Chapter 82

SPOV

I wasn’t sure if Pam’s issue was with me working or my car getting fixed, but I didn’t really care. I got enough of that caveman shit from Eric and was tired of people trying to tell me what to do. I managed to get along just fine for twenty-five years, before either of them came into my life, and, while I could never repay Pam for being there for me when Eric was in the hospital, I wouldn’t allow her to bully me. I wasn’t made of spun glass. I was a grown woman; a grown woman that could make her own decisions and I would’ve thought Pam, of all people, would understand that.

The thing that irked me the most was how quickly my good mood had evaporated with her words. Eric and I had been having such a good time, joking around about baby names, which had done wonders to keep my baby freak-out at bay. He was so much more like My Eric when he was laughing and joking and I didn’t realize how much I’d missed it until I had that part of him back again.

Fucking Pam.

We needed to get the locks changed.

“Sookie,” she started, “you’re not driving that death trap you call a car. It won’t start for a reason.” She looked at me with narrowed eyes, admitting, “I killed it.”

Hearing her confession, I was furious and tried to climb out of Eric’s lap, but he only held onto me tighter, so I glared back at her from Eric’s Sookie-trap, saying, “Goddamn it Pam! Why would you do that? I need it to go to work!” Remembering her foray in tire slashing, it would probably be the only time I could ever sympathize with Eric’s dad.

Unfazed, she stared back at me and calmly said, “One, you can drive Eric’s car, and two, just where are you driving it to? You quit your job and, from what Eric’s told me, there’s a little baby Pam on the way, so you shouldn’t be working anyway.”

Her calm demeanor did nothing but piss me off more, so I spat back, saying, “I didn’t realize pregnancy was a disability! I was offered a temporary job teaching at a high school until the spring and I took it!” Feeling Eric’s hand rubbing up and down my back in an attempt to soothe me, I looked down at him and smiled a little, adding, “I’ll be done working well before Junior gets here.”

I watched him roll his eyes in exasperation, but honestly, Eric Junior was a much better name than Frankencock.

My eyes returned to Pam as she asked, “What high school?”

Figuring I’d be getting another dose of being Pam’d, I squared my shoulders and said, “Woodrow Wilson.” When she had no reaction, I added, “It’s in Compton.”

And…there’s the reaction I was expecting.

Every muscle in her face was frozen long enough for my words to filter through her mind, which only took a split second, before she shot up off of the couch and glared down at me yelling, “No! Fucking! Way! I know that you’re stubborn; hard headed; it’s a trait I happen to admire, but I didn’t realize you could be so fucking stupid to think it would be a good idea to take a job in fucking Compton!”

Being called ‘stupid’ was the key that unlocked my inner bitch and I fought against Eric’s hold on me so I could get up and knock Pam off of her high fucking horse, but Eric was a lot stronger than I gave him credit for because his arms were like a steel vice around me.

“Pam!” he barked. “Enough!”

Both of our heads shot over to look at him and I’m pretty sure Pam’s expression mirrored my own; shock. Eric never took that tone with her, not that I’d ever heard anyway, and was eerily similar to the one he’d used to yell at the cameramen a few hours earlier.

It shouldn’t turn me on, right?

The dampness in my panties told me my girly bits would ‘Like this’ on Facebook, but of course Pam had to ruin that moment too. I turned and saw her rearrange her face from ‘Holy shit!’ to ‘No one will find the body’ as she barked right back at him saying, “You can’t be serious! Did that car accident kill your last two brain cells too? You’re okay with her working in the ‘hood?”

Eric’s arms hadn’t budged an inch only instead of feeling restrained I felt protected and was surprised he seemed to be on my side. I would’ve thought he’d be happy to have Pam making the same arguments he’d been making only hours earlier and partner up with her in the ‘Let’s tell Sookie what to do’ time slot of the afternoon. Instead he glared back at her saying, “We’ve talked about it and it’s what she wants to do, so I’m supporting her. If you can’t get on board with that then just keep your fucking opinions to yourself, but call her stupid again and I’ll be looking for a new manager.”

