Savannah had lifted the drowsy Kat from her crib and cradled her close to her chest in the rocking chair. Startled by the sound of gunfire, she was still sniffling and whining. Savannah whispered gently into the baby's ear, comforting herself just as much as she was comforting the little girl.

She had listened intently as Kermit reluctantly surrendered his gun to the officers as evidence. Not to worry, Savannah thought with a near-hysterical giggle. He has plenty more guns.

A light rapping on the door drew her from her thoughts. "Savannah?" Mary Margaret carefully pushed open the door, relieved to see with her own eyes that her friend was safe. "How are you holding up?" Mary sat down on the corner of the toy box and offered a warm hand on Savannah's arm.

"Okay, I g-g-guess," she stuttered in a low voice. "Is K-k-kermit all right? He won't be in trouble, will he?"

"No, honey," she comforted. "Looks like self defense, from what I see." Pulling out her notepad, she gently eased into the subject at hand. "All I need is for you to tell me what happened and then your part is over."

"I was sitting outside. Couldn't sleep. I c-c-ame back inside and...and he must have...." She started to cry softly, trying not to wake the baby. "I must have left the door open. Oh no...I turned off the alarm to go sit outside for a while....couldn't sleep...I was getting a drink then ....Kermit's going to be so upset...he's always so careful about the alarm."

"No he's not! Don't worry about that." Mary Margaret took her hand as a friend, not a cop recording information. "So you were outside and then you came back in, right?"

Following the direction, Savannah returned to the story. "Yes. I was standing at the fridge and I heard a table fall over. When I looked up, there was this man standing there. He had something sharp in his hand. The moon reflected off of it in the dark. I screamed and Kermit came out of no.... where and they started to fight."

The detective could feel the effort her friend poured into her speech, fighting not to stutter, to be accurate and careful with her words. *Cop's wife,* she thought. "He had a weapon raised to you when Kermit attacked him?"

"Yes," she confirmed. "Kermit jumped him and they fell into the living room. I turned on the light, grabbed the phone, and ran for Kat's room. I locked her door and called 911." Looking at her with red-rimmed green eyes, Savannah whispered, "It was so horrible, Mary Margaret....the way Kermit had to fight him off. The man was going to stab him with a screw driver and Kermit reached a gun he had locked under the sofa. Then he shot him."

Mary Margaret finished taking notes and put down her pad. "That's fine, honey. You did good."

Leaning back wearily on the chair, she closed her eyes. "His eyes were open, Mary. It was so horrible. The blood...." Snapping her head upright, she fell into the organizational mode that helped her get through most crisis. "Is he....the body still there? I need to get that b-b-blood out of there....I can't have Kat see that!"

"Don't worry about that, Savannah. When they're finished and the coroner has taken the body, we have a crime scene clean up service that'll take care of it. Just stay back here and they'll let us know when they're finished." Mary Margaret was grateful that her friend wouldn't have to see the gruesome sight again. Gore was nothing to experienced cops. Something different for a civilian in her own home.

"Do they know who it was, Mary? I didn't recognize him." She laughed slightly, "But I don't recognize most people."

"Not yet," she answered. "T.J. is checking things out. I'll go find out." Rising slowly, she gave the frightened woman a warm embrace. Stroking Kat's drowsy cheeks, she said, "Just stay back here. I'll be back in a minute. Can I get you anything?"

"No," she whispered, "I'm fine as long as I don't have to go out there."

"No reason for you to come out until it's all done." Mary Margaret left the room to jump into the investigation.

*****

"No forced entry," T.J. observed. "Was the door open when you came into the room?"

"Yes," Kermit answered, casting another look down the hall. "Savannah has trouble sleeping and she must have been getting some air. She does that sometimes." As T.J. snapped on a pair of rubber gloves to inspect the screw driver still clutched in the victim's fist, he continued. "I heard glass breaking, he must have knocked over that table, and I came in to find him standing at the entrance to the kitchen. He had the screw driver raised over his head and he was moving toward Savannah."

