Vision of the Spirit

The television droned baseball play-by-play as Police Chief Morris stared out the rain streaked window. His fingers absently traced over the swollen belly of his wife, Annie.

"Willie, if you're not going to pay attention to the game, then pay attention to me."

He smiled down at her. Smiles didn't come naturally, but she could make him with just one word, 'Willie'.

"That's better. You almost look happy to be here."

"I've never been happier." It was true. Funny how this second marriage suited his hermit personality, when his first only frustrated him. Older and wiser now, this singular attachment grounded him, gave him something better than crime to ponder. Annie's cheerful disposition seemed unfettered by his stoic persona; his brooding exterior was just a porous membrane that her bubbly spirit filtered through.

"So, am I fat and ugly yet," she asked, crossing her eyes and sucking in her cheeks, making the freckles crowd together.

"Fugly? Never."

Her shirt was pushed up, so he could caress the baby through bare skin. It was a simple matter to lift the shirt over her swollen breasts and unhook the front clasp on the bra. "I'm going to be jelous, you know," said Bill, exposing the pink areolas. "I don't like to share my toys."

Annie closed her eyes and smiled when he circled one with a fingertip. "That's why I have two, one for you to play with and one to feed him."

"Him? I told you, I want a Daddy's girl."

"It's my body, and I want my first born to be a son -- Willie Junior. I want a little Willie, and a Big Willie." She rubbed her head against his crotch. "How is my Big Willie, anyway? I haven't seen him today." She wedged a hand in behind her head to cop a feel. "I think he'd like to come out and play."

"You think?"

Rolling onto her side, Annie opened the waistband. "Willie's getting excited." She reached inside his pants. "High big boy," said Annie, just before sucking its head between her lips. "Mmmm."

Bill snaked a hand into her stretchy shorts to do his part. The hairy feel of her crotch was new and exciting. She'd let her pubes grow out for the birth. The idea of unfamiliar doctors and nurses finding out she shaved down there embarrassed her for some reason.

Maybe it was a hormone imbalance, or maybe Annie felt insecure about her sex appeal. Whatever the case, Bill was the recipient of some good lovin' from his prego hottie. The reality of making a baby had energized their coitus. Combining DNA to form a new life proved to be an erotic miracle.

After a few minutes of fingering, Annie was ready. She released his cock and knelt on the sofa with her hands on the back and her bottom stuck out over the edge. Rear entry was the position most comfortable now.

Bill pulled down her shorts and panties. She lifted her knees, so they would come all the way off. Bending over her back, he kissed her shoulders, while reaching underneath to play with her swaying breasts and round tummy. Her ass felt good against his erection.

When he easily slipped a finger inside her liquid center, she moaned, "I'm ready." This usually meant Annie was close to orgasm. All he had to do was push in his cock and she would peak after a few strokes.

With one hand on her hip and the other on her ass for balance, Bill's hard-on disappeared. "Honey, you feel so good." She liked it when he talked.

Gripping the back of the couch for leverage, Annie pushed and pulled along his shaft at her own pace. Her butt jiggled a little more than it used to. That was okay. She'd always been on the skinny side. Now there were curves where none existed before.

"Hey, you polished Willie to a shine. Now you see him, now you don't. Now you see him--"

"Finger, finger, finger."

He reached around and teased her clit.

Her hips moved faster. "Oh yeah, oh yeah."

With the other hand, Bill massaged her bottom and thighs.

Her movements became erratic. "Now, now."

Grabbing her hips in both hands, he took control and thrust hard -- pulling her back while pushing forward. Their skin slapped with a lusty rhythm. A few seconds later, Annie stiffened and whimpered as the orgasm hit. She slouched down and pressed her face into the back cushion, overwhelmed by the flood of sensations.

Bill felt her flood lubricate his thrusts. Suddenly, it was like fucking a bowl of water, and Willie deflated. He'd reached his functional limitations. The ability to make love on demand was a young man's reality. Or, maybe it was the intrusive thoughts about the mysterious plane crash in the mountains that broke his concentration.

Bill rubbed her ass one more time. "Wow, that was great." He slipped out and pulled her onto his lap. She snuggled against his chest, while he petted and kissed her hair.

"You still love me, don't you?" she asked, holding her belly with both hands. "I know this wasn't part of the plan."

"What are you talking about?" Bill laid his hands over hers. "This was always part of the plan."

"Yeah, but not for a couple of years."

