A/N: Rated M for language and sex. This is a waff fic (look it up on google) with a good dash of lime (it's not lemon, there is a difference). If you are looking for warm, fuzzy, and very syrupy, borderline emo romance, then you're at the right place. This is all artsy fartsy good fun stuff. Enjoy. :)

H A H A H A H A H A

After consideration I've decided to remove the author forward.

H A H A H A H A H A

To Love and to Cherish

by Pyrex Shards

"Listen bucko!" Helga yells across the ticket counter at the attendant. She's thrown everything, even her body, at the table. She shakes her fist and raises a holy ruckus. "If that flight doesn't leave in the next hour we'll miss our flight to Paris! And believe me; you don't want me to miss that flight."

I have to admire the courage of the man behind the counter, to stand there stock still, unmoving, not even flinching, while Helga G. Shortman tells him exactly what is going to happen if we miss our honeymoon flight to Paris, France. I can only imagine that he's had to deal with people even worse than Helga, in his line of work.

Then again…

How many people in the world are like Helga? In spite of the nightmare that's unfolding, stuck in the middle of the continental United States, in Saint Louis, because our connecting flight is delayed due to mechanical trouble, I can't help but smile. She's never changed. It's funny, with the prospect of my hard earned money going down the drain and having to consol Helga because she has her heart set on Paris, I just can't get angry at the man behind the counter. I can't get mad at the burnt out warning light on the 747 to New York that turned out to be a major electrical problem.

Perhaps I can't get mad because I can see that intoxicating Pataki blood coursing through Helga's veins, and showing in the anger on her face. It is such a turn on; one of the many reasons she is now my wife.

"Miss," the man smiles slightly, apologetically. "We're trying as hard as we can to reroute you two. Now please remain calm and…"

Helga growls and reaches for him. That's my cue. Even such an alluring display has to come to an end. I sigh and reach out for my wife, and put a hand on her shoulder. It is still incredible how she reacts to my touch. Somehow I can tame her just by touching her. "Helga, honey, calm down."

She turns to me and her scowl fades as she looks at me. I can tell that she looks hurt. I don't blame her for the display. "But Arnold, it's Paris. Paris, France." She pleads with me, her arms out towards me, but she doesn't have to. I can see it in her eyes. She wants to be with me in Paris. I'll never know why she's drawn to that city. I've accepted the idea that I will never know unless she tells me.

If she ever tells me.

I smile at her, then take her hands and squeeze them between my own. "Paris is just a city, love. We're together, and that's what counts." I want Paris, but I want Helga more, even though she is my wife and I already have her.

She studies my eyes, and I can't help but get lost in the inquisitive gaze of those beautiful sapphire pools. She blinks once, twice, then smirks and turns away. "You're such a damned optimist." I think she saw my thoughts. She can do that sometimes.

I look at the man behind the counter and it's obvious he's been moved a little by the scene that just played out before him.

Helga puts her hands on her slight hips and looks at the balding grey-haired man. And I already know that look on his face. He's ready for another go-around with Helga, but my wife simply says "You're lucky my husband is here." Then she turns back to me. "I saw a Starbuck's down the terminal." She then leans in and kisses me on the cheek. "I love you so much."

I return the gesture and speak into her ear while my cheek touches hers. My eyes flutter at the sensation of her skin on my cheek. "I love you too. I want to give you Paris and I will."

To which she smiles at me, and then leaves for the Starbuck's. But I simply stand there. I can't take my eyes off of her form as she walks. I love the way she walks, the way her legs move and the way her long hair, free of any tie or ponytail, lashes back and forth against her back, its color vibrant against the black of her sweater. And I realize as the distances increases between us that this is the farthest we've been from each other since the priest made his pronouncement. If this is how it hurts to see my wife go anywhere without me… I sigh and turn around to the man behind the counter. He looks at me. But he still seems tense. I hold out my hands in a disarming gesture. "I'm sorry about that. My wife has her heart set on Paris. It's our honeymoon and-"

"Don't worry about it sir." The man cuts me off. He types some things into the computer that's hidden behind the counter, and as he looks down I spy the name on his nametag beside the American Airlines logo. His name is Jeremy. He punches the enter key and I hear some slight beep. "Looks like we can get you another flight to Paris. It leaves New York City tomorrow afternoon. And I can get you first class at no charge. Your flight to New York leaves here at…" He trails off as he types a few more commands into the computer and I can hear the tickets start printing. "Seven in the morning."

I smile at him. "Thank you."

He smiles back and hands me the tickets. "You're welcome sir. I apologize for the inconvenience."

I shake my head. "No it's okay."

"Have a safe flight and enjoy Paris."

I smile back, and nod in thanks, and then I turn to walk towards the Starbucks

The distance isn't too far, and my mood brightens as I approach. I see her at a high table, sitting on one of the stools with her arms propped up and her head resting there. She has those incredible legs of hers crossed with each other, with the heel of one shoe hooked on the stool.

Since it is cold out, Helga is wearing a pitch black and very alluring turtle-necked sweater. I am well acquainted with its softness. I couldn't help but snuggle into it whenever she held me on the plane to Saint Louis. She'd giggle and hold me even tighter.

She's wearing a pair of tight black jeans and pink sneakers with white socks. And around one wrist is tied a pink ribbon. The pink ribbon she had on whenever we got married. The same pink ribbon she had on when we first met in preschool.

The black and mysterious clothing, the larger than life pink ribbon, and those comical pink sneakers; the way it all sets fire to her skin when she sips at that hot drink seals my fate. I realize I would die for this woman in an instant.

She looks down the terminal, spots my approach, and I can already see the modest but quirky smile as it spreads across those incredibly divine lips. Helga will never have to tell me why she wants Paris, for I realize this is all a dream to the both of us, and that city is the perfect destination.

Her blue eyes follow me all the way as I approach the table, and take the stool opposite Helga's.

Suddenly the weight of what is happening comes crashing in and I realize we need a hotel room so that we can sleep tonight. I groan and put my head on the table. The money isn't necessarily a problem but it cuts into our budget. I want to treat Helga to a lot of things while in Europe. Treating her to a Hampton Inn in Saint Louis is not one of those things.

Helga brushes her hand into my hair. I close my eyes and feel a sense of calm wash over me. The way she works her fingers, so gentle and devoted, in stark contrast to her abrasive attitude, reminds me of the time I truly saw Helga's heart.

The night she let me in…

The night I fell in love with her…

X O X O X O X O X O

The senior prom was where I realized Helga G. Pataki was the girl that I wanted.

Cliché I know; the senior prom. This kind of thing was relegated to the confines of cheap teen drama's and syrupy chick flicks.

I don't remember dancing. I had gone with Rhonda Wellington Lloyd. We weren't dating, but of all our friends, Rhonda and I were amongst the few without a date. Patty had Harold, and, no surprise, Gerald had Phoebe. Lila and Stinky were an incredible pair. Sid had managed to court Nadine. In some crazy twist Curly paired with Sheena, and they had some silly dance moves that we were sure Curly had thought up while watching animals at the zoo. While they were dancing, Sheena would eye Eugene, and we all knew she wanted Eugene badly, despite the walking accident's thinly feigned ignorance of Sheena's attentions.

I had been shocked when out of the blue Rhonda Wellington Lloyd asked me to the prom. The rumor was she had her eyes set on me for a while. I couldn't turn her down really. Rhonda had an imposing presence, and despite the fact that I never really had a romantic interest in Rhonda, in one fit of vanity I decided that Rhonda would look good hooked on my arm. So I had said yes.

I had spent the week before dropping hints to Rhonda that this was just a single date. Rhonda always smiled and said "Whatever you say, Arnold" while she dictated to me what I was to wear.

It was my own little pseudo-drama with Rhonda. She took me everywhere at the prom, excluding the dance floor, as I had found out it wouldn't be good for her to ruin her one-of-a-kind red Caprini dress or the expensive tuxedo with green plaid bowtie that she bought for me. It was a prom, I wanted to dance, and that want turned into several carefully timed sighs throughout the night as Rhonda whipped me around on her arm while she talked fashion to her underlings and showed me off.

At least she let me keep my old hair style. She admitted to me that she found it very sexy and I didn't have to slick it back. Truth be told, I had grown to hate doing that anyway, so I was relieved somewhat. My hat had resided in a cedar chest since the sixth grade, and that's where it still lays.

The magic did get to me and I managed to smile. There were too many happy couples to count, and regardless of the thin drama that permeated the air, we were all happy to be at *our* senior prom.

There were the wallflowers. Brainy wasn't much of a wallflower but he did DJ the prom. No one approached him for a date so he came alone. That night was when everyone discovered the guy knew how to spin records. He somehow found a way to mash Nelly Furtado with Bruce Hornsby, and the Moody Blues with some Japanese singer named "Ayu." The audience couldn't get enough of it. We never could quite understand Brian, but that night we could all see his unmistakably genuine smile as people would approach and whisper a request in his ear. He was happy at what he was doing, making other people happy through his work at the turntables sharing his talent with us.

Of the few other loners that night, one face would catch mine every now and then, and then disappear as I got a second glance. I knew it to be the face of someone that, while was glad she made it to the prom; I didn't know how to take her presence at all. She didn't date anyone and no one had ever asked her, as rumor-mill-Rhonda had informed me. From what I could tell no one really cared that she was there. She hadn't given them any reason to.

It made me sick that night when I saw a teacher warning the blonde haired girl with a pink dress, ponytail, and that unmistakable eyebrow, that there was to be no funny business, no fights, and no violence. The magic of the event lifted like a thin veil that very moment as my instincts kicked in. Call it a character flaw, but I hated to see people unhappy. I wanted to have people happy. The defiant look she gave the teacher as he walked away from her just sealed it. I decided that night that I was going to talk with Helga Pataki and be her friend like those few times long ago where we truly were. Perhaps I could have even asked her for a dance.

I managed to sneak away from Rhonda while she spoke with Nadine about her shoes.

I looked everywhere for Helga. I had seen her again and again through the crowd, but when I consciously tried to spot her, she had vanished without a trace. Slowly my heart fell. Past the defiant look on Helga's face I could have sworn I had seen something else, an ironic sense of helplessness, as the teacher scolded her very animatedly. It sure wasn't the first time I had seen that look on Helga's face, and it was something I felt I had to comfort. It pushed me on.

Finally I made it to the front of the gym building where I looked out the windows at the parking lot. By pure chance, amongst the dingy wrecks and the shiny chrome rims, I saw her. I quietly pushed the heavy metal door open, and walked down the stairs into the parking lot.

I'll never forget the way she looked. She sat atop the hood of her old red ford pinto. Her arms wrapped around her legs as she stared into the light-polluted sky. She didn't seem to notice me and it kept me calm. As I got closer I started making out small details.

She wore a pink strapless dress that came down to her ankles. I realized there were only a few times I had ever seen Helga in formal dresses. Those times were long ago, but never like this. Something about that dress seemed bittersweet, from this distance something seemed worn out about it.

I approached Helga cautiously. This was the bully that everyone warned each other about. She'd been into so many fights that I had lost count. She had a big record. Suspensions, detention, almost expelled at least once. Everyone knew Helga was no good. She had gone off the deep end, but no one could say exactly when. It became common knowledge that Helga Pataki was destined for either a life going nowhere, or jail. She just couldn't stay out of trouble. Helga Pataki was dangerous.

There were the rumors about her divorced and broken family; her mother's lost battle with alcoholism and her father's infidelity. Of course everyone remembered the award winning Olga Pataki, and the teachers made vocal comments that if only Helga could be more like her sister.

Helga was the bad seed. Rumors abound about tattoos, piercings in odd places, wild parties, and drugs. I had no idea if any of those were true, but they were so damning, so accusatory that they had their intended effect, even on me. Suddenly that girl I met in preschool, the one that every now and then showed her softer side, had died amidst a storm of rumor and conjecture. All that the storm left in its wake was a bully that you stayed away from, if you knew what was good for you.

When all of those rumors started, Helga did nothing to prevent their spread. Instead she only made them worse. She embraced every one of them and did everything within her power to prove her bad girl image.

