Of Plans and Practices

Mission 2: Yor Attempts to Do This Sober

Notes: I just wanted to thank you readers for giving this story a chance. I appreciate you guys stopping by. But just as a warning, please keep your expectations low :)

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She was married to a gentleman, a gentle man.

Yor had to remember that. Loid promised that they would stop whenever she felt uncomfortable. She sat waiting on the edge of her bed and tried to calm her nerves because she was unsure of what to expect from this first night of "practicing."

She was slowly losing her nerve, so she kept reminding herself that everything was going to be fine, that she needed to trust her husband because he would always do the right thing. Her fingers clenched in a nervous twitch, making the object in her handle crackle with sound.

She looked at it and again, she read through the list on the paper Loid had given her the night before.

Rule 1. NO ALCOHOL.

Rule 2. Only when Anya is asleep.

Rule 2. Done in Yor's bedroom, where she would be most comfortable.

Rule 3. 'Stop' meant stop.

How typical of Loid to approach everything so methodically. He'd even given her homework, had given her a book to read to mentally prepare herself. It sat on her table, entitled Touching: The Human Significance of the Skin by Ashley Montagu.

But Yor hadn't really cracked it open yet because the title had been intimidating.

Touching.

Her husband.

Correction, her fake husband.

Her hands all over his body, and of course, his all over hers...

Please, God. I need my wine! she suddenly prayed because the fainting feeling that gripped her almost took her out. The thought of Loid's hands skimming over her skin made the periphery of her brain turn dark.

Instead, she looked down at the rules and sighed with disappointment for agreeing to do all this while sober.

Yor shook her head. She was starting to wonder about herself when it came to Loid. She somehow felt different whenever she was around him.

What had made her agree to a marriage proposal to a man she'd only met once?

Wait a minute.

Actually, it was she who'd done the proposing.

He'd gone along with it, though, and hadn't even minded the long-winded and twitchy speech she'd given when she'd desperately thrown herself at him.

That night, after he'd demonstrated to her his concussive therapy techniques on those patients who'd chased them, the blast from the grenades and the gunfire from those men had barely penetrated her mind when he'd taken her hand behind that trash bin.

But when he'd slid the grenade pull pin on her finger, she'd felt then the strength and reassurance of his hands. That was the moment she'd known she'd picked the right man to marry. Her instincts had screamed at her that Loid Forger was possibly the only guy who would accept her just as she was, with all her faults and insecurities. The thing about her side job, though, she would leave for later.

Still, they'd held hands then. She'd been able to keep it together that time.

Yor suspected relief had been stronger than nervousness.