Feisty Ariane (ah-ree-ahn)
December 20th – One Year Later
Portland, Oregon
Wyatt loved exploring downtown Portland, especially the area known as the Pearl District. Antique shops, comic book stores, art galleries, artisan clothing, and craft boutiques lined the streets. Wyatt appreciated that on one corner he might find an upscale restaurant and on the opposite corner a funky hole-in-the-wall brewpub. Spread everywhere were color, lights, food, music, dancing, coffee, books, toys, and interesting nooks and crannies to delight his curiosity. In the center of it all stood the King, and undisputed champ of outdoor retail in the northwest, REI.1
Sometimes Wyatt liked to stroll adventurously from one corner to the next, while he sipped a Starbuck’s triple tall Americano and breathed in the atmosphere feeling cool like he knew something wonderful and exciting that the rest of the world, outside of Portland, hadn’t discovered yet. And on a sunny morning, when the crisp Willamette River air overflowed onto the hills, streets, and sidewalks of Portland’s inner landscape, adventure could be found by all those willing to look for it.
The day began early for Wyatt at six a.m. First stop, the Martina in the Morning TV show and then an interview with the local online newspaper, The Oregonian. At noon, Wyatt returned to the hotel to have lunch with Claire. Afterwards, to remind his wife that even though nine months pregnant, he still saw her as beautiful and desirable, Wyatt necked with belle Claire for fifteen minutes in their hotel room before walking to Powell’s City of Books.
Powell’s City of Books, a new and used bookstore located on the edge of the Pearl District, occupied four floors of a full city block, and had seemingly countless books to choose from. For example, they offered not just a section of cookbooks, but a whole forest, and like a forest, inviting, and sometimes overwhelming in its variety. The store was so massive in its offering, that unless the newcomer obtained a map at one of the entrances, they would quickly become lost.
Like the Pearl District, Wyatt would sometimes hang out at Powell’s for hours, bathing in the knowledge beckoning to him from every shelf. But he had to be careful. Wyatt often overspent his self-pre-agreed limit on books. It made his wives smile whenever Wyatt arrived home from a trip to Powell’s with several large brown paper bags of books because he couldn’t prioritize which cup of knowledge appealed to him more. Wyatt consumed knowledge, art, and music like candy. However, unlike the fleeting joy of sugar, their flavor lingered and prospered. Something Wyatt repeatedly reminded himself of when he paid his credit card bill at the end of the month.
Gopher Point, the fictional novel that Wyatt had written, based on his family, had become a nation-wide best seller that gave him a new outlet into the world and a source of income outside of his four rich wives. While Wyatt loved being a stay-at-home father, he intensely loathed the idea of being financially dependent. Taking great pleasure in giving presents he disliked the idea of asking someone for money so he could buy them something. The money from the “inheritance” and the auction were more than he would ever need, but the book gave him independence as a person and as an author, an identity.
As Wyatt walked across Burnside Street to Powell’s he noticed several makeshift wooden tables and stands along the outside of the store that he hadn’t seen the day before. Busy entrepreneurs sold T-shirts to a long line of people snaking from the front door and around the block. Wyatt snuck in the back entrance before anybody recognized him. The notoriety of being Le Surfer, and Julie, Claire, Heidi, and Gretchen’s husband, and now author had made him easily recognizable, and gave him celebrity status that he found at times uncomfortable. Totally in love with his family, fending off groupies annoyed Wyatt.
When Wyatt connected with the store manager, the day’s procedures were laid out for him. As they arrived, customers would buy a voucher good for one copy of his book signed by Ian Morgen, his name outside the family. Next to him would be a clerk who would take the voucher, and Wyatt would sign a copy of the book.
Wyatt towered above the clerk working with him that day, an energetic, always smiling twenty-two-year-old five-foot Japanese-American named Keiko. Sporting long purple hair with a wide red streak down the middle, she seemed to be working hard to impress Wyatt professionally, making sure everything he needed had been organized, simple, comfortable, and efficiently. For example, Keiko realized Wyatt would be sitting for a long time and found him a padded chair and located the book signing close to a private bathroom.
Wyatt appreciated Keiko’s attention to detail and problem analysis. It had been a skill that he had tried to teach his students for years as a basis for how they approached life. From the minute she held out her hand and said, “Hi, I’m Keiko. I’m here to make this as easy as possible for you,” Wyatt instantly liked her.