T.J. noted the still open refrigerator door. "She was over there?"

"Yes. I dove into him and she ran for the back of the house. We fought. He drew the weapon again and I pulled a gun from under the sofa and nailed him."

"Good for you!" Mary Margaret congratulated, handing him a sweatshirt she had grabbed from the bedroom before returning to the scene. "Can't have you catching a cold after such lovely trash clean up."

"Thanks," he mumbled, pulling his body into the shirt. "Is Savannah all right?"

"Fine," she reassured him. "So, who's our boy here?"

"No ID, of course," T.J. noted, removing his hands from a search of the body. "No weapon besides the screw driver, either. Doesn't look like a hit, does it, Kermit?"

"You're thinking he was just a burglar stupid enough to rob a cop's house?" Mary Margaret asked, moving aside to let the crew from the coroner's office begin their work.

"Could be," Kermit answered, looking down in barely sheathed fury at the dead body. The man who was inches away from killing his wife in her own home. It wouldn't be the typical m.o. of his particular associates to go for a target armed with only the pathetic hardware of a screw driver. Not to come after him, anyway. "I need to check him out, first."

"Stay here with your wife, Kermit," T.J. pulled off the gloves and dropped them into a baggie. "We'll run a check and let you know. But, from what I see here, it looks like a burglar who thought he found an open door to a stereo and got caught off guard when he ran into someone in the dark. You shot him in self-defense."

Kermit grunted his acknowledgment, turning over possibilities in his own mind. "You're probably right." He fell silent as the body was hauled away. A stranger had once again tried to destroy his soul.

The clean up crew scrubbed away the blood and left not a trace of the slick, red evidence of violence. All samples gathered and statements given, Kermit locked the door behind T.J. and Mary Margaret and regained control over his home.

*****

Finally, the voices and footsteps began to recede. Savannah sighed in relief when all became quiet. There was a soft knock at the door. "Savannah?" came her husband's loving voice. "It's me. Are you two all right?" He opened the door a crack as Savannah rushed into his arms, baby and all. He held them, touching his forehead to hers, comforting them. "It's all right," he soothed. "They're gone. They're all gone now."

"I'm s-so sorry about the alarm....leaving the door open," Savannah sniffled into his chest.

"Shhhhh....it isn't your fault." Guiding her and the baby in her arms to their bedroom, Kermit tried to ease her mind as his still agonized over what could have happened, again.

*****

The next day, Kermit was forced to relive the nightmare once more as Simms called, early, demanding details. As he held the phone with one hand, while managing to dress with the other, he assured her that no one was hurt.

He sneaked a peek at Savannah, who was trying to make breakfast and flatly ignore the spot where blood had spilled her home. He had made a decision. A decision that he had made before that had fallen through. Now, he had to go through with it. No matter what it cost him. No matter if it cost him his soul -- and it would.

"I'm not coming in today," he told Simms and hung up on her.

Savannah was cooking eggs resolutely, pretending and babbling with Kat like she hadn't a care in the world. But she had. What was she doing here? She was with a man who loved her and a baby she loved more than life But what was the cost? Strange men terrifying her at every turn. Random drive-by shootings. Having more guns than the National Rifle Association. Learning how to use a weapon so that perhaps someday she would have to do what Kermit did last night. Savannah could easily picture herself in her husband's place. Imagining that she was in the house alone and she was the one who had to pull the trigger. She shuddered again, not noticing the warm presence behind her.

"Sweetheart, I like my steak well-done, not my eggs," Kermit's teasing voice carried over her shoulder, scaring her to death. As she jumped in her fright, Kermit took both hands and caressed her shoulders, more determined to go through with his plan than ever.

Savannah looked down at the blackened eggs, now creating a nauseating stench in the kitchen. She yanked them off the burner. "Sorry," she apologized.

Kermit smiled as he turned her around to face him. "It's all right. We've got a lot to do anyway." Savannah cocked her head questioningly as Kermit took a deep, fortifying breath. "You and Kat are leaving for Memphis, today, to be with your folks."

