I know who I should grudge, though. I know if I oughta be mad at somebody or not usually.

My niece is hard on my brain that way. You'd think with a PhD in applied mathematics, I could sort this out.

Never works that way. Never can come up with a model to figure people out.

I'm not sure she's lying, I'm not sure she's telling the truth, I really think she's somewhere in the middle, if there is such a thing. Not in the relativistic sense. Sort of like, she thinks something is a certain way, and it's not...I don't know! I'm tired. I wanna take my meds and get my sorry ass in bed so tomorrow night I can party and have fun and on Saturday especially.

Does she really like Bryce or does he have something she needs or wants and now she's worried that she's gonna get exposed for something? Haven't got a clue. I mean, to look at her, seems like she's kind of attached to the dude-but hell, I don't know. You wanna ask me what I know about women?

Go ahead, and I'll tell you.

Comes out to about zero. You'd think after I married one I'd know more about the female of the species.

Ha! If anything, I'm like totally more confused.

And she's not clarifying the concept.

So I know Ally's pissed about her-I can tell 'cause first thing she did, after being kind of rude to Julie, was go make herself a drink. And didn't offer anyone else one. That's Ally's way of letting you know her hackles are up.

But I'm still glad she's here. This girl, my niece, supposedly blood relations to me, the more I listen to her, the more she screws up my head. I'm trying to get info from her, I mean, just basic stuff about her and Bryce, and man, it's like, she cannot give me anything that comes even close to a straight answer. I'm hoping Ally can do what girls seem to do best, and that's get the 411 on other girls. God knows if you left it up to us guys, well, never mind.

She's a weird mix of scripture and paranoia. Maybe she really is spying on Daddy and brother and their organization, but I think they've done more than a little brainwashing, too. That's my take. I'm hoping Ally might be able to tell me better.

We sit with Julie, and Ally decides to stop being a bitch after she's sucked down about half a maggie. Sometimes it's better just to let Ally drink. She's like, she's trying to massage her way around Julie now.

It's scary. Two conniving women trying to each connive the other. Ally's not usually conniving, but she can be, when the occasion demands it. I've been around Ally enough to know this isn't how she usually deals with people, and she doesn't like it. I don't like it much, either, but it'd be nice to figure out what the hell my seemingly insane niece has going on.

Ally asks real innocent questions-well, they sound innocent. Sort of like how Mrs. Scully always sounds so innocent. She asks about how it's going, but she's like, real specific-does the person in the next office annoy you? How do they do it? Does Bryce leave laundry on the floor? I mean, stuff that sounds real meaningless. I'm real tempted to go to bed and let Ally
deal with it.

Except by about midnight, she's starting to pull stuff out of her. I don't think she even knows that she's being worked.

I sort of come to the conclusion that she really doesn't know much. Like she has stuff to type and file and things like that, but it's like, she doesn't really know much. She says that women there, they don't know much. They don't have positions. No clout, no authority. Her dad takes seriously the concept that men are the head of the household, even if the household happens to be a law firm.

She tells Ally around 1 a.m. that she'd really like to quit, but doesn't know how to tell Daddy and Bro about it. She's afraid they'll give her shit, that they won't let her, and she doesn't have another job anyway.

Course, she could be working us just like we're doing her. Hard to say.

I wonder if she did the deed with Bryce. Have to believe they did. I can't imagine Bryce putting up with a woman who didn't put out. He's not blessed with a lot of self-control, least from what I can tell. Which admittedly is not much. I'm not much of a student of human nature. I can do better with things in the abstract. Hey, why do you think I became a math major? I didn't do it to meet chicks. I minored in anthropology for that. Didn't help, anyway.

About 1:30, we start talking about Joanie. This upsets her a lot. First time I can tell for real that she's bummed, that it's something at least I can hook into, 'cause thinking about Joanie gets me down, too.

I miss my big sis. I know it sounds rude, but I'm kinda mad at her for leaving me again, you know?

2 a.m. We've been telling stories about Joanie, about when she was little and I was younger and all that, I'm only ten years older than Julie, so it's like I'm actually closer to Julie's age than Joanie's.

Julie says she remembers finding out her mom was boffing somebody that wasn't her dad. I mean, she didn't put it like that. But she remembers the night her dad found out. And the beating up Roy did on my sister. And that really bums her out.

It's like, she says she felt bad for her dad, because her mom was wrong, and like she knew from Bible study and stuff that her mom was wrong (sinned was her word-I don't buy into the concept of sin real easy, so I'll let that wash for now). But she also says she used to dream about what if Mom could get them out of there, maybe then she wouldn't have to be afraid of her dad, like they all were.

"What was the name of this man? Did you know?" Ally's picking for details again.

She shakes her head. "I'm not sure. I think I remember...after it happened, I remember Mom used to have conversations during the day with this guy named I think it was Walter, but I'm not sure...I'm not even sure it was him...she used to usually close the door to her bedroom and talk to him there, I'd find out by accident when I wanted to use the phone or something like that."

Ally passes me a look. I just nod.