Seriously. Should I be this wet right now? It was like Niagara Falls down there. It would only take one little push and I’d fall right over the edge, no barrel necessary.

My eyes kept darting back and forth between them, with both of them equally pissed off, but I didn’t want them to fight over me and that thought calmed me down. I knew, despite the fucked up dialogue they usually had with one another, they really were close. Friends even and I didn’t want to be the cause of any discord between them, so I said, “Everybody needs to calm down.”

Do you hear me hoo-hah?

At least two out of the three heard me with Pam and Eric returning to their metaphorical corners and while I could tell Pam was plotting something in her mind, she only asked, “And the…car?” She’d said car like it was it was a piece of shit and as payback I put her in the number one spot to go to when Beric made a number two. She wasn’t the only one who could plot. “I suppose you’re okay with that too, Mr. Pussy Whipped?” she asked.

Feeling Eric stiffen, and not in a horny way, underneath me, I sensed this could only go from bad to worse and hoping to inject a little bit of levity into the still tense atmosphere, I cocked my eyebrow at her, saying, “Hey now…that’s a little personal. How my pussy treats Eric is between me and him. Since we’re married I’m sure there’s some sort of spousal pussy privilege law we have to abide by, but I will tell you he actually prefers little bites more than whips.”

I heard Eric snort underneath me with his body relaxing again, so I knew he was okay, but my eyes stayed on Pam. I could see she was trying not to smile and maintain her Ice Queen persona and I called her out on it, saying, “You know if you try and hold in that laugh for too long, it’ll come out the other end.”

Maybe that’s what baby farts were; their inner laughter. If so, those two babies we saw earlier were positively gleeful.

Pam eventually rolled her eyes, but I didn’t miss the slight upturn of her lips as she said, “Fucking hell…you two really are perfect for one another.”

“Thanks!” I smiled brightly at her. I’m sure that wasn’t so much a compliment as a dig from her, but I didn’t care. I was just happy everyone had calmed down again and Pam used the excuse of notifying the producers of Eric’s show of his return to work date to leave.

Her heels were still clacking towards the front door when Eric pulled my face to his and kissed every thought right out of me. When I needed to breathe he simply moved on to chewing his way across my neck and I panted out breathlessly, “Not that I’m complaining, but what brought this on?”

He ignored my question until his lips were hovering over my ear and finally said, “I’m invoking my right to spousal pussy privilege. Your pussy is my privilege and I have every intention of reaping my marital benefits right now.”

Visions of Eric dressed as a cop danced through my mind and his hands seemed to be everywhere at once. He quickly stripped me naked, with Wicked and Immoral returning the favor at a feverish pace, and pushed me so that I was lying down on the couch before climbing on top of me. His lips and tongue worked their magic on my breasts with my hips bucking upwards trying to find the friction I needed and just when I thought I would go insane with want, he moved farther down my body and tried to settle himself in between my thighs. It felt like it had been forever since his face and my hoo-hah had any deep and meaningful discussions, but between his leg cast and the length of the couch, it just wasn’t gonna work. I squirmed away from him, earning me panty-wetting growl (had I been wearing any, that is) and got him to lie down on his back instead. When it finally dawned on him I was positioning us to play Sex-tris, I thought I might possibly pass out from the lustful stare he was shooting my way, but before I could blackout, he grabbed onto my hips and pulled my body until I was kneeling over his face, facing his feet.

Yeah…his FEET weren’t the first body part I noticed.

