The Baby Race

by Tara Wylde

  He goggles at me. “Are you insane? No way!”

  “You’re the only one who can fly this monster! I sure as hell can’t!”

  He shakes his head. “There has to be another way!”

  “Not that I can see!”

  He scowls at me for a full ten seconds before he finally nods.

  “Be careful!” he shouts, locking his eyes on mine. “If you get yourself killed, I will never forgive you!”

  I give him the thumbs-up. “Roger that.”

  We stare at each other for a moment, communicating telepathically. It’s not the first time we’ve faced danger together. Each time could be the last time. It makes us appreciate our time together even more.

  I break eye contact and trot toward the soldiers, who flinch and level their guns.

  “Bring them back!” the one in the center hollers. “Now! No fucking Americans!”

  Now that I’m closer, I can see just how young they are. Probably recent rebel recruits who had nowhere else to go. At least, I hope that’s the case.

  “We’re taking them,” I say. “That’s a fact. If I have to fight you, I will, but those girls are coming with us.”

  The one on the left points his barrel in the air and fires off a dozen automatic rounds. Somehow, I manage not to flinch. I can practically feel Chance having a conniption behind me.

  I look the kid square in the eye.

  “I’m still here,” I say. “Those girls have never done anything to you. They’re trying to make something of themselves at this school. They want to make things better for your country. Can you care for them until help arrives?”

  The three exchange confused glances.

  “Do you have enough food and water for all of them?”

  Still no response. I fix the middle one with a glare that I hope looks motherly. It’s my only hope.

  “What if they were your sisters?” I ask. “What would you do?”

  They stare at me for a long moment. The middle one lowers his gun and barks at the other two to do the same. The one on the left keeps his up for a few more seconds before the middle one shoves the barrel down himself.

  I nod to him. “Thank you.”

  “Don’t come back,” he says.

  “Roger that,” I say and jog toward the helicopter.

  “Are you fucking crazy?!” Grace blurts.

  I cover Ava’s ears, but it’s too late.

  “Fuck,” she says absently, playing with her doll. “Fuck fuck fuck.”

  I glare at my sister before leaning down to my daughter’s ear.

  “That’s a silly word,” I say. “You should forget it. Auntie makes up words sometimes.”

  Grace’s cheeks are rosy with embarrassment and frustration.

  “Mommy’s right, sweetie,” she says. “That’s a silly word. I’ve already forgotten it.”

  “Fuck!” Ava says brightly.

  Tre gives me a sheepish look and plucks Ava out of my lap.

  “How about you come with Uncle Tre and we play a game?” he says.

  She brightens and wraps her arms around his neck. “Yay!”

  Grace composes herself as I watch the two of them go into the adjoining room of our suite. She runs a hand down her face, inadvertently showing off the glittering diamonds embedded in the platinum band on her left third finger.

  “I’m sorry,” she says. “But seriously?! That was incredibly irresponsible.”

  Chance takes a seat beside me and sips his scotch.

  “I felt the same way,” he says. “At first. But Sara made a good point: I had to fly the chopper.”

  Grace looks at us like we’ve each grown another head.

  “Yeah, or you could have left them there.”

  “That wasn’t an option,” I say. “You know that as well as I do.”

  She looks at the floor, blood still in her cheeks.

  “Yeah,” she mutters. “I know. But still…”

  “Still nothing. Each of those girls has a future because of Atlas.”

  Chance lays a hand on top of mine.

  “Correction,” he says. “Each of them has a future because of you.”

  Suddenly Grace’s arm is around my neck and she’s hugging me fiercely. When she whispers in my ear, there are tears in her voice.

  “I can’t lose you,” she says. “From now on, don’t tell me when you do stuff like that, okay?”

  “Deal,” I say, wiping away a tear of my own.

  “What’s the all-fired hurry?” I ask as Chance closes the bedroom door behind him.

  Ava is with Tre and Grace at the resort pool, working off their dinner in the blazing late-afternoon heat. I was planning to join them when Chance pulled me in here.

  He turns the deadbolt in the door and draws the curtains closed.