At precisely two o’clock, Keiko escorted Wyatt to a large solid wooden table inside a roped off area. Behind the table were a large stack of hardbound books. Standing patiently next to a velvet rope barrier with vouchers in hand waited a line of mostly women. After Wyatt situated himself behind the table, Keiko signaled the manager to let people in. A tall, athletic, well-endowed lady around twenty-five who reminded Wyatt of a younger version of Claire approached the table. Seeing her, Wyatt immediately became concerned about Claire. “Is she comfortable? Lonely? Do her feet need massaging?” he asked himself in a whisper.
While Wyatt signed her book, the woman pointed to the shirt she wore.
“Will you sign my shirt too?” she asked with a naughty grin.
Wyatt peered at the printing on the shirt.
Surf Me!
“Sorry, but no,” replied Wyatt, glancing at the mountainous region she pointed at. “I’m only going to sign the books.”
The woman refused to give up. “How about if donate twenty dollars more for the ASPCA? I know it’s one of the charities you and your family support.”
Wyatt thought he had the perfect response. “Normally I would, but while I’m signing your shirt, I might inadvertently touch something, and I don’t want to be accused of groping.”
The woman pulled a twenty-dollar bill from her pocket. Then, in front of a surprised Wyatt, she removed her shirt and spread it on the table in front of him. Handing Keiko the twenty, she waited wearing nothing but a purple bra, jeans, and a big grin.
“Now will you sign my shirt?” asked the woman.
Wyatt didn’t see any escape. He sighed and in big four-inch letters he wrote,
Very nice persistence! Ian M.
The woman happily trotted away with her prize. Unfortunately, Wyatt didn’t realize that he had just set a precedent. The word spread fast up and down the long line!
“Ian Morgen will sign your shirt for a twenty-dollar cash donation to the ASPCA. But not while you’re wearing it!”
Suddenly, many hands were removing articles of clothes and reaching for money. Soon, Wyatt stared at a long line of women and some men without shirts. Luckily, most wore bras. However, this being Portland, a few ladies stood braless and held their shirts against their breasts, until with broad, pleasant smiles, they handed them to Wyatt.
A bit unnerved, Wyatt smiled, signed, and politely but cautiously soldiered on, trying not to stare, while Keiko efficiently collected donations and vouchers and kept the half-naked line moving. Sensing opportunity, the store manager phoned the local TV stations and tweeted and texted everywhere. In less than half an hour, reporters and a news crew had arrived on the scene and reported the phenomenon to the airwaves while a red-faced Wyatt did his duty, and hoped to God that Claire, Julie, Heidi, or Gretchen weren’t watching any of it.
One by one people set their shirts in front of him, Wyatt noticed that the imprints all mimicked an aspect of his book and some, he whispered to himself, were quite clever.
I brake for Penis Animals
(–Or the French version in hot pink and sequin.)
Je freine pour les animaux de pénis*
(*Very popular choice)
Some other favorites included…
I’m feeling pretty
Surf Me!
Ring ma belle amour!
Charge!
Paris or bust!
You Silly!
Puppies!
You wanna stroll in my pic-a-nic basket
Budapest? In a bus? Really?
Hold the Line!
Beep-Beep Me
Wascal my Wabbit
Fix Me!
RIBBIT
I believe in Lesbians!
I’ll sign a Suicide Contract for one Night with You!
Where are we Klaatuing?
Master-Baiter, and Proud of it!
Who you Piss Off?
Smarter Than…
Rescue Me!
Valkyrie of the ULE
Grin and Bear it
Take my Edge Off
Pinocchio Says You’re Lying!
Or the most popular…
Crazy Fuckin’ Bitch!!!
And PROUD of it!!!**
(**available in various colors and sequins)
Only one shirt annoyed Wyatt, and it really annoyed him, though he said nothing as long as the donations kept coming.
I’m willing to be Wife #5 or 6, or maybe 7
Someone is making a lot of money selling these T-shirts, thought Wyatt. He wondered if Powell’s was behind it. And if so, he also wondered if they had infringed on his intellectual property. He made a mental note to ask Keiko about it later.
A friendly, courteous, and extroverted group, the Portlanders in the line inspired Wyatt to be as accommodating as possible. Though many flirted and winked, none crossed the barrier into overt inappropriateness allowing Wyatt, despite the TV cameras, to relax and enjoy the moment as the afternoon wore on. Knowing that his fans had stood in line for a long time, Wyatt felt like he owed them something for their patience. However, no matter how fast he wrote, the line didn’t seem to get any shorter.