The first swipe of his tongue had me falling forward, with my hands landing on each side of hips, and I’m pretty sure I drooled onto the V cut in front of my eyes as I came almost immediately, but that didn’t stop Eric. He was taking the whole pussy privilege seriously and kept going. All of me was still trembling when my vision returned and I looked at the sight of his nakedness before me, still marveling at how his whole body was a wonderland. I scraped my teeth along his skin, nipping at his inner thighs with my teeth, before swallowing him whole. Eric grunted, moaned, and growled underneath me in a continual loop like he was my own personal sex mix-tape, and adding his fingers to the playlist had me joining in with my own Ode to Eric. We’d been so worked up from before Pam’s visit that it didn’t take long for Eric’s movements to falter as he swelled even larger in my mouth moments before he came with a yell.

My girly bits really LIKED it when he yelled.

I swallowed everything he had to give and started to pull away from him to give him a minute to enjoy his moment, but Eric was having none of that and wasted no time in getting back to invoking his rights.

The Northman Rights: The New Millennium’s Miranda.

The way his tongue flicked across my clit had me moaning his name in no time and I thanked God, more than once out loud, that he hadn’t lost one bit of his memory of how to do that. Thanks to the position of our bodies, I couldn’t help but notice the beast was stirring again, twitching every time I cried out his name in pleasure and went to work on bringing him back to life. By the time he was rock hard again, I released him from my mouth because me and my second orgasm were hovering at the edge of the falls, just waiting for the tiny ripple necessary to fall over. Instead of giving me the push I needed to go over, Eric lifted me up and pushed my body forward, so that my front was leaning against the arm of the couch and balanced himself on his good leg, plunging into me from behind.

I should’ve read him his rights a long time ago.

I came again, but Eric pounded his way right through it and even though we hadn’t been together for very long, I didn’t think I could ever have enough of him. The way he filled me; the way he seemed to know what my body wanted before I did, never ceased to amaze me and I pushed myself back into his every thrust forward. His hands had been on my hips when one of them slid around my front and started rubbing against my clit making my whole body shudder, but what finally did me in was when he leaned forward, licking the sweat from my back, and grunted out, “Fuck… My… Pussy…”

I didn’t know if he was claiming it or telling it off, but his pussy couldn’t be bothered to care because my muscles clenched around him with me cumming hard enough that my arms gave out and I flopped forward onto the armrest completely spent, which allowed me to see Eric’s lower half pounding into me twice more before he shouted my name as he came. I thought my upside down viewpoint seemed to be an apropos way to end our Sex-tris match.

I’d say it was a draw.

Eric slid out of me and pulled me down into his lap as he flopped back onto the couch, nuzzling the back of my sweaty neck and asking, “Are you sure it was a car accident that put me into a coma and not you fucking me into one?”

“I’m sure,” I chuckled, still trying to catch my breath. “That would give a whole new meaning to the term pussy whipped though.”

Doctor, what’s the patient’s diagnosis?

Not good, I’m afraid he’s been pussy whipped.

Prognosis?

He’ll just have to cum out of it on his own.

Eric snickered behind me, unaware of my inner bad porn movie script, and held me tighter as he kissed the back of my shoulder, saying, “You really are perfect. I’ve never seen anyone be able to make Pam back down like you did.”

I was far from perfect, but ignored that part of his statement with my hands gliding along his forearms as I replied, “She’s not that scary. She acts like a cuntankerous bitch to do her job, but you just have to know how to speak her language to get through to her and we both know she speaks pussy.” When I thought about how he stood up for me, I added, “Thanks though, for what you said to her about supporting my decision to work. It means a lot to me.”

I felt Eric’s arms stiffen fractionally around me as he said, “I didn’t disagree with everything she had to say.”

Yes he did! There was shouting and supporting and threats of finding new management. I was there! Spousal pussy privilege be damned, I heard the whole thing your honor!

Just as I was working myself up into a snit, Eric continued, saying, “You’re not driving that car again.”

It seemed as though we were still in the ‘Let’s tell Sookie what to do’ hour and I tried to rein in my temper as I half whined, “Eric, I wouldn’t feel comfortable driving your car and leaving it in the parking lot all day long. I’m not stupid; I know the school isn’t in the best of neighborhoods and I would be too worried that something might happen to it while I was working. At least if they tried to steal my car they’d only have a 50/50 shot at getting it to start.”