I was numero-uno on her list of victims. The strongest of her venom was always saved for me. She was my bully and my curse. Of course I always managed to get her angry, and I never knew how. She'd even thrown some punches, and one connected once. It bloodied my lip. But still, I forgave her. She was having a tough life. I couldn't blame her. I never did.

My grandparents had always given me the same advice about bullies, that there was something wrong about their situation in life that made them feel as if they had to assert themselves over people, and I knew that applied to Helga. Still, I hated being around her most of the time. I wished that I didn't. I wished that she wasn't a bully like Wolfgang or Edmund. I remembered all those times back in the good old innocent days, in elementary school. Perhaps that's what the dress called out to me and forced me to remember as I felt my legs pushing me even closer to the object of my nightmares. Sure I had fear. Helga didn't like being approached, especially by me. But from this angle I could see her face, and she looked forlorn.

Perhaps it was just a trick. Predator and prey. Lure the prey closer and then snap at them. Helga always seemed to smile when she had the upper hand over me. Or perhaps it was just me realizing that going to this stupid prom with Rhonda was a bad idea, and I just needed someone to talk to, even if it was my sworn enemy.

I got closer and stopped, and looked at her. Even from the side I realized that the face of her youth had vanished sometime ago, replaced with the hardened but feminine features and angles of a teenaged woman. But her eyes were still just as youthful as ever.

I could see she was wearing her trademark sneakers. Those white sneakers were always brown with dirt and grime from fights and lack of money, always worn out. It was then that I realized what was wrong about her dress. It didn't fit quite right, like it was loose in odd places. It seemed as if Helga had purchased it at a second hand store, and couldn't afford to have it tailored. She wore no makeup and no eyeliner. Her hair was swept up into one ponytail instead of her tired old pigtails, but it was frazzled to death and tied with a frayed band. Her hair seemed worn out, just like the rest of her. She had long ago ditched that pink bow. Perhaps she had lost it.

Even her cheeks, rough through years of receiving numerous punches, looked gray.

Helga, for lack of a better word, looked like shit…

My heart went out to her…

"If I knew you'd be out here pestering me football head, I would have left already." Helga stated flatly. She turned to look at me and narrowed her eyebrow.

I gulped, it stuck in my mind that this was a bad idea. But I had to test the waters. Nothing about Helga seemed faked at that moment other than her 'fuck you' attitude and I willed myself impervious to it. I even ignored my sense of self preservation. You could have called me crazy and insane. "I'm sorry Helga. I just saw you out here and you looked, well, pretty down."

Helga snorted. "So Golden Boy Arnold is going to come out here on his white horse and save me from my little pity party. Is that it? I have news for you bucko, I didn't ask for you to come out here." She kept her voice at a dangerous pitch, and I could swear I heard a growl. She looked at me as I stood there, half standing my ground and half in curiosity at the light-red in her eyes and the trail of moisture on her cheeks; the ghosts of tears she had already shed before I came out to the parking lot. This girl never ceased to amaze me.

"Regardless of if you asked me or not. I'm out here because a friend of mine needs someone right now, and I happen to be available, so… There…"

My bully's face softened. She closed her eyes, swore something under her breath, and turned away. The silence descended upon us while she looked out into the parking lot. Finally, she said. "I'm not your friend." I held my stare as Helga paused then inhaled weakly. "Once we graduate, that's it. Everyone here goes their separate ways."

"Only if we let that happen." I countered.

"Yeah. Heh. I want it to happen…" She snapped back quietly. I could tell that her anger was only simmering. It hadn't gone away.

"What?" I asked in disbelief. "Why? They're our friends."

"*Your* friends paste for brains. Not mine." She shook her head. "Not anymore."

I turned around and shook my head emphatically. "Bullshit." I kicked some loose gravel with my foot.

"Really now…" Helga laughed incredulously as she looked at me with a sarcastic smirk. "Do any of them call me up and say, hey asshole, wanna come sleep over? By the way, why you're at it be sure to bring some of that crap that you're smoking and we'll all get high? Huh? Do they ever ask me to hang out with them? Look at me Arnold. Ask yourself if they really care about me." Helga laughed under her breath and looked away. "Fuck them."

I looked at the ground frustrated, and mumbled, "With that attitude…" I heard her car shift and before I could react she was in my face, with my hair painfully yanked into her hands. The pain from my scalp being pulled made its way to my lungs and I breathed out in shock as she forced me to look into her eyes.

Her words spat against my face. She looked at me with those fiery blue eyes, fraught with pain and strangely enough, the beginnings of tears. Her voice held steady, strong, and severe. "To hell with my attitude numbnuts. Here's how it works. They don't care about me, and I don't care about them. I especially don't care about you. Got it? So… Go take your puny holier-than-though self and get back in there to your whore of a girlfriend and leave me the hell ALONE! Fuck them, and fuck you!"

Helga let go of my hair and pushed me away. I stumbled back and fell to the ground as she walked towards her car. That's when I couldn't take it anymore. That's when I snapped. What had happened to Helga all those years? Was it something so horrible that she had to cut all her ties and turn violent? Was she really ready for the world to forget her? I just couldn't fathom it. Not when Helga G. Pataki was jammed so far up our collective asses that she had practically become part of us. She may have been my bully, but I cared for her. Somehow, deep down, I knew right then, that I wanted to see her happy more than anyone else in the world. And I didn't know why.

So I made my decision, I jumped up, and growled, I ran towards her. She barely had time to move before I was up upon her. I shoved her to the car and held large pieces of her dress in my hands as I pressed against her so she couldn't get any leverage. She put up an amazing struggle, but I held fast. If force was the language I needed to get through to her that night, then so be it. My breath was already heavy as I growled. "Now you listen to me Helga. I'm sick and tired of your bullshit."

I took a second to catch my breath against her struggles. But she didn't reply, and from the look in her face I don't think she expected me of all people to get rough with her. "The truth is there are people here that care about you! I care about you! And despite all you do to me, I'm not going to let you go so easily, you hear me?" I shook her once with my hands.

I didn't mean to be that forceful, call it anger induced, but this girl had me enraged. She struggled and then looked away from me as she answered, "Wh-whatever."

"I won't pretend to know what you're going through or what your struggles are, but pushing all of us away is not the answer. You still have a chance, Pataki. Those who care about you won't let you fall. But you'll never know because all you ever do is freaking beat us up all the time, and I'm tired of it!"

"Who said I was going to fall?" She challenged softly, but with a slight edge of severity.

"Me." I shook my head. "Everyone. All of us. This has happened to other people before and it'll happen again. It'll happen to you!"

And through her struggles I heard it. A whimper, and fresh tears. The sound of the crack in her voice made me release her dress. She put her palms on the rusted hood of her old car and whispered. "You happy now?" And I could see part of the old Helga in her eyes. That girl who hung out with me one thanksgiving. The one who consoled me when Lila dumped me. The girl who told me on the rooftop of FTi that she loved me… That was long ago, and a confusing memory, but deep down I wondered if it were really true.

I shook my head. "No. I'm not."

That's when it happened, that crucial moment. Her eyes caught mine and I noticed everything in her face. The blood red veins in her eyes surrounded two, incredibly deep, blue irises. The bags under her infant blues told of tiredness, the uneven cut in her bangs told me of low self image. The way her ears hung told me of a girl who just hadn't been given much in her life that was good. Her cheeks, marred with the effects of fistfights throughout the years, told me of the rough parts of her life that only time could smooth out, and those trembling, pure lips told me of something there ready to burst forth, some kind of secret that she wanted me to know. I could smell her from behind the hazy odor of the city, and that essence told me of a girl who was no danger to me, because, and this was odd, she didn't want to be.

At that moment as I thought of Helga, as I thought of all our past adventures, I understood that no one deserved to be forgotten, no one. Helga most of all. My bully meant so much to me.

Little pieces of my mind reminded me of that fist that connected with my cheek a few years back, and told me to stay away, to stay far, far away. But I ignored those thoughts and let my heart speak. I leaned in, and brushed my lips chaste against her rough cheek. Maybe, just maybe, if I opened such a chance, she'd reveal whatever secret she'd been hiding that had caused her so much grief, so much pain. Call it a sixth sense, but I felt all she needed was a little nurturing from someone. Anyone. I had to know, and I had just given her the opening to find out.

From there it was one of two things; I would be hurting, or I would be surprised.

So, imagine my surprise when she stood still, and looked at me, and her eyes twitched while a growl emanated from her lips as she pushed me away and yelled. "What the fucking hell was that! Who put you up to this?"

I held out my hands. "No one."

"Oh that's a great story hair boy!"

I held out my palms. "Helga would you listen to me for a second!"

She screamed on the top of her lungs. "No! I'm done listening to you! Go away, go back to *your* prom and leave me the hell alone! I never want to see your face around me ever again ya hear me! Never!"

I frowned. This was it. She was cutting all ties. This was goodbye to Helga. I'd have to stay away. Not that it'd be hard. She always pushed me away. "Okay." I said in defeat. "I'm going. Goodbye." And I turned around and walked away. I didn't hear any movement as I turned around, but good god, I was not going to look back.

I would not look back at all. I would capitulate to Helga's wishes and just walk away.

I had just kissed Helga. Even though it was chaste, on the cheek, somehow in the back of my mind it just seemed right. Up to that point I had truly cared for her. I shook my head. Some people didn't want care. They didn't want help. Perhaps Helga was my first lesson in the dark reality that some people were too far gone. You just had to let them lose to drown on their own, because there was nothing you could do.

It suddenly hurt. My eyes started to hurt and tears welled up at all those old images and memories of Helga when they suddenly invaded the forefront of my thoughts. I'd just said goodbye forever to the one girl who I always endeavored to understand, but never did, and never would.

But… Why did the schoolyard-battle hardened skin of her cheeks feel so right against my lips? Why did it light a fire in my heart when I could faintly smell her skin, her hair, and a hint of lavender shampoo?

In my introspective I swore from somewhere in my hearing I could hear some gravel kick up behind me, and then the sound of someone taking off into a run, and half-whispering, "oh no… no… no…."

The footsteps got closer and closer as they kicked up gravel at the force of the run, but I wouldn't turn around. I didn't want to believe it was Helga, I had already accepted her intention to push me away for good.

Helga connected with my back at a full run and the force of her bully strength pushed me forward and into the dirt. But I wasn't the only one who fell. Helga had flung her arms around me. She didn't intend to push me, she intended to tackle me but she had been running too fast. For a moment I did panic. Fight or flight kicked in from shell shock, and I knew she was going to pummel me for sure. I just knew.

I coughed some of the gravel dust out of my throat, and one of my elbows started to sting. But almost as soon as I connected with the ground she let go of me, and she stood up. I wasn't a weakling and I wasn't buff. I was in reasonable shape from the basketball team, but Helga always got the better of me. Was she going to kick me? Was she going to punch me or kick gravel into my face? I sat there wondering if I should curl up in a fetal position.

A pair of hands grabbed me and pulled me up.

Helga pushed me roughly against a nearby bus and looked into my eyes. I could see fire there. I could see anger and hatred, and love, and a million other things I didn't think were possible. And I could see tears, of the little girl that was only hiding, and trembling lips that disappeared in a blur as Helga gently pressed her lips against mine. Our tongues met for the first time shortly thereafter.

That was the moment that I realized the reason I dared to touch Helga's cheek with my lips, was because I was falling in love with her.

X O X O X O X O X O

"Cosmic thoughts football head?" My wife asks playfully from across the table as she takes another sip from her coffee.

I pick up my head and I look in her direction. "We need to get a hotel so we can sleep. Our flight's at seven in the morning. First class to Paris, by the way."

Her smile turns wistful as she looks at me. I can tell she likes the sound of that. In order to save money we booked coach the entire way, but first class makes up for the fact that we have to stay in Saint Louis for the night. She takes another sip of her coffee and I watch the entire process. I just cannot get enough of Helga. It still sends giddy thoughts into my brain. We've come so far in half a decade of courtship. Helga is no longer such an enigma. She is no longer my bully, she is my wife.