Savannah's eyes cast downwards. She had been wanting to meet them, but didn't want to be introduced to her parents before she was more independent. Maybe this was the right time. "Aren't you coming with us?"

"No." His voice was low and even.

"For how long are we staying?" she asked.

"Forever."

Savannah felt all the blood drain from her face. "Wh-wh-what-?"

Kermit took her hand and led her gently into the living room, sitting her down on the sofa. He went back to get Kat and sat her on his lap, hugging her tightly. "Savannah, you're leaving me. For good. I'm packing your bags myself. You're taking Kat and bringing her up in Memphis where the both of you can be safe and as far away from me as possible." He leaned down to smell the soft scent of Kat's wispy head of hair. He had to be strong for both their sakes.

"W-w-wait...."

"I'm not going to listen to any arguments, Savannah." Kermit set his jaw, determined at his course of action. "Last time, I tried to get you away without your knowledge. This time is different. This time, I'm not just throwing you out without a net. You'll have plenty of money to make a new start and you're still young yet-"

"You don't love me?" came the plaintive response.

Kermit sighed and held onto her hand. "Savannah, I love you more than you'll ever know. That's why I have to let you do this."

"But I don't want to do this!"

"I know, Scarlett," Kermit said, "but you have to concede the logic on this one. Think about it. Think about what happened."

"Was he...was that the man...?"

Kermit shook his head. "I don't think he was after me or you. I think it was just a random burglary, but what about the next time? There could be a next time, I can promise you that. There will be a next time and the men will be a hundred times more cunning and professional than that guy was. They'll be-" Kermit swallowed, knowing that this would cause pain and knowing that he had no choice, "just like Ericson."

Savannah clasped her hands together and pressed them to her forehead in the pain of that memory. Kermit would have rather borne the pain of his six-week torture in the Hanoi Hilton than to hurt this woman

"What about the shooting?" Kermit pressed. "The precinct is a dangerous place and that's where I am all the time. I know you don't like the guns. I know you don't like to use them. And what about me? You saw what I am. A killer. Savannah, you and Kat have to get away from me as far as possible and stay there. You've been hurt twice now since you came into my life. I'd rather live without you than have that happen again." At Savannah's silence, Kermit nodded. "Good. Let's get you packed."

"NO!" she shouted, scaring Kat into a hiccuping cry. She took the little girl into her arms while she continued a defensive grapple in her shock. "You can't....do this....NO!" She shook her head in disbelief. The terrified tears running down her cheeks.

Kermit was wincing. He knew she wouldn't take this well. Savannah clutched at his hand, burning his resolve.

"You can't do this to us," she said, cuddling Kat, " You were there when I needed you. Last night and all those other n-n-nights when I was sick. I don't care about danger......I don't care...you love me! Until you can say that you d-d-don't love me and don't want to be with me, I'm not going anywhere!!! And you can't make me go!!!"

Kermit sighed. He was failing again and he knew it. "Being near me puts you AND Kat in danger!" Raising his voice, he redirected. "Think about HER! You should take her back to Memphis where things are safer."

"So," she cocked her head in mock confusion and let Kat ease gently to the floor, "let me get this straight. There are no bad guys south of the M-Mason-Dixon Line?" Anger bled into sarcasm and struck out from behind the waterfall of tears draining down her face. "Well, fiddle-dee-dee, Mr. Kermit! I thought there were criminals everywhere. Let me just go on back to the ver...anda and fan myself." Her voice caught as she spit the words out.

"Don't be flip," he snapped. "This is serious. Kat's not safe here with me." Hoping to change her mind with concerns for their daughter, he played the trump. "Kat could have been killed by the same bullets that nearly killed you. She could have been killed last night. She could be killed by anyone of a hundred enemies of mine in the future."

