Loneliness Trilogy Bundle Boxset (16 page)

“If, by ‘kicking,’ you mean that gentle, butterfly-like ticking on my insides, then yes! It feels so…odd, but I love it!”

Gwen laughs. “Enjoy that butterfly feeling while it lasts! Before long, your little one will be walloping you!”

My eyes widen. “Walloping? As in kicking hard?”

“Kicking, punching, head-butting…you will feel it. Your bladder will feel it. Your ribs will feel it.”

“Oh, my God! Yes, I think I will enjoy this ticklish sensation while it lasts,” I say. “Um. What about…”

“Making love?”

“Yes,” I say with a blush.

“Just don’t engage in anything too vigorous. Enjoy yourselves before the little one makes his or her presence into the world!” says Gwen with a mischievous twinkle in her eyes.

“Oh, definitely!” Marcus says.

I glance at him with a look of exhaustion. I hope I can just get the move over with, let alone make love. Movement is a little trickier these days, now that my middle is expanding so much. Still, I giggle at Marcus’ excited face.

“As you progress further into your pregnancy, expect to feel those ‘practice’ contractions. They aren’t the real thing. Your uterus is contracting, literally in practice for the real event,” Gwen reminds me.

“Braxton-Hicks. I’ve been reading about them. Not sure I’m looking forward to them, actually,” I say.

“D’you know how you can tell the difference? The contractions are irregular and they don’t become any more intense than how they started. If you’re not sure, time them. Call me if they become regular and get harder,” she instructs.

“Got that,” Marcus says. His face now grows even more serious as he contemplates childbirth.

After the appointment with Gwen, we head back to Marcus’ flat and eat a quiet supper. I know Marcus’ mind is spent on the childbirth as much as mine, which is to say quite a lot. After doing the dishes, Marcus sits on the couch next to me and asks if I’m scared about the whole ordeal.

“Not scared as much as just wondering. How intense can labor really be? And, will I ever see my feet again?” I respond, trying to make light of the otherwise serious situation.

Marcus begins laughing uproariously. “Yes, you will see your feet again. In the meantime, I don’t mind tying your shoes for you.”

I laugh with him, which stirs up the butterfly tickles in my belly. “Oh, hon, see if you can feel that!” I grab Marcus’ hand and position it over the ticklish spot.

Marcus concentrates for several long seconds, but he feels nothing. “I don’t think it’s strong enough for me to feel it. From what Gwen was saying, we’ll be able to feel the pummeling in a few weeks.”

I don’t know why, but I begin to feel a stir of dread forming in my mind. What if the baby kicks too much? What if the baby doesn’t kick at all? I’d rather feel the baby, but I’ve heard stories of women suffering internal damage by an overactive baby. What if my diet affects how the baby behaves?

“What? What’s wrong?” Marcus must have read the worry in my eyes.

I tell him my worries and that I’m jealous that he doesn’t have to deal with my conditions. It was a thoughtless comment, and I immediately regret the implication.

“Its okay, Jo. You do get a lot of the responsibility of making sure our baby is well. Still, I worry every day about you, your health and about our little one here,” he says. “You care for the baby, but I must care for you. Hell, I even quit eating and drinking things that you couldn’t just so not to tempt you,” he reminds me.

I think back to our U.S. tour. “You know, now that I think of it, I didn’t see you eat the normal junk food you usually do,” I say. “You really felt bad?”

“Oh, yeah! I’d have felt guilty if I continued drinking and eating junk when you couldn’t. Hell, I even felt sick when you did.”

“Ewwww. I remember flying over the North Atlantic. That was…hairy,” I grimace.

“Let’s not think of it, luv. Now, how about we practice some of the things Gwen was telling us?” Marcus suggests, the beginnings of a mischievous smirk forming at the corners of his mouth.