“Exactly,” he replied smugly. “It’s unreliable. How worried do you think I would be if you were left stranded there?”

Nicely played Mr. Northman.

“But I can’t afford a new car,” I said, clearly not thinking things through at first and quickly added, “and I wouldn’t feel comfortable with you buying one for me either.”

He sighed against my back and actually surprised me when he said, “I’m not offering to buy you a new car.” I was left trying to figure out what in the hell it was we were talking about then when he added, “I’m buying a new car for Frank. As his father, I refuse to allow him to get into a vehicle that can be taken down by a gnat.”

Even though I could see his point, especially after the accidents both of us had been in a few weeks earlier, I didn’t want to give in that easily and sighed, “Ugh…you and Pam are both car snobs. My car would totally be able to go up against a gnat. And what if it’s a girl? Naming her Frank would almost be as mean as naming a boy Frankencock.”

His magical lips kissed the back of my neck, weakening my resolve even further, as he said, “Your car would be totaled by a tsetse fly and I won’t have you and Virginia getting hurt.”

“Virginia?” I asked, wondering if he had some secret Civil War battlefields obsession I didn’t know about. Gran would love that.

“Yes, Virginia; as in virgin, which is what she will remain throughout her lifetime,” he replied, as though because he’d said it out loud, it made it true.

I’m sure he didn’t appreciate my responding snort, but he turned my head and attempted to kiss away any further arguments from me. Being a tad cuntakerous myself, that didn’t stop me from mumbling, “Jerk,” into his mouth before I let him do just that.

We eventually got up and took showers again, separately because Eric was now excited to go car shopping, and I came back downstairs and found him on the internet looking at a website going over the best safety rated automobiles. I had a bit of an ‘aww‘ moment that he was worried about me and the baby and any lingering fight I had about buying a new car disappeared. I flopped down next to him on the couch, asking, “Find anything?”

“Yes,” he said and pointed proudly at the screen. “The BMW 5 Series four door model has an overall vehicle score of 5.”

I looked at the numbers and saw that it had a few 4’s in some of the categories they used to judge the cars and said, “Yeah and I’m sure a BMW would rank a 5 in the overall carjacking category too.” I scrolled down the list and pointed, saying, “There. That one scored even higher than the BMW.” Taking a closer look, I added, “It has the best rating out of all of them.”

Looking at the screen, his lips turned down in disgust and I was just about to call him a car snob again when he asked, “A Hyundai?”

“Read it and weep Mr. Car Elitist,” I snickered. “If safety is your real concern, then you should have no issues with it.” I probably shouldn’t have gotten as much joy out of his obvious misery, but I had no delusions that I was a good person, so it was okay. I made up bad porn screenplays in my head for Christ’s sake.

“But it’s a Hyundai,” he whined.

I laughed at him and said, “Maybe Hyundai Sonata is the Swahili phrase for ‘tough shit’.”

Eric turned to glare at me, clearly upset that he really had no real argument that the tough shit car was the best one as far as safety was concerned and instead he changed the subject by asking, “Why do you think I can speak Swahili?”

I gave him my best ‘Duh!‘ face, saying, “Uh…’cause you can.”

Eric had a really good ‘Duh‘ face too and replied, “Uh…no, I can’t.”

“Well then you’re a big fat liar because you said some weird word to me on the night of the premier party and when I asked you what it was, you said it was Swahili for…” I paused suddenly, not wanting to finish my sentence. I couldn’t remember what the Swahili word was, but I knew it meant ‘surprise’.

“Swahili for what?” he asked.

Since he must have made up the fact he could speak Swahili during the three weeks we’d been together that forgotten word felt like it was something that was completely our own. It had nothing to do with our feelings for one another; nothing to do with how we appeared to those around us and it suddenly became very important to me. It was a symbol of those three weeks that were missing from his memories and, knowing I would remember the word again if I heard it, I vowed to myself I wouldn’t go looking it up on the internet. I would remember it when he did, so I refused to tell him, saying, “Nope. I’m not telling.”