"It doesn't matter. I only wanted to wait in case you finally got smart enough to dump my old, droopy ass. But now you're stuck with me."

Bill pushed up her chin with a crooked finger and kissed her long and hard, unlike his manhood. Why DID he do the selfish thing and say yes? Why didn't he say, 'I don't want to get married, ever'? Then, she would have found someone her own age.

"You're not old. And I only want to have babies that look like you." She smiled, and added, "So you're stuck with ME, Officer Studdly Do-right."

Annie's reassurance helped, a little.

She stood up and stretched. "I'm going to take a nap." Leaning down with her hands on his knees, she looked him in the eye and said, "Why don't you go to the office, get whatever case you're thinking about off your mind, then come back here and screw me like a nympho wife deserves." After a quick grope of his balls, she left the room.

Annie was wise beyond her years, thought Bill, as he dialed the police station. "Hi Butch. Any news?"

The duty sergeant gave him an update. Nothing new, except Thomas DuBois stopped in to report he was staying at the Midway Motel.

"That's interesting. Makes me think he really did find something. I thought maybe he was just another crackpot trying to get attention. I'll swing by the Midway and talk to him again. If the chopper makes it up the mountain, give me a call."

A steady rain pounded against the windshield, making visibility as intermittent as the wipers. Ten minutes later, Bill stood beneath the leaking Midway Motel awning and rang the doorbell. When the door opened, he steeled himself. Tobias Wentworth was a crotchety old man.

"Well, well. Chief Morris, come on in."

He seemed abnormally happy. "How are you, Mr. Wentworth?"

"It's a good life if you don't weaken," he said, limping behind the front desk. He handed Bill a grainy, inkjet photo. "Just got a picture of my new grandson, Frederick Tobias Skinner."

"Congratulations." Bill handed it back, saying, "How's Penny doing."

"She says good, but with five kids, she's gotta be worn down to a nub."

"I think Penny can handle it. She always had a lot of energy." Summer nights in the backseat with energetic Penny were some of Bill's fondest memories.

"Yeah, she was a handful. But now she's settled down, and happy." Wentworth stared at the photo with an atypical look of fondness. "So, did you come by to tell me you caught my burglars?"

"No, Sir. I'm afraid not. Actually, I stopped to talk to one of your guests, Thomas Dubois."

Wentworth laughed. "I put a bad scare into him last night. He walked all the way out here yesterday, lookin' for a room. Had some wild story. Said his car was stolen. Later on, a pickup truck pulled in, and I thought them thieves came back for seconds. When I put my flashlight on 'em, Dubois' girlfriend nearly peed her pants."

"Girlfriend?"

"Yeah, she looks Injun, like him. Cute kid, from what I could see through the windshield. Kinda scratched up, though. Looked like she ran through a barbed wire fence." He chuckled, and added, "They seem nice enough. This morning, he helped me print my grandson's picture," waving the evidence. "What'd he do?"

"He didn't do anything. He's a witness, and I'd like to ask him a few more questions. What cabin is he in?"

"Number nine."

"How's business?"

"Rotten. The place is falling apart. You wanna buy me out, Bill?"

Pulling up his collar against the wind and rain, Bill said, "No thanks, I got enough problems just keeping a roof over my own head."

"When's Annie due?"

"In about three months. See ya later."

"Be good."

Bill parked his dented Crown Victoria next to Dubois' rusted pickup and radioed in the plate number. When the plate came back with a clean record, he grabbed a half-bottle of Coca-Cola from the back and wiped it clean. Carefully holding it by the cap, he slipped it into his raincoat pocket.

Laughter filtered through the cabin door, one voice sounded male and the other female. In the silence that followed he thought of Annie at home in bed. Maybe this could wait until tomorrow. But since he was already there, he knocked.

A few seconds later the door swung open and stopped at the end of a security chain. Partially clothed, Dubois blocked the view inside. "Chief Morris, what's up?"

"Hi, Mr. Dubois. I was wondering if we could go over what you saw on the mountain, again. Maybe I missed something, or something new will come to mind." Rain began to trickle down his neck.

"Now?"

"Well, the sooner I get this over with, the sooner I'll be out of your hair." Bill noticed the man's long hair and thought, 'shit'.

"Just a minute."

The door closed and Bill heard muffled conversation and movement.

The door reopened. "C'mon in."

A visual sweep of the rumpled bed left Bill with the impression he'd interrupted a little somethin'-somethin'. The shirt Dubois put on looked freshly torn and was missing a few buttons.