Logic. She had to continue to match his. Silently, she prayed for the strength to remain calm. "Do you think your having a child is some big secret, Kermit? Kat is YOUR daughter. It's done and too late to change that. If someone wants to hurt you by coming for her, they could find her OR me anywhere. Here in Sloanville, at your side where you can protect her," she gently stroked the soft black curls, "or in Memphis, far away from your love or protection." Reaching back to grab his hand, she softened her tone. "It's too late to change this life, Kermit. We're here. We love each other. We're a family."

"I want you to have the choice to live in a world where my filthy life can't hurt you again." Kermit swallowed his own emotional pain as he looked into the bright green eyes of his daughter.

The logical reasoning was dissolving in Savannah's frantic need to hold onto her life, to her family. "Please....I ...can't lose you again...," a sob chopped her carefully enunciated words, "I wouldn't live through it a-again...don't stop loving me....please...."

He couldn't take it. Reaching out, he grabbed her, drawing her back into his arms. Calming her with whispers and soft touches, he took it all back. "I'll never stop loving you. Never."

She only sobbed more fiercely.

"Shhhh....please relax, Scarlett." Kermit never meant to send her over the edge this way. He was an ass.....this was confirmation.

Her face was buried in his starched white shirt. Talking into the damp fabric, Savannah whispered, "I remember.....the day after you sent me away. I almost wanted to die. Without the baby to think of, I might have...I tried to throw away your things....tried to get mad." She pulled herself from his chest and spoke inches from his cheek. "I couldn't stop loving you....even then....I needed you and I n-need you now."

Without a moment's hesitation, he vanquished the idea of sending her away -- ever. Kermit soaked his wife in a long, warm kiss; stopping the words of anguish and fear. Drowning in the sweet honey taste of her mouth, he knew he could never let her go.

Holding her face in both of his hands, Kermit pulled her back to look into his eyes. "I don't want you to go. Please calm down. I'll never bring it up again."

"Swear." Her eyes burned into his, demanding the answer.

He smiled and wiped her face with his thumb. "I swear."

A breath of relief shuddered from her body, and she tried to smile back. Gently kissing the hand caressing her cheek, she said, "Love will find a way through paths where wolves fear to prey."

He couldn't stop the low chuckle. "You've been reading Byron."

"He seems to know us." Savannah leaned into the touch.

"Since you're sticking around, why don't you and Kat go try to make us another breakfast?"

She didn't offer an audible answer, just returned to the kitchen to reconstruct breakfast. For a long time after she had gone, he stared after her. Emotions a mixture of frustration at her refusal to comply, relief that she didn't, and shame at his inability to change the insecurity that they lived with day to day.

*****

"What I don't understand is why the HELL someone didn't call me!" Peter Caine was storming his way in a circle around T.J. in the interrogation room.

"No one was hurt, Peter," T.J. watched the curious rage being focused in his direction. "Well, no one except the bad guy. He was hurt. Boy, was he hurt." He tried to diffuse Peter's anger with a smile.

"This isn't funny!" Peter stalled behind a chair and glared across the starkly furnished room. He had awoken in the middle of a nightmare last night. Like so many others. That same one. He should have gone there to help them. "Someone should have called me."

T.J. felt the hurt in his voice. Peter, for all the persecution he had accepted from Kermit Griffin, still cared. "You're right. I'm sorry." He conceded the point. "The call came in from 911 when they saw Kermit's home identified as an officer here at the 101st. They notified us and we went." Softening in the face of Peter's personal stake in matters, he said, "We should have let you know, but there was nothing you could have done. They were fine. Simms threw a little weight around and got the investigation moved here. Nothing more to tell."

"Was it one of Choi's men? One of Blood Lao's group? Who?" Peter scraped his chair across the floor and sat down, demanding details.

Regardless of the fact that Peter Caine had no authority over his investigations, T.J. answered. "Nothing that sinister, my friend. The guy was a career burglar. Daniel Crebbs. Paroled three weeks ago."

"I don't buy that it was just a random break in, T.J.," Peter snapped, "and I can't believe you do, either. Your garden variety burglar doesn't attack when he's discovered! He splits!"