Marcus and I move closer to each other and cuddle on the comfy sofa. We begin kissing softly and soon the feelings heat up. Marcus lifts me to his lap and I feel his penis beginning to nudge at the backs of my legs. He lies back on the couch, pulling me down on top of him. My hands roam everywhere on his body - his muscular arms, shoulders and chest. Soon, the layers of fabric separating our hot bodies are a bother and I impatiently pull his sweater over his head. My top follows close behind, landing next to his. I feel Marcus’ trembling fingers as he unhooks the clasp of my bra so he can get at my breasts more easily. I run my fingers down his chest then unbuckle his belt and open the button and zipper of his jeans. I slip my hands inside his jeans and boxer briefs, encountering a thick and throbbing shaft.

Marcus groans under his breath. “Oy, Johanna. Let’s try to be gentle on the baby,” he says.

“Yeah, okay…ohhh, that feels good!” I whisper into his ear. In response, my hands move up and down his lengthening shaft as his hips flex into mine.

Marcus pushes his thumbs under my pants and thong, pushing them down. Now, we are both fully nude and able to get to all the sensitive parts of each other’s bodies. I zero in on Marcus’ nipples with my mouth. After just a minute, he’s nearly coming up off the couch as his desire intensifies. In return, he thumbs my clit and slides his fingers into my hot and wet pussy, moving his thumb and fingers in a symphony of movement that soon has me wanting to scream. Mindful of our nosy neighbors, I bury my face in Marcus’ shoulder and cry out as I come suddenly.

Marcus sits me up and slowly inserts his throbbing cock into me. Once I have taken him fully into my body, he begins to run his warm hands over my belly as I slide up and down. As I feel his cock repeatedly running over my sweet spot, my pussy begins to contract again and I feel the delicate shimmers of sensation becoming stronger and stronger. Finally, a waterfall of goodness washes over me and I stiffen on top of Marcus as I come repeatedly. This leads to him to his own orgasm and his fingers tighten around my hips as he comes inside me.

I collapse on top of him, sliding to next to him. We wrap our arms around, breathing heavily as we continue feeling aftershocks of sensation in our bodies.

“Fantastic, Jo.” He starts chuckling mildly. “Oh Johanna, you stay here on the couch…the blinds are still open.”

I raise my head in surprise.

“Oh, my God! It’s a good thing we’re not on the first floor or some bloke would have gotten a good peep show!” I say.

Marcus slips into his jeans and closes the blinds then helps me up. I gather my clothing and retreat to the bedroom, exhausted. I toss my clothes into the laundry basket and slip into a nightgown. After taking my hair down and brushing my teeth, I slide in between the cool sheets with the beautiful man I just made love to.

Chapter 11

A
s my pregnancy progresses another month, The Lonely Lovers continue recording tracks for the new album. We have to redo a lot of our work that got lost when Gemma crashed that stolen car into High Street Studio. The setback puts our band on edge because we have to finish recording as soon as possible before I have the baby. I’m supposed to put as little stress on myself and the baby as possible. The album is due to the mixing and mastering department around the time of my baby’s birth. At this point, we are scheduled to record the sixteenth and last track, just before the beginning of my seventh month of pregnancy. Our part is nearly done, but I find that as my uterus grows, it’s getting more difficult for me to expand my diaphragm fully. This makes singing much harder. I soldier on - I have found ways of dealing with physical difficulties in the past. On difficult days, I remind myself that we are set to release this album at about the time of my little one’s first birthday.

When we do finish recording and send the tracks over to mixing and mastering. It’s the beginning of November - and I’m at home with Marcus. I’ve been uncharacteristically grumpy and even a little bit bitchy as of late. Marcus blames it on my hormones. I know pregnancy is supposed to cause mood swings, but lately I feel big, clumsy and ugly. I’m never going to get my trim figure back, I fear. Practices are a real trial in patience for me as I try to sing full-out. It’s hard enough for me to sing in chest voice, let alone head voice! Besides, I’ve been feeling an uncomfortable, nagging sort of backache all day long. You know, the kind that sticks around just enough to ruin your day. I tell Marcus about my backache. He’s been reading my childbirth-preparation texts with me.

He looks at me and says, “Johanna, I think you’re in early labor - back labor.”

That definitely gets my attention.