When the official book shirt signing ended at five, an anxious Wyatt wanted to leave to check on Claire. The opportunistic store manager noting that the line outside extended even longer than before asked Wyatt if he would return in two days. Wyatt agreed, but requested that the manager make the arrangements through his agent and father-in-law Konrad Roth. He also requested that the manager let the remaining people in line know that normally he would have stayed, but that he wanted to make sure his very pregnant wife Claire had everything she needed. The store manager assured Wyatt that everyone waiting would get priority tickets so they would be first in line along with free espresso.
At the manager’s urging, Wyatt stayed on just long enough for a brief ceremony where he ceremoniously presented over six thousand dollars in cash to the head of the local chapter of the ASPCA on live TV.
While Wyatt presented the money, Keiko brought her car around to a side delivery door so Wyatt could quietly leave.
“Quite a day,” commented Wyatt as he put on his seat belt.
“Yeah,” replied Keiko, “it sure got me hot and bothered.”
“That’s not what I meant,” said Wyatt, while he reminded her, “and so you completely understand, I’m taken!”
Keiko tapped on Wyatt’s nervous nose with her finger as she drove merrily down the busy one-way street. “Don’t worry, you silly, I’m a real lesbian-lesbian, not one of your Gopher Point Lesbians. I have absolutely no sexual interest in guys at all. But all those half-dressed women this afternoon…now that was exciting. Sort of like going to a female strip club.”
Wyatt chuckled. “Glad I could make your day.”
The drive didn’t take long, and Keiko’s Volvo soon arrived in front of Wyatt’s hotel on Broadway Avenue.
Keiko turned towards Wyatt as he unfastened his seatbelt. “Before you go, Mr. Morgen,” said Keiko. “I was wondering if you are in need of a terrific personal assistant. As you saw today, I’m organized and efficient. It might be good for you to have someone in that position that you know for sure won’t ever try to come on to you. Also, you know the shirts the customers wore today…”
“Uh…yeah.”
“I organized that to impress you,” said Keiko. “Tonight, after I get everyone paid off, all the profits will be donated to Julie’s charity, The Otter Rock Fund for Women.”
Keiko saw by the expression on Wyatt’s face that she had impressed him. “And,” she added as a sweetener, “I’m also very good with children.”
Wyatt scrutinized Keiko for a moment and smiled. “I’ll think about it and contact you tomorrow after I’ve spoken with mes amours.”
As Wyatt exited the Volvo, a thought occurred to him. He stopped and turned back to Keiko. “How about dogs?” he asked. “Do you get along well with dogs?”
Keiko shrugged her shoulders. “Never had one. But I do like puppies!”
Wyatt chuckled. “Good to know.”
And he closed the car door.
When Wyatt entered the hotel room, Claire lay comfortably on the bed and patted a space beside her. Taking off his coat, Wyatt snuggled next to her. As he did, Claire stretched back her chin to give Wyatt’s lips room to roam on her neck. Sighing pleasantly, Claire rubbed Wyatt’s back as his affection explored her.
“Not that I mind, but you’re earlier than I thought you would be,” purred Claire contentedly.
Wyatt’s right hand strolled underneath Claire’s blouse and caressed the curves of her nine-month pregnant abdomen.
“I didn’t want to be away from you and Ariane,” said Wyatt with a kiss. “It’s more important that I’m here with you two.”
“But Powell’s was the book signing that you fantasied about,” said Claire.
“Like I said, mon amour,” said Wyatt with a smile as he gazed dreamily at her, “it’s more important that I’m here with you two.”
Wrapping her arms around Wyatt, Claire squeezed hard. “How do you love me so much?”
“Maybe it’s because you’re so simple and unpretentious.” Wyatt grinned wryly.
“True, but no, that’s not it,” said Claire as she thought. “It’s because other women are not as smart as your French girl. I see right through the German in you.”
Lifting Claire’s blouse, Wyatt kissed her very ripe stomach. “And how has our little Ariane been today?”
“Kicking! She’s ready to meet us.”
“Feisty!” hissed Wyatt. “Just like her mom.”
Wyatt put his ear on Claire’s stomach. “Ariane knows I’m listening,” said Wyatt. “She kicked me.”
“Like you said,” replied Claire. “She’s feisty like her mother.”
Wyatt continued to listen and softly hummed La Marseillaise.
“What are you doing?” asked a curious Claire as she ran her hand through Wyatt’s hair.
“I’m letting Ariane know she’s welcome to come out anytime. That we’re…uh…friendly.”
