Marco Polo 2

Author's Note: Any and all persons engaging in any sexual activity are at least eighteen years of age.

**Disclaimers: This story has been edited by myself, using Microsoft Spell-Check. You have Ben forewarned; expect to find mistakes.

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"Daddy-daddy-daddy?" Annalise lisped, coming into the kitchen.

"Annalise, don't make me drop kick you," John Cormier threatened. "What you want?"

Eight year old Annalise giggled; she knew her father would never ever an a gazillion years ever drop kick her. But she did not cease with the attempted manipulation.

"You know you my favorite Daddy-daddy-daddy in the whole wide world," Annalise continued, wrapping her arms around his middle from behind.

"And after I drop kick you, I'm going fold you in half and stuff you in the back garden with all them weeds," John continued with his empty threats. "Come on Sweetheart; what you want?"

"Can we invite my Mommy and Mister Cee and my sisters to the barbeque? Please? Pretty please?" Annalise whined.

"Sweetheart, you want them here, invite them. I don't have any problem with them coming here," John told his daughter.

"Yes!" Annalise whooped and scampered away before her father could change his mind.

"Daddy-daddy-daddy?" Nina Sanbourne lisped, coming up behind John.

"Nina? Don't know how to tell you this, but that shit really don't work," John smiled at the beautiful eighteen year old blonde. "Now, you having breakfast with us?"

"See? It does work," Nina giggled.

"Oh. Whatever," John laughed and ladled the batter into the cast iron skillet. "How you want your eggs?"

"Scrambled," both Nina and Annalise said.

"Jinx!" Annalise cried out. "Now you can't say nothing 'til someone says your name, haha!"

John had cut the grass yesterday afternoon. He'd also cleaned the grill and had marinated the brisket overnight. Now, he piled the wood chips into the BOTTOM of the smoker, lighted them and piled the coals into the bottom of the charcoal grill.

"Mom wants to know what time," Annalise called out FROM THE BACK DOOR OF THE HOUSE.

Five o'clock," John called back. "Tell her to bring their bathing suits if they want to go swimming."

"She wants to know if she can bring anything," Annalise called out a minute later.

April's attempt at potato salad had been pretty dismal; the half raw and half overcooked chunks of potatoes had no flavor. That had been bad enough, but John had found a long brown hair in the clumps of potatoes and mayonnaise. Her Waldorf salad wasn't much better; the apples had been old and mealy.

"Tell her we got it covered," John called back.

"Mr. John? My daddy wants know if he needs bring his chocolate pie," Nina asked, appearing in the doorway.

"Tell him he better," Annalise said.

"Your name's Mr. John?" Nina teased the girl.

"Tell him I'm really hoping he does. Oh. And that seven up cake he's so proud of," John smiled at the baby sitter.

John kept his eyes above the eighteen year old girl's large chest in her tight top. When Nina turned to dash back through the house, however, John did glance down at her snug blue jeans, at her sweet bubble butt.

"Seriously, she can't bring nothing?" Annalise asked, cell phone still in her pudgy hand.

"No, Sweetheart. We've got it covered. And Mr. Owen's bringing dessert so she just needs to pack their bathing suits," John said, closing the smoker.

"Thank you, Daddy," Annalise said when John came into the house.

"Hmm?" John asked, rubbing his face and feeling the stubble.

Standing in front of his bathroom mirror, John vaguely recognized the eighteen year old boy that had stood, watching his reflection as he knotted his bright red silk tie. The shirt was starched and the collar was not cooperating as John tried to button the collar.

Lisa Cormier, his mother still wore her disapproving frown as John stepped out of the hall bathroom. David Cormier, David Jr, DJ Cormier and Andy Cormier had all let John know they thought he was making a huge mistake.

"Fine, son, you love her. Ain't love grand," David said tersely. "And you still in love three, four years from now? Then go on and marry her."

"She's not, she's pregnant. Isn't she? She's pregnant," Lisa said.

"She is not pregnant. All right? She is not pregnant," John had snapped as he slid on his suit jacket.

At her home, April Faye Strickler was receiving the same treatment. Ann Strickler was convinced that April was pregnant and Michael Strickler was looking for a reason to thrash the little bastard that dared defile his only daughter, his precious little girl.