We let Julie rattle on a little while longer. Finally, at 2:45 a.m., Ally tells her she's really gotta get to bed, and so do I. I sort of think Julie is trying to get us to let her stay, but Ally's not going for it. After a few reminders, Julie finally bails out.

Both of us sigh like this collective sigh of relief.

"Thought she was never going to leave," Ally groans. "And you should've been in bed hours ago."

"I know, I know. Whaddya think?"

"What do I think?" Ally yawns, but then she looks sharp. "She's lying about something, babe. But what it is, I'd prefer to figure out on a little more sleep. You coming?"

"Yeah."

She slips her arm around my waist and we head off to bed, where we're both comatose right about the time we hit the pillows.
 

MICHAEL:

I really gotta move my ass today. Got to finish up a lab report and pick up my tux and make sure my car's functional. Rehearsal's tonight, we have dinner after that, which means we'll probably all get at least a little crispy around the edges, and tomorrow's a total bust for studying, and probably Sunday, too.

Kelly's excited, she's looking forward to a weekend of fun and stuff. I mean, I am too. This is very cool. Just wish we both didn't have so much to do.

Maybe someday this'll be better. We'll actually have time to do stuff...

Yeah, right. I look at Juliet and the prof and Ally and Langly and my dad and Mulder and Dr. Scully...

I think if it's possible, they got even less free time than we do. I have so much to look forward to.

But it's cool, I mean, the prof and J getting married and all. They're real happy, and I think that's what counts.

How do you get to be happy when you're a couple? It's like, I'm looking for the formula, and I keep coming up short...it's so different for all these guys. Maybe there is no magic bullet. Only thing I can see in these guys that's the same is they like all love each other and they'd go to the ends of the earth for the other one. Otherwise, they all do it so different.

And it looks like next wedding is mine...this is very cool.

Got a long way to go to get there.
 

BYERS:

Perhaps it's a good thing that Juliet and I are positively inundated with activity at this point. We tend to notice the armed guards less that way.

They are pleasant enough, and do their best to be invisible, but we're still conscious of their presence, and somehow, I don't find this reassuring. Right now, though, I haven't got the time to think about it. Our wedding is a mere 29 hours away, and a lot has to happen before the magic moment.

I've just finished off my morning at AU, and we're packing for our trip to Santa Margarita Island. Packing for us is a complicated task. Neither of us is from the Langly school of packing for a trip, which seems to consist of tossing a few items in a backpack and hitting the road. I'm not comfortable with that, and neither is Juliet.

"What do you think? I didn't see anything on line that indicated this place was formal," Juliet's studying the mass of clothes littering the bed.

"I think it's fairly informal, but we might want to dress up one night."

"Do you think we should plan to dress for dinner?"

"I don't know."

She sighs. "Why are we stressing over this? We'll probably never leave our hotel room."

Now THAT sounds like a honeymoon to me.

And why not get an early start?

"Juliet." I look at her, and feel a slow smile spread over my face.

She looks at me and gives a low growl, somewhere between a cat's purr and a tiger's roar.

"What, can't wait to get to the island?" she teases.

"Uh, no."

"Me neither."

So much for packing.
 

Clothes are rapidly discarded as a nuisance-both the ones on the bed and the ones on our bodies. It's only 56 degrees outdoors, but the temperature in this room probably has my face the color of autumn leaves.

We're still standing when she kneels down and slips her mouth over me, hot, wet and fierce. I feel the blood rush away from my head, leaving me deliciously dizzy and disoriented.

"Not so fast, not so fast," I beg her. Already the pressure in my testicles is so intense that I'm afraid it will be over like a flash of lightning, and I'm not ready for it to end.

She obliges me-by moving her lips over every square inch of me. Her fingers trace my hairline, up from the bottom of my abdomen to the top of the breastbone, and I'm shuddering with delight.

"No, you," I can barely get the words out, but I want to make her feel what I'm feeling. I wrap my arms tightly around her and pull her up level with me, then lower both of us into the bed. Defying gravity is fun but tiring, and I don't want to be tired.

Being pregnant has added a richness to her whole physical being that is positively intoxicating. Her scent is stronger, her hips softer and rounder, her breasts enlarged and swelling more each and every day, nipples darkening and hardening from small nubs into warm, firm mouthfuls. Running my hands between her thighs and into her curls, there is heat and dampness of a degree uncommon even for her. She's more than ready if I wanted to enter her, but there's so much to do before we get there.

It occurs to me that we're going to have to find some new positions soon; her belly will get larger, and pressure from my weight will not be welcome.

Such happy creativity.

Pregnancy seems to have heightened her perception of sensation-just a feather light touch on the underside of her breasts, and she cries out softly in pleasure. A single soft touch of her curls near the hot, sticky nub makes her hips buck and her breath shorten. She's flooded with sensation when I gently insert two fingers into her, and my reward is watching her face contort in ecstasy. She's so wet, and there's so much heat here. Her legs are wide open and her knees bent, her hips pressing into the bed. I run my fingers over the lower cheeks of her bottom, and this produces yet more pleasure. She is so alive, so earthy, so rich.