After no sleep and having his skills as a detective questioned, T.J. Kincaid was sparsely decorated with grace. He'd reached the limit of his ability to bend. "Listen, contrary to what you think, Detective Caine, you aren't the only cop around here with a brain. We, Skalany and I, researched the creep. Wanna know what he was in prison for? A guy caught Mr. Crebbs just after he climbed through his window. Our boy stabbed him with, YOU guessed, a screw driver."

Peter knew he had crossed the line. T.J. Kincaid rarely lost his shine. It was gone and replaced with indignant fury. "Look, T.J., I didn't mean to imply--"

"Forget it." Detective Kincaid recovered quickly. Turning the other cheek, he said, "I know how you feel. We, including Kermit, thought the same thing, but this seems to be what it looks like. Random act of stupidity by a crook." T.J. turned to leave, but looked back to offer one more word of reassurance. "They're both fine. Savannah's fine. Kermit popped the guy. Case closed."

Peter watched him leave and stared out the door as the other detectives went about their business. Perhaps this was the source of his dream. It had been resolved. Kermit had protected his wife. He should feel relieved.

"Detective Caine?!" Karen Simms was bellowing like a lion nursing a thorn. "When you're finished with your daydream, do join us!" She passed by the door, flinging her barb, then gathered up a few others for a conference.

Peter rose quickly to follow.

He should feel relieved, but he didn't.

*****

"SHIT, man!!! You guys are supposed to be big time gangsters?!" Blood Lao stomped around his cousin's office. All traces of the meek helpless boy in need had disappeared.

Clarence sat still in his comfortable chair, watching the rampage with amused boredom. "Coming from an expert like yourself, Henry, that truly wounds me."

"Yeah, well," Blood flopped down on the sofa and began flipping through a magazine, "maybe I should take care of it myself."

Clarence eyed the source of his tension headache. He was tired. Painfully tired. "At this point, shithead, I don't really care." Closing his eyes against the failure, he felt his stomach churning. One choice and his world was forever colored. Sending that ex-con seemed like a squeaky clean solution. "That bitch has nine lives. You think you can clear out the last seven? Go for it."

"Huh?" Blood's posture straightened and his boots hit the floor in a shocked clatter.

"You're not deaf. I said go for it. Kill her if you can, kid. Clean up your own mess."

The stunned young man's body shifted from surprise to the cocky swagger of evil intent. Crossing floor, he stood over his relative and grinned. "Need a piece. Untraceable."

Huffing a small laugh, Clarence waved him toward a locked cabinet on the wall. "Sure, kid. Take your pick."

Greedily, the blood-thirsty boy descended on his own personal toy store. Flipping open the lock, he hummed his delight. His hands stroked their way over the brilliant, gleaming metal of Clarence's brand new shipment. The classic Uzis. An assortment of deadly autoloader shotguns. Benelli M3s, and the prized Franchi Spas-12 gleamed back, ripe for the taking. Pulling the oiled black surface of a Glock 21 from one of a shelf of pistols, he cradled the gift to his chest.

Into the boy's orgasmic glee intruded a savage forearm around his throat. The gun clattered to the floor as Blood Lao strained against the vise grip on his windpipe. "Listen to me, boy," Clarence hissed through the shaggy hair into the struggling teenager's ear. "You clean up this mess. If you get caught, you'd better forget you ever knew me or I'll have you turned inside out from your asshole."

"Uh huh..." The syllables squeezed out with the last of his air.

Clarence dumped the coughing remains of his cousin at his feet. Reassembling his calm exterior, he said, "Leave any loose ends, and I'll tie them around your neck." Resting a hand on the boy's head, Clarence patted it like an obedient dog. "Screw up, you're dead. Succeed, and you're my dog for life." Shoving the boy's head into the wall, he added, "Either way, I win!"

Now.....he must make his apologies to HIS boss. More than likely, from his knees.

*****

Kermit Griffin entered his home quickly, straining to hear the conversation taking place in his living room. Jody Powell's car was in his driveway and along with her, the details of his day.