Helga leans forward and I can hear her feet touch the ground. I move to stand up as well, and I can't help but stare at her as she deposits the Styrofoam coffee cup in a nearby trash can and walks out of the little shop. "So what did you have in mind?" She asks me as I catch up to her to stand beside her as we walk.

I grin. "I'm thinking of Le Hotel Saint Louis"

Helga playfully grabs my arm in her hands. "Oui oui. Let's go."

We walk down the length of the terminal. Helga is holding my arm protectively and she leans her head into my shoulder. I swear I hear her whisper a light swoon. I don't know how she manages to walk like this, but all the same I slow down so that we can keep pace with each other.

I can smell the little flowing streams of oil and lavender scent that leave her hair while it brushes against my green t-shirt as we walk. We are roughly the same height, Helga is just slightly taller than me by an inch, and I'm sure it makes for an interesting image with the passersby; this taller woman leaning against shorter man, both of us with blissful smiles on our faces against the crap that just happened with that stupid warning light on the plane.

Helga's presence is by all means imposing. She's not quite butch but she is rough around the edges. Her cheeks are marred by schoolyard fights and their texture is rough. She has little scars on her arms and legs from those same fights, and she even has a slight bald spot on her eyebrow from an old gash, and the hair follicles never grew back. I still remember that fight and the rivulet of blood that trailed down her nose and spread across her upper lip. Sometimes I remember that blood on her face when we kiss. She wears two earrings in each ear and she has a tendency to growl at people if they make her mad.

I can see the intimidation in people's faces as she talks to them. Even when Helga is in a good mood they are cautious. They see this Rottweiler, a scrawny but muscular alley cat of a human being and they know she's a scrapper. She's a fighter. She'd claw them to pieces if they got too close and then got on her bad side.

But for me it is no longer intimidating because I know she'd never hurt me. Because of that, I have grown to love the little break in her eyebrow. I adore each and every one of those scars and I love the texture of her face. I love to touch her skin around the earrings in her ears and I long to plant kisses above her navel where the only other piercing on her body, a small pink colored cubic-zirconium stud, sits stunningly against the smooth skin of her stomach.

We approach the stairs down to the baggage claim and reluctantly split apart so that we don't stumble. I look at her, and she looks back at me, smiling sweetly. I know what's behind that genuine smile that betrays her rough exterior. It's something only a select few have ever had the privilege of witnessing. The appearance of that little girl who captured my heart long ago and never quite let go.

That little girl turned the core of the grown woman who gave me a silent, private vow as we stood at the altar.

H A H A H A H A H A H A

I had been to weddings before and I knew the procedure. It all seemed rather sappy. I never could understand the body language between the bride and the groom. Even the roughest of people would stand there and smile at each other, a secret language all their own.

I never understood until the day of my own wedding. I stood there at the Altar, looking back towards the huge doors at the back of the church as I wondered if my tuxedo looked good and the plaid bowtie was straight. But I didn't fidget or touch the tie. I wanted to look regal for everyone, especially Helga. For I was happy.

I had a dream once, long ago, of being married to Helga. It was something I never forgot. Who would have guessed that Rhonda's marriage predictor, a little piece of origami with questionable powers, was absolutely right on? I kept on expecting to snap and realize I was dreaming again. But at the same time I didn't want to. Because unlike last time, I had memory of the courtship, memory of the proposal, and the plans and the details, all leading up to that moment.

When the custom music disc that Helga and I made with Brainy's help, stopped playing back, and the organist began playing the bridal march, everything slowed. My vision tunneled. The doors opened and Helga walked in with her uncle. But I didn't even see her uncle. All I saw was that veil over her golden hair, and the dress, and those eyes, unflinchingly drawn to me.

We didn't break eye contact at all until she stood there, facing me, and I took it all in. I had had rarely seen Helga with makeup on, and quite frankly I preferred her without it. But her full lips were the right shade of crimson red, and her dark eyeliner called attention to her eyes. Her eyebrow had been combed soft and the foundation on her cheeks made their rough texture rose petal smooth, as if it all was a dream.

Around her neck was the ribbon, the bow tied to one side. That old ribbon appeared to have been washed by hand, and it looked as pink as it did in my memory of that day in preschool long ago. And there she was, that girl turned a woman.

Forever my tormentor, now my bride.

My eyes dropped and I caught the way her dress accentuated her cleavage into an appealing line where her dress gave way to the skin of her neck, tied off with that incredible bow like a gift to me. I wanted to melt into her form and cease to exist, if it meant I could be with her for eternity.

I knew that the smile that spread across my face matched hers perfectly. I understood that language, that every man who ever got married saw in their bride. We were going to be husband and wife, we were going to be together, everything was going to be alright.

The pastor began his practiced lines, intertwined with his own sermon. I knew I would forget what it was he had said. I heard my name and I heard hers. I heard the pauses in his voice but I didn't care. I saw the longing in Helga's eyes, I saw her smile. I memorized it, internalized it.

Then the pastor finished off with his sermon on the institution of marriage, the importance and sanctity, the relationship with god. But before the vows could begin, the pastor said something that caught my attention. "At this time the bride would like to say something to the groom."

It snapped me out of my trance as the pastor smiled and stepped away, and Helga stepped forward slightly. This was not something I had prepared for. This wasn't even in the rehearsal. Damn this woman, she had this all planned. I looked at her curiously as she said, "Arnold, my love, I wrote a poem for you, and I would like for you to hear it now."

I nodded slightly. She stepped forward again, leaned in to one side, and whispered into my ear. "I no longer have to hide my love for you, my umbrella on a rainy day. You saved me from so much and now, on this day I shall marry you."

Umbrella? Rainy day? She remembered that? My eyes widened slightly. I could feel tears forming behind my eyelids. "For too long I've waited for you, You don't know how much I care. You'll never know how much of me is yours. Heart and soul, mind and body, my love."

I felt her hands on my shoulders as she leaned closer and her soft words sang into my ear. "My preschool prince, You'll forever be my football head, forever be my blue umbrella, sheltering me from the rain."

I knew Helga's secret. The enigma was gone. This woman had just shed the remaining blinder that she had on me. Everything, from the first spitwad to the prom was Helga hiding from her true feelings. Prom night was not just a fleeting moment where she fell in love with me. She had loved me for far, far longer than I could have imagined. I remembered my grandparents and their warnings long ago that Helga liked me, obviously they were so right. And I was so dense that even her little confession long ago had been dismissed as mere confusion in words.

"By now you know it, my secret past, my charade, I'm sorry for those hurts, and I'm sorry for the bruises." I shook my head; I wanted to say no, that she didn't need to apologize for my inability to pick up the signals she sent. I balled my hands up as the tears finally came. I felt them cool as they trickled down my cheek. Had I truly known earlier in my life, what would have been different? What would have been?

"I will atone all the days of my mortal life, for the pain I caused you," Her voice caught in a squeak and I felt her hands tremble. This was hard for her, this confession. But she wanted me to hear it, so I stood still, and let her continue. "Because I will always love you, as I have since I met you, even when we are ashes in, the gr-ground." Her whispering voice cracked and she trembled. I knew I shouldn't embrace her because we hadn't been pronounced, so I let my cheek brush against hers.

I whispered my plea to her. "Go on. Please. You can finish, let it out."

She sniffled and I could feel her nod. She took several deep breaths then stepped away from me, looked me in the eyes, smiled, and finished with a quiet but meek voice. "And as we say our final vows, before you say, "I do," know that I will always be your wife, if you will forever belong to me, my husband and my poetry."

And with that she brushed some light, eyeliner-colored tears off of her pretty cheeks and stepped back. I could see relief across her glimmering eyes while she formed the words "I belong to you" with her beautiful lips.

The weight came crashing in. What she had said. She had loved me since I first met her. Helga was a puzzle for so long because she loved me and she was afraid of my reaction. Now on the altar of our marriage, Helga had taken off her mask and let me see her true form. From the first day I met her, I would never have guessed I would form a silent and wanting "I love you so much," across my lips so that Helga G. Pataki, the love of my life, could see it.

The vows followed, and everything seemed for me, moments of pure bliss as I stared into Helga's eyes. At that point, no matter what the ceremony said, we were married. From there on, it was just words. They couldn't compare to what Helga had just said, and the bond I always had with her but never had a chance to recognize.

And I fell in love with her, all over again.

"I Arnold Shortman, take you Helga Pataki, to be my wedded wife. To have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness or in health, to love and to cherish 'till death do us part. And hereto I pledge you my faithfulness."

"I Helga Pataki, take you Arnold Shortman, to be my wedded husband. To have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness or in health, to love and to cherish 'till death do us part. And hereto I pledge you my faithfulness."

"By the power vested in me, by God, and by the state of Washington, I now pronounce you Mister and Misses Arnold Shortman."

"You may now kiss the bride…"

H A H A H A H A H A

With our luggage trailing behind us in our hands, we make it down the long narrow hallway of the Hotel. Fortunately there were vacancies because we're so far away from any holiday weekend, but my wallet already feels thinner. That's okay because my heart feels even lighter.

We approach the door; I insert the little magnetic card, and then push the door open to reveal a darkened room. I enter first and Helga follows shortly, she finds the light switch and flips it, causing the lamps beside the single bed to flicker on, bathing this dull hotel room in horrid florescent light. That little effect already darkens the thoughts in my head. I'd rather be on the plane to New York, then to Paris, with Helga resting her head on my shoulder and my fingers caressing through her hair.

I sigh as I hear the door shut behind me. I let go of my luggage and walk towards the bed, where I turn around and let my legs give out. I fall to the bed and bounce slightly as I give a blank stare to the comfy looking overstuffed pillows and the headboard. My thoughts wander, then I feel a presence bounce to the bed beside me and I roll around. I am immediately inches from Helga's face.

She says nothing as we look into each other's eyes. She yawns. We're both tired from the day's events, and both saddened that the first night of our honeymoon is reduced to this hotel in the middle of the continental United States, instead of a hotel with a view of the Eiffel Tower.

My newly wedded wife reaches out her hand and brushes it into my hair. I reach out my hand and brush her chin with my thumb. She smiles at me. "You know what?"

I smile back. "What?"

Helga moves closer and kisses me on the lips. The tips of our tongues touch for a few moments. I can taste coffee and sugar. She breaks away and says quietly as she touches the tip of my nose with her own. "You didn't carry me across the threshold."

I let my eyes wander in thought. This sounds like fun. I grin at her. "You're right, I didn't."

Helga moves her nose to my cheek and I can feel her breathe me in. "So what are you going to do about that, Arnoldo?"

I let my smile widen as I say. "Well I'll just have to correct that then." I stand up and look down at her with my arm extended. "Come on, let's do this."

She looks at my hand for a moment before grabbing on and I pull her up. We run like two school kids to the door, and she beats me to it. She throws off the security latch and runs outside the door in a giggle, and I follow her. I keep the door propped open with my foot. Unfortunately the blasted door closes on its own, not being made with the intention of catering to newlyweds.

I hold out my arms. "Okay honey. Hop on!"

She scowls at me. "You make it sound just so romantic football head. How about I carry you across the threshold so I can drop you in the bathtub?"

I laugh. "There'll be none of that on my watch." My smile softens and so does hers as we look at each other in the eyes. "Turn around." I command gently.

Helga stands there for a moment, then turns around and steps back into me. I maneuver my hands and lean down to pull her legs out from under her at her knees, while bracing her back with my other arm. In one swift move, my wife is in my arms, and she has her hands clasped around my neck.

I lean back to balance her weight with mine. I let a labored breath escape. She's not so heavy that this is uncomfortable. No. Instead the small amount of discomfort I feel is replaced with the warm feeling of her torso in one arm, with her legs hanging over my other, and her thigh pressing against my stomach. I pull my arms up to get a better hold on her, and she crosses her lower legs slightly. I almost get lost in the sight. Helga may be torn, battered, and flawed, but she is absolute perfection. "Are you ready?" I ask her as I look deep into her eyes.

She studies my face, and nods that she's ready.

I turn around and we walk through the threshold, and I carry Helga into the main part of the hotel room as the door shuts behind us. Along the way I catch glimpses of her hair hanging off of her head and gently swaying as we move. I stare into the center of the room and think for a second. The entire event seemed anti-climactic. So I look down at Helga. "That's it?" I ask her.