My mouth travels to a stiff, engorged nipple. It occurs to me that I will have to share her breasts soon, that for our baby, these will be a warm, milky oasis, and not simply a place for me to give and receive love and pleasure. I'm a little jealous, if the truth be told, if only because the child will probably have more opportunities to be on them.

Everything about her is magnificent. Her long, slender arms wrap around me, our lips touching, her taste in my mouth. I can only form nonsense syllables to inadequately express how much I love her and how deeply she overwhelms me.

And tomorrow, she will be my wife. True, unmarried sex is a marvelous thing, when there's love like this.

But I've had married sex.

And believe me, nothing else even comes close.

I can't wait.

But in the meantime, making love on the last day we're unmarried, well...

She pulls me gently down on her, and I am ensconced by her. Every ounce of my being screams for her, and her body responds to these yearnings with equal force.

I can't see, I can't hear, I can't think. I'm lost in sheer sensation here. The depth of her caring for me pushes me over the edges of ecstasy, into the far reaches of a soul I didn't even think I once had. But it's there, and because of her, I have been slowly but surely able to find it.

More. I want more. She gives more, asks for the same in return. I'm only too happy to do so.

Black and silver and starlight and shimmering air engulfs me as I explode in her, my shaking almost violent in its force. We have become a force of nature as we are overwhelmed by nature.

I wonder if our hired help heard us, I think as we settle back into silvery-soft afterglow.

I blush, and then I think: Can't help it if they're jealous.
 

"We should get up," I murmur to her, after allowing her to sleep for a time. I've been drowsy but watching her instead of dozing off myself.

"That's right. We have a 2:30 appointment."

"Where?"

"You'll see."

Have I mentioned that I don't like surprises?
 

I confess to being somewhat reluctant about this 'appointment' she has established. And skeptical.

"What do we need to do, other than pack? Nicole took care of everything. That's what she gets paid to do," I point out.

"John, relax. I promise, it's nothing bad."

Oh, how wonderfully reassuring!

I'd appreciate it if she'd just throw me a bone here, even a tiny shard of one. Not knowing what will happen pushes my anxiety level off the meter.

"But it is something we need to do," she adds.

"We already did the blood tests."

She cracks up laughing. "John, don't be so nervous. Just relax. Go with it. I promise, it will be fine."

Women frighten me. None more than my wife-to-be.

Especially when she has something up her sleeve.
 

She insists upon driving, saying she knows the way and I don't.

"But..."

"John, stop being such a control freak. You're totally tense. There'll be plenty of time for that tonight when all the relatives descend upon us like locusts."

Oh God. I'd almost forgotten about that! They're all here, in town, but I haven't had time to meet up with Caroline and Caliban, and I've yet to meet her cousins and friends. She'd cleared them out before I got home-very late-last night, much to my relief.

We pull up to a white, Corinthian-architecture building outside of Alexandria. It's very quiet here, a few scattered office buildings, a health-food store, and a vegetarian restaurant.

She leads me by the hand up the staircase of the white building, and I keep thinking of Ricardo Montalban in the Chrysler commercials. No, wait, that was Corinthian leather...

A small, tasteful sign reads "Elysian Fields." Nothing else.

I think back to the Elysian Fields in mythology...the playground of the gods...

What do they do here?

Juliet sees the look on my face, and bursts into a chorus of musical Juliet-laugh. "John, relax! It's a day spa!"

"A what?"

"Where you come to spend the day and just get pampered and relaxed, you idiot!" She kisses me affectionately, as though I am a clueless child who is not getting it.

I'm not.

"Juliet, you said we had a lot to get done this afternoon."

"And we do. Here." She laughs at me, with both tenderness and mockery-as if she successfully pulled one over on me.

Which she did, by the way.

"So what are we supposed to do?"

"You'll see."
 

I wish everything I had to get done were like this.

Our obligations consist of: a facial for Juliet, steam for me. A long soak in the jacuzzi (which is more powerful than the one at the Langlys by approximately a factor of ten). A deliciously cool soak in the pool. Wine and cheese as we wish. Aromatherapy-vanilla is our choice, plain but soothing and sensual.

And then there's the massage.

Oh God. Could I arrange for this to be a permanent service? I don't even remember the last time my shoulders and back felt this relaxed.

The nicest thing about this place, which surprised me somewhat, is how private the suites are. We do not have to deal with a group jacuzzi. This means that we can just wear our skin and nothing else.

Watching Juliet rise from the water, dripping wet and glistening, makes me think of the Sirenes coming out of the sea, luring unwitting sailors to their deaths...only in this case, she led me to my life. I think about how close I came to bailing out on this relationship, and I close my eyes and cringe.

But I open them rapidly enough again as she slips back into the water with me, her hair slick and her face moist and pink, her breasts bobbing in the warm, bubbling water.

I'd read one time that the refraction period in a male my age (i.e., the time it takes to be able to perform again) is approximately twenty hours.

Sometimes researchers have no idea what they're talking about. Everything about this day is relaxed except for my libido...

Oh, and did I mention how much I love surprises?

END OF PART 85