Taking the bottle of Coke from his pocket, Bill set it on the desk and then sat himself in the chair. "Have I come at a bad time?"

Dubois picked up a guitar from the floor and placed it back in its case. "No, we were just... singing."

"We?" Bill flipped open a pocket sized notebook and pretended disinterest.

"I met someone last night -- at a bar."

Friendly like, Bill smiled, and said, "Oh yeah? What's their name? Maybe I know 'em."

The pause before Tom answered, "She's not from around here," seemed suspicious.

From the bathroom came the sound of a toilet flush.

"So, Tom, tell me again what you saw up there. And anything else you think is important. Like, did you see anyone else near the crash site?"

"...I did see three men on horseback the next day, from a distance."

"Hmm, that's new information."

The bathroom door opened. Bill stood up, as a young woman entered the room. The baggy clothes she wore were obviously Dubois'. They covered her completely except for her face. Even her long hair couldn't hide the fresh scratches on her cheeks and forehead. Studying the lateral stripes, he said, "Hi, I'm Bill Morris."

"Hi." She moved to the far side of the bed and lay down, facing away.

Sitting back down, Bill focused on the pad, and said, "Tom, tell me again, did you see the crash?"

"Yes."

"Was there anything wrong with the plane before it hit?"

"I don't know."

"Was the engine running, did it sound rough, was there smoke coming from the plane?"

Tom mulled over the questions, before answering. "The engine sounded normal. But I didn't really see the plane until it broke through the pine trees. Then I was diving for cover."

Bill looked up at Tom and said with sincerity, "Lucky you weren't hurt," and then went back to scribbling on his pad and asking questions. After getting the same answers as yesterday, Bill said, "Your friend's awfully quiet. She all right?"

"Yeah, she's just hungover."

Bill laughed. "I remember those days." In a serious tone he added, "Those scratches looked new. Reminds me of the time I went cross country skiing, and did a face plant through some pine boughs."

A troubled look clouded Tom's face. "She said she was in an accident last week."

"Looks like she was lucky not to get seriously hurt, too." He smiled, and said, "Maybe you guys should pick some lottery numbers together. The Force is with you." They didn't react to the comment. "Sorry, I'm a Star Wars junky. Now, back to reality. Tell me about the guys on horses. How many were there again?"

"Three."

"Did you talk to them?"

"No."

"Did they see the crash, or go near the wreck?"

"I don't know."

"What's your lady friend's name?"

The question seemed to stun Dubois. He leaned forward, and whispered, "I got so drunk last night I don't remember. And I've been calling her Babe, to cover."

Bill tipped forward, and whispered, "Let me help you out." He leaned back in his chair, and said, "Miss, I'd like to ask you some questions."

"Why?"

"I was told by the motel owner that you're Tom's girlfriend. I want your name for the record, as a witness to these answers."

Tom's brow furrowed, and Bill knew he was trying to remember what else he'd said to Mr. Wentworth.

The woman rolled over and sat up beside Tom. She kept her face downcast and hidden behind hair. "My name is Hannah Roundtree."

Bill wrote it down. "So, Hannah, what's going on? Are you Tom's girlfriend? Did you take his truck yesterday without permission?"

"Hey!" Tom stood up. "What's up with that shit? She didn't do anything."

"Is that right, Hannah? Then why is he covering for you? Tom, you go to a motel without a vehicle, say it was stolen, and then, all of a sudden, Hannah shows up with your truck, out of nowhere? You tell me you don't know her name. Something ain't right."

Tom pointed at the door. "Get out. I'm done. I told you all I know. Leave us alone."

Bill folded his notebook, left a business card on the desk, and calmly headed for the door. "Ms. Roundtree, don't drag Tom into something he doesn't deserve. Call me, if you want to talk." Standing in the doorway, he turned back and pointed at his bottle of Coke on the desk. "I forgot my soda."

Before Tom could move, Hannah jumped up, grabbed the bottle, and handed it to Bill. She stared at him through liquid eyes. It was the remorseful look he'd seen a thousand times before from guilty people in trouble with the law. "Thanks."

Bill drove to the police station and dropped off the Coke bottle for fingerprint analysis. There was no doubt in his mind that the woman had deliberately grabbed the bottle before Dubois could put his prints on it. He began to wonder who was protecting who. They seemed too unselfish to be bad ass criminals. Dubois acted naïve, while the woman seemed street smart. This whole scene had a wrong-place-at-the-wrong-time feel. Sooner or later, the truth would work its way to the surface. It always did. The thickness of the shit piled on top of it determined how long it would take.