She nods at me, still staring intently into my eyes. "That's it. Is something wrong?"

"It just seemed, to go by so fast."

Helga laughs slightly and pulls herself a little closer to my face. She snuggles the side of her body into mine. She takes one hand and traces the collar of my shirt. "There's many different traditions about it, but in roman times, the husband carried the wife across the threshold because it was considered bad luck if the wife tripped upon entering the man's house. It would let evil spirits into the household. The Romans believed that by doing this for the wife, the husband was beginning his married life by becoming the protector of his wife."

She places her hands around my neck again. "So by doing that Arnold…" Her voice softens and she nods her forehead into my chest. "You're protecting me."

My eyes glaze with some moisture. I can see the romance there that I never knew. Helga must have studied this in preparation for the moment where I would carry her in. How much else had she planned? Paris makes even more sense now. I whisper. "Like the umbrella."

My beautiful poetess smiles as she looks up at me and smirks. "By George the hair boy gets it."

I arch an eyebrow at her. "Do you want me to drop you on the floor?"

Her smile widens. "No but you can sit down. There's a comfy looking chair right behind you."

It takes some maneuvering but I manage to sit down with Helga still in my arms. She ends up in my lap. With her legs draped over one armrest. I pull my arm from under her legs but I keep her back propped up with my other.

We sit there for a little bit to take each other in. "So what know." She asks. A naughty thought flashes through my mind. I look down and spy a sliver of smooth skin where her sweater rode up on her body.

"Wait… What's this?" I reach down and pull up her soft sweater to reveal an equally soft looking stomach. I've seen it many times before while fooling around with her. In fact it is one of the few parts she really lets me caress.

I'm not one to complain as I look at her stomach with a smile. I note the way her ribs drop to the curvy but flat plane of her stomach, and how it dives under her jeans. It even seems to hang off of her hip bones. Everything is topped off by the decorative navel piercing covering her outie, a little pink crystal stud.

"It's just my belly button you doofus." Helga laughs and plays along with me. She knows what is about to come, probably the silliest displays I could ever put on for her and she can't resist it. My smile widens. She may be able to shape my thoughts like putty, but I can make her squeal like a baby.

"Are you sure?" I look at her and ask as I lean down to her beautiful stomach. "I think I see…" I look down. I can see the layer of muscle under her stomach stiffen in defense of what is about to happen, and I get closer. "I see…" I open my mouth and place my lips on her stomach, to one side, and blow. The flatulent sound that comes from between my lips and her skin reverberates through the hotel room and Helga starts to squirm with laughter and I can feel her warm muscles convulse under my lips.

I inhale more air and do it again. And her laughter increases. I repeat it again, and she gasps for air and tries to mumble in between squeals and squirms. "Heh heh, hah hah, ah. S-Stop it."

I look up at her, and I catch the childish gleam in her blue eyes. "Are you sure?" I ask her. Her face is beet red. She opens her mouth and I say, "Too slow." I lean down and blow again. I'm met with another fit of laughter until finally she grabs my face with her hands and pries me away from her midsection.

"Okay Arnoldo, let's see how *you* like it huh!" She leans up in my lap, yanks my shirt up, and places her lips on my side. She blows. I can feel her teeth and her lips and at that horrible sound that vibrates through my ribs. I'm not really ticklish there but somehow she hits one very ticklish nerve as she brushes her hands around my body and I lurch forward in a fit of laughter.

"HAH!" I laugh and fall forward involuntarily, dropping Helga on the floor with an unceremonious thud as I sit there looking down at her. She's still laughing fortunately; one hand is on her forehead as she props herself up on her arm and stares up at me. Her hair seems a little frazzled at all the movement, and it sticks up in places in a messy halo. She looks so beautiful.

Helga narrows her eyebrow. "I see how it is." She holds down a fit of giggles.

But I'm not done yet. "Oh I'm just getting started honey." I look down at her half covered stomach again and she sees my eyes move.

"Oh no you don't!" She counters as she starts to slide away on the floor,

But I'm too fast for her, almost immediately I'm on the ground tackling her legs with my own body. She breaks into another fit of laughter as she tries to turn her body around and crawl away from me. But I hold tight. "Helga… Helga…" I say in a fit of laughs. "This is for your own good my love. I think some evil spirits got in and I need to protect you from them."

I never heard Helga snort and laugh at the same time, but I just did. "Criminey! Save me from the evil spirits my prince!"

"I think laughter scares them away." I reach down and flex my fingers over her stomach. Her face is bright red and I can see her gasp for air as she fights away the giggles boiling from her throat. I also happen to know that Helga G. Shortman is extremely ticklish.

Finally Helga cries uncle in the most creative way I've ever heard. "ah hah Oh my love, ha-have mercy. Ha ha."

I lift a finger to my lips and hush her. "Shh." I look around the room.

My wife plays along. "What?" She asks me while stifling remnants of giggles.

I look down at her in mock seriousness. "I think we scared them off."

She pauses to catch her breath and looks up at the ceiling. "Good riddance." And as she's catching her breath I see her glow, her happiness. A smile that it so intoxicating I'll never grow tired of it, never grow bored with it. The happy expression that would grace Helga's lips in grade school and tell me that this angry girl had something underneath that was truly a joy to behold, if I could only see it.

And now as I let my eyes wonder down these imperfect curves of this incredible woman who has finally let me in completely, I know of what joy it is. She's happy here with me. Alone, just the two of us. I'm her dreams, I'm her poetry written in that little pink book from long ago. I was the point of her wedding and I was the reason for the bow in her hair.

And I'm the reason for that smile. For she can truly be herself here, she can be free, with me. And it makes me feel wanted. It makes me feel connected to her in a way that no one else can ever experience. This pure innocent joy that makes me feel the magic of this moment.

I look down at her belly, and that pink crystal. Despite all the scars, physical and otherwise. Ignoring all the fights and hurt feelings of our past. Ignoring that for a moment and realizing that none of that matters now because I have her and she has me. I see her cradling our children in her arms. I see our future there, promised to us by a little glimmering crystal. A family, born of our love, that we can raise together. Children, who will never be neglected, never be orphans as long as we live.

They will be ours and they will never suffer what we have suffered. I will promise them, I will promise her, of that.

I lean down to her abdomen and place my lips there in a gentle kiss. I can feel her muscles relax and her breathing still. I place another kiss right above that little crystal ornament. Then another. I trail little kiss up until I reach her black sweater, and I work it up over her chest with my hands. I kiss the little pink ribbon on her white lace bra, and then a long chaste kiss over the bruised heart I have sworn my immortal soul to protect.

I reach my arms around her upper body to draw her up into an embrace. I hear her breathe in a deep, aroused, breath through her parted lips while I lift her up and she arches her back. I can feel her entire weight as she lets herself melt into my arms. I place one more kiss, against her soft breast, long enough to cherish her, then gently lay her back down with my arms underneath.

I let my head fall gently to Helga's body. "I belong to you." I breathe. I listen to her breathing and her rapid heartbeat. I feel her fingers tell stories through my hair while I close my eyes.

I listen to her heartbeat accentuated by her living breath. For a creature that can easily intimidate any man, that rhythm seems so delicate. I'm fearful between every beat, like somehow it's her last. But I am comforted when another one comes around strong and true, to pump life giving heat through her body, keeping her fire, her warmth, alive.

I can hear the air rush in and out of her lungs, giving oxygen to that fire in rhythm with her heartbeat. She's waging an instinctual war inside against mortality and I am the only person whom she will let hear, this, the most intimate song of her life.

And her fingers tell me that she has longed for me to hear this instrumental. She has played it alone for far too long than anyone ever deserves. She finally has the audience she's wanted.

Listen to me. Getting all poetic.

…But Helga has this effect on me.

"Arnold my love?"

"Hmm?" I hum through my smile. I'm lost in thoughts of our future together, how far we've come. This feeling, as I lay with my head on Helga's chest while she brushes her fingers against my cheek and my shoulder, just can't compare. I feel as if I belong here and I can die here. I feel so at home. Even the sound of her voice through her chest, made possible by that inferno that pops and cracks as she speaks and breathes, comforts me.

But perhaps we've been down on this floor for a little too long. "My back is starting to kill me." Helga states.

I push myself up off of her, and look down at her smiling face with my hands on the floor to her sides.

"Are you enjoying yourself?" She asks me with a mischievous grin.

I take a glance down at her collarbone, and her chest, and look back up. "Oh I don't know. That bra left indentation on my ear. It needs to go." I grin wider and snake a hand below her back. "Here I can help you with that."

I pinch the strap on her back and she immediately twitches to one side and starts laughing. She moves her arm and pushes my hand away. "Not yet Mr. Frisky." She purrs.

When she stands up I roll over to look up at her. She pulls her sweater back down then kneels down. I prop myself up on my arms to get my face closer to hers, even though she looks upside down from this angle, she looks divine. Her blonde locks cascade around my face, casting shadows on her features, and surrounding her face with an incredible sea of blonde.

She snakes her arms under mine and then pulls me up. Her chest presses softly into the top of my head as our lips meet in an upside down kiss. Our tongues press down against each other in a flourish of sugar and coffee. I swear I can taste the caffeine lingering there on her taste buds, but her own taste is more potent a drug. We tilt our heads and press into the kiss.

Helga lets out a long breath through her nose and it tickles my cheek like a feather, I laugh into her mouth a bit as do the same. I inhale a lung full of air and Helga starts laughing. She breaks away the kiss. "Ar, Arnold. Heh heh. Stop it."

I tilt my head and kiss her chin. "You did the same to me darling." I start kissing her jaw line as she lifts her head up. She tries to say something in response but it only comes out in a pleasured breath. I reach up one hand and let my fingers glide through the oiled silk of her hair.

Helga leans back to stand up, and she gently pulls me up with her.

When we are standing I turn and pull her close, then wrap my arms around her body, into a tight hug. Helga draws my earlobe between her lips and I can't help but let out a breath at the sensation of her teeth biting gently into my ear, and her breath filling my eardrum with warmth.

She lets go of my ear and we look at each other. Her face is glowing radiant heat against her features. I can see tenderness in her eyes and her lips. I bring my hand up and place fingers on those rough but true cheeks, and I brush my thumb down her lips. Helga let's her eyes flutter close as I memorize the texture against my thumb.

It seems like minutes, standing there, studying my wife's face intently as our breathing slows to a normal pace. Helga moves her head slightly and I let my hands fall lightly to rest above her hips.

My poetess opens her eyes, smiles and rests her head against my shoulder. I feel her hands against my bare back as she snakes them up under my shirt, where she gently runs her claw-like fingernails against the small of my back. I close my eyes. I don't want this sensation to end. I never want it to end. I want to melt right there into a pool of blood and skin. We've touched so much before, but her touch has never been this electric.

"Arnold?" She asks me with a soft, quiet voice.

I grasp her sides gently with my hands. "Yes?" I whisper.

Helga snuggles closer to me. She breathes a bit then asks. "What's tonight?" I tilt my head and Helga lifts hers off of my shoulder. She smiles sadly and brushes a hand into my hair, closes her eyes, and sings through a whisper. "I want Paris."

H A H A H A H A H A H A H A

We drove away from the prom in Helga's pinto. Neither of us spoke after the kiss. Words escaped us. Part of my mind questioned what had just happened. My heart was doing summersaults. I didn't know where we were going. Nor did I care.

I watched Helga as she drove with one hand on the wheel, elbow against the door frame, the other hand stuck to the gear shift. The long-burned clutch seemed as if it was ready to give out, but perhaps under Helga's quick stomps, it didn't dare.

The car creaked and rattled. The radio was missing its knobs, more than likely broken. Not that I cared. The car seemed about to fall apart, but the one constant that held my entire reality together was that odd quirky smile across Helga's lips. Just looking at her made me want to lean over and kiss her again. I held back though. Instead I found I was content with just sitting there while Helga drove me to lord knew where.