  “What are you doing?”

  Next thing I know his lips are pressing hard against mine, forcing my mouth open to accept his probing tongue. His fingers fumble my bikini top open, releasing my breasts into his waiting hands.

  “Chance,” I gasp, breaking lip contact. “What – ”

  His mouth is back on mine before I can finish. I wrap my arms around his neck as his lips begin to move south, until they land on my throat. My motor has gone from idle to overdrive in the space of five seconds.

  I match his passion, pulling his t-shirt over his head and running my fingers along his chest, tracing the scar tissue there. It’s a ritual I have, to always remind myself of how precious – and fragile – our lives really are.

  His lips find my breasts as his hands work my bikini bottoms off of my ass and send them dropping to the bedroom floor. I return the favor with his cargo shorts as I release his ramrod cock and grab it tightly. It’s hot and throbs at my touch.

  “Unh,” he groans in my ear.

  He grabs my ass and lifts me off the floor, carrying me to the big four-poster bed. When he drops me onto it, I actually bounce.

  His body covers me a second later, grabbing my hands in his and pulling them up over my head. Rock-hard muscle presses down against my breasts and belly as the tip of his shaft presses against my wet slit.

  “Oh, Chance,” I moan as I lift my wide-open legs and wrap them around his hips.

  There’s no foreplay here, only animal lust. An instant later and he’s fully inside me, prompting my first quivering orgasm.

  He holds me tightly as I tremble through it, nibbling on his shoulder, floating on a cloud of desire.

  “I can’t wait,” he pants in my ear. His hips start to move, thrusting deeply, quickly, until I have to prop my hands against the headboard to keep from being driven right into it.

  It’s never been like this. We’ve gotten really good at fucking over the last few years, but this is something else. As if the future of the human race depends on us both coming as fast and as hard as we can.

  He picks me up and turns me so that I’m straddling him, his hands pulling my legs apart as far as they’ll go. My breathing turns into animal grunts as he lifts his hips, driving as fast and as deep as he can go.

  The normal pooling of pleasure is a tidal wave now, breaking the dams and overflowing the levees until my entire body becomes a conduit for it. As it overtakes me, I collapse on top of him holding on for dear life until his cannon finally goes off inside me, making my toes curl up until they hurt.

  The waves keep on breaking against me, over and over, forcing my whole body to spasm with delight. I can’t catch my breath, and suddenly I fear I might actually somehow come myself into a stupor.

  Finally the ecstasy begins to ebb, slowly, setting off a few aftershocks that make me grip Chance’s shoulders until they pass. My breath huffs in his face, blowing his hair back from his forehead in great, heaving gusts.

  “My God,” I finally gasp. All my strength is gone. “What… what the hell… was that?”

  His chest is heaving underneath me. His effort was so much more than mine; I can’t imagine how he’s still able to speak.

  “I had
to feel you,” he pants. “Had to know… you were still here. Not just a dream.”

  I use the last of my strength to cover his mouth with mine and give him a long, deep, wet kiss, until I have to stop to catch my breath.

  “I’m here,” I whisper. “I’m here.”

  “Don’t ever fucking do that again,” he breathes.

  I snuggle against him and lay my head next to his, my grinning lips against his ear.

  “You’re not the boss of me,” I whisper.

  “Are you okay?” Grace asks as Chance and I descend the steps into the pool. “You look a little tired.”

  I bite my tongue to keep from grinning like a fool. Chance gives me a look that says he’s doing the same.

  “It’s been a long day,” I say, dipping below the surface up to my chin.

  “Mommy!” Ava hoots. She’s paddling toward me with her inflatable water wings and splashing up a storm.

  “Is that a fish?” Chance says, scooping her up. “Look! I caught a fish!”

  “No!” she shrieks, but she’s giggling like a maniac. “Imma girl!”

  Tre glides over beside Grace and slides an arm around her.

  “Everything okay?” he asks.

  “Couldn’t be better,” Chance says.

  “Good. We had something we wanted to talk to you about.”

