98-Guest Host

**XAVER**

On the ride over to my parents, she asks, “Why are you calling me Pi?”

“I wanted to call you something other than Pip—what your friends call you. I wanted something of my own, and Pi just came out.”

She flexes her fingers on my knee. I glance over at her, trying to gauge her expression. She’s not smiling.

“Why? You don’t like it?

“I like it,” she says, giving me a slight grin.

I drive on, ignoring the worry I thought I saw in her eyes.

***

Ma is a good foot shorter than me and more than a hundred pounds lighter. That doesn’t stop her from nearly knocking me over in her haste to get her arms around my girlfriend.

“Pippa,” she says, “I am so glad to meet you, dear.”

Pops is in the living room, his wiry, gray hair sticking up in all directions. He rolls his blue, twinkling eyes above Ma’s head when I come into the room.

Ma says, sweeping her hand towards Pops, “This is my husband, George, and I am Sally.”

Pops nods his greeting.

“Would you like anything to drink?” Ma asks, still clutching Pippa’s arm as if she will disappear.

“I’ll take a beer, Ma.”

“I’ll just have some water,” Pippa says, ducking her head like she is shy or something. It works like a charm on Ma, who hasn’t stopped beaming her approval. Ma is all about making people comfortable. Pops, on the other hand, doesn’t open up until he has known a person for a while.

“George, what will you have?”

“I’ll take one of those lagers. You want one of those, Xaver?”

“Yeah, Pops. Sounds good.”

“Shall I help you, Sally?”

My girlfriend’s willingness to help earns a smile of approval from Pops.

The little women disappear into the kitchen, jabbering all the way.

Pops sits in his chair; a scuffed-up, leather recliner. Damn thing is as old as me. He picks up the remote and flicks to some football game he has no interest in—he likes the background noise. I take a seat on the gray leather sectional, kick my shoes off and lean back, propping my feet up.

There is a damn hole in my sock. I wiggle my toe through it. A smile comes to my face. Instead of ripping the sock off in disgust, essentially throwing fifty dollars in the trash can is abhorrent now.

All thanks to Pippa.

“Must be pretty serious, huh?” Pops says, staring at the TV.

“Yeah, Pops. It is.”

*More than.*

“She seems like a nice one.”

“She is.”

*The best.*

“Okay, then.”

At his approval, my heart lifts.

We say no more and our attention drifts to the game.

***

Pippa helped Ma make a delicious meal of spaghetti with meatballs, garlic bread and a large salad with olives, tomatoes, cucumber and red onion.

Some “light dinner”, but shit was too good to only take a mouthful.

I stifle a burp from behind my hand. Pippa nudges me under the table, cutting her eyes in my direction.

Ma fans the air under her nose. “Now you have room, do you want some more?”

“Ma, I can’t eat any more, really.”

I still have room, but if I keep eating, I won’t be able to move.

And I want some hot, sex action more than I want food.

“Pippa, dear, do you want another slice of chocolate cake?”

“No thank you, Sally.”

Ma and Pippa are now officially joined at the hip. Throughout dinner, they have been giggling like old friends.

I knew they’d get along. It makes things a lot easier that my parents like my intended.

“Well, if everyone has eaten enough…” Ma says, standing up. “Xaver, why don’t you help me in the kitchen while Pippa and George relax?”

*WTH?*

Ma never lets her men near the kitchen. I guess she wants Pops to get to know Pippa while she has a talk with me.

*Just as I suspected.*

All Ma allows me to do is clear the table, telling me every two seconds not to drop something. That done, she makes me sit on the window seat while she does the rest.

We chat about the neighborhood, politics, and the family news. Both my parents come from a large family—Pops from a family of ten and Ma from eight. Pops has two sets of twins in his family and Ma has one in hers. Two of my dad’s brothers married two of my mom’s sisters, and I have many cousins up the ass. Pippa will meet them during Ma’s birthday party in the spring.

I can’t wait to show her off. Unlike Sonia, Pippa *wants* to meet my extended family.

Ma scrubs away at a heavy pan with enough gusto to clean off ten layers of grease. She is up there in age, but she is as healthy as a horse.

“I like her, Xaver.”

“Me too, Ma.”

Ma turns on the water, letting the soap wash off in streams down the sink. Then she runs her hand inside the pan, to make sure it is clean.

“You like her or love her?”

“I love her, Ma. Like I told you.”

She grabs a towel and wipes at the excess water, peering at me. “What are you going to do about it?”