Probably somewhere where she could dump the body and no one would ever find me…

The thought crossed my mind, but strangely enough it was more comforting than anything, because it made me smile amusedly at its absurdity. Because after that kiss the Helga I thought I knew was gone, replaced with the Helga that I had always wondered about. One that I knew I always cared for and hadn't seen for years.

I looked around and realized that we had exited the city and were driving up around the outskirts of Hillwood. We were in the very place that gave Hillwood its name, a series of Hills in deciduous forest that looked out over the city. We drove up those hills in silence, all the while wondering if Helga's car could even make it. But it did, Helga wouldn't let it die. Finally we reached the end of a dark path and Helga pulled into a lookout and stopped the car. The engine quieted and silence engulfed us. There was no one else up here.

It was just us, the car, the blanket of clouds above the darkened sky, and the lights of Hillwood below us and beyond the clearing in the trees.

Helga looked at me and I looked at her. What I saw in her face lacked any kind of severity. There was no violence or hatred there. Her lips were straight, without emotion. It was a very serious face, and I knew what she was about to tell me was something I'd have to accept.

"Arnold, what happened tonight... You…" She searched her words and her eyes fell to the center console between us. "Me…" She shook her head, and I could tell this was hard for her. I could sympathize with her. This was hard for me too. I had just been kissed passionately by my own bully. Shit like that didn't happen that often. I remembered back to something that seemed very relevant; years ago when we saved the neighborhood. Was what happened then going to happen now? Back then I had understood it to be heat of the moment. Was this heat of the moment too? Was that all this was? My face fell. Somehow I didn't want what Helga was about to do.

So I decided to make it easier on her. "I understand. It was just, heat of the-"

"I love you."

The word 'moment' died in my throat. Helga was looking out over the city. I could see the lights twinkle off of the moisture in her eyes.

"I just want you to know that."

I watched her closely, observed her movements. Helga was oddly still. I remember many times, when she would make something up around me and fidget nervously as she did so, like I was about to find out she had murdered someone. I knew then I should accept what she had just said, because it was the truth. Finally I found some words. Words of curiosity. "How long?"

Helga shook her head then glanced at me. A sad yet genuine smile graced her face "Long enough." She sighed and I realized there were a few tears in her eyes. She meant what she had just said, and despite the fact that 'long enough' didn't give me much to go by; she wasn't deceiving me at all. The thanksgiving Helga didn't deceive me, and neither did the Helga that walked me home from the park that day when I got dumped. The Helga I saw was that Helga.

I couldn't help but stare out of shock. I felt as if my world had just been compressed into that little 70's era compact car. But Helga was there with me. My heart told me that the person who meant the most to me was in that car with me. I would be a fool to let go. There were other parts of my rational mind that told me Helga was no good. She would lead me astray. But those parts were meeker, while my heart seemed to beat louder. "I…" I swallowed. "I don't know what to say. This is a lot to take in."

Helga laughed nervously. "You're already sitting down."

"What?" I asked out of confusion. What did she mean by that?

Helga looked away and out to the city. Was she blushing? "t'snothing." She shook her head.

Silence descended upon us once again, I took one last look at the profile of Helga's face, and looked out over the city. Hillwood had a few modest skyscrapers. They reached out towards the sky in their own way, standing proud and tall against the crosshatched streetlights. Against the backdrop of the forest, it all seemed serene. "I've never been here before." I shook my head and looked at Helga. "Where are we?"

"This road isn't in the maps, believe it or not." She replied softly. "This is where I come when I want to disappear from the world. It's like, my own, special secret little place where I can put everything on pause. Where, no one in the world knows that I am here. But I can look out over all of them and wonder about things. About my own place in this world. I guess you can tell…" Helga then looked into my eyes. "I'm a very introspective person."

I watched Helga's eyebrow very carefully, trying to study her. In the grand scheme of things, while I'd just spent about an hour in Helga's presence, it had been a long time since I had last had a civil conversation with her. Years in fact. Conversation that didn't end in her punching me like last time. It was only then that I found the courage to vocalize that thing on the tip of my mind ever since I'd seen her at the prom sitting on the hood of her car. "You've changed." I said softly. It wasn't much of anything, but I knew it was profound as soon as I said it.

Helga's face fell and I leaned forward to touch her shoulder. To my surprise she didn't shrug it off. "I don't mean that the way it sounded. Helga. I…" I reached out and touched her warm cheek with my fingertips, drawing her attention to my eyes. I could already see the tears. "I mean. You're the same Helga that I grew up with. But. For years we've been so distant. All you've done is bully me and beat me up. We used to be more like friends." I turned my hand and brushed the tops of my fingers against her skin. It seemed like the natural thing to do. "What happened to you?"

I could faintly see tears fall from her eyes as she placed a hand on top of mine and pressed my fingers more into her cheek. Her cheek felt warm, but fragile, so unlike the Helga I thought I knew.

"Everything happened. My family. My grades. My friends. I…" She sighed and shook her head. "You don't need me telling you, you can get one good look at me, and see, Arnold." She sobbed. "I promised myself I'd try to be strong for you while we drove up here, but…" She whimpered. "Having you here, with me, is like coffee, in, in Paris." She sniffled as I placed my other hand on her face as well to brush my thumbs into her tears. Anything I could do to comfort her.

I couldn't stand seeing Helga tearing herself up like this. She was always strong and brave, independent, a true "fuck authority" type. But yet here she was falling apart. It made me hurt.

"This is it. We-we graduate. Go our, sep-perate ways. But yet. I-I don't want you to go." She shook her head and repeated with trembling lips. "I don't want you to go. But yet I d-don't deserve, to be with, y-ou." Helga hiccupped.

I nodded my head forward and pressed my forehead into hers. "And you don't deserve to be alone."

And though Helga didn't vocalize it, I could see it in her eyes, a desperate plea. It was simple, and lovesick. Helga was trying to pull me into her own world, tugging at my heart. She really, desperately, didn't want to lose me. Was it possible that losing me would destroy her? I realized I didn't want to find out.

I tilted my head and brushed my lips against hers. Once. Twice. I was trying to invite her to participate like I wanted her to. And then on the third time, her lips parted and we met in another kiss. My tongue brushed against her lips and I realized I could taste the saline from her tears, they were so real. They seemed filled with sorrow and I wanted to kiss them away. I tilted my head to deepen the kiss and Helga leaned forward to wrap her arms around me.

Who would of have known I'd be kissing Helga like this? Who knew I'd be kissing Helga period. Yet, it seemed so right.

I maneuvered myself in my seat so that I was closer to Helga, and kept one arm hooked around her body while I traced the fingers of my other hand across her shoulder blade and up to her neck. I had never intimately touched someone else's neck before Helga's and I found that the sensation of the warm blood pulsing under her skin made me feel like, if I could just concentrate hard enough, I could make my heart march on in step with hers.

We sat there for minutes in the front seats of Helga's car, overlooking the hazy city below, neither one of us moved an inch, until Helga broke the kiss and smiled. She looked into my eyes and gave me a peck on the nose, then on the cheeks, then my forehead. Every place where her lips touched, the sensation lingered. It all felt right. It all felt electric.

I followed through in kind, kissing Helga's forehead and eyebrow, favoring her slightly upturned nose, and even nibbling slightly on her upper lip causing her to chuckle under her breath, punctuated by a few weak sobs. I brought the fingers of my free hand to her cheek, and whispered "close your eyes" to which Helga easily complied, and I leaned in to kiss her closed eyes through the tender skin of her eyelids. I could feel the wetness of her eyelashes on my lips.

I finally leaned back and Helga opened her eyes again to stare at me while I brushed my fingers through her hair. Helga smiled wide through remnants of the tears that I had kissed away, and whispered, "I'm gonna have to get used to this."

"Me too." I watched the glow on Helga's skin that reflected back in the meager light from the city. It was subdued but it was there.

"Helga brought her hand around and curiously traced the contours of my neck as her eyes trailed away in thought. My eyes closed at the sensation. "This is a strange question to ask, now, but I've been wanting to ask you this." Did she know she was seducing me right then?

"Ask me what?" I couldn't contain the happiness that escaped from my lips. I had just seen Helga go from darkened pale to absolutely radiant in the span of just, well, I had lost track of time.

"Would you take me to a movie this weekend?" Helga's eyes took on a sheepish look. "I've never been on a date with you before and I really would like to start now, instead of never. You know. Shit. Why is this so hard?" Helga looked down and shook her head. She didn't see my grin widen into a full blown giddy smile. I never knew it would be possible that seeing Helga like this would make me absolutely happy. Well, perhaps a few times long ago, but never like this.

"Would you be my girlfriend?" I blurted out before I caught control of my words. "That is. If you want to."

"Well Arnold." Helga looked up at me and searched my eyes in mock seriousness. "You have to be my boyfriend, and buy me things… Can you handle that?"

I nodded and leaned in to kiss her on the cheek before saying. "Yes of course."

"Well then. I mean… Whatever floats your boat." Helga teased. I realized I hadn't heard that catchphrase in a long time, and it couldn't have re-emerged at a better time.

Silence descended upon us once more and I stared into Helga's eyes. Those eyes were staring back at me, unflinching. They were happy. Those dark blue depths, always mysterious, were full of wonder instead of demons.

"What movie?" I asked softly.

"I don't know. You pick."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah." Helga leaned closer me

"So, Saturday? Nine-ish?" I brushed my lips against Helga's nose. I had never realized how cute it was. It was absolutely beautiful.

"Yeah." Helga nodded weakly and our lips met again.

I realized. It wasn't just her cute nose, her slight overbite, her low ears, or that tortured but intelligent mind and bruised heart inside of her. It was everything about Helga.

She was beautiful.

X O X O X O X O X O

I look carefully at my wife's eyebrow, her eyes, her nose, and the slight frown across her lips. I look at the yellow gold of her hair. That word, 'Paris.' There is something about Helga and that city that I don't quite understand. I know French is supposed to be the language of love, and the French are known to be an entire culture of romantics.

I close my eyes and cup the palm of my hand against her ear, letting my fingers tangle into her hair. This creature before me, that is now mine, has one last mystery. "I'm, I'm sorry. It's just that I thought. Since this is our first night together."

Helga steps back and her hands fall to mine, and she grasps them tightly with the strength that she's always had. I open my eyes and look into hers. I already can tell that she's waging an internal struggle. She wants me as bad as I want her right now. We both know there is only one way out of this. "I've always wanted to know, since I found out boys had, you know…" Helga gestures down with her eyes and I caught her meaning plainly enough. It's nice to know puberty didn't just hit boys like that.

"What did you want to know?"

"What it would be like to give myself to you in front of a hôtel fenêtre overlooking the Tour Eiffel."

I gave her a puzzled look. "Hotel fen e tey?"

Helga laughs and throws her hands up in the air. "Criminey Arnoldo." She admonishes me, though playfully from the tone of her voice. "Learn French." She walks towards the foot of the bed and sits down. "La fenêtre dans la chambre d'hôtel, avec feux d'artifice." She hugs herself. "The window in the hotel room, with fireworks." Her voice seems uncertain. Unsure.

I can feel the blush in my face and I sit down on the bed. She's really planned this out. Anything and everything. Fireworks though? I sincerely hope she hasn't requested a fireworks display from the hotel or something?

Oh God…

I look at phone sitting beside the bed, in all its gaudy hotel room glory. Should I even dare to call the hotel in Paris and find out if Helga has done such a thing? But isn't this all really silly? All this over? Over? I can't even think about that right now. The sex part, that can wait, but the fireworks? Did she really?

"Wait! You didn't call the hotel in Paris and arrange for fireworks, did you?"

Helga snorts. "Of course not! What do you think I am, an exhibitionist?"

"And the window?"

"Curtains closed." She whispers.

I move my legs on the bed and get behind my wife. Scooting up to her so that my legs are bracketing hers, I put my arms around her to her stomach and pull her to me from behind. I kiss her shoulder through her sweater and lay my head there. I sigh while Helga absentmindedly lifts her arm and runs her fingers through my hair. I have to wonder if she does that subconsciously, out of impulse. I'll have to get used to it. I don't mind though.

