her
shoulder softly, Mika quaked, his torso undulating as he came. A little of his
cum leaked down her thigh.
Breathless, she chuckled, resting her head against her hand
on the wall.
“Now I’m all messy,” she teased.
“I’d apologize, but I’m not really sorry.” He kissed her
cheek and carefully withdrew.
“Me neither.” She chuckled. Wrangling her undies, she
righted her skirt and skittered off to the bathroom to clean up.
Once she had freshened up, she emerged from the bathroom and
inspected her reflection in the full-length mirror again.
“I guess this is as good as it’s going to get.” She sighed.
Wrapping his arms around her, Mika kissed her. “Do I have to
show you again how sexy you are?”
“Believe me, I’d rather spend the night in bed with you.”
“I know you’re dreading this, but I think you’ll regret it
if you don’t put in an appearance.”
Nodding, she replied, “Yeah. Let’s go before I change my
mind.”
His arm protective around her, Mika planted a kiss on top of
her head as they walked to the driveway. He opened the van door and ushered her
inside.
“I can open a door for myself. I’m pregnant, sweetheart, not
dying.”
“I know,” he said, climbing in the driver’s side. “But I
don’t want you to hurt yourself. Your joints are all rubbery now, you know.”
Heaven help her. She’d had to hide the tattered copy of What
to Expect When You’re Expecting his mother had given them. Everything the
damn book said he’d taken to heart. It was going to be a long six months,
though he meant well.
A crowd of cars lined the streets of Honolulu that led to
the Performing Arts Center. A symphony of steel and glass in its own right, the
building arched and curved into a graceful round, hollow space. Perfect
acoustics, not that Clarissa knew much about such things.
Mika turned the VW over to a valet and helped her climb the
steps to the front door. Inside a crush of people in floral fabrics of all
kinds milled around, the general din of mixed conversation hummed in her ears.
Smoked glass doors to the inner lobby bore a red ribbon binding their handles
together. One of the mayor’s aides greeted her with a lei. The pungent scent of
plumerias set off a fresh bout of nausea. She sent Mika on a mission for more
ginger ale, with or without bitters.
He returned with fizzy beverages in three champagne flutes.
One for her—the requested soda to settle her stomach. Two for him. He tossed
back the glasses of sparkling wine.
“Nervous?” she asked.
“Hey, I’m drinking for two now.”
Scanning the sea of faces, she picked out Sione and
Michelle. They hurried over, arms held wide.
“Sistah, congratulations.” Sione hugged her.
Michelle followed suit and teased, “Yeah, we’re not too
jealous.”
“Thank you, guys, for coming.” Tears sprang into her eyes.
Damn hormones.
“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.” Michelle hijacked
Clarissa’s glass. “Should you be drinking this?”
“It’s ginger ale and I’m going to vomit all over you if you
don’t give it back.”
Michelle made a show of folding Clarissa’s hand around the
flute and patted it.
More family showed up. Mika’s mother, Moki and more of the
cousin posse. Even Tutu Leilani came and patted Clarissa’s belly, which hadn’t
yet begun to show.
“Some skinny, girl. You need eat mo’,” Tutu said, filling
out her own muumuu with voluminous amounts of flesh. The mother of seven
children, she knew a thing or two about pregnancy. Clarissa would’ve loved to
eat, if only she could keep something down. Mika gave her an emergency saltine.
He’d taken to carrying a baggie of them in his pocket.
Her own mother had come all the way from Florida for the
event. Helen hugged her close and kissed her cheek. “I couldn’t be more proud
of you, sweet pea.”
“Thanks, Momma.”
“My baby.” Mom cupped her hands around Clarissa’s cheeks.
“Artist and mommy-to-be.”
“Momma,” Clarissa
shoulder softly, Mika quaked, his torso undulating as he came. A little of his
cum leaked down her thigh.
Breathless, she chuckled, resting her head against her hand
on the wall.
“Now I’m all messy,” she teased.
“I’d apologize, but I’m not really sorry.” He kissed her
cheek and carefully withdrew.
“Me neither.” She chuckled. Wrangling her undies, she
righted her skirt and skittered off to the bathroom to clean up.
Once she had freshened up, she emerged from the bathroom and
inspected her reflection in the full-length mirror again.
“I guess this is as good as it’s going to get.” She sighed.
Wrapping his arms around her, Mika kissed her. “Do I have to
show you again how sexy you are?”
“Believe me, I’d rather spend the night in bed with you.”
“I know you’re dreading this, but I think you’ll regret it
if you don’t put in an appearance.”
Nodding, she replied, “Yeah. Let’s go before I change my
mind.”
His arm protective around her, Mika planted a kiss on top of
her head as they walked to the driveway. He opened the van door and ushered her
inside.
“I can open a door for myself. I’m pregnant, sweetheart, not
dying.”
“I know,” he said, climbing in the driver’s side. “But I
don’t want you to hurt yourself. Your joints are all rubbery now, you know.”
Heaven help her. She’d had to hide the tattered copy of What
to Expect When You’re Expecting his mother had given them. Everything the
damn book said he’d taken to heart. It was going to be a long six months,
though he meant well.
A crowd of cars lined the streets of Honolulu that led to
the Performing Arts Center. A symphony of steel and glass in its own right, the
building arched and curved into a graceful round, hollow space. Perfect
acoustics, not that Clarissa knew much about such things.
Mika turned the VW over to a valet and helped her climb the
steps to the front door. Inside a crush of people in floral fabrics of all
kinds milled around, the general din of mixed conversation hummed in her ears.
Smoked glass doors to the inner lobby bore a red ribbon binding their handles
together. One of the mayor’s aides greeted her with a lei. The pungent scent of
plumerias set off a fresh bout of nausea. She sent Mika on a mission for more
ginger ale, with or without bitters.
He returned with fizzy beverages in three champagne flutes.
One for her—the requested soda to settle her stomach. Two for him. He tossed
back the glasses of sparkling wine.
“Nervous?” she asked.
“Hey, I’m drinking for two now.”
Scanning the sea of faces, she picked out Sione and
Michelle. They hurried over, arms held wide.
“Sistah, congratulations.” Sione hugged her.
Michelle followed suit and teased, “Yeah, we’re not too
jealous.”
“Thank you, guys, for coming.” Tears sprang into her eyes.
Damn hormones.
“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.” Michelle hijacked
Clarissa’s glass. “Should you be drinking this?”
“It’s ginger ale and I’m going to vomit all over you if you
don’t give it back.”
Michelle made a show of folding Clarissa’s hand around the
flute and patted it.
More family showed up. Mika’s mother, Moki and more of the
cousin posse. Even Tutu Leilani came and patted Clarissa’s belly, which hadn’t
yet begun to show.
“Some skinny, girl. You need eat mo’,” Tutu said, filling
out her own muumuu with voluminous amounts of flesh. The mother of seven
children, she knew a thing or two about pregnancy. Clarissa would’ve loved to
eat, if only she could keep something down. Mika gave her an emergency saltine.
He’d taken to carrying a baggie of them in his pocket.
Her own mother had come all the way from Florida for the
event. Helen hugged her close and kissed her cheek. “I couldn’t be more proud
of you, sweet pea.”
“Thanks, Momma.”
“My baby.” Mom cupped her hands around Clarissa’s cheeks.
“Artist and mommy-to-be.”
“Momma,” Clarissa
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