Details he wanted kept away from his home.

"Hello, ladies." He greeted them casually, closely examining their expressions. If he'd had time to talk to Jody earlier, alone, he could have avoided this potential disaster.

Jody and Savannah were seated in the living room, looking over the blonde detective's collection of travel brochures. "Hey, sugar," Savannah waved from her comfortable slouch among the cushions. "Jody's goin' on a man hunt!"

"Can't a girl just go on vacation to a nice, quiet beach where people wear postage stamps and drink pina coladas all day without someone thinking she's on the make?" Jody snorted in mock indignation, snatching back a beach-scaped ad from her friend.

"Uh...no." Savannah accepted a gentle peck on the cheek from her husband and handed him a brochure.

"I'm strictly going for R & R. Nothing else." Jody smiled at the couple. They seemed so happy. Sometimes, it was practically annoying.....but not today.

Kermit perused the bikini-filled photo then peered over his shades. "Well, I'm sure you won't be on police business. No decent place in that outfit to hide a badge."

"I won't be taking the badge to Aruba, thank you!" Jody grabbed at the brochure and missed. "But I may take the handcuffs," she added, winking to Savannah. With a surprised jump, Jody remembered her reason for coming to the Griffin home in the first place. "Oh, Kermit," Jody reached and arm over the end of the sofa to dig through her purse, "can you tape the lecture at the conference for me. I just can't work out the time for it with my caseload and leaving for vacation in two days."

"What conference?" Savannah shot a curious glance between the two.

Paying his wife as much attention as a chattering toddler, he snapped at Jody. "I'm not going."

Turning sharply, he resorted to his fall back position in the kitchen. His conversation with Simms was still ringing in his ears. She'd asked him to go to a conference. Overnight. 'Successful Interfacing of Local Police Intelligence with the Federal Bureau of Investigations.' His rude remark about finding several oxymoron's in the title met with the expected amount of fury. Karen Simms had changed it from a request to an order and left it at that.

"But I thought Simms said it was all set...." Jody let the sentence drift away.

Savannah was already moving. The frustration that had been boiling inside her for weeks began to foam toward the lid. "What's she talking about, Kermit? Are you supposed to go somewhere?" She trailed him into the kitchen.

"It's some meaningless conference to get information that's unnecessary," he covered, smothering himself in the refrigerator. Grabbing a cold beer bottle, he bit the inside of his mouth in trepidation. He couldn't leave her--but he didn't want her to know he was staying because he doubted her ability to care for herself

"Karen wants you to go somewhere and you're not going....why?!" She already knew why. Folding her arms in solid resistance, she cut an angry figure in the middle of her home. "Tell me!"

"Just forget it, Scarlett," he finessed. "It's not anything for you to worry about."

"STOP DOING THAT!!!!" She screamed in sharp blades of anger. Jody Powell slipped gratefully out the back door, unnoticed. "How d-d-dare you treat me this way!? I'm your wife, dammit! And you'd better start treating me like a partner and not s-s-some fragile responsibility you have. You start telling me things and letting me BE a partner. I deserve that much."

After halting her tirade, she swallowed a bit of the bite in her voice. "Now, start again. What conference?"

"In Chicago, on interfacing law enforcement agencies," he replied calmly, trying to avoid enraging her further. To see her making demands was encouraging...to a point. "I told Karen I didn't think it was a good idea for me to leave you overnight."

Her body language said it all. Breath sucked in sharply. Knuckles in a white grip on the fabric of her blouse. With visible effort, Savannah pushed back the fury that bubbled up inside at the implications of his excuse. With laudable restraint, she answered. "Go to the conference."

"I don't think--"

"Go to the god...." she swallowed again, "...Go to the conference."

"Are you certain?" Kermit could read her. Every line and in between. She was stone cold furious. Just as she would have been BEFORE the shooting, at such *handling.* In a way, it was a good thing to see. She wasn't breaking into pieces. No tears. Only indignant fury. Savannah was on offense -- an excellent sign of her recovery and confidence.

