Rating: NC-17...and about time...

Summary: We'll let you guess...

Spoilers: Nope.
 

"Melvin, come on, it's a beautiful day. Let's walk the beach."

Jo's trying to convince my dad to come out. I know she wants to talk to him.

And it is a gorgeous day. It's warming up, soon it'll be warm enough to swim.

Kelly must really be tired, she's not down yet.

Dad and Jo are on the porch, they don't think I hear them, but I do.

"I don't think we should leave the kids unsupervised."

This is my dad, talking about Kelly and me-Jesus. This is too much.

Jo's not letting him get away with it, though. "Melvin, how many times do I have to tell you, they're not children!" She's laughing, but she means it, too. You can tell.

"They're children. And I worry about them."

"Melvin, you worry about them far too much. They're good kids."

"But if we leave them-"

"Yes, Melvin, they'll probably have relations, and so what? Kelly's on the pill. She told me so."

Oh fuck. Kelly told Jo?

Well, I guess that's okay. Jo's not gonna tell anybody but my dad. She's not a big mouth.

My dad is like, he doesn't know what to say.

"I'm still uncomfortable," he complains.

"Melvin. You cannot supervise them every second. At least they're being responsible about it."

"What sort of protection do they have for their hearts?" He's trying to shoot back at her, but he's sort of failing on this one. He just sounds old and sad.

"None, and there's none for any of us. Period. Now come on. Try to enjoy this vacation. We'll take a long walk and grab a picnic and we're not going to worry about the children. Just for a few hours. I wouldn't ask you to give it up permanently." She laughs again.

Dad's finally convinced. "In a few minutes. I'll be ready."

Yesssss!!!

Thank you Jo.
 

Dad takes over the shower for a while, and when he comes down, Kelly's STILL sleeping, I'm reading MAD Magazine. I love MAD Magazine. Call me juvenile.
I don't give a fuck.

He looks at me, hard.

"Behave yourself."

Sure, Dad. I'll behave.

Just not the way you think.
 

Oh my God.

They're gone.

And it's just me and Kelly.

All of a sudden, I'm real nervous.

Because I know it's time.

I mean, I've been looking forward to this for such a long time...and now that it's time, I'm like, oh God, what if I screw it up? What if I can't do it? What if she can't do it?

I think this is what they mean by performance anxiety.   And right now, I've got a major case of it.

It's the most glorious morning in the world...clear skies, light breeze, it's so warm...

I head up the stairs, very slowly.
 

I open her door, very quietly. She's half awake, her eyes are like slits, and she's still got her fist near her mouth.

I sit down next to her. "Hey."

"Hi," she says to me, and she's smiling.

"Guess what? They're gone."

For a moment she doesn't react.

Then she takes her hands and begins to pull at my shirt.

I help her get it over my head.

I roll over next to her, and it starts with kisses, it always starts with kisses. This morning, they're so warm and so deep I could drown in them.

She runs her fingers over my chest, and I feel like my heart's going to explode.

I reach under her sweatshirt, start rubbing her back, and she makes this little noise, she cuddles up closer to me. She's trembling, but just a little. I run my fingers over her back, making noises to her so she'll relax. I let my hands travel to her tits, which are soft and satiny at first, but I feel her nipples get hard under my touch.

I could do that to her.

I pull the sweatshirt over my head. She looks cute in my sweatshirt, but without it, she is so damn gorgeous I think I'm gonna cry.

I've got to know how she tastes. I let my mouth travel to her one tit, which is now all plumped up.

Oh. My. God. I think I just died and went to heaven.

This is like the purest bliss I ever felt. If I die here, I die one happy man.

And she's like, I can feel her moving next to me. I'm careful not to flip over on top of her, 'cause she's still sort of weird about that...and I don't want it to be weird, just wonderful.

I want to explore every millimeter of her. I loosen my mouth from her tit, but she says no, don't stop, don't stop...so I don't...

And all of a sudden she lets out this cry, and I'm worried I might have hurt her...but she's like, I love you Michael...

I made her get off. Oh God. I want to do this again.

I start pulling on the sweatpants she's wearing, and she grabs for my zipper, and I'm just about to lose it. Fingers find their way down to my most private parts...oh man, she's got to watch it. It's just too good...

We lose the pants. Both of us.

I gaze on her. We're both totally naked. Nothing here but us.

Which means everything.

She is so damn perfect. I saw her in the tub yesterday, totally naked, but now, she's totally exposed, I see all of her, one collective unit.

She looks a hell of a lot better naked than I do.