X O X O X O X O X O

Moving out of sunset arms had become a reality for me all too soon. Then again, I don't know if I was ever prepared for it. My grandpa had died years before, leaving my eccentric grandma to tend to the entire building and its tenants. I was surprised though, by her tenacity. For a woman as old as her, to roll up her sleeves and take charge, all the while dressed up in military regalia of a civil war, with the unfortunate borders as her regiment…

I was Commander Arnold P. Shortman…

Everyone had expected Gertrude Shortman to become distant after Phil's passing. No one expected she'd snap and become completely self sufficient. She even allowed Helga to stay with us after she had one last fight with her father. She had turned eighteen after all, so she was legally an adult. She had her own room of course.

Finally, it took a stroke to take down General Shortman. We gave her full Sunset Arms military honors at her funeral, complete with a 21 cork-gun salute.

…she had requested it in her will.

I wished I had Grandma's spirit. I could have taken care of Sunset Arms. But the reality had set in. I was going a different direction. I was not my grandparents. I needed to move out in order to grow. I mused as I walked into the bare confines of my old bedroom and stood amidst empty space. Helga stood behind me with her arms around me, and her head against mine. I also wanted to start a family of my own. I wanted a real nuclear family with a wife, little feet pattering on a hardwood floor, a cat, and a dog in the yard.

It was a simple idea, but it was one that I clung to. I never had it, and I wanted it. I wanted it for her too.

I sighed as I looked at the few remaining cardboard boxes lying upon the old bed frame. "I always loved this room. I guess I took it for granted, thinking I would always live here."

Helga chuckled against my cheek. "It still is. It will forever be immortal up here along with your grandparents and everything else." Helga playfully reached around and poked my forehead. I couldn't help but laugh.

"I guess you're right. Still. I'll miss it." He focused on the rusted windowsills then looked at Helga. "Shall we?"

Helga seemed hesitant for a moment, she let go of me and I turned to her. I saw something in her eyes that I had never seen before. Something expectant of me, but it seemed a little hard to grasp. Slowly, she nodded, almost disappointed. "We should. We want to get to Chez Paris early before the dinner rush starts."

"Is something wrong?" I knew there was something wrong. I had learned so much about Helga from our past five years of courtship. But I had always known there was something she was holding back. Some sort of secret. It had to do with me, I knew that much. I knew she wanted to tell me, but, I knew conditions had to be right.

So I had a date with her, to Chez Paris. It was one final send off of the old neighborhood before we moved into an apartment across town. She knew of the send-off, but she didn't know of the ring in my pocket.

She shook her head and walked towards the bed frame. "It's nothing."

I decided pretty quick that I didn't like the way Helga's demeanor had changed. Had I said something wrong? Was something amiss? I immediately walked up behind Helga and stopped her with my hands on her shoulders. She turned around and looked into my eyes. I took the sight of those eyes in for a moment, and then asked. "Please tell me what's wrong?"

Helga put her hand on over mine and closed her eyes. She shook her head and smiled. "You'll think I'm silly."

I brushed a hand through her hair and held her shoulder firm. "You're not silly. You're nothing other than someone that I really care about right now"

"I want this place, to be our secret little hideout."

"This old room?"

Helga stepped closer and placed her hand on my shoulders. "Yes." She whispered softly. "I want us to visit this place sometimes." She shook her head softly. "It mustn't die."

I arched a questioning eyebrow at Helga's request. She didn't know I was going to propose to her that night, but she did agree to rent an apartment with me. I think she knew I would propose to her eventually, she knew, I knew, she was the one. So why did she want to dwell on this room? There was nothing in it anymore, only ghosts of memories. "I thought we were going to build something new for ourselves."

Helga closed her eyes. "Yes. I know that, but, I mean…" She grinned. "You've always made me such a basket case, hair boy."

"I haven't heard that name in forever." I smiled back. Relieve. Helga didn't seem disappointed anymore.

That little glimmer of disappointment in Helga's eyes faded away. "Please do this, for me. I want to visit this room with you. It's for me. I can't explain it just yet…" Helga shook her head.

I placed my arms around her shoulders and pulled her into a hug. "Then don't. We'll come here again and again if it matters that much. You don't have to tell me."

"You don't what that means to me, hearing you say that." She hugged me back in full force, and whispered "Je t'aime..."

I'm thankful that Helga is the same height as me, for she fit into my arms perfectly, and I in hers. I held my head against hers and whispered back. "I love you too." And when I said that, I could hear her swoon a little like all those other times before. It was a beautiful sound.

And I realized I was standing in my old room. In what used to be my sanctum. Where I cried and where I dreamt. Where I hoped about the fate of my parents, and where I received dubious but cherished advice from my grandparents. This was the room I called mine.

I was standing in that same room with a girl whom I had grown up with, with a woman whom I had fallen in love with, and with the one I would make my wife. I let go of her and she looked at me curiously. I dropped to one knee and reached for the ring.

It was like slow motion. Helga dropped to both knees and stared at me, her blue eyes hoping. This may have been my dream for a few years, but this was her dream come true.

I placed the simple diamond ring into her hands and cupped them over it with my own. I could feel her shaking, no, trembling with nervous excitement about what I was doing.

This was the proper send off for my old room. The end of a chapter of my life, and I was just as excited as I asked. "Helga Geraldine Pataki. Will you marry me?"

X O X O X O X O X O

"Do you remember when you first kissed me, for real?" Helga asks quietly. We've been sitting in silence for a while now. She is wrapped within my arms and my head is resting on her shoulder.

I smile. I remember it plain as day. "Mmmhmmm." I whisper softly. "On that hill overlooking the city in your old car, on prom night." I snuggle into her, and hold her tighter. "You said you loved me. For a long time."

I feel Helga's head nod slightly. "I also said that you're coffee in Paris." Out of the corner of my eye I can see her mouth curve into a smile. "I had a dream once, that we were living in Paris. Every day we would see something new, a perpetual honeymoon. Every day I was happy being there with you." Helga chuckled. "The fireworks were in my dream, and the window. It was so vivid, if I could just…" Helga wavered.

I simply held her there and listened as she spoke, and she moved a finger through my hair. "But then… I woke up at three. And my mom and dad were fighting. Bob and Miriam weren't exactly saints. Bob would always win the arguments because Miriam would do nothing to defend herself."

"I was sitting in my bed, trying to make the noise stop, trying to relive that dream in my head. I was used to the fights of course, but not Miriam fighting back. And she did! I couldn't sleep. All I wanted was to sleep. Then, the fight stopped as usual. I waited for the sound of mom stumbling through the hallway with cubes of ice clanking around in a glass…"

Helga's features darken. I can feel her tremble. "It never happened. Instead. I heard the front door slam, and car tires, and…" She hiccups a sob, and something jolts through my heart. Pain. Unimaginable pain. I let a tear fall, then another.

I let my own fingers slide through her long hair while I whisper in her ear quiet soothing sounds. "It's okay. It's okay." I repeat, and kiss her ear. I realize that over the five years since that prom night, where I saw Helga cry for what may have been the first time in my life. I have never seen Helga this upset before. She's always been the strong one; ready to pummel the world with her fists. I rock her back and forth and I realize, this is her opening up again, letting me in even deeper. My wife is revealing her secrets to me and trusting me with them.

Then in a mere moment, Helga's body tensed. I knew what it was; she was that angry girl again. She was the bully I always tried to avoid but couldn't, and now I'm holding her while I imagine her brow is furrowed, and her mouth is in a snarl, when she says sarcastically against repressed sniffles. "And then Boobb comes in and tells me that it's all my fault."

It's her defense against her father, I know it is. I can feel it. When she says "Bob" like that, the way she did in elementary, when we were just kids, it's my indication that she's ready to strike. She's ready to defend herself. I know that this time though, it isn't directed at me, so all I can do is hold on, and not let go. Her hand is simply sitting there against my scalp, though not painfully. I'm brave enough, so I ask. "Why?" I realize I am asking the one who tormented me for so long, my bully.

I would finally know.

She snickered slightly then replied in a sarcastic tone. "Because Big Bob never got what he wanted from me. And why should I. He never loved me…" A pause. She's breaking down again. That bully is fading away. The shield is going down. "He never cared… When Miriam left he just, left me alone. I was a sail hanging on by a single thread against a hurricane, and he left me there. Never tried. Never bothered. Because, it was all my fault. So what kept me sane, was the thought of coffee in Paris. You, in Paris, with me. Happy. Perpetual spring. Birds soaring over the Tour Eiffel." Her voice sings through a sigh. "Even if it all seemed a dream. It's all I had. And now." Helga leans away and tilts her head into mine. "I have you Arnold. My love. My prince. My husband. You should know, I don't deserve you."

"Don't say that. Please don't say that."

"It's true, I-"

"I don't deserve you Helga." I say. My voice is stern and serious. I don't deserve her, I know I don't. I don't deserve her imperfections that make her so much of a treasure. I don't deserve her presence. I don't deserve her attention. I don't deserve her touch. I don't deserve her children. Anything but to hear she thinks she is better off alone.

I let go and move to stand in front of her. I get down on my knees. "I don't deserve you." A tear falls from my cheek and splashes into her jeans.

And it all comes out in a torrent of thoughts made words. "When I see you, I see my children. And oh god Helga, you are my everything. You say I'm coffee in Paris, but I say you're my angel. Your wings may be imperfect, but to me, they are beautiful." I look up into her eyes. "And when you unfurl them, I know you will soar higher than any other. I don't know where I would have ended up without your presence, without your challenging me to stay strong every step of the way. You were there at the beginning, and you are here now, with me on our brightest day. And Helga, my wife, I would die for you."

I lower my head and rest it on her lap. "I belong to you."

X O X O X O X O X O

"Can I ask you a question?" Helga's voice seemed so full of curiosity.

We were sitting in my room the night of the prom after driving down from the hill. It seemed like a natural place to go, to be alone. My grandparents trusted me enough, and I had an odd feeling that they trusted Helga too. I never knew why.

We sat on the couch and shared another kiss, and it gravitated towards Helga lying down with her head in my lap, her eyes were closed while I absentmindedly traced the contours of her face with my fingertips. I had always known this girl since preschool, but never like this. Her skin, even her cheeks, seemed so soft, so right against my fingertips. At that point I didn't even care that her prom dress didn't fit right. She looked great in it. I couldn't get enough. "Hmm?" I hummed at her question and traced around her nose.

"What were your parents like?"

I held my fingers against her cheekbone, and I studied her eyelids in shock. She opened her eyes and must have caught the sad flash of memories in my mind, because her eyes softened and she said. "Sorry. I-"

I pressed my thumb against her lips to silence her. "No." I shook my head. "Don't be."

I thought hard how to say this. I didn't need her sympathy. I just wanted her to understand. "I really am an Orphan. My parents are dead." I tried to let my voice sound matter-of-fact, like I had gotten over it. Really though, it was those echoes of images in my mind from when they left. They were vague memories that haunted me. Those made me sad. Those hurt.

Her fingertips brushed my cheek. "I'm so sorry." She said in a hushed whisper. I realized I had never heard Helga say something like that. It was odd. This night, I had discovered things about her that I would never have guessed were there, but somehow I knew existed deep down. "How did you find out?"

"A friend of theirs, from San Lorenzo. He visited us one night several years ago one summer." I whispered to her. I traced her ear lobe, to draw strength, but I found that her gaze was enough. I never had someone's undivided attention like this. I never had someone look as if they cared about my own plight so much, as if it were their own. I realized I needed to tell her this, because she needed to know.

"He told us that, they found the plane that my parents were flying when they disappeared. The, investigation, discovered that the plane was struck by lightning and it destroyed the altimeter. They were flying too low when they clipped a tree and went down."

A tear fell from my face and splashed against Helga's cheek. I went to brush it from her face but she reached up and held my hand, and with her other hand she brushed my cheek with her fingers, to collect my tears and brush them away. She smiled sadly at me. In an instant I saw something motherly about her. And I finished. "They found, their remains. A-and they." I sighed. "Sent them back here. We buried them. They."

I smiled and cupped Helga's cheek. I tried to smile. "They came home Helga. They're home."

My trembling smile was cut off, when I felt Helga prop herself up in my lap, and press her lips into mine.