“You know Ariane is half you. Maybe you should also hum Deutschland über alles?” advised Claire.
“Oh, that would probably just scare her and seem like I’m ordering her out. You know how German can sound,” said Wyatt, chuckling. “And because she’s probably as stubborn as her mother, she might decide to stay in there.”
“Stubborn?” replied Claire, trying hard to act indignant.
Laughing, she threw a hand into the air. “I just know when I’m right—which is all the time.”
“And that is exactly what I want you to teach our daughter,” said Wyatt, looking into Claire’s eyes. “To stand up for herself. Because her father will be too busy giving in to her and her beautiful, sexy mother.”
Rolling his tongue along the curve of Claire’s neck, over her chin to her lips, Wyatt kissed her.
Claire drew away. “You still think I’m sexy?” she sighed. “But I’m as big as a sea lion!”
“Sexier than ever!” replied a grinning Wyatt. “Je t'aime ma belle, Claire.”2
Claire stretched herself around Wyatt. “I’m such a smart French girl.”
“Yes, you are.” Wyatt chuckled as he snuggled next to her. “Now smart French girl, I want you to get some rest before we go to dinner.”
Tucking herself cozily into Wyatt’s shoulder, Claire closed her eyes.
“Your smart French girl loves you too!” Claire sighed and happily slumbered off.
While she slept, Wyatt’s eyes explored Claire’s blissful face as his fingers combed peacefully through her night black hair. Brushing stray curls from her forehead, Wyatt’s mind wandered to eleven years earlier to the night when he stared at a gun for two hours and thought about giving up. Within the short space of a year Wyatt had not one but four adoring wives, with six beautiful children, and one on the way. In addition, Wyatt had lots of really good sentient mortal and immortal friends, and a large bear with whom he drank large amounts of Portland Tipsy Girl beer. Complicated, loving, and fun. Every minute of Wyatt’s new life burned as dear to him now as the radiant smile on Claire’s face.
After Claire went to sleep, Wyatt held her for another few minutes before he gently laid her back onto a plumped-up pillow. Standing, Wyatt walked to the window curtains of the large hotel suite and closed them. Then he quietly undressed and laid his clothes on a nearby chair. Before taking Julie, Heidi, Claire, and Gretchen to dinner at his favorite Portland restaurant, Jake’s Famous Crawfish, he needed a shower.
The extra-large shower in the hotel suite had two rainfall shower head/hand-held massager combos on opposite walls. As he opened the shower doors, Wyatt’s mind drifted to Heidi, Julie, Gretchen, Beau, Niki, Tavi, Helen, Sara, and Anna, and how much he missed all of them. Though he enjoyed the book tour, at the moment, Wyatt wished he and Claire were at home caring for the kids and cuddling with his adoring wives. They gave him a peace, love, and purpose that he hadn’t known before.
“Who knew I could be so happy changing diapers while getting very little sleep?” mused Wyatt aloud.
His mind drifted to Tawny and Mag-R. After they were married by Lucy’s husband John Rankoff, Mag-R had developed an addiction to Tawny’s chocolate chip cookies and his tentacles had noticeably put on a little muscle. Tawny didn’t seem to mind. In love and pregnant, she had an attentive and satisfying mate.
“Just more tentacle to massage her with…” Tawny would say; glad that her abusive days with Curtis were thankfully well behind her.
During the three-week book tour, Mag-R and Tawny had volunteered to be live-in babysitters at Otter Rock. With four tentacles and two arms Lesbians proved to be skilled caregivers, especially after they had, to everyone’s relief a year earlier after the Christmas party, learned the human age limits on alcohol. While Wyatt took care of one baby at a time, Mag-R could hold and feed two while he changed another. Teamed up with his pregnant wife, Mag-R and Tawny dove into the responsibilities of parenthood in earnest because both wanted to get some practical experience before their big day arrived.
Turning on the water and enjoying the spray pounding against his tired body, Wyatt’s mind wandered through the events of the day. He heard the bathroom door open and Wyatt thought for a moment that Claire had decided to join him. Glancing to his side, he quickly realized… “Oh shit!”
Grasping the door handles Wyatt held them shut. On the other side, three unknown naked women frantically screamed and jumped to get his attention. In lipstick, each had written on their breasts the numbers 5, 6, and 7. Wyatt shouted for the women to get out. Undeterred, the three women kept yanking at the doors, begging and pleading to be let in, while Wyatt with all his strength held on.