  “Go ahead,” I say, wrapping my arm around Chance’s neck so that he’s flanked by his two girls.

  “We were wondering – ”

  “If you would stand up for us at our wedding!” Grace finishes.

  Chance and I exchange a glance.

  “I don’t know,” he says, frowning. “Do I have to wear a tie?”

  Tre chuckles as Grace and I roll our eyes. “Ah ah ha ha ha,” we mock laugh.

  Ava seems to sense that we’re ganging up on him, so she gives him a peck on the cheek.

  “Daddy,” she says, as if summing up her argument.

  Chance responds with a raspberry against her neck, sending her into a fit of giggles.

  “Of course we will,” I say as Ava splashes off into the pool.

  “You know what this means, right?” Tre says to Chance. “We’re going to be brothers-in-law.”

  Chance sighs. “Well, I guess you can’t choose your family,” Then he brightens. “Oh, wait a minute! Yes, you can!”

  “And you chose well,” I say.

  Grace looks me in the eye. “You have to promise me that you’re not going to pull another stunt like you did today. I don’t want to have to find another matron of honor.”

  “Sorry, sis, I can’t promise that. What I can promise is that I’ll always be careful. Just like Chance.”

  She frowns. “I guess that’s all I can ask for.”

  The sun finally dips below the tower building of the resort, offering us some very welcome shade.

  With the glare gone, I can see Tre and Grace tossing Ava back and forth, to her utter delight.

  “It’s interesting that we saw an elephant family today,” I muse.

  Chance’s arm is around my waist under the water. He pulls me tight and puts his lips next to my ear, prompting a delicious shiver as I flashback to our afternoon delight.

  “Yeah?” he whispers. “Why’s that?”

  “They’re matriarchal animals,” I say. “I read once that all of the females in the herd will help raise the babies and protect them from danger, regardless of blood ties.”

  I turn to face him. “Sound familiar?”

  He smiles and pulls me close. If I didn’t know better, I’d swear I see a tear in the corner of his eye.

  Part III

  Daddy Wanted

  A Daddy's for life, not just for Christmas...

  Nick:

  I have a daughter. So I know no kid should ever go hungry for the holidays. Especially not Elina's... But she deserves something better than just food. Like the org*sm she's never had. I'll show her I can be the Daddy she needs…

  Elina:

  What kind of billionaire volunteers at a food bank? Nick, apparently. He saved me when I thought I'd lost everything. Gave me hope when I'd lost mine. But he wants too take something, too... My submission.

  122

  Elina

  Why does shopping have to come with so many bags? You start with a purse, every store adds a bag, and then, somehow, those bags breed more bags, little bag families that fill up both hands and bang against your legs as you walk. And the weight of them! My arms, my feet—if I was the complaining type—

  “Mommy?”

  “Put it back, Joey.”

  “How’d you know I took something?” Uh-oh! There’s a certain note creeping into his voice: the danger note. We’re nearing meltdown territory. Better hurry.... “Mommy? How’d you know I took something?”

  “Eyes in the back of my head.” I squeeze his hand. Half an hour more; half an hour, and we’ll—

  “Mommy!”

  What was I even here for? I’m staring at a rack of insoles and corn pads, and there was something I needed, something essential, but....

  “Mommy!”

  “Okay, Joey....” I go to ruffle his hair—red as mine, but ten times softer—and wind up with a finger up his nose. He giggles.

  Insoles. Corn pads. Ace bandages. Not those, but...foot powder? Pumice bars? What...?

  It’s so bright in here. There’s not an inch of my body that doesn’t boast some ache or pain, but my eyes are raw. It’s like they dial the lights up to eleven in these places, like...like the more you see, the more you’ll be tempted to--

  “Mommy, just look!”

  And now, I can’t—

  “Mommy!”

  It’s a little stuffed rabbit, pink satin, black button eyes. Cute as hell. Total choking hazard. I’d have loved one, at his age.

  “Joey, I’m going to need you to put that back.”

  Nail clippers! That was it: I need nail—

  “Daddy would get it for me.”

