Bad Choice, Good Choice

At the end of the day Alicia came to my desk. "Ken sure knows how to grab the bull by the horns, doesn't he," she laughed.

"He never ceases to amaze me," I giggled.

"I never would have thought that luncheon was a good idea – but it was a great idea. Do you know how much grief that saved you?" she asked.

I thought a second. She was right. No talk behind my back because it was out in the open.

"That's the main reason he did it, you know – he told me that beforehand," Alicia continued.

"I love him," I said, starting to tear up.

She patted my shoulder. "It's obvious that he's crazy about you. Now kiss him goodbye and get your preggo ass home and your feet up; he and I have to work on a quarterly report for the accountants tonight."

I did just that.

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I'm not sure whether it was my pregnancy, Ken, or both, but after that first blissful weekend of sex with Ken my libido skyrocketed. It was significantly higher than at any other time in my life. I couldn't get enough of Ken's cock, tongue and fingers. I do believe that in the two weeks after our first sexual encounter that we fucked in every position that a five month pregnant woman could fuck in, accompanied by plenty of sucking. Ken was a so much better lover than anyone I had ever been with before that he wasn't even in the same league. He could be tender, rough, or anything in between and seemed to have some extrasensory perception to sense my mood and desires and fulfill them.

There was only one drawback to my now perfect life. The LeBlanc family now knew where I was since that had to be disclosed in the divorce papers, and they were vigorously fighting the divorce. Jean apparently came back from his ship as soon as I took off. Once I filed for divorce the phone calls to Go To started coming, to such an extent that Ken got a protective order precluding anyone in the LeBlanc family from calling the office, and had the software for the phone system changed so that any call from a Louisiana area code was bounced back, but logged in.

Jean was specifically fighting my request for sole custody. Some of the allegations he made were so outrageous that according to my attorney they really hurt him in the eyes of the Court. It seemed that all of the initial rulings were going against him.

Aware of the possibility that the LeBlanc's could take the law into their own hands, Ken had the office, our car, and our condo wired with cameras, monitored 24/7 by a security firm unless we turned particular cameras off.

After yet another preliminary victory in Court when I was seven and a half months pregnant, Ken and I were in the mood to celebrate. As we arrived home from a club (yes I could still dance, although I never had a drink of alcohol of any kind since the day that I found out that I was pregnant) just before midnight on a Friday night, at the elevator from the garage to our condo, two guys approached us – one with a gun and one with a knife.

"Hello, Sha," came Jean's sarcastic voice. "You look good fat." He was the one holding the gun. The guy holding the knife was Andre. The police had dropped charges against him when they were unable to locate me to press them.

"Let's go up to lover boy's condo, Sha, shall we," Jean's sarcastic voice continued.

As we rode up in the elevator Jean kept the gun pointed at my belly and Andre acted like a complete ass as he did an imaginary swordfight with his knife, coming close to both Ken and I.

Neither Ken nor I said much of anything up to the point that we entered the condo. I was scared shitless, but felt a little more secure now that the cameras were definitely on us. I just hoped that the security firm was doing its job.

"Now, Sha, you're probably wondering why I'm here – maybe not," Jean chided, as he hit Ken a glancing blow with the gun on the side of his head. "You're coming back with us to Baton Rouge to deliver MY baby; then we'll decide what to do with you. In the meantime, we're going to dispose of lover boy here."

It looked to me like Ken lost it. I swear that he started crying, got on his knees and started begging for his life, saying shit like "Look, just take her, she's yours – please don't kill me, I won't say anything to the cops."

Jean and Andre started laughing at Ken's apparent cowardice and let their guard down. Apparently that was Ken's plan because faster than I could easily perceive it Ken had Jean's gun hand bent back toward him, the gun went off, and a bullet smashed into Jean's face, spewing blood everywhere. Andre took a step back horrified, which was his undoing. Ken was on him a split second later, grabbed his knife hand and arm, quickly stepped over it, and snapped it at the elbow. The sound was sickening.

As Andre lay on the floor screaming in pain the blood and noise got to my preggo brain, and I apparently passed out. All I know is the next thing that I was aware of was me lying on the couch with a doctor peering over me, and our condo full of cops and CSIs.

Jean and Andre were no longer there. When the doctor yelled to Ken that I was awake, he immediately broke away from the two cops he was talking to and came right over to me.

"Everything's fine, honey," he said with a smile, stroking my face. I noticed blood on his shirt. When he saw me looking at it he said "It's Jean's not mine."

"Where are Jean and Andre?" I weakly asked.

"Jean is dead and Andre is on his way to the hospital handcuffed to a gurney and escorted by two policemen," he said with a frown. I thought it was a forced frown. That was clear when I broke into a big smile and he smiled broadly in response. "I guess that you're not too broken up about that, are you?" he asked.

"Ken, those guys are evil. They would have killed you and kidnapped me, and probably killed me too after the baby was born. We still have to worry about Adele, though," I said, suddenly becoming morose.

"Maybe not," Ken smiled. "The police found a document on Andre indicating that Adele was the mastermind of their little fiasco, and provided the financing. They are already in contact with Baton Rouge police."

The smile returned to my face. Ken bent over and softly kissed me on the lips and I put my arms around his neck.

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Being almost eight months pregnant, I had a bad next couple of days after that traumatic experience. Ken took off work most of the time, and Sybil was with me when Ken wasn't so that I was never alone. Even though it was overkill, in order to make me feel 100% secure Ken hired a bodyguard to stand outside our condo and to drive me and Sybil around when Ken wasn't there. After about a week I felt much better. By the end of that Saturday I really felt good!

Saturday Ken rented a limo and it drove us to a play and after desert and tea at a coffee house drove us to the Jefferson Memorial, one of my favorite places in D. C. As we sat on the steps looking out at the reflecting pool Ken got unusually quiet.

"What are you thinking about, honey?" I asked, squeezing his bicep.

He smiled, got down on one knee, pulled out the biggest rock on a band of platinum that I had ever seen in my life and said "I want you to be my wife before you deliver, and formally adopt your little girl the second that she's born so that she'll be ours forever. Amy, will you do me the honor of marrying me?"

I almost couldn't answer him through my tears, but he got the idea that I was saying yes when I stuck my left hand ring finger out so far that it almost poked him in the eye.

I don't know what having that ring on my finger did for me, but my already sky-high libido now rocketed out of the solar system. That night I "made" Ken fuck me doggy as hard as he was willing to consistent with my condition, and then sat on his cock facing away from him as he massaged my pregnancy-enhanced boobs while he fucked me again.

We got married in a civil ceremony that same week, with Sybil as my attendant and Ken's brother as his. It's lucky that we acted quickly because I delivered two weeks early, a healthy little girl that we named Adele. No, just kidding, anything but Adele – actually Sarah, after my Mom.

As I write this, I have just two weeks ago delivered Ken's and my little boy, we have a house in the suburbs with a picket fence and swimming pool, three year old Sarah has Ken wrapped around her little finger, and I have a real family! Life is good; REAL good!