“Commander Pinky, if you’re monitoring,” shouted Wyatt to the ceiling. “Claire and I could use some help!”
>Blue Light<
Suddenly, through the steam behind the three women, a very disturbed and upset Julie, Heidi, and Gretchen appeared. And hell, hath no fury, like three angry, possessive, protective goddesses!
While Konrad held the door open, Heidi grabbed one invader by the arm and pushed her unceremoniously into the hallway.
One woman slapped at Julie who ducked and just as Wyatt had taught her, grabbed a wrist and twisted. Julie, then, forcibly guided the subdued and compliant woman into the hall with her equally naked friend.
The third woman stared at Gretchen, who stalked her with two balled-up fists and a look that would scare a wolverine. Realizing the battle was over, she speedily picked up the clothes strewn on the floor and rejoined her friends outside.
Julie glared at the intruders. “Daddy, please escort these ladies to the elevator and talk with the hotel management and make sure this doesn’t happen again.”
Konrad made sure the three naked groupies dressed and left ahead of him before he headed for the hotel front desk.
Julie peeked in on Claire, who was still pleasantly asleep, and turned to Gretchen.
“Gretchen, would you be willing to stay with Claire while Heidi and I take care of Wyatt?”
“Sure,” replied Gretchen, nodding. “I’ll take care of Claire. You two make sure our guy is ok.”
Julie and Heidi took off their clothes and headed for the bathroom intent on comforting their Yogi and wascally Wabbit. When they entered the bathroom, a relieved Wyatt sat on the floor of the shower with water pouring over him from above. Sitting on opposite sides, Julie and Heidi reached their arms around him.
“You ok, Wabbit?” asked Heidi as she swept Wyatt’s wet hair out of his eyes.
“Getting there,” said Wyatt, enjoying her touch. “Is Claire ok?”
“Thankfully, she slept through all the commotion,” said Julie.
“Why don’t they understand how much I’m committed to my family?” asked Wyatt. “Just because they bought the book doesn’t mean they own me.”
“We’re here now, big guy, so relax,” replied Heidi, cuddling into him.
Julie kissed Wyatt. “We saw on the news that you had quite a day.”
“Oh, no!” groaned Wyatt. “That made the news in L.A.?”
“It was on all the news channels live,” said Julie, giggling. “Konrad texted us immediately to watch after it went viral on the internet.”
“I didn’t ask them to take off their shirts,” exclaimed Wyatt. “All I said was that I wasn’t going anywhere near their private parts and they took off their clothes.”
“We know,” said Heidi chuckling while sympathetically rubbing his arm. “The news was pretty clear that it was a spontaneous reaction that you had done your best to prevent. You look so cute when you’re embarrassed.”
“But you know that it’s going to be that way at every signing from now on,” said Julie. “And that there will be more of this weird stuff in the future.”
Julie shook her head. “Believe me. I know. One of these nights you’ll be pleasantly sleeping away in your hotel room and you’ll wake up in some strange woman’s bed during a snowstorm in Alaska.”
Wyatt smiled a little. “I miss our kids,” said Wyatt, sighing. “After we put Claire to bed tonight, can we at least watch them sleep for a few minutes?”
Heidi kissed Wyatt as Julie hugged him from his other side. “Of course, we can, Daddy.”
“In the meantime, is there anything we can do for you to help you feel better?” asked Julie, feeling Wyatt’s leg.
“You two can let me wash your hair,” said Wyatt.
He pulled Julie and Heidi to their feet. “That’ll relax me.”
Heidi swung her head underneath the showerhead to wet down her hair as Julie poured shampoo into Wyatt’s hands. Wyatt worked his fingers into Heidi’s scalp as Julie wet down her own hair. Heidi stroked Wyatt, but Wyatt held her hand and gazed into her big blue eyes.
“Honey, thank you, but no,” said Wyatt. “Just let me do this for you two, ok? I need to feel useful. I don’t need anything in return.”
Heidi smiled sweetly and accepted his gift.
While Heidi rinsed, Wyatt kissed Julie and worked shampoo into her flowing curls as she leaned back and enjoyed the ride.
“You know, writing that book of yours has had some interesting side effects,” commented Julie as Wyatt played with her hair. “The paparazzi have been ultra-polite to your wives. I think they’re afraid that if they’re mean to us, you’ll break them into pieces, or a bunch of Commander Pinky’s soldiers will appear out of nowhere and eat them.”
“…or ship them off to Tiananmen Square,” said Heidi, giggling.