“I have moved her in with me. I think that is enough.”

“For you, or for her?”

“For us both. Why? Did she say something?”

“No. She didn’t have to. I can tell with just one look that she is worried about something. Is that something *you*, Xaver?”

“No. It’s not,” I say firmly.

I love Pippa, but marriage is not in the cards right now. Her stepfather needs to go away, and I need to find her mother. Pippa won’t be complete without those things happening.

And I want her focus on us, not her past.

Ma nods and bends down to place the pan in the drawer.

“When are you traveling again?”

“Not until mid-December. To Germany.”

I tell Ma I have appointed Mila Duitsmeyer, the CFO for my European division, to be the new HQ CFO. “I’m going over there to help Mila smooth the transition.” I had been grooming her ever since Craig stuck his dick out to his secretary, who, rather than press charges, transferred to another division.

Mila has been with the European Division since its inception and is an honest employee, above reproach. She’s been married to her partner, Annika, for over ten years and they have two kids; a boy and a girl. Mila is a far cry from Craig *Old MacDonald* Farkas, who has a family here, a family there… a family *everywhere.*

Pippa’s contract will have ended, but I am taking her along. After I am done in Germany, we will head on to Paris.

It’s time she knows I’m serious about our future.

I plan to give her a promise ring at the base of the Eiffel Tower.

At first, I had nixed the idea, feeling like the gesture was too middle school-ish. Yet the longer I mulled it over, the more I decided it was the right thing to do. I have no one to please, except Pippa and myself.

To hell with everyone else.

“I want Mila to take over Craig’s duties by the beginning of the new year.”

Ma frowns at the mention of Craig’s name. She never took to him; Sonia either. She was polite, but only that. Ma never told me why, and I had never asked. I am beyond grateful that’s not the case with Pippa, because she means so much more.

Ma wipes her hands on the dish towel and joins me at the table. She takes my hand in both of hers. Her skin is thinner than it was ten years ago, and age spots have popped up on her fingers. I squeeze her hands tighter, putting all the love I feel for this diminutive woman into that one movement.

She smiles and squeezes back.

“Xaver… Pippa is like me. We like simple things.” She looks into my eyes, willing me to understand. “You don’t have to grandstand… make a big production. Just tell her how you feel.”

I frown. The trip has been in my mind ever since my love became known.

*Pippa will like it. Won’t she?*

“I see that look on your face.” Ma smiles wistfully, her eyes going back to the past, to a simpler time. “You used to get that same look when I told you to go to bed and turn off your computer.”

My frown vanishes, but I don’t smile.

Yeah, I’m set in my ways, sure. I want Pippa to have a unique experience. I want her eyes to shine with good memories when her friends ask her how she’d gotten the ring.

I had already picked it out—a platinum band with purple diamonds.

*You are doing it for you. Not for her.*

Maybe so. I like the limelight, and Pippa had better get used to it.

“I have to do it my way, Ma. You understand that, right?”

She places a smooth hand on my face.

I ignore the sadness in her eyes.

“Sure, sweetie, I understand. You do what you have to.”

Ma and I come into the living room. Pippa is kneeling by Pops’ chair, showing him how to work an iPhone. He laughs. Pippa giggles, holding her stomach.

“I am just an old fool, Pippa. You can’t teach an old dog new tricks,” Pops says, shaking his head.

It is then that I see him. Pops reading to a little boy on his lap. The boy has Pippa’s curls and his skin color is a combination of mine and hers.

*He is mine, and he is perfect.*

Maybe… just *maybe,* kids aren’t such a bad thing after all.

***

“Shhh. You’re too loud.”

It’s squeaky as hell, but we’re fucking on the bed, because that’s the way the little woman wants it.

I start in again.

Dr. Chopra said no sex, but it’s been almost eight days since I have come inside Pippa’s pussy, and if I don’t do it now, I will explode.

Another moan. Lower, but audible still.

“I’ll stop if you can’t be quiet.”

*I am such a liar…*

When she stills, I continue. Slow, even dips, in and out. I flex my hips and ass, delving deeper and deeper. Going in longer and longer. Sliding out slower and slower.

Her body trembles and the bed creaks like a ghost on the stairs.

“Xaver,” she whispers.

The clenching of her pussy and the whisper of my name is like a shout straight to my senses.

The raw need *to finish* takes over. With the momentum propelling me onward, the bed whines like a tuning fork.

*So damn good...*

That I am able to get mine…

Right before the bed collapses.