She's got a curved belly, which I love, and the cutest ass. I'm glad she likes to eat, because she looks so fantastic with curves on her.

Keep feeding her, Ally.

I'm kneeling next to her, and all I can do right now is look at her.

She reaches over to me, I can feel her fingers moving below my waist, and I'm shuddering with delight. I reach over to touch her curls, they're real light brown, opposed to mine which are dark. And hers are a lot softer than mine. I just brush my fingers against her, and I can hear her making noises again and squirming.

I love this. I love watching her face when she reaches that magic moment.

I think we must've tasted and touched every bit of each other, and it's like I can't tell what time it is, how long we've been here, what's around us. It doesn't matter. All that matters is the collective us.

She's brushing her fingers against me, and I'm so damn swollen I think I'm going to burst. My head feels light, I think every ounce of blood traveled south.

She lays me back, and rolls on top of me. She's face to face with me. Oh God. Everything but. She's trembling again, I rub her back, run my hands over her plump cheeks...this is so incredible.

I want to get inside her.

She moves against me, but doesn't try to take me in yet.

"Kelly," I can barely talk. "Want to be in you."

"Want you too...scared..."

"Won't hurt you...promise..."

"Gentle to me..."

"I will..."

"Go slow..."

"Whatever you want..."

I'm on my back, and she begins to lower herself on to me. I'm not even in her, I can feel her dampness.

She pulls back.

"Take your time," I whisper to her.

She tries again, but she freezes up. I draw her down near to me. "'S'okay. Relax. Don't have to."

"Want to," she's determined. In bed, as in everything else, Kelly never gives up.

She's having a real hard time with this, and she's getting real frustrated with herself.

"Kelly...close your eyes and lie down. I won't hurt you...I promise." I'm almost pleading with her.

She looks scared, but she does what I ask her to do. I can see her shaking a bit.

"Just open your legs, just a little," I whisper to her. I massage the area between her thighs, very gently, and she relaxes a bit.

"You want me to try?" I ask her. "Promise, I'll make it not hurt."

She looks at me with those big blue eyes, and she nods at me.

This is going to be a challenge, because I know the moment I touch her, I'm gonna come all over the place.

I lower myself on to her stomach, but I stay on my elbows so I'm not pressing down on her.

"You okay?"

"Yeah," she opens her eyes. Smiles bravely.

"I'll stop if you want."

"No...I want you."

I kiss her, very softly, and she touches her tongue to mine, very light. This in itself is almost enough to drive me over the edge, but I want to wait.

Wait for her.

"You ready?"

"Think so." Her breath is coming in little gasps, she's eager, but she's also nervous.

"Okay. I'll go real slow."

And I begin the long journey into her...she cries out a little.

"That hurt?"

"No...no. Go on."

A little more. I can already feel how hot and tight and wet she is...oh God. I'm fighting for control, I can't keep this up much longer.

But not until she's ready.

"I'm okay...I want you."

And in that moment, I'm joined with her, all the way...I love her so much.

"You're beautiful," I tell her.

"So're you."

I don't know why, but in this moment, I feel like I am.

"If you want me to stop, tell me."

"No...Michael? I want to know what you feel like when you come."

That's all I need...and come I do...and this is so intense, it's as if for a moment, all the world has gone black, there's nothing but sensation...and I feel her pulling me down on her, and I hear a small noise in the back of her throat.

All of a sudden I hear a scream, and I realize it's me.

It's been so long since I had sex, I forgot I scream when I come.

I'm gonna have to work on that.

But she doesn't seem to mind. I open my eyes, and she's smiling at me, the most wide, tender smile I've ever seen on her.

"I love you," she whispers.

"I love you, too...Kelly...that was amazing..."

"I'm glad I didn't chicken out."

Me too. Am I ever. Oh God yes.
 

MELVIN, NOT AT PEACE

"You had another nightmare. Don't lie to me, Melvin. Michael told me."

It doesn't matter. She'd figure it out anyway. She's been there and done it. Every once in a great while, it will still sneak up on her, but I know that she copes with it far better than I do.

"It...helped that the boy was there."

"I'm sure it did. Melvin, when are you going to clear the slate with him, tell him what all this is about?"

I don't want to tell my son about that which causes me my moments of greatest horror. He will surely know what a coward I truly am.

And there are things better left unsaid. Furthermore, how can one describe something that is almost too dreadful for description?

"Melvin, 'the boy,' as you so lovingly call him, is 25 years old, working, attending school, and engaged in an adult relationship, much as you don't want to admit it."

Jo never says these things with antagonism in her voice. She simply says it in the same voice you'd say the earth was round. Or flat, depending upon your persuasion.