“…or fill them with whistling tube slugs.” Julie laughed.
“...or have Romeo and Juliet shoot them with a laser,” said Wyatt as he chuckled.
The humor provided an immediate antidote to Wyatt’s depressed mood, and Wyatt slid his hands into the wonderful slickness waiting between Julie and Heidi’s legs.
“Now that’s our wonderful wascally Wabbit!” squealed Heidi as Wyatt gently pushed her and Julie against the wall of the shower.
Kissing one and then the other, Wyatt’s nautical fingers sailed on the excitement he felt, faster, a little faster…
Moaning, Heidi and Julie gratefully dug their nails into Wyatt’s shoulders...
Suddenly, the bathroom door burst open.
“Ariane’s coming! Claire’s water just broke!” shouted Gretchen.
Wyatt immediately stopped, leaving Heidi and Julie teetering precariously on the edge. Leaping out of the shower, he rushed naked and dripping to Claire lying on the bed where Gretchen held her.
“I’ve done this three times,” said Gretchen, trying to comfort her. “There’s nothing to it.”
Claire went into another contraction. “It still fucking hurts!”
“Gretchen, I need to know. When was her last contraction?” asked Wyatt.
Gretchen glanced at her watch and looked at Wyatt. “Around two minutes ago. Ariane’s coming fast thanks to our other plane of existence DNA?”
“Just like you,” reminded Wyatt.
“I’ll be back real soon. Claire honey, hold on,” urged Wyatt.
Rushing to the closet, Wyatt grabbed a terry-cloth robe and put it on. Heidi and Julie emerged from the bathroom toweling water off themselves.
“What can we do?” asked Julie.
“Get a robe on,” ordered Wyatt. “Ariane’s coming fast. That feisty enfant Français is not waiting!”
“Julie, get all the bathroom towels you can.”
“Heidi, get on the phone and call Dr. Collins. Tell him we need him now!”
Heidi and Julie rushed off to their assignments as Wyatt hurried back to Claire.
With Gretchen’s help, Wyatt pulled off Claire’s pants and underwear.
“Claire, honey, we’re calling Dr. Collins, but Ariane’s arriving fast. I might have to deliver her myself. I don’t want you to worry.”
Wyatt looked at Claire, looking up at him. “I’ve done this before. So, hold on! I’m here!”
Claire grimaced in pain.
In the background, Heidi got off the phone. “Dr. Collins and Raelene are in the middle of a procedure. They’ll be here in ten minutes.”
“Shit,” cursed Wyatt. “I don’t think we have ten minutes!”
Heidi ran to Wyatt. “What can I do?”
“You and Gretchen prop some pillows underneath Claire’s back and make her more comfortable. Massage her shoulders to relax her.”
Julie arrived with her arms full of towels. “I called the front desk, they’re bringing more. What can I do?”
“Get me some vodka from the refrigerator!”
“This is no time to drink!” exclaimed a confused Julie.
Wyatt tapped Julie on the nose and gave her a quick peck. “It’s to sterilize my hands, you silly.”
Racing to the fridge, Julie snatched up two small bottles. As Wyatt held out his hands, Julie opened and poured. Rubbing his hands together Wyatt turned towards Claire just as she went into another contraction. Between her spread bent legs, Wyatt saw the top of the Ariane’s head and movement.
“Claire, curl yourself forward and tuck your chin. It will help Ariane move through your pelvis,” requested Wyatt.
Heidi and Gretchen helped Claire move forward to allow her to bare down and push. Wyatt leaned forward with his hands.
“I hate you, Wyatt!” screamed Claire as she pushed.
Gretchen, Julie, and Heidi chuckled and remembered giving birth to their children
“Male whore!”
Claire pushed.
“French trollop!”
Claire pushed even harder.
“Wyatt, Ariane’s coming!”
“Ma belle Claire push!!”
Crying.
When Dr. Collins and Raelene arrived five minutes later, the hotel suite lay in a mess. However, on the bed laid four women and a man adoring, admiring, and welcoming the latest edition to their growing family…feisty, green-eyed Ariane. No one wanted to move, but Dr. Collins and Raelene insisted so they could examine Ariane.
Wyatt looked at Julie, Heidi, and Gretchen, and sighed, “I think I’ll have that vodka now.”
Meanwhile, at Otter Rock, a large bear smiled a very big smile.
Ariane
By Julie Ardennes
Fast and quick,
an anxious rocket she arrived
exploding into her family,
a happy bomb
…Our little Ariane,
Princess of Portland