He looked back at me in disbelief asking, “Why not?”

I didn’t want to tell him that either, figuring I might get all weepy again and make him feel bad for not remembering, so I remained silent and just made a motion with my fingers like I was locking up my mouth and throwing away the key. Ever the opportunist, Eric cocked his damn lickable eyebrow at me, using his sex-voice to say, “I have ways to make you talk.”

Of that, I have no doubt.

I could already hear the chorus of ‘Oh God’, ‘Harder’, ‘Faster’, ‘More’, in my mind and from the look in his eyes, I could tell it would be a challenge for us to even get out of the house without going for another round on the couch, but the sound of my stomach growling interrupted our pre-sextivities and I glanced at the clock and saw it was already after four o’clock in the afternoon. Eric must have heard it too because he dialed his lust back and said, “But I’m taking a rain check. For now, I’ll settle on getting your mouth to open by taking you out to dinner.”

The thought of all of those cameras in my face again so soon only turned my stomach and I really didn’t feel up to it. It was the one part of our relationship that I hated, but I would put up with it for him. He’d been so angry earlier though that I had to ask, “Do you really think that’s a good idea? After what happened earlier at the doctor’s office I would think you’d want to avoid your stalkers for a while.”

Eric just shrugged his shoulders and said, “There’s nothing I can do but try and ignore them.” His eyes narrowed for a moment before he added, “But maybe we can avoid them.”

Could he fly us out of here? That would be handy.

Thoughts of Eric in head to toe Lycra, like a sexy Superhero, only made me want to stay home with my own personal Sex Man, able to leap over multiple orgasms in a single bound, but his thoughts were apparently more pragmatic rather than porntastic. I listened as he called a car service for us to be picked up at the house and he explained to me that the paparazzi wouldn’t be able to tell who was in the car thanks to the tinted windows. Eric’s neighborhood was ritzy enough that limos were always going in and out of the gate, but I thought it was a bit extravagant to take a limo out to dinner unless we were going somewhere really fancy, which I didn’t want to do because fancy schmancy restaurant equaled paparazzi stalkers outside.

“Well, where are we going to dinner?” I asked. “Do I need to dress up?”

Eric turned back to his laptop and started typing while he said, “It’s up to you. We can go wherever you want.”

“But what if I want greasy Mexican food?” I asked, feeling him out a little. “Won’t it look odd if we take a limo to Mucho Mas?” It was a relatively inexpensive Mexican restaurant in North Hollywood that made the best enchiladas around, but certainly wasn’t limo worthy. Amelia and I used to go there all of the time, but more for the margaritas than the food and since I couldn’t fill up on any of those, I’d just have to make do with extra salsa. Poor me.

Eric looked away from the screen and said seriously, “Sookie, I’d take you to Burger King in a limo, if that was what you wanted.” He was so sincere that it made my insides all squishy, but before I could say anything, he added, “But we only need the limo to take us to the…” he paused and choked out, “Hyundai dealership.”

Seeing how difficult it was for him to say it, I jokingly rubbed my hand up and down his back, saying, “Aww…poor baby. That looked like it hurt. Are you okay?”

He tossed his head back and covered his eyes with his forearm, acting like a martyr as he grumbled, “Not really…” He moved his arm so he could look into my eyes when he added, “but the old saying goes, ‘What doesn’t kill me makes me stronger’, so I suppose I’ll survive.”

I couldn’t help grinning at Mr. Overdramatic, saying, “It’s a car Eric, not cancer.” He still looked pitiful at the thought of buying one, but now that I had enchiladas on the brain I didn’t have time for his man-mope and he perked up significantly when I patted his knee and stood up to get my purse as I said, “But if you’re a good boy while we’re at the dealership, I’ll play with your stick shift when we leave.”

He couldn’t get his coat on fast enough.