  I close my eyes. It’s blissful. Blessedly dark and restful. If I could just—if there was some cosmic pause button I could hit; if I could collect my thoughts, swallow the lump in my throat, before I turn around and soothe my cranky son....

  I count to three, slow as I can.

  I don’t turn around. Can’t let him see the expression on my face. Besides, I don’t need to, to know his lip’s wobbling, to know he’s about five seconds from beaning me with that rabbit.

  “Listen, if you put the rabbit back, we can go by the pet store on the way home. Maybe they’ll let you pet a real one!”

  And...there it is: one tiny stuffed rabbit, bouncing off the back of my head. Kid never misses. Little League’s going to love him.

  I grab the nail clippers and pick up the rabbit. Joey must’ve been carrying it a while: there’s no rack of rabbits, no bottom-shelf hutch, in sight. Probably knew I’d say no. Probably wanted to hold it as long as he could before....

  Maybe just this once.... I’ve been saving everything for Christmas: I need him to have that one day of feeling special, hell, of feeling like a normal kid. Having the childhood he deserves. But that shouldn’t mean every other day has to suck.

  I glance at the price tag: $7.99. I can’t. I just...can’t. For a brief, mad moment, I consider stuffing the thing down my pants. It’s barely worth a dollar. Who’d even care?

  “Where’d you get him, sweetie?”

  “No.”

  Oh, great. The no phase. Next up: uncontrollable howling. Got to head that off at the pass.

  “Okay, well, why don’t you pick out a toothbrush, any color you want, while I—“

  “No!” Joey goes splat, flat and boneless on the floor. We’re starting to attract an audience. I’m about to be that mom, begging my shrieking four-year-old to peel himself off the linoleum, while a pack of baby boomers reminisces about how their parents would’ve tanned their hides, if they’d dared. Yeah, I see you, Your Ladyship in the red stretch pants. Grab your Depends; move along.

  I
kneel down beside him. The floor smells like Windex. My eyes water. “Joey, listen—Mommy’s tired, and...and if you can wait a few weeks, it’s going to be Christmas, and you’ll have a whole stocking full of toys to play with. Maybe if you’re a good boy, and get up off the floor, Santa’ll even bring you one of those—“

  “You bought stuff for you in every store,” he wails, and it’s over, it’s over, it’s so over. I’m that mom, and I’m not getting those nail clippers; he’s not getting that toothbrush; and, oh God, contact lens solution! I’m totally out, and my tips suck when I wear glasses, and...

  ...and is it just me, or has the background hum turned unfriendly? I can’t make out what anyone’s saying, but I’d swear I hear spiky accents. Angry mutterings.

  I abandon my basket, scoop up my limp, tear-streaked son, and start walking. The bus stop’s way at the other end of the mall. Joey’s bawling his grievances right in my ear. He’s hitting this high, piercing note, like a policeman’s whistle. It’s making my eardrum flutter. Making me dizzy.

  Can a human voice rupture an eardrum?

  I’m so thirsty. Think I’m dehydrated. When’d I last sit down? What I’d do for a strawberry milkshake!

  And now he’s pulling my hair. And my earring—ouch! Ouch! Not the earring! Didn’t I already pass that Bed, Bath, and Beyond?

  Somewhere between the Body Shop and the juice bar, he pees on me. I choose to believe it’s an accident.

  By the time we step out into the fresh air, my left shoe’s squelching, but Joey’s screams have dwindled to whimpers. I buy a Times I can’t afford from the paper box, so he won’t leave a pee-print on the bus. Joke ends up on me: it’s standing room only. I point his wet butt at the man giving us the dirtiest look.

  By the end of the ride, the bus smells like an outhouse. I think I’ve reached my threshold for embarrassment: all I can feel is a dull all-over ache that starts at my lower back and threads its way through every fiber of my body. Even my toenails hurt. Or my toes hurt, where my unclipped nails are digging into them. Whatever.

  Fortunately, the bus stops right in front of my building. I tuck my bags out of sight, under the stairs, so I can hold Joey in both arms on my way up. He’s gone all snuffly-sleepy. Stinky, but cute.