“But, it’s three weeks away from my due date! I’m not ready!” I wail. “I still have to finish the baby’s room!”

“Jo, baby, calm down! We’ll work on it together. We can put the littlest Hadley into our room and work on his or her room when you’ve come home from hospital.”

I’m fully in tears by now. I feel so rotten! “But I wanted the room ready to welcome the baby home!”

“Jo, will the baby even know? She - or he - will be sleeping the majority of the time, so it’s no problem. Besides, we’re working on Mother Nature’s timetable here. Not ours. How are you?”

“Oh, ow! This does not feel good!” I’m back to being petulant again. If this is labor, it can just stop and I’ll find another way of getting this baby born. I feel a squeezing, not unlike menstrual cramps, moving from my back to my lower abdomen. Finally, it goes away. “I think that was a labor pain,” I tell Marcus.

In response, he runs for the stopwatch he bought a few weeks ago. Then, he goes to grab a pillow and blanket, which he uses to make me as comfortable as I can possibly be.

“Water. Snacks. Ice.” I hear my beloved husband muttering under his breath.

Thought becomes deed. Soon, the coffee table sports bottled water, ice and snacks and we both sip and nibble as the hours pass. Marcus, with his mathematical mind, keeps track of my contractions like a pro. Shortly before we hit the five-minute mark, he calls my midwife, who says, “Come on down! I’ll be waiting!”

That sends Marcus into action. He slips into his heavy coat and wraps me into my coat and scarf. We’ve already had two good snowstorms.

“Marcus, you are not carrying me downstairs! I’m fully capable of walk - OW!” I crumple against his side and breathe through this latest contraction. “I don’t want the two of us falling downstairs, so I will walk,” I tell him.

Just as I sit in his car, I have another contraction, so he waits to buckle me into my seat. He runs back upstairs for our bags and locks the flat up tight. He’s panting when he climbs into his seat.

“Okay. To the hospital,” he says.

Somehow, he restrains the urge to drive like a racing maniac and we arrive at the hospital.

“Wait here,” he tells me.

I can’t do much else - I feel a whoosh and immediately think my water has just broken as I’m sitting in a veritable sea of wetness. He comes back with a wheelchair and a nurse. They both help me into the wheelchair, just as another labor contraction starts.

“Talk her through it! Gwen’s waiting inside,” the nurse orders.

We move through the cold, humid air to the heated interior. The nurse and Gwen take charge of me while the floor nurse waylays poor Marcus for our insurance information. Finally, fifteen minutes later, he strides into my room, stuffing his wallet back into the back of his pants.

“How are you?” he asks me.

“Definitely in labor, that’s for sure! Gwen’s chivvying the nurses to get the birthing room ready. I think I definitely want the water…OH, OWWWWW!”

“Look at me and breathe, Jo! In and out, in and out, good, you’re doing well. You’ll get on top of this one…”

He gives me no choice. I will get on top of these contractions. Once I manage to manage them, it does feel somewhat better - at least as much as labor can. I progress through the evening, walking, bending over a large ball and walking some more. Even though I’m getting more and more tired, I also feel my excitement building. I know that each contraction brings me just one step closer to actually meeting my little one, so that makes the pain somewhat easier to bear.

Gwen comes in, looking happy. She ties her hair back so it hangs down her back in a long, graying ponytail. “Okay, mum, let’s check you. I get the feeling you’re nearly there,” she tells me.

Marcus helps me lie back on the hospital bed so Gwen can check my progress. When she’s done, she looks at me and says, “You’re there. Any time you feel the urge to push, let me know and go for it. Would you like to labor in the tub?”

“Yes! Please!”

Fifteen minutes and several good, strong contractions later, I slip into the tub, supported by Marcus. He’s donned an old T-shirt and a pair of comfy sweatpants so he can bend over comfortably. As I feel contractions, he helps talk me through them, making me look into those gorgeous eyes - that’s no difficulty!

Half an hour later, after pushing several times, I feel something beginning to happen. I feel my baby’s head progressing down - painful, yet exciting!