Heat Wave
Part 2By Esmé
“It is too full o’ the milk of human kindness.”
“Macbeth” by William Shakespeare“Catherine, you’re pregnant. There’s no doubt about it,” Peter patted her hand in a fatherly manner. The news felt like a punch to Catherine’s stomach.
“Have you told Vincent?”
Catherine stammered, "No…no I haven’t. I don’t know what his reaction will be. We made love every night during the heat wave, but I never thought…” her voice trailed off.
“Well, he must be told.” Peter was insistent. “Do you want me to talk to him?”
“No, said Catherine, “I was planning to tell him after I saw you. I just needed to be sure.”
“I can give you something for the nausea you are experiencing now,” Peter suggested, “but I think it would be best if you made arrangements to move Below. This is an unusual pregnancy and I want Jacob and Mary to be available in case something goes wrong… not that it should. I’ll call your boss and tell him you need a medical leave of absence, and that I am sending you away to recuperate.”
Peter tried to sound comforting, but Catherine was worried. She would have to think up something to tell Jenny and Nancy to explain her prolonged absence.
***********
She met Vincent at the tunnel entrance in the park and as he guided her towards his chamber, her inner turmoil only increased his anxiety.
“Now, Catherine, what troubles you so?” he asked. His furrowed brow mirrored his concern.
When they finally reached his chamber Catherine hesitated. “I don’t know how else to say it, Vincent. I’m pregnant. We’re going to have a child. Peter says I should move here to have it.”
Vincent was stunned; his face reflected his shock and disbelief. Since their mutual lust for each other had been so intense, repeated nightly sex during the heat wave had become necessity for both of them, but the concept that Catherine ever could or would bear him a child had never entered his mind.
“A child? But what kind of a child?” he groaned.
“An extraordinary child,” vowed Catherine trying to reassure him as well as herself.
Vincent was firm. “Catherine, this is something that has never been. Peter is right. You must stay here so I can watch over and protect you. Now, we must tell Father.”
Catherine was too tired to protest. She was exhausted and needed to sleep. Vincent’s chamber was a wonderfully safe cocoon. She collapsed on his bed, curled up in the fetal position and let Vincent cover her gently with his quilt.
Father’ face was livid with rage. “Vincent, how could you let this happen? he sputtered. “I knew this relationship would only end in disaster. How could you both have been so careless? Doesn’t Catherine know better? Suppose the child dies…..or Catherine does not survive the birth?”
“Please, Father, try to understand. We didn’t plan for this. I blame myself for losing control and giving in, but physical denial became so painful for both of us... if anything ever happened to Catherine….” He didn’t have to finish the sentence. Father knew the answer.
The aging physician had no choice but to agree that Catherine should remain in the tunnels until the baby arrived. He would consult with Peter. There would be time later to make plans as to the future.
**************
Moving Below was the only decision possible and that became more evident as the months passed. Catherine needed care. Her belly increased greatly in size and bluish veins were visible in her swollen breasts which were hot and heavy. Her once shell- pink areolas had turned dark. Much to her chagrin, but to Vincent’s delight, her pert nipples protruded noticeably as they danced provocatively against her thin maternity garment.Catherine was mortified and more than once Vincent found her weeping bitter tears.
“Look at me,” she wailed, “how can you bear to look at me like this? I feel so ugly and misshapen. I am embarrassed to be seen by anyone, especially you.”
“My dearest Catherine, you are the most beautiful creature who has ever been,” Vincent assured her. He gathered her in his arms and rocked her gently. “You are carrying our dream.” And so saying, he slipped his hand under her flimsy gown, raised it, and stroked her breasts and her belly lightly with his nails. “I find you quite voluptuous in your present state. I cannot resist you.”
Catherine shook her head in disbelief.
“Voluptuous? I’ve blown up like a blimp.”
“A most erotic blimp,” Vincent declared. And to prove his point, his teeth seized her agitated nipples which begged for attention, and he began teasing them unmercifully with his tongue.
He did what he could to relieve her discomfort, but always nagging inside of him was the knowledge that he was the one responsible for her condition and he felt guilty. Catherine became so morose and depressed that she refused to have meals in the common dining area; William arranged to have food sent to Vincent’s chamber. The tunnel children missed her dreadfully and sent her little notes trying to cheer her up. Both Father and Peter were reluctant to prescribe any anti-depressant medication because of possible harm to the fetus.
