Twins

Once again it was her eyes that gave her away. She constantly looked between me and her own hands, which sat firmly on her lap with her fingers interlocked. When all three girls had sat and talked about Sophie's sexual preference she admitted she was gay, but had yet to find a partner that she could trust and take the plunge into the physical side. Poor Sophie was by now beet red as she told me this, with her fingers so tightly knitted together that they almost took on the appearance of a Gordian knot.

It seems it was Stacey that settled her predicament. She stood up, grabbed her hand and led her to the bedroom. Karen went back to her course work while the girls...explored.

Going into much more detail than that would have been difficult for both of us.

"Now you see why I want this, Andy. I owe them both, and me doing this will pay them both back in some way."

She left not long after that, her hand resting for a moment on my shoulder as she passed me. I assumed that security escorted her out. Karen came in sometimes later, but I hadn't a clue just how much time had passed. She sat across from me and didn't say a word, although her hand held onto my knee as it had done since she sat down. I'm sure both of us needed the physical contact, no matter how minimal the amount.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"It wasn't my place to, Andy. Stacey and I sat down and discussed our virginity. You know my view, but Stacey wanted to explore before she settled down. I know you don't want details, husband of mine, but you must know this. She wasn't promiscuous. I know all of her sexual partners, and in total there were only four. One of those was Sophie."

I looked at my wife, but not for confirmation: she wouldn't lie to me. Her other hand was now firmly clutching my other leg, and I had little doubt I would find the bruises later tonight.

"She stopped in her tracks the day we met you. She did buy a vibrator to take the edge off until you two did the dirty, but I promise you that no man or woman ever got physical with her after you came into our lives."

At least now I had an explanation for why my spidey senses had reacted, and my discomfort eased enough for me to start thinking about how to make the best of a situation that I still, truth be told, was not quite a hundred percent happy with.

Karen stood up and held out her hand. "C'mon; we're going home, getting naked and holding each other until your mind settles down. If your work gets delayed tell whoever that the boss made you do it."

We held each other most of the night. I'm sure she was waiting for me to ask questions. I didn't see the need to, but it was comforting to know my wife was willing to answer anything I asked of her.

*******

Sophie moved in a week later. All six suitcases, two camera boxes and a travel bag of hers. I was told that was her traveling light. Karen told the Foundation's security people that Sophie had unrestricted access, and her ID badge confirmed it. When Karen went out Sophie always rode shotgun with Tony. He seemed to enjoy the company, and it gave Karen time to focus on what she was doing.

When the newspaper people spotted Sophie, and the smart ones recognized her, they figured out real quick why she was there. The papers retaliated and wrote a couple of "exclusives" that brought the Foundation's lawyers into play, and the more worldly of them figured they had been outmaneuvered and fought each other for the rights to Sophie's exclusive.

As for me, I was friendly but kept my distance as best I could. The only time I objected was when Sophie came out of the house and over to the pool carrying her camera. This was to be about Karen and her work with the Foundation; that didn't require bikini shots of my wife.

Of course the one time I objected was the one time both ganged up on me. They just looked at each other and smiled before Sophie put the camera away. Both then sunbathed topless, and I swear they had planned this all along.

To me Sophie was a necessity; we were in effect fighting fire with fire. It was old news that the twins knew her before I did, but in my mind she came as a reporter and a month later she left as a friend; a friend with one heck of a fit body on her if her antics around the pool were added to the equation, but still a friend.

It took her another month to get everything ready and work out a deal with one of the newspapers, which ran the story in conjunction with Sophie's blog. Of course she always added a section which she never gave the papers to print and, although it pissed them off, they could see why she did it. Her blog quickly became red-hot property, and the pressure from the papers disappeared almost overnight. And peace finally reigned at the Foundation once again - well, for a couple of months at least.

We had Sophie over again once the dust had settled. She told us that she still had enough to write a book, and wanted permission to do so. Karen was all for it, but I just wanted it all to go away and get our anonymity back. There was fat chance of that happening if a book came out but, to keep my wife happy, I agreed - until I saw the book cover. It was the twins' birthday the last week of Sophie's month with us, and Karen did what she always did that day. She knelt at her sister's grave, smartened it up and talked to her for an hour, and cried for whole time.

Somehow Sophie got that picture and wanted to use it for the book cover. That one picture took on a life of its own, I flat out refused to agree with her use of it, and told her straight up that I wasn't impressed by either her taking her camera to a place that was so personal to us both, or to even use the damn thing to snap that picture.

I suppose with examples like that, the words "journalist" and "friend" in Sophie's world became so blurred that she just couldn't see the damage it could cause if that ever-so-thin line was crossed. Sophie the journalist saw the value of that one picture in the shape of revenue for the book, and it took us both to bring her back. It was our friend Sophie that handed the photo to Karen and accepted the value of a hug and thanks from us both as recompense.

The book came out six months later, her old school paper having found a black and white photo of all three girls at a track event. We all knew the value of that photo, and two of us anyway were much happier that she used this one for the cover.

Karen wanted to offer her a job at the Foundation, but we both knew that she was destined for bigger things. The story she wrote about Karen, and the subsequent book, brought her own skills back into the limelight. We see her reading the news at one of the major networks quite often, and she's always with us for Christmas. Last year she even came as Sophie plus one.

*******

We were in the third year of our marriage, and I was holding my wife's hand as she screamed one final time so that our daughter could enter this world. The nurses cleaned all the goo off her as my wife's head rested against my chest, both of us watching everything like over-protective parents. A nurse pronounced our little girl fit and healthy, and we could easily hear that her lungs sure worked, given the screaming coming from the small table across the room.

Even wrapped up, though, she just wouldn't stop crying. The nurse gently shushed her as she walked across the room, but to no avail. As she went to hand our daughter onto her mother, Karen stopped her and looked up at my confused face.

"You get to hold her first, Andy. She's been mine for eight months, two weeks and three days; another few moments won't hurt her."

The nurse wasn't too happy with this turn of events. "Karen, your child needs to feed."

I don't think I was supposed to feel her tense up.

"She gets hooked onto these real soon, but this is important to all three of us, so please humor a mother who's just given birth."

The nurse still wasn't happy; she had a screaming newborn in her arms and my wife was breaking up a routine, or perhaps even hospital policy. The slight shrug of resignation didn't go unnoticed either.

My smile couldn't get any bigger, but my main worry though was still the crying. That was until I held her in my arms and she looked up at me, and it was as if a switch had been thrown. The room's background noise could suddenly be heard; even the doctor looked over and all she could see was our child looking directly at me. No-one other than me and our daughter could feel that tingle in the nape of my neck, right where Stacey said hers was.

I had trouble looking at my wife through the flood of tears; then her finger touched our child's forehead, and Karen looked up at me and smiled.

"I know, Andy... I know."

The End