"For the last time, I am not. I am not pregnant!" April shrilled.

The Reverend Brandon Wright performed a beautiful ceremony for the very sparse attendees and Salvatore's Italian Dining catered the sparsely attended reception. Throughout the reception, John and April heard, over and over, they were making a huge mistake. And finally, John yelled, loud enough to be heard over the cheap sound system of the DJ, he and April were adults.

"Well, Mr. Grown-up, let's see how well you do without our help," David Cormier snarled before storming out of the reception hall.

The Strickler clan also stated they would not help the newlyweds; they could sink or swim on their own. John and April smugly said that this was fine.

Carrying his bride over the threshold of the single wide trailer, John carried the giggling, slightly drunk girl from front door through to the bedroom.

As a practical joke, DJ had not fastened the bed frame. When John placed April onto the bed, the bed collapsed and John was struck in the back of the head by the particle-board headboard. Their wedding night was spent in the ER of Alliance Square Health Facility, waiting to get seven stitches put into the back of John's head.

John had fallen in love with April Strickler the first time he'd seen her. She was petite, four eleven, though she claimed to be five feet even. At that time, she'd been a little on the chubby side, one hundred and thirty eight pounds. At five feet, ten inches, John was also one hundred and thirty eight pounds.

Her brown hair hung down below her buttocks; thankfully, she wore it in a ponytail so her hair did not fully hide those delectable buttocks from view. Her 35C chest stretched the light pink cotton shirt taut and John's eyes did flicker over the very nice sight. But he then focused his light brown eyes onto her bright green eyes.

April would confess, John did not stand out in the crowd of gawky, immature adolescent males. He had thick brown hair, light brown eyes and a bunch of pimples. His scrawny physique did not garner any attention from April or any of her fellow classmates.

But John had been the only one brave enough to walk over and introduce himself to her. As they were the freshman class at Lloyd M. Bentsen High School, most of the ninth graders were strangers to one another.

April's mother said she was too young to date. So John gathered a group of buddies and April gathered a group of gal pals, and they went on group dates. On these group dates, John and April managed to sit together, walk together, whisper and giggle together.

Whenever a new boy would join their throng, April would be polite, friendly to the newcomer. When an older boy at their high school would show some interest in April, she would giggle and simper, but would assure John that he was her number one, he was her man.

Should John show any other girl any attention, April would flare up in an uncontrolled rage. Girls, and John learned to steer clear of one another lest they incur the wrath of April.

His braces hurt his teeth tremendously but when April gave him a shy kiss, John forgot about the pain in his mouth. When she slipped her soft tongue into his mouth, John forgot about how sore his gums were.

By the time of their wedding, the hated braces had done their job. In the two pictures John still had of that day, his teeth were white and straight. April's own smile was a beautiful smile.

Salvatore's Italian Dining went out of business four months after their wedding. April came home to their rented trailer, distraught over losing her job. Her mother and father were unsympathetic.

(In truth, Ann sobbed hot bitter tears after ending the phone call with her daughter. When Michael moved to hug her, Ann slapped his hands away.)

"Well, gee, Sport, that's tough," David said when John called to complain about having to cut their cable television. "But you're an adult; I can't tell you what to do, right?"

"You, you're pregnant?" John asked, vacillating between rage and despair when April told him the good news two months after losing her job.

"Well, grown up, what you going do now?" David asked John.

John and April cut all expenses to the bone. John took to walking the three miles from trailer to Alliance Square Health Facility. His lunches now consisted of one peanut butter and jelly sandwich and one apple or orange; he gave up the Little Debbie's Swiss Cake Rolls that he loved. April used their car and used it very sparingly; doctor's appointments, grocery store, the occasional visit to her mother's house, but only when her dad was at work.

Most of the crew at Alliance seemed content with 'good enough is good enough' but John had a baby on the way. He took pride in his work and cleaned up after himself. John also treated the patients of the hospital with deference, no matter how disagreeable they might be.

"Dude, you, why you didn't just tell that bitch suck your dick?" Manuel Juarez asked after a run-in with a grumpy female patient.

"Dude, you know why she's here?" John asked.

"No; you?" Manuel asked.

"No. No I don't. For all we know, she's in so much pain she can't even think. Really think telling her suck my dick would make it any better?" John pointed out.