X Y X Y X Y X Y X Y

I feel Helga's hands grip my arms and she pulls me up to my feet. "We've had just enough of that Mr. Shortman." I look into her face and she's smiling at me. She has tears in her eyes too. I know we're having a little private pity party. Perhaps we deserve one. We've been through so much together. There's never time to sit down and let our emotions take over, to sort them out. And now that we are married, I know there's going to be more of these times, while we discover just who we are to each other.

I know it's going to be a long journey, but I love her, I really do. I see the twinkle in her eyes, and I know she knows that the feeling is mutual. And in a mere moment, like all those other times, catching me totally off guard, my breath catches as Helga presses her lips into mine and starts kissing me passionately, with her tongue pressing against mine and vying for space within my mouth.

Like all those other times, my mind's defenses drop when I feel her lips against mine and I feel a slight defensive urge to push her away. But it is only a moment this time; mere seconds actually. The heat of her breath against my cheek is so inviting. I kiss her back with equal force, pushing her tongue out of my mouth and we engage in a playful fight, with only temporary stalemates and truces as Helga tilts her head to give her tongue the advantage. The breath from her nostrils invades my nose, like all those other times before. It has become a pleasant, almost natural feeling of being able to take her living breath into my own lungs. It is more precious than oxygen, and it makes my head feel dizzy with various thoughts and fantasies, of which some are playing out right then when I feel Helga's hands slide between my jeans just below my back. I feel Helga grasp me from behind with her cold hands and pull me closer to her.

Helga breaks the kiss and nudges my chin up with her own, forcing me to look up at the plain hotel room ceiling. My eyes flutter involuntarily in content when she kisses my chin then playfully nibbles at my jaw. Before I can laugh, or say anything about how that tickles, she latches on to my neck. I can't control the gasp that escapes from my lips as nerves fire and send electricity across my skin. I can feel her tongue lash me again and again while she tastes my skin, the warmth from her breath heats my neck. I close my eyes. This feels so good. Then like a predator, a vampire, I feel her teeth press down. I almost expect fangs, and drawn blood, but I can only imagine that it would be a pleasurable addition, as I have this feeling like I am being devoured and it feels wonderful.

I press my hands palm down into Helga's back and press her into me. I can feel gentle suction against my neck, again and again. I can feel each of her teeth against my skin as if they are leaving marks. It is pain and pleasure at the same time, and I hold myself still, to let Helga continue to devour my neck, to draw my skin into her mouth.

Then abruptly she lets go of my neck and draws back with closed eyes. I watch her face. She is still holding those incredible lips apart, taking in breaths between them. She opens her eyes and looks at me. I can feel a blush forming on my cheeks. I don't let go of Helga. Her face is so close to mine, and she still has her hands behind me, under my jeans, pulling me into her. Her ragged breath bathes my face.

Like a magnet, I feel stuck to my wife, and it feels like every bit of her body fits perfectly with mine. I kiss the side of her mouth, then her cheek, then her jaw line. With every move of my mouth, Helga moves her head to accommodate me. She is eager for this, I can tell, and I feel eager for the same. I want to share the feeling of her lips, her teeth, and her tongue against my neck. I want to know what she felt when she did that.

I trace my lips down to her neck, letting my cheek push away the gently fabric of her sweater, and my mind is afire with thoughts about how incredibly smooth and warm her skin feels against my lips. It is an enticing feeling. I give her neck a few appreciative little pecks, and then I realize with the way she pushes against me with her hands, I am teasing her. I press my lips into her neck with gentle force.

The taste of her neck against my tongue is a curious salt, somewhat like tears, but more subtle. The biggest taste though, is the warmth from under her skin, almost as if I could taste her life essence. I suck in a bit and I can feel her skin being drawn into my mouth, and Helga let's out gasp that I can feel against my ribs, and then a breathy swoon that I can feel in her body.

I bite into her neck again and again, treasuring the taste of her living skin, while Helga moves her neck to accommodate me, and she repeats in a frantic whisper. "Mmmm. Arnold… My love" Her sing-song voice, punctuated with deep breaths, entices me to bite deeper into her neck, so I do. I am hungry for the curious texture of what I feel underneath, more warmth, more scent, more taste…

…more of her essence.

I feel my wife withdraw her hands from underneath my jeans. Helga manages to turn around and press her back into my body. I turn my head, trying to taste her neck from the same spot, but I have to give up then. I playfully kiss the nape of her neck while she nods forward. I can even taste strands of her hair from where my tongue meets their roots. She laughs under her breath, and I smile. I breathe in again with my nose in her hair, and smell wonderful scents of oil, and lavender, and skin. I hold my hands over her stomach, and greedily pull her closer still, and the feeling of her back against my body makes me feel warm and comfortable.

I hook the neck of her sweater, pull it aside slightly, and bring my head down to kiss her exposed shoulder. I only note for a moment a silken white bra strap. I kiss it too, as if it is a part of her. While I kiss her shoulder, listen intently to her deep breaths, and feel her almost drunk-like movements, I catch a glimpse of her collarbone from another angle, and the way her skin disappears into the dark shadows underneath her sweater. Overcome with an insatiable curiosity, I let a hand wander up underneath that sweater, and when I find what am looking for, cup my hand against her bra, and feel something that crosses between firm and soft.

Helga tilts her head into mine and nuzzles the side of her head into my scalp. She breathes against my hair. I can feel my cheeks becoming hot, and senses seem to tune themselves for the moment, everything around me seems to disappear into a blur and Helga, my wife, is the only sharp focus while I continue kissing her shoulder.

Soon I grow tired of the simple movement, and I press my nose into Helga's neck while breathing in deeply again and again. I lose myself in the fragrances that enter my nose. Even the fabric softener from her sweater smells so incredibly nice mingled with her skin.

I feel Helga grab my free hand, and to my surprise she holds it firm as she pushes it lower, underneath her jeans, and elastic, and lower until my fingertips brush against thickly curled hair. She then pushes down farther, and I can feel warm moisture.

Helga is seducing me, and I discover while I move the fingers of my hand against the tips of curiously wild and curly hairs, but don't dare touch, I want to give in so much.

"Arnold?" Helga breathes. She leans back to one side and looks at me out of the corner of her eyes. She brings her free hand up to my ear and traces its periphery. We are a mass of entwined limbs.

"Yeah?" I manage, but it is becoming difficult. I can't stop pressing my nose into her skin. Every single breath brings into my lungs more of her scent. She smells different, and I find that pleasant but arousing scent is taking control.

Helga presses the side of her head against my cheek and closes her eyes. In some impossible contortion, she reaches down and presses my hand against herself. She moves her other hand down my body, and finding what she is looking for, squeezes softly. I breathe involuntarily as waves of pleasured tension shoot up my spine and make my knees week. Helga, in a trance of her own, whispers "I love you." Then she says her plea into my ear while she gives it a gentle, breathy kiss. "Make love to me."

I stand stock still as my heart beats an excited rhythmic thump in my chest. Her breath against my ear, her body against mine, those incredible inviting words, the tense place she has discovered with her hand, and the warm and intimate place she has revealed to me. I withdraw my hands from beneath her clothes, and step away from her slightly. She turns around and looks at me. There is an incredible fire to the skin of her cheeks, and a look in her eye that I swear I have never seen before.

Her eyes are curious yet pleading with taints of playful azure curiosity. They stare at me from above glowing cheeks, a loveable nose, and lips so full of life. It is a face that I want to kiss again and again. My brain tingles, and I yearn to feel her embrace once more, to partake of her drug.

And I will do it.

I run my fingertips into her hair, over her ear, and gently grasp her neck with my other hand. I trace under her jaw with my thumb. My wife steps closer, and in an instant we are pressed into each other. I taste her teeth, under her tongue, the inside of her cheeks. I can't help breathing into her mouth when I feel cold hands run themselves under my shirt and up my back, grasping me, capturing me, and pulling me close. I am trapped now, by her, and I want her to trap me more.

Helga withdraws one of her arms and starts working at her sweater while I continue kissing her. Once one arm is worked loose, she withdraws her other arm until the sweater is hanging only from her neck. I capture her upper lip with my teeth and nibble a bit while Helga breathes and worked at her sweater. I let go her as she lifts the comfortable black cloth above her head, and off of her, to fall to the floor beneath our feet.

My wife presses her legs into mine and clasps her hands around my neck while she leans back. "There's more."

I looked down, through the insane light headedness I feel from my excited heartbeat, and see that almost innocent looking, white lace bra, topped with a little pink bow in the middle. It seems to hug against the pale skin of her gangly body. I can see indentations where her ribs are, almost count them. My wife doesn't look sick, only thin. Not starving. I can also see the bones of her hips, and that smooth yet slightly pouched area that makes up her stomach, and her navel with the little stud. It looks profoundly cute there, glittering against the light of the hotel room.

I trace my fingers against the base of her bra. Helga smirks at me, and then chuckles. I looked up at the rose in her cheeks and her playful eyes. Helga grabs one of my hands. "Here." She says, and guides my hand behind her back. I press my palm against the back of her bra and smile at her, and what she is inviting me to do. Helga leans forward slightly when I trace my fingers along with smooth lace, and find what seems like a dull little plastic clasp.

I work with my fingers against the wonderful feeling of her skin under my fingertips, and that blasted plastic hook seems to taunt me. My wife's grin only deepens while I fidget with my fingers. She lets out a laugh through her nose and I have to laugh too.

"What's wrong?"

"I… I can't..." I stutter.

"Oh come on! It's just a little plastic clasp how hard can it be? I do this every night!" Helga grasps my other hand and gently pulls it behind her. "Use your other hand too!"

Helga furrows her brow at the feeling of both my hands trying to work the clasp. But before she can say anything, mother of all miracles, she doesn't have to admonish me any further. I feel the plastic pieces give way under my fingertips, and the silk straps slack against my wrist.

I watch my wife's eyes intently as she smiles at me. She works the straps loose. And in a few seconds the collection of silk, lace, and demonic plastic clasp sit against the ground at our feet along with her sweater.

At the sight before me, any final resolve that I greedily cling to melts under the appearance of Helga's form. The way her skin forms around her collarbone, the way her ribs seem to have a feminine curve all their own, and at the first glimpse of a part of Helga's body she'd never let anyone other than her husband see, I feel like what I am seeing is the epitome of beauty. And I want all of it.

I wrap my arms around Helga very slightly and press lips against her collarbone. I can feel Helga lean back in my embrace, and she lets go of a lungful of air as I taste her skin. I find that I can fit my lips in places around her collarbone, and the sensation of tender skin and bone feels incredible. I want to make it all mine. I want to crawl under it and get lost in it. I want to escape in it.

I close my eyes and move my lips down further, and further, until I find the tip of a breast, and I draw her in between my lips, and into my mouth. Immediately Helga draws in a gasp of air and her body twitches, not in pain, I know, at the way she starts to knead at my hair like a kitten. It is an odd feeling, entirely pleasurable, and I want something from the contact like a baby suckling for milk. Yet I want something infinitely more nurturing, something that only my wife could give me her husband. I kiss across to her heart, then press my face against her skin and nuzzle her. I know I want her heart the most. I can feel its rhythm from behind her skin.

Is it possible that her heart could be mine at the same time? Literally mine? I need to possess it. I want it all for myself. These are frantic thoughts, and it spurns me on as I explore her upper body with my mouth, from her forehead, to her ears, to her arms, to just under her rib cage.

I can only hear Helga breathing in soft but excited breaths. Every now and then she lets out some sound of a high pitch sigh along with the air that escapes her lungs in huge gushes. Sometimes she only manages short inhale, like something is caught inside, especially when I trace the outline of her arms with my fingers, and press my palms into her back to pull her even closer still, or I press my lips into her neck.

Helga's hands find their way under my shirt, and I feel electricity where they touch. Suddenly the fabric of my shirt feels like a barrier that I want to rid myself of, so I do. My wife watches me excitedly with her lower lip between her teeth while I pull my green shirt up and over my head. And before it even hits the ground to collect with her clothing, I feel Helga's lips and tongue latch on to the skin of my chest.