Night time was the worst for Catherine. The pregnancy only accentuated her craving for Vincent, but Father had advised against copulation.
“Vincent, please, …,” she would beg tearfully, “hold me close.”
“I’m here for you, always, dear Catherine,” he assured her.
And he would come to her. As he lifted her gently with his strong arms, she was able to straddle his rock-solid, sturdy, jean-clad thigh and rub her sex against the denim’s roughness until the orgasm shook her body and she sobbed with relief.
It was more difficult for Vincent for he desperately wanted to thrust inside her and feel her wetness enclosing him, but the pregnancy was a delicate one and he was loathe to cause her any undo harm. Instead, the two would lie naked on his bed, and as he kneeled above her, Catherine would clasp his turgid erection in her delicate hands, manipulate his throbbing member, and stroke his scrotum until his hot seed spewed lava-like on her distended belly.
“My dearest, dearest Catherine…you have sacrificed so much,” he whispered as he covered her face with kisses.
Catherine grimaced bitterly. “It’s you who are making the sacrifices…putting up with a cranky swollen cow who cannot even have sex with you.”
She could not have asked for a more attentive lover. Whenever he was able to excuse himself from his chores in the community, he would wait upon her. He never tired of reading to her, stroking her belly, and rubbing her sore back. He loved seeing her nude and while bathing her, would explore her generous curves with a touch so light that Catherine was nearly driven mad with passion. He tried desperately to reassure her that she was as beautiful and desirable to him as ever, although she shook her head in disbelief. He insisted on carrying her everywhere until she laughed and said, “You will make my legs useless unless you allow me to walk sometimes.”
One night her swollen breasts were so sensitive, she could not tolerate any material against them. Lying unclothed in bed she refused even the lightest sheet as covering.
“Please, Vincent,” she begged, “your hands are so cool and my…”
“Come,” he urged, “lean against me.” She placed her back against his well-muscled chest and sighed with relief as his huge hands gently cupped and lifted her ponderous globes to ease their weight. His thumbs and fore fingers slowly massaged the aching tips until he could feel the tension leave her body. In gratitude she kissed his hands.
“You are so good to me, Vincent. I feel so bloated and unwieldy. I never thought being pregnant could make someone feel so miserable,” she moaned.
Vincent nuzzled her neck. “You must be patient and have courage, Catherine. It will soon be over.”
Suddenly a sharp cramp seized her and Catherine gasped in pain. Vincent alerted Father, who came to the chamber stethoscope in hand. After listening to the baby’s heartbeat, he assured Catherine the time had finally come for her delivery. Father had no idea how long her labor would last, but he would send Kipper to find Peter and bring the physician Below. Father was unsure how to proceed. Should anything go wrong, he wanted the capable obstetrician beside him.
The hours dragged by and Catherine’s labor pains increased. Vincent was beside himself with worry and refused to leave her bedside. She had been moved to the sterile infirmary where medical instruments were available if needed. Peter arrived and performed a cursory examination.
“It shouldn’t be much longer,” he declared. “ She’s young and strong, but complications are always a possibility and we may have to perform a Cesarean.”
Vincent remembered how he had stayed with Lena during her delivery. Why did women in childbirth have to suffer so? He felt so helpless and inadequate and cursed himself for causing Catherine so much pain. He swore he would never touch her again. Catherine was panting heavily now. Her hair was damp with sweat and her face, which was streaked with tears, conveyed the agony she was enduring. He could only help by applying cool compresses to her forehead and holding her hand.
Through her haze of pain she thought she heard Mary calling, “Push”. Her shrieks stabbed Vincent like knives and just when he thought he could no longer bear to hear her, Peter announced, “The head is crowning. It’s coming now.” With Catherine’s last scream, Vincent threw back his head and roared a mixture of pain and pride. Their baby was finally born.
“It’s a little boy, said Mary softly. He’s perfectly beautiful.” Peter cut and tied the umbilical cord, and after Mary bathed the infant, she handed him to Catherine who wept hot tears of joy and relief.