As April's belly grew, Ann and Lisa felt compassion for the new mommy-to-be. They helped with groceries; mommies and babies needed nutrition. Lisa put a full tank of gas into the car; Mommies needed to be able to get to the doctor's office.

"Must be nice," John grumbled as April happily told him about going to Bully's with her mother for a juicy hamburger.

"Aw, damn! Holland's? For ice cream?" John whined when April told him her mother had taken her to Holland's for their hand-cranked double-double chocolate ice cream.

"No grandchild of mine is sleeping in a nasty old crib," Lisa declared when April's cousin loaned April and John a crib that had definitely seen some hard times.

John did not whine or complain about the new crib or the changing table or cute dresser his mother and father bought. He certainly did not complain about the six bags of groceries; there was a box of Little Debbie's Swixx Cake Rolls in the first bag.

The insurance policy Jon had obtained through his employment paid a goodly portion of the bills, but the portion that the insurance didn't cover was bleeding John dry. And, because she was pregnant and near her due date, there were scant few employment opportunities for April.

A pregnant April was certainly a sexy sight. With no cable television and the cheapest phone plan available, they had little else to do for entertainment. When intercourse was uncomfortable and the taste and texture of semen made her want to throw up, April gave John hand jobs. Of course, the moment she was done, the moment he ejaculated, she complained bitterly about having to perform the hand job. But John loved seeing the nude pregnant girl laying on her side, stroking his hard cock.

April woke John at four fourteen on a Sunday morning. John had worked until midnight; a drunk had driven into a substation and left 1 Alliance Square, 2 Alliance Square, 3 Alliance Square and the Alliance Square Health Facility without power. The hospital's generator was put to the test and performed admirably, but the elevators drained too much power so a secondary generator had to be brought in. John and the other maintenance man on site, Clyde Meadows struggled to keep up with the demands.

"John? Baby, I, I think the baby's coming," April gasped out.

"Wake me up when you're sure," John grumbled and was snoring before he finished rolling away from her.

"Ow!" John screamed out when April grabbed a handful of hair.

"I said I think the baby's coming," April screamed. "Got your attention now?"

Annalise Louise Cormier was a beautiful baby. She had a shock of brown hair and deep brown eyes. Thankfully, she had the Strickler nose and not the Cormier lump.

Watching April breast feeding Annalise, named after her two grandmothers, John knew a love he'd never imagined. He also knew fear he'd never known. Suppose he somehow failed to be a good father? Suppose he was unable to care for his baby and his wife? Suppose she got sick?

"Louise?" Lisa asked as the four grandparents looked through the window of the nursery.

"My mother's name," Michael Strickler said.

The stroller was not designed to handle the gravel path of the trailer park. John took to carrying stroller and infant until they reached the sidewalk. Then he and April would push Annalise through the neighborhood. He managed to get a few free weights from a friendly physical therapist at the hospital and April walked alongside John and the stroller, swinging her hands back and forth as they walked.

An Influenza outbreak hit the Oakleaf County and Alliance Square Health was inundated with patients, including three of the six maintenance workers. John, Clyde and Manuel worked doubles for six days straight. On the seventh day, John fell ill to the dreaded disease and was sent home. He slept in the small third bedroom; he did not want to get April and Annalise sick. He slept for two and a half days straight through, slept through the night sweats, slept through the teeth chattering chills.

On Sunday, he woke up, made it to the hall bathroom in the nick of time, and emptied his aching bladder his bowels.

After a lukewarm shower, John realized he was starving and staggered out of the bathroom, threadbare towel looped around his waist.

The trailer was empty. The blue floral print sofa and the brown vinyl recliner were not in the small living room. The 32 inch tube television was not on the bookcase, and the bookcase was not there either.

The kitchenette set his cousin had sold to them at half price was not there. There were no plates, no cups, no pots and pans.

John's cell phone was dead; he'd not charged it since Thursday morning. And, there was no charger; his charger had been in the missing nightstand. His clothes that had been in the reclaimed chest of drawers lay on the floor of the empty bedroom. John dressed and staggered outside.

"Aw no, bitch, nuh uh. That car? That car's mine," John snapped.