I close my eyes, as I feel little wisps of heaven wash over me where her bangs brush against my chest. The feeling of those lips while she playfully pushes her tongue in the little valleys between my ribs, like she is stabbing me, is indescribable. Her lips feel cold and warm, delicate and yet hungry. Eventually Helga finds the most curious and unneeded feature of the upper male anatomy, and draws me into her mouth. Pain shoots out from around my chest as she bites playfully with her teeth, but soon that pain, the way it ignites nerves in an almost electric release as she bites again and again very gently, becomes almost a soothing rhythm.

I trace my fingers along her back and her shoulders, feeling the ribs in her back, her shoulder blades, and the curve of her spine. It all feels wonderful under my fingertips. I run my fingers against the small of Helga's back, and she breathes out, pulls me into a hug, and presses her ear into my heart. No words are needed between the two of us. I place a gentle yet passionate kiss on her forehead and she breathes through her mouth in soft breaths.

I let my cheek rest on her shoulder. So much of her skin is pressed against mine, and it felt like untapped potential electricity, just building up. It feels like heat from a furnace radiating across the distance, from another heart, another pool of blood that I want to swim in. I pull my wife closer for a moment.

Eventually Helga withdraws, looks at me, and leans in to capture my lips within her own. She pushes my arms out of the way, and I can hear the sound of fabric being manipulated, a button being released, and the sound of a zipper.

It is the sound of a moment that we are passing through eagerly, neither of us saying a word, only sending signals with our presence, speaking through our bodies.

I trace my hands down Helga's back again as she returns her arms to my sides, and I find her jeans are no longer there. I look down from over her shoulder and catch a glimpse of simple white cotton underwear. Nothing fancy, but the curves there entice my mind. I trace along the elastic with my fingers, and even hook one underneath.

"Mmmm." Helga lets out from within pursed lips. She turns around and presses her back into me, and works her underwear down her legs. The feeling of her hair brushing against my neck, and the feeling of some of her hair invading my mouth, forces a snort to escape my nose.

"What's so funny?" My wife asks.

"Your hair got into my mouth."

Helga ponders for a brief moment, and then shakes her head left and right. I cough and spit lightly as a few strands of hair invade my mouth. It is punctuated with a laugh that I feel bubbling up from my heart.

My wife steps forward from my embrace then turns around to look at me. I look down and catch Helga's entire form in my eye. But I look back up at her face, a blush spreading on my cheeks. Helga notices this, and does everything within her power to accentuate her form. She crosses her legs slightly and puts her hands behind her back. She let me look for a moment, and then says in a firm yet gentle voice. "Turn around."

I comply and turn around. I hear Helga whisper something under her breath, but it is unintelligible. And before I can ask what she has in mind, I feel her hands snake around my body, and immediately go for the zipper of my pants. I have never been held by Helga like this before, and I want to melt at the sensation of her form pressing into my back, at the feeling of her embrace. It is all surreal, and comforting, almost like she is all I will ever need to stay warm at night. Blankets could disappear and won't care. Her skin set's mine on fire with perpetual warmth.

Finally the zipper and button come free, and Helga works my pants down. She wastes no time in what she wants to do, relieving me of my boxers and wrapping her arms around my torso to press into me. "Arnold?" She whispers and kisses one of my shoulder blades.

I tilt my head and close my eyes at the lullaby that has become her voice, calling to me from her soul. I can't help but turn around and look at her again. It is like I can feel the air currents around my body along with the feeling of her presence.

We kiss again, this time a tentative, shallow kiss. I quickly discovered like before, her gentle lips are not enough. I tilt my head and deepen the kiss myself, like so many times before, yet this time I wrap my arms around Helga, and then step back to sit on the edge of the bed.

I know what needs to happen for this to work, what needs to take place. She is giving herself to me and I will take it, while giving myself to her. I lean forward and give Helga's navel a few tentative kisses, finding it such an attractive thing that I feel I need to nurture it, also what is underneath it, and all of what it is attached to.

I feel my wife crawl onto the bed over me, then I feel her legs press against my sides, while I press my palms against the ground behind me to support myself. She lowers herself, slowly at first. I look up and see her above me, look into her beautiful eyes, and see waves of slight pain, intense pleasure, and happiness that washes across them as Helga lowers herself more to sit. There is a slight hiss of pain from Helga's breath, a wave of pleasure as she sits herself down in my lap, and I know we have joined as one.

My eyes flutter closed at the sensation of warmth and gentle pressure, the most incredible sensation I have ever felt, as they wash over my nerves. I open my eyes only a little and see that Helga is feeling the same thing. Those tentative little kisses and touches we share, pale in comparison to this. She feels what I feel, I am her, and she is me. It is a deep bond.

Helga opens her eyes and smiles at me. "I love you." She repeats again in a voice filled with honey and spice. Does she know that when she says that, it draws me closer to her? She is entrapping me, ensnaring me, and I don't want to break free.

I liked the sensation from before, when Helga was moving, and the same sensations come again when Helga looks at me almost sinfully, and moves her body against mine again. My breath leaves my lungs like they are filled with helium desperate to escape. I let a little wistful smile grace my lips and I look back up at Helga. She has her eyes closed, taking in the sensations for herself, and she moves again, and again, in slow repetitions.

I let my hands move again and I lean forward to wrap my arms around Helga, letting her own body support mine. Helga breathes deeper. Moving my legs and body in certain ways intensifies things, and I experimented with this, like an infant just learning how to walk. Soon I find what I like, and join with Helga in the same pace she has lost herself to.

Again and again, we repeat the motions, giving each other feelings of bliss and completeness. Passion and flame. I can feel the heat building and building, the tension bundling up in all of my being like a coiling snake. Helga's face contorts some, as she seems lost in concentration, in her own world. I discover though that when she contorts her face a certain way, I can almost feel what she feels. We really are the same body that very moment, seeing from the same pair of eyes.

To borrow Helga's poetry, we're looking out amongst a vast oasis of fruited trees and green grass, and clear waters, amidst a barren landscape of dead bones and sand. Here the sun heats us, but doesn't scorch us, as long as we keep moving, as long as they keep giving each other feeling.

I notice my wife's breathing has deepened like my own. It is picking up pace and intensity along with mine. It encourages us to dive deeper into the flame, to hold each other tighter. I can feel a second heartbeat. Not my own, but hers. It starts slow at first, but soon picks up in intensity as Helga's breathing reaches a peak of intensity, and she suddenly latches on to my hair with her fingers.

"Ar, Arn, Arnold aahh… hmnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn! hmnnnn! haaahhhhh!"

Helga's words trail off into long crying breaths and her pulse quickens so much that I can feel it as if it is from within me, her entire body stiffens for a brief moment, long enough for me to know that she had reached the cliff, and has jumped off into oblivion. I hold her tighter as she lets her entire weight down on my lap, tightens her legs, and pushes her mouth into my shoulder. I can feel her teeth against my shoulder blade as she lets out a swoon. But it isn't any swoon I have ever heard from her in those few times I have heard it. Those were childish and cute. This is, instinctual, sensual, and primal, from something deep within her that I have never seen. It has several levels to it, a beauty all its own, and it follows each wave of pleasure that she succumbs to. I can feel her muscles tighten and release with reckless, free intensity within each beat of her heart.

She radiates so much heat, so much vulnerability and softness, I can feel each wave of climax as it intensifies and ebbs in a frantic pulse. My wife closes her teeth against my skin but her cries of pleasure continue to escape, and her plain but incredible fingernails dig into my back, as if she is hanging on to me, no, it is as if she is clawing into me to search out and hold my heart, a beautiful predator claiming what is rightfully hers.

I kiss her heated neck and trailed kisses down to her breast as she continues her free fall into oblivion. I draw her into my mouth again and bite gently with my teeth into her very sensitive flesh. I can feel her lungs gasping for air, seeking release from their torture, and finding it through her vocal cords.

I can feel the tug of her soul, the way her body wraps around mine in incredible places; it seems to beckon me to a point of my own. Her wordless vocals sing to me beautiful poetic songs, telling me that I belong to her, that I am part of her at that very moment. I will lose myself within her embrace, fall along with her, and I will have her heart. I feel renewed electricity in her skin, everywhere we make contact, I can feel her from deep inside, and through each pulse of blood through her delicate veins that seemed to entangle with my own, I realized I am getting close to my own peak, my own plateau, and as I get closer my own instincts kick in and wrestle control from my mind. I taste Helga's breast and gently grasp at her sides while I push her up slightly. I let myself get lost in the sensations she gives me as I move her body into a consuming rhythm, again and again.

Helga regains some composure to open her eyes and look down upon my head from her perch atop my lap. She wraps her shaky arms greedily around my head, pulls me into her embrace, and helps me with the rhythm as she kisses my head, and breathes her heated breath through my hair while she pulls against tufts of my hair. She's bringing me closer and closer still.

Finally I know I've reached that point. I stand at the precipice as the tension builds. I can't keep it from consuming me any longer. I breathe out my entire lung capacity in a pleasured groan and I press my teeth into Helga's collarbone, my nose and forehead into her neck, and I jump off of the cliff while my body releases the tension in waves of endorphin charged pleasure. I feel renewed warmth from within, like I am being bathed in a white hot and pulsating light, and Helga's skin scorches my own. My wife pulls me tighter and holds me in place as each inch of contact sends my own nerves into frantic sparks of euphoria.

Helga's tiniest of body movements are pure bliss, her heart beat is the rhythm to my own existence, the touch of her skin is a sirens kiss, and her breath, her intoxicating scent, is my reality.

And I think, the sharpest thought in my mind, this was what it feels like to be within someone else in a mutual embrace. This is what it feels like to let that same person join with you in an intimate dance as one being with two minds wrapped around each other, mortal coils entangled, and stay within each other for warmth against cold reality. And, this is what it feels like to see Helga in her true form. She is an angel. And in one simple act of pure love and passion, she has revealed her true form so that only I, her husband, can see. She has flapped the beautiful dove-like feathers of her imperfect wings to wash away all of the pain in our pasts.

All I can think about is that everything and anything about me belongs to her at this very moment, and at the same time I covet her above all else, because she has just picked me up from the ground and carried me off into some sort of heaven. She is showing me what we are capable of when we are as one soul. She is my home, she is where I belong. Helga is not only a tangible and lasting memory of the previous chapters in my life. She is no longer just a curiosity. She is no longer just my wife.

I feel safe here, wrapped within the feathers of her touch.

Helga is the largest player in my life story, the most beautiful creature my existence, and she has become my lover this night, and the object of my passions. She has become someone I can give my heart and my life too. Heck, I would give her my soul if she asked.

I wrap my arms around her in a tight embrace, and breathe my lingering pleasure into her ear. I swim in the subsiding inferno of her heartbeat and the feeling of her body. I whisper into her ear while brushing my lips against its softness, words that I know come from my heart, from my soul, from my longing to prolong this place that had landed in together. Helga would call this our little Camelot that is our secret escape and the place that we could continue to write the chapters of our life. This place is our Paris. "Helga. I… I love you." I close my eyes. "You're so beautiful."

I feel her trace a finger along with periphery of my ear. My eyes flutter closed at the seductive motions, and it isn't just as if I can feel her fingertips; I can feel her entire arm, that wonderful muscle under her skin that she is moving for me and for me only. She whispers back. "I love you too, my coffee in Paris." She sighs out in obvious pleasure, and places her head down upon my shoulder. It's like she is melting into my skin. "We don't need fireworks."

She laughs and I laugh with her. I let go and lean back to lie against the Hotel bed beneath me. My legs dangle over the side freely. Helga follows, kissing my chest as she does so. She moves off my lap and curls up over my body, with her head against my heart. We share sweet little butterfly kisses, as the real world slowly creeps its way back into their reality. My wife looks at me, moves up, and gives me one last lingering kiss upon my chin. She then lays her head on my chest, and breathes out a small childish swoon while our fingers intertwine.

And as I lay there, with the hotel room light still on, but with Helga fast asleep, curled up and beautiful against me, I realize we'll probably miss the flight to Paris. But that's okay.

C'est la vie. C'est la vie.

End