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"There is a scheduling conflict with one of the actors, and we might need to delay by a day. Christine thinks she can move some of the shooting around, but we will not know how that looks until we hire our lead. It is another mess to sort out."
"You don’t have to go down there, Logan."
"Someone needs to fix all of this."
"Yes, and that is why you have Christine. You already said she was looking into it, so why do you have to go down there?"
Logan sighs condescendingly. "BecauseIam in charge, it is my money, we are going over budget, and no one has a fucking clue. I am trying to do all this alone instead of having a studio backing me."
I stand up, and it takes some effort. "But you are not doing it alone, are you? I’m here with you! Can't you see that?"
He huffs. "Of course, I can see that. I am not an idiot! It is my own stupid fault. I want it done a certain way and need to be there to ensure it does. I will be back as soon as I can."
"Logan, we are supposed to spend—"
The door slams before I finish my sentence, and I am too shocked by his outburst to cry.
I stare at the desk in front of me and pick up one of the documents on the table for something to do. I know this is a stressful time, but I’m worried that this production will be the end of us. We didn’t need to deal with each other’s stresses when we lived apart. Now, we are slap-dang in the middle of everything. I don’t know if…
I am surprised when the door opens, and Logan is standing there.
"I want to apologize," he says.
"You came back."
"For good. Well, for the day. We decided to have this day together, and we need to make time for the two of us if this is going to work, especially when we feel like this. Christine is there, and she will take care of it. If there are any real problems, we can both go in. How about that?"
I stand up from the chair, and there are tears in my eyes now. I go to him, and he comes to meet me halfway. I fall into his embrace and want to weep into his chest, but I stop myself. Choosing me over his work is the best thing that could have happened.
"I want to make this work," he states. "We have something special, and we are going to be a family. We need to treasure that."
"We do," I agree.
He places a finger under my chin and raises my head. He leans down and kisses me. "What can I do to make it up to you, my dear?"
"Well, I believe I can think of something. I have been feeling so tired lately with the baby and the production, so I was thinking of retiring to our bed for a nap. Maybe you could join me?"
"I suddenly feel very, very tired," notes Logan with a smile.
I take his hand, and we walk together to the bedroom. We have slept in the same bed but haven’t slept together yet—only on doctor’s orders. There has been no more bleeding, and I feel fine, but I still feel horny most of the time. I finally get to satisfy my cravings.
We go into the room, and Logan looks at me. "How do you want to do this?"
"Well, when a man and a woman want to make a special commitment to each other, the man takes his penis and—are you really going to let me finish my little joke without interrupting me?"
"I want to see where you are going with it!" Logan laughs. "So, the man takes his penis, and where does that go?"
"Quit being so insufferable, and take your clothes off and get on that bed."
Logan smiles at me and keeps eye contact as he unbuttons his shirt. He looks so sexy and sophisticated when undressing, and I know I do not, especially in my current state. But, I’m living in his home, and I’m in his room, so I don’t think my inelegance is about to stop what is coming. I pull the large summer dress up over the belly bump, boobs, and my head.
I drop it to the ground and stand before him in my underwear. He looks at me hungrily, and I already feel the satisfaction he will bring me.
Logan drops his trousers and underwear to the ground, and I take him in for a moment. I trace over the lines of his pecs and abs, lingering on his nipples. I glance at the muscles just above his hips. I long to sink my teeth into his thick thighs but most of all, I want what is between his thighs.
I step forward and take him in my hands. I pull him by his cock and press my lips to his. My tongue hungrily licks at his, and it feels like I am having sex for the first time as some puberty-ridden teenager. I tighten my crotch for fear that I won’t be able to hold the orgasm in.
"The bed," I order.