At this point, calling attention to that would be a bad idea -- for his psyche and his person.

"Oh pleeeeeeeeze," she groaned, spinning away to stalk back into the living room. She skimmed the kitchen table to steady herself as she left the room. Returning within seconds, she came back carrying the cane she had been using for balance since coming home. Tossing it to the prudently quiet man, she shouted, "Get rid of this thing!" Then stopping in half spin, she remembered another point of aggravation she wanted purged. "AND, get somebody out here to take that STUPID hand rail out of my shower!"

Kermit wisely remained silent as his wife -- the wife he remembered -- ranted to herself in a ragged mumble through the house. Fitful grumbles of "I'll show him who's an invalid!" and "Just try to treat me like a two year old.....I'm somebody's mother, dammit!"

A smile wriggled across his face. Still uncertain, but not as much as an hour earlier.

*****

It had been an hour. The ex-mercenary had avoided his wife like a fully stocked mine field. Watching her go through the motions of reading Kat a story and slipping her into bed gave him a bit of relief. Savannah seemed to be calming down from her expert shredding of him in the kitchen.

She was right. He had to stop smothering her, but giving up this vigil was easier said than done. Hovering and protecting were second nature to him now. The truth was, Kermit had forgotten that inside this recovering patient was a grown woman. A woman who had obviously become tired of being treated like glass.

Negotiating her feelings was simply another obstacle to add to his daily course. An exhausting map of things to seek out and avoid. Watching out for anything that could help or hurt Savannah's recovery. Avoiding his own anger and frustration. To focus on her, he had to banish all else. It ate away beneath his veneer of conscious action. Calling to him every time he drove through Chinatown and saw a group of gang kids in colors. Forcing a knot into his stomach every time he caught glimpse of Peter Caine walking through the precinct.

Rapping lightly on his bedroom door, he waited for permission to enter. After a few seconds, a soft call came through the barrier.

"Come in." It was a gentle welcome, lacking the venom and frustration of an hour ago.

Pushing the door halfway open, he half expected her to be baiting a trap and fling a shoe his way.

"I promise not to bite," she crooned, as he made his way into the dimly lit bedroom, "unless you want me to." Fluffing her long blonde hair, Savannah leaned back on the corner of their bed, waiting for a response.

For a moment, the memory was overwhelming. Kermit raked his eyes over his wife's body. Traveling over every satin draped curve. The deep crimson nightgown flowed around her like a heavy, sweet liquid. She had worn it during their first Christmas together. Presenting herself on Christmas Eve, layered in mistletoe, Savannah had made herself part of his holiday gift package. It had been so long since he had thought of that night.

Savannah stood there, holding her breath, waiting for him to say something. The gown was still too big. She had found it in her drawer on one of her first explorations through the house. In a mad tangle with a needle and thread, she had spent the last twenty minutes trying to take up the straps and the seams to make it fit instead of hang. She was reaching toward her normal weight, her normal figure according to the clothing in her closet, but she still had a way to go. Kermit had commented a few weeks earlier that she was "filling out." In his thick-headed male way, Savannah understood he meant it as a compliment -- even so, she felt obliged to scowl at him.

At his continued silence, she timidly said, "I know it doesn't look the way it should, but--"

Her doubts were disarmed by two long strides and two strong arms sweeping her into a loving circle. "It looks," he ran an appreciative hand down to slide over her hip, "exactly the way it should." Playfully kissing her earlobe, he whispered, "Oh, and the nightgown's not bad either."

Nervousness dispelled, Savannah melted into the embrace, holding his body close. She giggled softly against his smooth cotton shirt. "You always know how to m-make me laugh."

"Leno's called a couple of times but I thought I should keep my day job." The warmth flowed over him. Into him. The scent he couldn't get enough of. The way her body seemed to travel into his. Molding and folding over him. Moving his hands from their soothing trip, he cradled her face, soaking up the deep green love in her eyes. Lips parted slightly, the warm pink mouth drew him.