This is what I find so comforting about her, and so disconcerting. Her perpetual practicality is so far removed from my own disjointed nature.

"Yes, and I can guess what our two little 'adults' are doing as we speak."

"Melvin. Get over it. You can't protect him from this. And you shouldn't."

"What if his heart gets broken?"

"What if it doesn't?"

I have no good answer to that one. I never seem to contemplate the positive possibilities. I'm a half-empty glass kind of guy.

"I think I'll be envious."

"No, you won't. You'll be happy. You love your son. I know you won't be jealous of him."

I'm not so certain.

I've been barraged by emotions lately, and I've been living on a diet of crackers and milk to prove it. On this vacation, I've eaten the first real food I've had in a while.

Could be what caused the nightmares, I think wryly.

But I know better.

"Melvin, tell your son what happened to you."

At least Jo would never insult me by saying it's no big deal. She knows it
is.

"He needs to have some awareness of that."

Does he? Does he need to know how my feet were never dry and I ended up losing my toenails for a while? Does he need to know how I got high every day just to pass the time in between the moments of total horror? Does he need to know that I know what someone's blood smells like on my hands when they're dying? Or how I acquired a social disease from a prostitute in Bangkok (not one of my prouder moments, by the way)? What napalm smells like-and I don't care what Robert Duvall said in 'Apocalypse Now,' it doesn't smell like victory. What it's like to watch your buddy be blown apart by a land mine, or, worse, not be totally blown apart, but condemned to a life of incapacity and anger.

These are not things I want for my son to know.

"This is your history. And mine. And children need to know their history."

History concentrates far too much on war and warriors. I'm certain this is not a positive thing.

And I'm fearful. I never want my son to see war.

And it's inevitable. Not perhaps in the sense that I saw it, in combat in a foreign place where we had no business being in the first place, but in our own backyards, in our streets, brothers against brothers...it's coming. I know it is.

I felt some hope that my son never served in the military. The Frohike tradition and tragedy, I felt, might be broken with him.

But he is inheriting a world far uglier than even I imagined.

I don't know why I work so hard to protect him from myself.

I think it's because I am afraid he will see right through me, that I am not brave, that I'm not strong, and I don't deserve his respect.

Which I fear far more than any mortar shells.

Far, far more.
 

This beach is a million miles removed from the ones I knew in Vietnam. It's quiet, clean, and the only thing even remotely resembling war is two gulls squabbling over a fish.

Jo's gotten us lunch, and we eat in companionable silence. She then curls up with what she refers to as a 'totally useless read-perfect for vacation'.

I walk near the edge of the shoreline, but not close enough to get in the water. To this day, I despise having my feet wet. Certainly while I'm wearing boots, at any rate.

I know what my son and his young lady are up to. I can see it now. They will be in the same room that Dee and I made love in-I know this because that's the room Kelly took. Dee and I had our first union in that very same bed.

It was terrifying and wonderful. Mostly wonderful.

And they'll explore one another, completely, slowly, and tenderly. Michael will fight for control, but in the end, he will be overwhelmed, and the inevitable will occur.

He will drown in the same sea of sensation that I did in that bed.

And as hesitant as she feels, Kelly will be drawn to him, and she will love him back in ways even she will be surprised at.

Passion never dies there. It just jumps into a new body. This body being the one that Michael and Kelly have no doubt formed.

By now, they are probably fast asleep in one another's arms, exhausted from their initial full-on encounter, awash in contentment.

I was there.
 

Jo, being fair, feels she's been in the sun for long enough, and wishes to head back. She tells me that there's no need for me to accompany her if I wish to stay here, but I think it's time to return.

The weather here at the end of March is magnificent. I cannot believe that in Virginia, while winter is most assuredly dying, it's still damp, grey, and chilly.

Jo does not have my feelings about wet feet, and she removes her sandals and walks in the icy water. Jo, normally so reserved, is like a young girl on this trip. I don't believe I've ever seen her smile this much.

I should take a cue from her.

Except that as we near the house, my apprehension grows.
 

I really shouldn't do this.

I creep up the stairs, and gently unlatch Kelly's door.

I know this is wrong, but I have to do it.

And there, in the very same bed where Dee and I came together, are my son and Kelly.

She is curled against his chest, the blanket pulled up over her shoulders. He is naked to the waist, and he's got his arm wrapped around her. I see him stir slightly, and he snores a little. It's as if I saw my own ghost.

And yet, I am strangely relieved.

I no longer have to worry about it happening.

It already has.

END OF PART 83