***********
Vincent carried Catherine back to their chamber. She was exhausted and weak from her ordeal and Father decreed she needed to rest. The baby was placed in a cradle next to their bed. The infant, too, was tired from his journey from her safe womb to his new home in the dimly lit tunnel chamber.
Vincent sank into his velvet chair. He was emotionally spent. He was thrilled with his new son and proud of Catherine’s courage and endurance. What further proof of her love could he need? His life was now almost complete. He had a woman who loved him and whose strength and willingness to take risks had given all to him. He had a perfectly formed healthy son. What was he lacking? Something nagged at the back of his mind, a forgotten memory perhaps, but he could not articulate the words.
Catherine awoke with fear. Something was terribly wrong. Vincent, who had been dozing in his chair, sensed her terror.
“Get Mary,” Catherine called. “I need her right away.” Vincent rushed from the chamber and finding Mary with Father insisted that both come for Catherine. The three rushed back to the chamber fearing the worst. Catherine’s face was pale with fright.
“Look, she cried. What’s wrong with me?” Opening her ivory flannel gown, she exposed her breasts. They were engorged, hot, and rock hard. The distended bluish veins were more prominent than ever.
Mary smiled. “Oh, Catherine, everything is fine. It’s just that your milk is coming in. The glands are swelling in preparation. Tomorrow you will be nursing your baby. Lie still, now and sleep while you can. Babies can be very demanding.”
Flushed with embarrassment concerning her ignorance in such matters, Catherine sank back against the pillows.
“Is there nothing we can do to relieve her discomfort?” asked Vincent.
“Just let nature take its course,” whispered Father. “She’ll be fine in the morning.”
Father was right. By morning, her breasts had become soft and supple, and soon milk began to flow from her fullness triggered by her infant’s first cries. Vincent brought the child to her and watched with fascination and more than a tinge of envy as Catherine opened her gown and allowed the infant to nurse. His tiny hands moved to clutch her and he made soft gurgling sounds as his pink mouth eagerly suckled.
Vincent turned leave the chamber. He didn’t want Catherine to see his face. His own abandonment at birth had denied him the very thing his child had….a loving mother with comforting arms and a warm breast to nurture him. With horror he realized he was jealous of his newborn son. He couldn’t even bear to share Catherine with the child he had fathered. To make matters worse, the sight of her nursing the child had stimulated his own overwhelming sexual desire for her. The tormenting swelling beneath his jeans was already obvious to Catherine.
“Vincent,” Catherine called weakly. “I need you.” She handed him the baby, who had fallen asleep with drops of milk still on his rose petal mouth. Vincent placed the infant in his cradle and was about to go when Catherine pleaded, “Don’t go. Come lie down next to me.”
“Catherine, I need to be alone for awhile. I have feelings I am ashamed to express. My thoughts are so ugly I cannot bear to tell you. You won’t understand,” he groaned.
“Come to me,” she repeated in a loving voice so alluring that he, who could never deny her anything, stretched his massive frame on the bed next to her slender one. She gathered his golden head in her arms and his sapphire eyes grew wide with astonishment, as Catherine placed her breast in his mouth.
“Vincent, I do understand. It’s your turn, now,” she said. “You never had a mother. Let me be your mother, as well as your wife and your lover. I want to be everything to you.”
His cruel abandonment and the denial of mothering as an infant made Catherine determined to compensate for his early loss. Her most feminine and intimate gift she now offered to him without hesitation.
Tears welled up in his eyes as he cupped her breast in his trembling hand.
“Catherine, are you sure? Is it allowed …the baby…is there enough…?” His voice was hoarse with the old guilt and uncertainty.
“More than enough, my love,” she crooned softly.
Haltingly he began to suck the sweet warm milk which flowed so freely.
“Ahhhhh,” she moaned as she felt his cleft lip tug at her nipple. “My dearest sweetest love.” He was now the voracious infant and she felt the thrill of his demands to the core of her womb which tightened deliciously as he suckled greedily.
Cradling him as she had their son, she kissed his brow, stroked his hair, and murmured sounds meant only for him.
“I love you more than anything,” she whispered. “Take from me what you were denied …all I have is yours.”
Blissfully, he closed his eyes and continued to nuzzle her abundant flesh. The unnamed hunger he had always experienced disappeared. His life was now totally complete.