First contact moaned from his chest. Honey and fire exploded through the passionate kiss that tangled them together. Her tongue danced luxuriously through his mouth. In the dizzy intoxication, Kermit gave in to the multitude of sensation. The pounding of Savannah's heartbeat tapping against his chest. The gentle rhythm of her voice humming through the kiss. Her legs and hips swaying in time with building desire.

Breaking the gentle greeting, Savannah leaned back to stare seductively up at her mesmerized husband. Two small hands closed around his Windsor knot and slipped his tie off with tantalizing slowness. Provocatively, she pulled the tie free and draped it around her neck.

Taking the bait, Kermit traced two fingers down the length of his brand new tie, seeking out the solidified nipples obscured beneath. Pleased, as Savannah's eyelids fluttered closed at the intimate contact, he continued to rub over the aroused beads with his thumbs. Every groan pulsing into his own building need.

Those same hot little hands began to tangle with his buttons. Tugging and angling to free the his chest to more thorough examination.

But...the buttons remained attached. Kermit knew that her fine motor skills were still being developed. She struggled with hooks and zippers.....and buttons, avoiding them when possible. When Kermit was around, Savannah leaned toward sweat suits. After he left, he assumed, she would battle with the refined motions necessary to button and unbutton. Trying to speed her access -- for her pride as well as his throbbing body -- he moved to loose the buttons himself.

With stunning speed, Savannah's delicate hand sharply slapped his away. "No!" the refusal popped out with and edge of anger to it. "I can DO IT! I want to do it....do this.."

For a moment, Kermit froze. The sting of her hand shocked his attention from the stiff longing brushing against her through his trousers. Her features formed several emotions in rapid succession. Rigid anger. Flushed embarrassment. Then....the pleading expression of a woman begging to be his equal. Not to be cared for, but to be his partner in full.

He had no words that would explain the depth of his feeling or his sharing of her humiliation. Actions were needed. That was what she was trying to tell him. They had talked enough. Washing his hands through her silken hair, he leaned down to brush against her pale pink cheek. Kissing her gently as she took on his buttons. One by one. He understood what this was about. Savannah would be in charge, would prove to him that she was strong.

Each time another inch of flesh felt the cool touch of her hand, Kermit reveled in the powerful stimulation. Flesh on flesh. Slowly the shirt came free under her delicate fingers. Dipping nimble fingers inside his waistband, Savannah tugged out the shirttails and stripped off the starched white garment with generous enthusiasm. Wrapping him tightly in her arms, the woman nuzzled into the twisted hair covering his broad chest, pressing her hips forward to urge on his swelling desire. Delicate hands then made quick work of his zipper and shoved the other offending garments to the floor.

In a sensual tango of groping hands and adjusted balance, Kermit let her move him backward onto the bed. Flowing down over his body, Savannah draped languidly over him. Covering him with an inferno of sensation. She wanted to take him and he was more than willing to be had. Painting desperate kisses over his face, she stretched out. Matching hot spots and pulse points with alarming intensity.

Worry and doubt melted away in the intense heat of sex as Kermit peeled his wife's gown over her head and let go. There was freedom here in the passionate grasp of the woman he loved.

"So....you'll go?" Savannah breathed the words in between long, lapping kisses to his neck.

"Oh...yeah..." He filled his hands with soft flesh. "Mary Margaret spends the night here with you...ummm...just to ease my mind. Yeah..."

Lacing her hands through his hair, she stroked his bare legs with her own. "It's only ...one night...just one night."

"Please," he groaned, rapidly forgetting what he was pleading for so ardently.

"Okay. But the day is mine alone." It was her turn to groan and one large hand cupped her breast.

"I'll expect one hell of a homecoming."

"Consider this the preview."

Discernible language bled into the mumbled prose of lust.

Part 1   2   3   4   5   6   7   8   9   10   11   12   13   14   15   16   17   18   19   20  

Back to serie's index      Back to Story index