Once the evidence was properly tagged and bagged, Bill headed home, satisfied the homeland was secure for another day. These two kids were definitely not terrorists trying to sneak across the boarder with a nuke-in-a-box or a plague-in-a-bag.

The dashboard clock said it was dinnertime. Lately, Annie craved Chinese. So, Bill stopped and picked up mass quantities of chicken, beef, rice and vegetable numbers, hoping something would please her. She was a good woman, and deserved pampering.

Gentle snoring greeted him at their bedroom door. She lay naked and vulnerable on top of the quilt, curled into a fetal position that mimicked the baby inside. The room appeared rose colored from dim light diffused through the curtains. His heart swelled with love and tenderness. Damn, he was a lucky son-of-a-bitch. Today, life was good.

"Are you just going to stand there and stare?"

"Did I wake you up? I'm sorry."

"That's okay." She stretched, and rolled onto her back.

Bill sat down and traced small circles on her hip. The finger traveled, up and over her belly, all the way to a breast.

Annie squirmed a little. "What's on your alleged mind?"

Bill hovered over her, enjoying the view. "W. M. D."

She gave him a squinty, puzzled look.

"Woman of my dreams."

Her slender fingers laced together behind his head and coaxed his mouth to hers. The first kiss was light and textured by smiles. "Am I the woman of your dreams?"

"That's the truth, and nothing but the truth."

One hand left his face to massage his chest. "Do you have any proof, Officer Willie? There must be physical evidence, if you're going to convince a jury of your leers."

The fiery hair, fair skin, womanly body, how could he not leer. "I'm ready to testify." Her left nipple looked particularly sweet. With a barely there touch, he licked it. "What kind of proof would convince the jury? Just remember, anything you say can and will be used against you."

Annie raked his hair between her fingers a few times, and hinted, "I showered while you were gone."

He kissed down and over the swell of her tummy. "Then let me present my evidence orally before I bring out the hard facts."

She laughed, as his mouth touched the sensitive spot where leg meets abdomen.

The baby bulge obstructed a view of her face, but the way her legs twitched against his ears when he kissed her sex told him she was moved by his opening statement. Covering her with his mouth, he tongue-tip-tickled her puffy lips. The fresh growth of reddish down teased his nose. Using his mouth as soft forceps, he gripped the outer lips on one side and gave them a little suck, and then treated the other side to the same. When Annie began to wiggle with anticipation, he pressed his nose against her, and blazed a wide swath up the slick valley. He inhaled deeply and smelled her arousal. "I think I've swung the jury over to my side."

In a breathy voice, she answered, "You certainly have made a good first impression."

He spread her open with forked fingers. "You have a delicious little pussy. Did I ever tell you that?" The pale, freckled skin ended where pink and juicy began. He couldn't help sticking two fingers in.

"Are you trying to flatter the jury?"

"I think 'jury tampering' would be the correct term."

Annie wrapped a leg over his back and pulled him tight. "Good, then tell me how much you like my taste."

Bill dove in with the fervor of lawyer after a deep pocket. The harder he tried to suck her dry the wetter she got. Several minutes of intense negotiation ended in a whisper-to-scream orgasmic confession.

After a short deliberation, Annie's exhausted voice announced the verdict, "That was... amazing."

"Good," said Bill, stretching out beside her and gathering her in his arms. "I love you. You deserve the best and nothing but the best."

"I love you, too," she said, and pulled him in to a wandering wet kiss that washed her scent from his face.

They cuddled a few minutes. Bill massaged her lower back and legs.

When Annie became restless, and began to touch him in ways intended to invite a retrial, he began to have performance anxiety. "I brought home some Chinese for dinner. It's getting cold."

"Chinese!" She hugged him tight. "You're so good to me," and then rolled off the bed. "Why don't you take a shower, while I dish out the rice. After that, I'm going to suck Big Willie so hard your balls will disappear."

"Ouch!" His dick twitched.

"Metaphorically speaking."

Bill watched her voluptuous body disappeared beneath a robe. "Where did you learn to trash talk like that?"

"My husband's a cop. He knows all the bad words."

A quick shower later, Bill and Annie sat together at the kitchen table and sampled every entree.

Annie fed him something that sounded like 'moo goo' from her fork. He tried to put the image of oozing cow udders out of his mind. "Mm, I like MSG."