A neighbor had the same sort of cheap cell phone and let John borrow the charger. The man also gave John a bologna and American cheese sandwich on stale white bread. John hated bologna, did not much care for American cheese, and if the bread was stale, it should be toasted. John wolfed the sandwich down like it was a T-bone steak.

"Yeah, man, I, I had that flu shit's been going 'round," the neighbor commiserated while John stuffed the sandwich into his mouth.

April's phone went immediately to voice mail. John told her she had five minutes to call him back or he would call the police and report the theft of furniture and automobile. Ten minutes later, John did call the police.

Cecil Blackham smirked when he drove the car to the trailer park. The smirk disappeared when John had him arrested; Cecil Blackham was not authorized to drive the car and April had no authority to allow him the use of John's car. And the deep gouges in the paint were very recent so John was able to tack vandalism onto the charges.

Andrew J. Walker, an attorney was a friend of john's brother DJ; they'd shared a few college classes. Andrew was able to secure visitation for John and did document every time April stymied John's attempts to see his daughter.

Visitation with his daughter was his primary concern. John also requested the return of all furniture, except for Annalise's crib and changing table, and his bed. He wanted nothing that April and the arrogant Cecil Blackham had ever used.

Judge Glasspool listened to both sides, looked at the self-satisfied April and her sneering, posturing boyfriend, then looked over at the harried, overwrought John. The honorable Judge Glasspool read over all the papers associated with the case, then asked April where Annalise Louise Cormier was at that moment.

April refused to tell the court where the infant was. As April's parents were in the courtroom, it was evident that the infant was not with her maternal grandparents.

"For God's sake, April, tell them where she is," Ann ordered as the bailiff took a no longer smirking April into custody.

Cecil accosted John in the parking lot of the Oakleaf County Courthouse. The young man had thirty pounds and five inches on John, but Cecil was a failing insurance salesman. John worked a grueling physical job.

"Just can't stand it; the better man took your lady away," Cecil sneered, his British accent making his taunt almost comical.

Cecil got in the first punch, a fact John's attorney and John's in-laws could attest to. Three punches later, Cecil lay on the filthy asphalt parking lot.

"Feel better?" April screamed at John at the next court hearing. "Huh? Feel like a big man?"

"I don't feel bad," John shrugged to his attorney.

April fainted when Judge Glasspool awarded primary custody to John; citing April's behavior and the behavior of her partner as the deciding factor in his decision. He was willing to grant April visitation, so long as one Cecil Andrew Blackham was not in attendance.

"But, but, I'm the Mom. The Mom always gets full custody," April wailed.

"A responsible Mom usually does," Judge Glasspool agreed. "But, then again, a responsible Mom does not begin a romantic alliance with a man who is not her husband, then move out of her marital home, also removing all furniture and glassware and cookware while her husband is lying in bed, ill from the flu. A responsible Mom does not refuse to allow the father any access to his child. A responsible Mom does not refuse to tell the court where the child is located, so that the court can ascertain that the child is safe and well cared for. So, because you have proven to this court's satisfaction that you are not a responsible Mom? The court finds in favor of the father."

"Child, I, what? I, how I'm going pay child support?" April screamed, outraged as Judge Glasspool continued delivering his verdict.

"Hmm? Have you considered finding gainful employment?" Judge Glasspool asked, slightly amused. "Since you no longer have primary care of the infant, you now have some free time on your hands."

"Take pictures of everything," Andrew advised when John and April set up a time for his furniture to be returned.

The glasses and dishes were smashed; the boxes clattered and clinked when Cecil tossed them onto the porch of John's rented trailer. The furniture had been slashed. And the tube television had been kicked in.

"You're a God damned adult, April," Michael snarled as he wrote out a check for John Cormier. "For God's sake, start acting like one."

"And, keep that English piece of shit away from me," Michael said, slapping the check into April's hand.

"Why, April? You, you had a good man; Jesus knows we didn't want you two to get married," Ann sniffled. "But, that boy busted his ass, he busted his ass every day."

"And no food, and no television," April complained. "God damn, that new Magic Mike movie, the sequel was coming out but could we go see it?"

"You, you left, you shacked up with that slime ball punk ass British ass hole because you couldn't go see some dumb ass movie?" Michael screamed, the vein in his forehead sticking out.